And through his plumes with a noise of wind-blown flame
Loud roared the air. From Leda’s lips a cry
Broke, and she hid her face—she could not see him die,
Her lovely, hapless swan.
Her lovely, hapless swan.Ah, had she heard,
Even as the eagle hurtled past, the word
That treacherous pair exchanged. “Peace,” cried the swan;
“Peace, daughter. All my strength will soon be gone,
Wasted in tedious flying, ere I come
Where my desire hath set its only home.”