A priest enters, and announces that his name is Giyokei, and that before he retired from the world he held high rank at Court.  He relates how Tsunemasa, in his childhood the favourite of the Emperor, died in the wars by the western seas.  During his lifetime the Emperor gave him a lute, called Sei-zan, “the Azure Mountain”; this lute at his death was placed in a shrine erected to his honour, and at his funeral music and plays were performed during seven days within the palace, by the special grace of the Emperor.  The scene is laid at the shrine.  The lonely and awesome appearance of the spot is described.  Although the sky is clear, the wind rustles through the trees like the sound of falling rain; and although it is now summer-time, the moonlight on the sand looks like hoar-frost.  All nature is sad and downcast.  The ghost appears, and sings that it is the spirit of Tsunemasa, and has come to thank those who have piously celebrated his obsequies.  No one answers him, and the spirit vanishes, its voice becoming fainter and fainter, an unreal and illusory vision haunting the scenes amid which its life was spent.  The priest muses on the portent.  Is it a dream or a reality?  Marvellous!  The ghost, returning, speaks of former days, when it lived as a child in the palace, and received the Azure Mountain lute from the Emperor—­that lute with the four strings of which its hand was once so familiar, and the attraction of which now draws it from the grave.  The chorus recites the virtues of Tsunemasa—­his benevolence, justice, humanity, talents, and truth; his love of poetry and music; the trees, the flowers, the birds, the breezes, the moon—­all had a charm for him.  The ghost begins to play upon the Azure Mountain lute, and the sounds produced from the magical instrument are so delicate, that all think it is a shower falling from heaven.  The priest declares that it is not rain, but the sound of the enchanted lute.  The sound of the first and second strings is as the sound of gentle rain, or of the wind stirring the pine-trees; and the sound of the third and fourth strings is as the song of birds and pheasants calling to their young.  A rhapsody in praise of music follows.  Would that such strains could last for ever!  The ghost bewails its fate that it cannot remain to play on, but must return whence it came.  The priest addresses the ghost, and asks whether the vision is indeed the spirit of Tsunemasa.  Upon this the ghost calls out in an agony of sorrow and terror at having been seen by mortal eyes, and bids that the lamps be put out:  on its return to the abode of the dead it will suffer for having shown itself:  it describes the fiery torments which will be its lot.  Poor fool! it has been lured to its destruction, like the insect of summer that flies into the flame.  Summoning the winds to its aid, it puts out the lights, and disappears.