ded feather-vest:
She smil'd upon him with her cheeks so wan,
Gave him the robe, and was already gone.

Young Harrald, though astonish'd, has no fears;
The mighty garment in his hand he rears:
Of wond'rous lovely feathers it was made,
Which once the roc and ostrich had array'd.
He wishes much to veil in it his form,
And speed as rapidly as speeds the storm:
He puts it on, then seeks the open plain,--
Takes a short flight, and flutters back again.

"Courage!" he cried, "I will no longer stay;
Scotland shall see me, ere the break of day."
Then like a dragon in the air he soars,
Startled from slumber, in his wake it roars.
His wings across the ocean take their flight;
Groves, cities, hills, have vanish'd from his sight,--
See! there he goes, lone rider of the sky,
Miles underneath him, black the billows lie.

He hears a clapping on the midnight wind:
Speed, Harrald, speed! the raven is behind.
Flames from his swarthy-rolling eye are cast:--
"Ha! Harrald," scream'd he, "have we met at last?"
For the first time, the youth felt terror's force;
Pale grew his cheek, as that of clammy corse,
Chill was his blood, his nervous arm was faint,
While thus he stammer'd forth his lowly plaint:

"I see it is in vain to strive with fate;
Thank God, my soul is far above thy hate;
But, ere my mortal part thou dost destroy,
Let me one moment of sweet bliss enjoy:
The fair unmatch'd Minona is my love,
For her I travell'd, fool-like, here above:
Let me fly to her with my last farewell,
And I am thine, ere morning decks the fell."

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,