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!