The wild swan's death-hymn took the soul
Of that waste place with joy
Hidden in sorrow: at first to the ear
The warble was low, and full, and clear:
And floating about the under-sky,
Prevailing in weakness, the coronach stole
Sometimes afar, and sometimes anear:
But anon her awful jubilant voice,
With a music strange and manifold
Flow'd forth on a carol free and bold."