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Nařek.
Ye wild and savage rocks,
Ah! listen to my songs;
To ye that tower so high,
Gigantic, towards the sky;
I will confide my wrongs.
And yet ye know my wrongs;
Ye know my secret woe—
The struggles of thy souI—
My griefs—my doubts—the whole
Of sorrow's strife ye know.
Ye know how blest I seem'd,
When love was beaming o'er—
Ye know his solemn oath,
That bound—that pledg'd us both—
He broke the oath he swore.
And who can help me now?
Life's flowers and fruits are gone—
My roses are decay'd:
Ah! who shall help the maid,
Left with despair alone!