The Song of the Wandering Lady
FOUNDED ON A TRUE STORY. THROUGH dreary wilds forlorn I go When loud the storms of winter blow; On me they waste their rage in vain, For I can feel nor joy nor pain. My sheep, companions kind and true, Yes, I can feel a pang for you; Come gather round, and I will keep The watch, and sing while you shall sleep. Ah, these were once my lover's care, Of all the flock he held them dear; With me they left their native fold, And brav'd the winds of winter cold. They follow wheresoe'er I lead, And while I sit and see them feed, Methinks the sunny days return Ere yet my heart had learnt to mourn. To mourn a father's cruel pride, By whose rash hand my lover died; O cruel, cruel was the deed, That caus'd so kind a heart to bleed. O youth belov'd, thy voice no more Can peace to my sad soul restore; To seek thy native hills I fly, Where thou wert born I go to die!
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