Where shall the lover rest,
Whom the fates sever
From his true maiden’s breast,
Parted forever?
Where through groves deep and high,
Sounds the far billow,
Where early violets die,
Under the willow.

There, through the summer day,
Cool streams are laving;
There, while the tempests sway,
Scarce are boughs waving.
There thy rest shalt thou take,
Parted forever,
Never again to wake,
Never, O, never!

Where shall the traitor rest,
He, the deceiver,
Who could win maiden’s breast,
Ruin and leave her?
In the lost battle,
Borne down by the flying,
Where mingles war’s rattle
With groans of the dying.

Her wing shall the eagle flap,
O’er the false hearted.
His warm blood the wolf shall lap,
E’er life be parted.
Shame and dishonor sit
By his grave ever;
Blessing shall hallow it—
Never, O, never!