The rays of light were dying in the west:
the cottage-smoke was motionless, still
the sound of village dogs, and people:

      when she, intent on lovers’ meeting,
found herself deep in a landscape
happier, more charming than all others.

      There the moon spread all its brightness,
through every level, and turned the trees
to silver, that wreathed the place around.

      The branches were sighing in the wind,
and weeping ever, with the nightingale,
a stream within the wood made sweet lament.

      The sea shone in the distance, and the land,
the forest, and the summits, one by one,
of all the mountain-tops were revealed.

      The darkened valley lay in tranquil shadow,
and the moonlight’s dew-wet brightness
covered the little hills all around.

      The lady took her lonely way in silence
and felt the breeze filled with fragrance,
passing across her face, so gently.

      Vain to ask if she were happy:
she took pleasure in the vistas,
and the great good her heart promised.

      O sweet serene moments, how you vanish!
What delights us here, except our hopes,
never lasts for us, or even lingers.

      See the night troubled, and then darken
the face of heaven that was so lovely,
and all her pleasure turn to fear.

      A storm cloud, the herald of the cyclone,
rose from behind the mountain, deepened,
so the moon and stars were hidden.

      She saw it spread on every side
and, gradually, mount through the air,
to form a sort of mantle overhead.

      The little light there was grew fainter:
and in the wood the wind was rising,
the wood that was her happy destination.

      Every moment the wind grew stronger,
till all the birds, awake, in their fear,
fluttered about among the leaves.

      And the gathering cloud descended
towards the shore, till one edge touched
the mountain, the other edge the sea.

      Now all was sunk in darkness’s lap,
and the rain began its beating,
the sound increasing as the cloud neared.

      The lightning flashed in a fearful manner
behind the clouds, making her eyes blink,
the earth was gloomy, and the air reddened.

      Wretchedly, she felt her body tremble:
the thunder rumbled with the same echo
as torrents flowing downward from the heights.

      She paused sometimes, and gazed in terror
at the darkened air, and hurried on,
her hair and robes streaming out behind her.

      So she breasted the harsh tempest,
that sighed against her face and scattered
those icy drops of water through dark air.

      Like a wild beast thunder assailed her,
roaring horribly without ceasing:
all the while the rain and wind grew stronger.

      And it was terrible to see around her,
dust and leaves, stones and branches flying,
and sounds the heart fears to imagine.

      She hid her eyes against the lightning flashes
that wearied and strained her sight, and clutching
her robes to her, sped faster through the storm.

      But the lightning still blazed in her face
so brightly, that at last she stood motionless
in fear, and all her courage ebbed away.

      Then she turned back. And at that moment
the lightning ceased, the night grew dark,
the thunder quietened, the wind was still.

      All was silent: and she had turned to stone.