From Ovid's "Metamorphoses", Book XI:

At first she stood uncertain, till the waves
Washed it a little nearer, then for sure,
Though still not close, it was a corpse, but whose
She knew not, yet the omen - a man drowned -
Moved her to tears. "Alas for you", she said,
"Poor soul, whoever you are, and for your wife,
If wife you have." Then nearer, on the waves,
The body floated and the more she gazed,
The more distraught she grew, till close inshore
It came - dear God! - and she could recognize
Her husband! "Oh, it's he", she shrieked and tore
Her hair, her robe and, trembling arms outstretched,
"Is this", she cried "My dearest love, is this -
So piteous - how you come home to me?"

Hard by was a hard mole built to exhaust
The sea's attack and break the battling waves.
On this she leapt - most wonderful - and then
She flew and through the air on new-found wings
Sped skimming o'er the waves, a hapless bird;
And, as she flew, her slender bill poured forth
Sad plaintive cries that seemed to speak of grief.
And when she reached the silent boodless corpse
Her new wings clasped her loved one; her hard beak
Printed cold futile kisses on his lips.
Whether he felt them or the lapping waves
Raised Ceyx' head, folk doubted; yet for sure
He felt them, and at last for pity's sake
The gods changed both to birds, the same strange fate
They shared, and still their love endured, the bonds
Of wedlock bound them still, tough they were birds.