It was an eve in late summer, Autumn was nigh Still a warm sun did colour the sky The meadows did shine in a strange golden light And vales did forth the soft haze of night When through the air a voice did resound Beckoning the shepherd to rise from the ground The shepherd: 'What sweet voice does sing in such a woebegone tone? What maiden does wander the heather alone?' ♪ Bewitched by its tone, ♪ He followed her song, Whilst the sun did descend And the shadows grew long In the dim light of dusk, Near the sparkling cascade On a moss covered stone sat a crying young maid The shepherd: 'Why art thou dreary? What happened to thee? What song didst thou sing so woefully?' The maiden: 'Go whither O shepherd! Don't sadden thine heart Thou canst not help me - not thou who thou art! An old man who's been born in a cradle of wood Of a tree that at least a hundred years stood, Cut by a boy who at heart was still pure - Might be my redeemer if he knew that he could...