a mother's lament
    for the death of her son.
    fate gave the word, the arrow sped,
    and pierc'd my darling's heart;
    and with him all the joys are fled
    life can to me impart.
    by cruel hands the sapling drops,
    in dust dishonour'd laid;
    so fell the pride of all my hopes,
    my age's future shade.
    the mother-linnet in the brake
    bewails her ravish'd young;
    so i, for my lost darling's sake,
    lament the live-day long.
    death, oft i've feared thy fatal blow.
    now, fond, i bare my breast;
    o, do thou kindly lay me low
    with him i love, at rest!