This shall be thy lullaby, Rocking on the stormy sea; Though it roar in thunder wild, Sleep, stilly sleep, thou bright-haired child. When our shuddering boat was crossing Eldern's lake so rudely tossing, Then 'twas first my nursling smiled; Sleep, softly sleep, my fair-browed child. Waves above thy cradle break, Foamy tears are on thy cheek, Yet the ocean's self grows mild When it bears my slumbering child. |