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.

Thus does the white swan, as he lies on the wet grass, when the
Fates summon him, sing at read more

Thus does the white swan, as he lies on the wet grass, when the
Fates summon him, sing at the fords of Maeander.

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.]

The immortal swan that did her life deplore.

The immortal swan that did her life deplore.

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.

Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can
Her heart inform her tongue--the swan's down-feather
That read more

Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can
Her heart inform her tongue--the swan's down-feather
That stands upon the swell at full of tide,
And neither way inclines.

The swan, like the soul of the poet,
By the dull world is ill understood.

The swan, like the soul of the poet,
By the dull world is ill understood.

The swan murmurs sweet strains with a flattering tongue, itself
the singer of its own dirge.

The swan murmurs sweet strains with a flattering tongue, itself
the singer of its own dirge.

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.