The Princess look'd forth from her maiden bow'r
The horn of a herd-boy rang up from below
"Oh, cease from thy playing, and haunt me no more
Nor fetter my fancy that freely would soar
When the sun goes down."

The Princess look'd forth from her maiden bow'r
But mute was the horn that had call'd from below
"Oh, why art thou silent? Beguile me once more
Give wings to my fancy that freely would soar
When the sun goes down."

The Princess look'd forth from her maiden bow'r
The call of the horn rose again from below
She wept in the twilight and bitterly sighed:
"What is it I long for? God help me!" she cried
And the sun went down