FOR THE DEATH OF HER SON. 

["The Mother's Lament," says the poet, in a copy of the verses now before me, "was composed partly with a view to Mrs. Fergusson of Craigdarroch, and partly to the worthy patroness of my early unknown muse, Mrs. Stewart, of Afton."] 

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 fear’d thy fatal blow, 
Now, fond I bare my breast, 
O, do thou kindly lay me low 
With him I love, at rest! 

(A Mother’s Lament by Robert Burns)