The dying swan, when years her temples pierce,
In music-strains breathes out her life and verse,
And, read more

The dying swan, when years her temples pierce,
In music-strains breathes out her life and verse,
And, chanting her own dirge, tides on her wat'ry hearse.

The swan in the pool is singing,
And up and down doth he steer,
And, singing gently read more

The swan in the pool is singing,
And up and down doth he steer,
And, singing gently ever,
Dips under the water clear.

The swan, with arched neck
Between her white wings mantling proudly, rows
Her state with oary feet.

The swan, with arched neck
Between her white wings mantling proudly, rows
Her state with oary feet.

You think that upon the score of fore-knowledge and divining I am
infinitely inferior to the swans. When they read more

You think that upon the score of fore-knowledge and divining I am
infinitely inferior to the swans. When they perceive approaching
death they sing more merrily than before, because of the joy they
have in going to the God they serve.

The swan is not without cause dedicated to Apollo, because
foreseeing his happiness in death, he dies with singing read more

The swan is not without cause dedicated to Apollo, because
foreseeing his happiness in death, he dies with singing and
pleasure.
[Lat., Cignoni non sine causa Apoloni dicata sint, quod ab eo
divinationem habere videantur, qua providentes quid in morte boni
sit, cum cantu et voluptate moriantur.]

Death darkens his eyes, and unplumes his wings,
Yet the sweetest song is the last he sings:
read more

Death darkens his eyes, and unplumes his wings,
Yet the sweetest song is the last he sings:
Live so, my Love, that when death shall come,
Swan-like and sweet it may waft thee home.

And over the pond are sailing
Two swans all white as snow;
Sweet voices mysteriously wailing
read more

And over the pond are sailing
Two swans all white as snow;
Sweet voices mysteriously wailing
Pierce through me as onward they go.
They sail along, and a ringing
Sweet melody rises on high;
And when the swans begin singing,
They presently must die.

Some full-breasted swan
That, fluting a wild carol ere her death,
Ruffles her pure cold plume, and read more

Some full-breasted swan
That, fluting a wild carol ere her death,
Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood
With swarthy webs.

Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,
Where nothing save the waves and I
May hear our mutual read more

Place me on Sunium's marbled steep,
Where nothing save the waves and I
May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;
There, swan-like, let me sing and die.