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MICHAEL VITKOVICS.
But what of this? She knows it all,
And all forgets—she laughs at woe;
No pity on despair lets fall;
For other youth her passions glow.
But God shall punish her. O why,
Why was that lovely maid untrue?
Why did she bid my pleasure die?
Why pierce my heart, and pierce it through?
When shepherdless my sheep shall stray,
And madness thought and hope destroy,
"Shame on the maid!" the youths will say;
"Poor fool! beloved Shepherd boy!"
