The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme :: :: University of Virginia Library

She came; athwart the trembling shade
That fringed a thicket-mantled isle,
He saw a boat; he saw the maid
Advance resplendent, sweet with guile.
He loitered not, he launched his bark
And drove it o'er the eddying mere,
Although he held belief that stark
And bony Death would seize him here.
But here he faltered not to die,
If only she might die with him;
And how could even lorelei fly
Destruction near that awful brim?

At first she paddled nigh to shore,
But quickly changed to reckless flight,
For Downing deftly used his oar
And toiled with superhuman might.
Erelong, far out upon the flow
Of ebon waves and snowy froth,
They tossed and fluttered to and fro—
A moth beside another moth.
And then the condor-current caught
And mastered them in demon claws;
And all was over—every thought
Of winning life, or even pause.