SHEPHERD SONG OF FÜREDI.
Hej juhász bojtár! hol a' juh?
Say, Shepherd! where thy sheep are gone,
And why this discontented frown?
They're wending forth to Balaton,[1]
And heavy sorrows press me down.
I eat not, drink not—but I lie
Like a fell'd trunk upon the plain;
The sun sinks downwards from the sky,
And gives me up to night and pain.
O hopeless doom! She turns away,
Indifference in her eyes I see;
In vain my Shepherd's pipe I play—
She listens not, nor looks on me.
The freshest milk, the whitest lamb,
And wreaths of knots, to her I bore;
And all I have, and all I am—
Life, soul—would give, to win her o'er.
Her face[2] I press'd with kisses sweet,
Upon her breast my sighs outpour'd,
Fell, like a pilgrim, at her feet,
And drank her every breath and word.
