As the eagle flies through the sunny skies
He stayeth his golden wings;
And swiftly descends, and his proud neck bends,
And his eyes they stream with glare,
And gaze with delight, on her looks so bright,
As he motionless treads the air.
But his powerful wings, as she sweetly sings,
They droop to the briny wave,
And slowly he falls near the castle walls,
And sinks to his ocean grave.
Was it arrow unseen with glancing sheen,
The twang of the string unheard,
Sped from hunter's bow, that has laid him low,
And has pierced that kingly bird?
That has brought his flight, from the realms of light,
Where his hues in ether glow,
To float for awhile in the sun's last smile,
Then dim to the depths below?
No! the pow'rful spell, that had wrought too well,
Was sung by a maiden true,
And it breath'd and flow'd, to her love who row'd,
His path through the seas of blue.
As she saw his sail, by the gentle gale,
Slow borne to her lofty bower,
Her heart it beat, in her high retreat,
She sang by a spell-bound power:

"Zephyr winds, with gentlest motion
Urge his bark the blue waves o'er;
Cease your wild and deep commotion