THE
SONG
OF
THE
WANDERING
LADY
,
FOUNDED
ON
A
TRUE
STORY
.
THROUGH
dreary
wilds
forlorn
I
go
When
loud
the
storms
of
winter
blow
;
On
me
they
waste
their
rage
in
vain
,
For
I
can
feel
nor
joy
nor
pain
.
My
sheep
,
companions
kind
and
true
,
Yes
,
I
can
feel
a
pang
for
you
;
Come
gather
round
,
and
I
will
keep
The
watch
,
and
sing
while
you
shall
sleep
.
Ah
,
these
were
once
my
lover's
care
,
Of
all
the
flock
he
held
them
dear
;
With
me
they
left
their
native
fold
,
And
brav'd
the
winds
of
winter
cold
.
They
follow
wheresoe'er
I
lead
,
And
while
I
sit
and
see
them
feed
,
Methinks
the
sunny
days
return
Ere
yet
my
heart
had
learnt
to
mourn
.
To
mourn
a
father's
cruel
pride
,
By
whose
rash
hand
my
lover
died
;
O
cruel
,
cruel
was
the
deed
,
That
caus'd
so
kind
a
heart
to
bleed
.
O
youth
belov'd
,
thy
voice
no
more
Can
peace
to
my
sad
soul
restore
;
To
seek
thy
native
hills
I
fly
,
Where
thou
wert
born
I
go
to
die
!