Firmly the raven holding him in air, Survey'd his prize with fiercely-rabid glare: "Now is the time to wreak on thee my lust; Yet thou shalt own that I am good and just." Then from its socket, Harrald's eye he tore, And drank a full half of the hero's gore:-- "Since I have mark'd thee, thou art free to go; But loiter not when thou art there below." 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; The roses faded from her face away, And on her head the raven locks grew gray. All he had borne, and what he yet must bear, He murmurs to her whilst she trembles there: The hero then with dying ardour press'd, For the last time, his bosom to her breast. "Farewell! Minona, all my fears are flown, And if I grieve, it is for thee alone: Give me a kiss, and give me too a smile, And let not tears that parting look defile. Now will I drink the bitter draught of death, And yield courageously my forfeit breath:-- Farewell! may heaven take thee in its care," He said, and mounted swiftly in the air. She gaz'd; but he had vanish'd from her view; She stood forsaken in the damp and dew, Then dark emotion quiver'd in her eye, And thus she pray'd, with hands uplifted high: "Thou who wert vainly tempted in the wild, Thou who wert always charitably mild, Thou who mad'st Peter walk on billows blue, Enable me my Harrald to pursue." Sunken already was the morning star, The song of nightingales was heard afar, The red sun peep'd above the mountain's brow, And flowers scented all the vale below. There came a youthful maiden, gaily drest, 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.