“Huntsman, that on the hills above

To hunt the deer hast been,

Tell me, I pray thee, if my love—

My wild deer thou hast seen?

“He sought the hills his grief to quell—

My darling love, my sun.

He wandered out upon the fell,

My flower, my only one.”

“Maiden, I saw your lover true,

All girt with red and green.

Upon his breast a rose tree grew

Where once your kiss had been.”

“Huntsman, I pray, who is the bride

Of my beloved, my sun?

Who tends him, watching by his side,

My flower, my only one?”

“Maiden, I saw him with his head

Upon a stone at rest.

And for his love, a bullet red

Into his heart was pressed.

“The mountain breeze caressingly

Played with his jet-black hair,

And blossoms wept unceasingly

Your flower, your lover there.”