[00:34]Her lute hangs shadowed in the apple-tree,
[00:43]While flashing fingers weave the sweet-strung spell
[00:52]Between its chords;and as the wild notes swell,
[00:59]The sea-bird for those branches leaves the sea
[01:42]But to what sound her listening ear stoops she?
[01:50]What netherworld gulf-whispers doth she hear,
[01:58]In answering echoes from what planisphere,
[02:07]Along the wind,along the estuary?
[03:05]She sinks into her spell:and when full soon
[03:15]Her lips move and she soars into her song,
[03:22]What creatures of the midmost main shall throng
[03:31]In furrowed self-clouds to the summoning rune,
[03:39]Till he,the fated mariner,hears her cry,
[03:47]And up to her rock,bare breasted,coms to die?