- R OUMANIA.

| USH ABY, hush thee, little one,
Thy mother’s own, her darling son!

Thy mother cradles and watches thee

Like a growing flower, like a tender tree,

Like a tiny, precious flower, my love,

Yea, like an angel from above.

Hushaby, hush, on mother’s breast ;

Thy mother sings thee soft to rest ;

Lulls with a song that biddeth thee

To grow as straight as a tall young tree;
To be a hero, strong to save,

As. was our Prince, Stefan the Brave,

To be bold in war, and with mighty hand
Bring freedom to this thy fatherland !

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