When loud the horn is sounding
Along the distant hills,
Then would I rove, ne'er weary,
The Hunter's Daughter near me,
By flowery margin'd rills.
'Mid stately pines embosom'd
There stands the Hunter's cot,
From which this maiden daily
At morning peeps so gaily,
Contented with her lot.
This Hunter and his Daughter
Make everything their prey;
He slays the wild roe bounding,
Her eyes young hearts are wounding—
No shafts so sure as they!
AN INVITATION.
Music arranged by Julius Siligmann.
The skylark sings his matin lay,
The waking flowers at dawning day,
With perfumed breath, sigh, Come! come! come!
Oh, haste, Love, come with me,
To the wild wood come with me.
Hark, the wing'd warblers singing,
Come with me;
Beauteous flowers, their perfume flinging,
Wait for thee!
The sunlight sleeps upon the lea,
And sparkles o'er the murmuring sea,
The wanton wind sighs, Come! come! come!
Oh, haste, Love, come with me,
To the wild wood come with me—
Come and gather luscious berries,
Come with me;
Clustering grapes and melting cherries
Wait for thee!
My bird of love, my beauteous flower,
Come, reign the queen of yonder bower,
'Tis True-love whispers, Come! come! come!
Oh, haste, then, come with me,
To the wild wood come with me.
Life's first fairest hours are fleeting—
Come with me;
Hope, and Joy, and Love's fond greeting
Wait for thee!