Breathe on thy flagelet, mountain boy—
my soul panteth for the soften'd joy,
Which flows so tenderly through thy lay.
Soft as young passion's voice, wild and gay.
I hear the dashing of our Alpine streams,
I hear the mountain breeze in pine woods sigh
When I am lull'd by thee in fairy dreams.
Backward thro' many years my fond thoughts fly
my soul pantetli for that soften'd joy—
Breathe on thy flagelet, mountain boy.

Breathe on thy flagelet an Alpine song—
I in the stranger's land have tarried long ;
Wildly mad passions o'er my lorn heart stray ;
Rain now the sweetness of thine Alpine lay
On my vex'd spirit—parch'd with care—
Bring back the visions of my early days,
Which flitted ere I knew how sweet they were,
Yet they seem floating round in thy soft lays,
And my soul panteth for that soften'd joy—
Breathe on thy flagelet, mountain boy.