Fly forth, O fowl, across the sea
To win another gift of me.
Fly south to bring me tidings true,
Fair summer is on many a shield.
Of the eve grown red with the battle-dew,
Fair sing the swans 'twixt firth and field.
THE RAVEN
King's daughter sitting in tower so high,
Fair summer is on many a shield.
Tidings to hearken ere thou die,