Of the king of birds as his pinions are trailing: + 

O’er his bowing head doth a dark mist flow + 

Sweet-sealing his eyes; ’neath sleep’s prevailing + 

His back heaves wave-like soft and slow, + 

Spell-bound by thy melodies pulsing low. + 

Yea, the soul of the wild War-god lies sleeping + 

Hushed, warm-cradled in slumber’s nest, + 

And his keen spear slips from his strong hand’s keeping. + 

Gods’ hearts are thy shafts in enchantment steeping + 

By the inspiration of Phoebus to rest + 

Lulled, and by the deep-bosomed Muses’ behest. + 