A Mother’s Lament for the Death of Her Son

FATE gave the word, the arrow sped,
And pierced 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 fear’d thy fatal blow;
Now, fond, I bare my breast;
O, do thou kindly lay me low
With him I love, at rest!