'Speak, maiden, speak!' the wanderer cried!
'Why moan you here alone?'--
'Ah, sir, an orphan-child am I,
Whom God alone can save!

'Ah! seest thou not yon grassy mound
There sleeps my mother dear.
Behold yon rock, above the flood;
There fell my father down!

'The whirling torrent bore him on;
He struggled long in vain;
My brother leaped to help his sire,
And both together sank!

'And now I fly our silent hut,
Where desolation dwells,
To mourn upon this dreary bank,
And watch the wave and grave!'

'No longer grieve,' the stranger said,
'Thy heart shall ache no more;
A father and a brother too
To thee, poor lonely girl, I'll be!'

"He took her hand; he led her off;
In garments rich he clad the maid;
Before the altar promised love,
And blessed her life in happy home!"[A]