I've been among those mighty Alps.
I've wandered through their vales.
I've heard the oldest mountaineers
relate their dismal tales.
whispering around the fire
in their cottage homes
when their daily work was o 'er.
They would talk of those
who had disappeared
and their return no more.
It's there I, a shepherd,
learned a narrative of fear.
He told a mortal story there
that mothers might not hear.
Oh, the tears were standing in his eyes,
his voice so low and hushed.
Oh, wiping all those tears away,
he told his story thus.
Amon g those mighty
an d craggy rocks,
the raven ous vulture dwells.
He never fattens from a prey
till which afar he smells.
Oh, it's patient wait ing,
hours and hours,
on some lonely rock.
Oh, then choosing out a tru ant lamb,
his vic tim from some flock.
It was on one clear
September morning,
the sun was rolling high,
when from my children
And on the green, I heard a dismal cry,
oh, as if some awful deed were done,
oh, a cry of grief and pain,
oh, a cry I humbly pray to God.
I ne 'er may hear again.
I hurried out to learn the cause,
Though overcome with fright.
My infant shrieked in wild dis may
went from my fren zied sight.
Oh, I miss the youngest of my babes,
the darling of my care.
Oh, when something caught
my searching eye,
slow sailing through the air.
Now what a hard spectacle,
oh, to meet a mother
's eye .
My infant made of vultures' prey,
just tasting or to die.
To no less with bursting heart
and with a manic grave.
No human power
could not prevent
this infant child to save.
My in fant reached
his little hands,
im ploring unto me, me.
While struggling in those raptor clothes,
so vainly to get free,
I heard his ag onizing and cries as
loud he shrieked and screamed
oh until upon that azure sky
a lasting spot he seen
The vulture flopped his sail
like wings as heavenly he flew,
until upon that sun's broad face,
he came into my view.
Oh, it's once I thought I
saw him swoop,
oh, as if for to light.
It was all but a deluded thought,
for all had vanished quite.
Long years went by
with the rolling times
this child was ne 'er forgot
until a daring hunter
climbed up to a lofty spot
Oh, and there upon that craggy old rock
where the sun most ne 'er had reached,
there lay the bones of an infant
one the elements had bleached.
I hurried up those craggy rocks.
I could not stay awake.
I knew that was my infant's bones
just hasting to decay.
But the tattered garment,
it still remained,
Though tore to many a shred.
Oh, the crimsy cap that he wore that morn
Was still upon his head.