text:  In vain I wander through the distant forests strange In vain I roam at will By foreign glade and hill For ah! where'er I range Beside my heart the heart of Lili nestles still! Like a bird that breaks its twine Is this poor heart of mine: It fain into the summer bowers would fly And yet it cannot be Again so wholly free; For always it must bear The token which is there To mark it as a thrall of past captivity