The aria sinking;
All else continuing -- the stars shining,
The winds blowing -- the notes of the bird continuous echoing,
With angry moans the fierce old mother incessantly moaning,
On the sands of Paumanok's shore, gray and rustling;
The yellow half-moon enlarged, sagging down, drooping,
   the face of the sea almost touching;
The boy extatic -- with his bare feet the waves,
   with his hair the atmosphere dallying,
The love in the heart long pent, now loose, now at last tumultuously bursting,
The aria's meaning, the ears, the Soul, swiftly depositing,
The strange tears down the cheeks coursing,
The colloquy there -- the trio -- each uttering,
The undertone -- the savage old mother, incessantly crying,
To the boy's Soul's questions sullenly timing -- some drown'd secret hissing,
To the outsetting bard of love.