In the darkest of the cellars
By a tormented angel kept,
Once horrid and broken child
Shattered child - silently wept
In the child's tearful dreamings
Alone he was!
Never were the slightest seemings
Of one who'd cared for what he does.

Eyes of yellow, glorious, golden
In the dark which seemed to glow
(This - all this - was what had molded
A monster long ago,)
And every frigid wind that came,
In that wretched night
Along the passage dim and dank
Gave more purpose to the fright

Tresspassers in those prisoned ways
From gondala upon black lake they heard
The Siren singing endless phrase
And to their deaths were lured
On the bank where there was sitting
(The Phantom!, they now scream)
In his state of madness well - befitting,
The Angel of this realm was seen

And all in black and satin gleaming
Was the white mask shone,
And through parted lips was flowing, flowing
His near - angelic drone
To call to him the maiden, whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In a voice of uncanny and surpassing beauty,
The will and power of her king.

Yet wicked things, encased with sorrow,
Assailed dear Erik's dark estate.
(Ah, let us see! - for never morrow
Shall dawn upon iher/i wicked fate!)
Round about the room her screaming,
That had once been song,
All that once was hatefull dreaming,
But now she may choose wrong.
And her choice, now, is between a two,
And in that box she sees,
Two insects, carved in fanciful lament,
To a discordant melody.
A scorpion and a grasshopper,
Though both are idle now,
Shall either free her or condem her
A laugh - for only he knows how.