Then held I thee, encircled well,
Whilst rain in torrents round us fell,
When, through its rocky dark bed pouring,
The torrent with the wolf, was roaring,
Thou fear’dst not, no muscle quivered,
E’en when the highest pine was shivered
By forked flash—within mine arm
Thou slept’st in peace without alarm.
My arm grows weak, and fast draws near
Pale death! My shepherd’s task so dear,