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!