The silken sail, which caught the summer breeze,
Drove the light vessel through the azure seas;
Upon the lofty deck, Dame Sigrid lay,
And watch'd the setting of the orb of day:
Then, all at once, the smiling sky grew dark,
The breakers rav'd, and sinking seem'd the bark;
The wild Death-raven, perch'd upon the mast,
Scream'd 'mid the tumult, and awoke the blast.

Dame Sigrid saw the demon bird on high,
And tear-drops started in her beauteous eye;
Her cheeks, which late like blushing roses bloom'd,
Had now the pallid hue of fear assum'd:
"O wild death-raven, calm thy frightful rage,
Nor war with one who warfare cannot wage.
Tame yonder billows, make them cease to roar,
And I will give thee pounds of golden ore."

"With gold thou must not hope to pay the brave,
For gold I will not calm a single wave,
For gold I will not hush the stormy air,
And yet my heart is mov'd by thy despair;
Give me the treasure hid beneath thy belt,
And straight yon clouds in harmless rain shall melt,
And down I'll thunder, with my claws of steel.
Upon the merman clinging to your keel."

"What I conceal'd beneath my girdle bear,
Is thine--irrevocably thine--I swear.