Now the moon is rising
O'er the forest trees,
Fain would I inform me
Where my lover is:

For he made me promise,
Ere the moon should smile,
Here to wait his coming —
What a weary while!

All the cows — l've milk'd them —
O, the ling'ring hour:
I have wreath'd the arbor
With each fragrant flower.

Wherefore does he tarry?
Welcome would he be;
Many a kiss should meet him,
Come, O come to me!

O! HE comes — I hear him,
Yes! I hear him now —
No! it was the breezes
Rustling in the bough.

What can have detained him —
Has some maiden's song?
Else he had not linger'd,
Linger'd there so long.

I had scatter'd flow'rets,
Flow'rets for his bed:
I had hung up ivy
Garlands o'er his head.

Has some lambkin wander'd —
Does he track it now
Down the craggy mountain
To the deeps below?

O thou silver planet —
Thou of palest beam!
Tell him that Lelida
Weeps — and weeps for him.

But if wolves have seiz'd him,
What have I to do,
Desolate Lelida —
But to perish too!