Young Harrald sinks with many a sob and tear,
Down from the sky to nature's lower sphere:
He rested long beneath the poplar tall,
Which grew up, under the red church's wall.
Then, rising slow, he feebly stagger'd on,
Till his Minona's bower he had won.
Trembling and sad he stood beside the door -
Pale as a spectre, and besprent with gore!

"Minona, come, ere Harrald's youthful heart
Is burst by love and complicated smart.
Soon will his figure disappear from earth,
Yet we shall meet in heaven's halls of mirth:
Minona, come and give me one embrace,
That I may instantly my path retrace."
Thus warbles he in passion's wildest note,
While death each moment rattles in his throat.

Minona came: "Almighty God!" she cried,
"My Harrald's ghost has wander'd o'er the tide;
Red clots of blood his yellow tresses streak,
Drops of the same are running down his cheek."
"Minona, love, survey me yet more near,
It is no shadow which accosts thee here;
Place thy warm hand upon my heart, and feel
Whether it beats for thee with slacken'd zeal."

At once the current of her tears she stopp'd,
His arm upheld her, or the maid had dropp'd;