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Yet Rudiger in silent mood
Along the banks would roam,
Nor aught could Margaret prevail
To turn his footsteps home.
Along the banks would roam,
Nor aught could Margaret prevail
To turn his footsteps home.
"Oh turn thee—turn thee Rudiger,
"The rising mists behold,
"The evening wind is damp and chill,
"The little babe is cold!"
"The rising mists behold,
"The evening wind is damp and chill,
"The little babe is cold!"
"Now hush thee—hush thee Margaret,
"The mists will do no harm,
"And from the wind the little babe
"Lies sheltered on my arm."
"The mists will do no harm,
"And from the wind the little babe
"Lies sheltered on my arm."
"Oh turn thee—turn thee Rudiger,
"Why onward wilt thou roam?
"The moon is up, the night is cold,
"And we are far from home."
"Why onward wilt thou roam?
"The moon is up, the night is cold,
"And we are far from home."
