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THE MOTHER'S LAMENT.
While her fair bosom's gentle swell
With hallow'd heavings rose and fell;
Then was thy heavenly being blest
With earthly home of holy rest,
And woman's breast was form'd to be
The tabernacle meet for thee!
With hallow'd heavings rose and fell;
Then was thy heavenly being blest
With earthly home of holy rest,
And woman's breast was form'd to be
The tabernacle meet for thee!
THE MOTHER'S LAMENT
ON THE EVENING OF THE BATTLE.
BY THE AUTHOR OF "NUGÆ SACRÆ," &c.
The valley was red, for the death-fray was ended,
When I gain'd its dark shadow to seek for my son;
I found him at length on the heather extended,
And bath'd in his blood, for his young day was done:
He had gloriously fallen in the thick of the firing,
And now from his cheek were the warm hues retiring;
Yet he lifted his eyelid, and whisper'd, expiring,
"O mourn not for me, for the battle is won!"
When I gain'd its dark shadow to seek for my son;
I found him at length on the heather extended,
And bath'd in his blood, for his young day was done:
He had gloriously fallen in the thick of the firing,
And now from his cheek were the warm hues retiring;
Yet he lifted his eyelid, and whisper'd, expiring,
"O mourn not for me, for the battle is won!"
Brave boy! I exclaim'd, as I hung o'er him, weeping,
Whose valour survived with the last fleeting breath:
But what recks thy mother-who watches thee sleeping
The long dreamless sleep, on the blood-sprinkled heath—
What recks thy reft mother, while sorrowing o'er thee,
That Victory crown'd thee, if Victory tore thee
From her whom it robb'd of thy father before thee,
And bore thee, like him, to the regions of death?
Whose valour survived with the last fleeting breath:
But what recks thy mother-who watches thee sleeping
The long dreamless sleep, on the blood-sprinkled heath—
What recks thy reft mother, while sorrowing o'er thee,
That Victory crown'd thee, if Victory tore thee
From her whom it robb'd of thy father before thee,
And bore thee, like him, to the regions of death?