Far and near the fairies weep!
Near and far the shadows creep!
Now the beast’s life-breath is flown,
Fairies and ‘themselves’ make moan!
Deep and low the rivers mourn,
From their pools the beast is torn,
Never more the snowy bull
Will disport when moon is full!
Sad and thin the mountains cry
Where they touch the starry sky:
‘He is dead who was our king!
Wail, lament, oh everything!’
(set to music) 1925