When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide,And, m
When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide, And, mermaid-like awhile they bore her up, Which time she chanted snatches of old lauds, As one incapable of her own distress Or like a creature native and endued Unto that element. But long it could not be Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, Pull’d the poor wretch from her melodious lay To muddy death. (4.7.199-208) -- source link
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