Bearing upon her back a feather-vest;
Fondly she kiss'd Minona's features wan,
Gave her the robe, and then at once was gone.

And straight Minona clothes in it her limbs,
And soaring upward through the ether swims:
To moan and sob, her madden'd breast disdains,
Too big for such low comfort are its pains.
The fowls that meet her in yon airy fields,
She clips in pieces with an axe she wields;
Each clanging pinion ceaselessly she plies,
But cannot meet the raven or his prize.

She hears a faint shriek in the air below,
And, swift as eagle pounces on his foe,
Down, down, she dropp'd, and lighted on the shore,
Which far and wide was wet with Harrald's gore.
She smil'd so ruefully, but still was mute -
His good right hand was lying at her foot:
That pledge of truth, in love's unclouded day,
Was the sole remnant of the demon's prey.

Deep in her breast she hid the bloody hand,
And bade adieu, for ever, to the land:
Again she scower'd through the airy path,
Her eyeballs terrible with madden'd wrath:
The raven-sorcerer at length she spied,
And soon her steel was with his hot blood dyed:
The huge black body, piecemeal, found a grave
Amid the bosom of the briny wave.