Wilt thou not the lambkins guard? br Oh, how soft and meek they look, br Feeding on the grassy sward, br Sporting round the silvery brook! br "Mother, mother, let me go br On yon heights to chase the roe!" br br Wilt thou not the flock compel br With the horn's inspiring notes? br Sweet the echo of yon bell, br As across the wood it floats! br "Mother, mother, let me go br On yon heights to hunt the roe!" br br Wilt thou not the flow'rets bind, br Smiling gently in their bed? br For no garden thou wilt find br On yon heights so wild and dread. br "Leave the flow'rets,--let them blow! br Mother, mother, let me go!" br br And the youth then sought the chase, br Onward pressed with headlong speed br To the mountain's gloomiest place,-- br Naught his progress could impede; br And before him, like the wind, br Swiftly flies the trembling hind! br br Up the naked precipice br Clambers she, with footsteps light, br O'er the chasm's dark abyss br Leaps with spring of daring might; br But behind, unweariedly, br With his death-bow follows he. br br Now upon the rugged top br Stands she,--on the loftiest height, br Where the cliffs abruptly stop, br And the path is lost to sight. br There she views the steeps below,-- br Close behind, her mortal foe. br br She, with silent, woeful gaze, br Seeks the cruel boy to move; br But, alas! in vain she prays-- br To the string he fits the groove. br When from out the clefts, behold! br Steps the Mountain Genius old.