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Hark! I hear the battle raging; Groans of anguish rend the air;—Now my boy the war is waging, Deaf to all my wild despair.
On Corunna's plain surrounded By the fierce relentless foe,There I saw him, pale and wounded, Sink beneath the fatal blow.
See Death's tyrant hand is shading Darkly now each matchless grace;See the roses, quickly fading, Vanish from my Edward's face!
Oh! my heart will burst with sighing; Bleeds my bosom's inmost core—There I saw him pale and dying, Stiff'ning, welt'ring in his gore.
All my steps are mark'd with slaughter, Blood of him I call'd my Son:See, his pale form follows after;— Edward, Edward, art thou gone!
Come, my child—but, ah! what sadness Sits upon thy youthful front?Hide those bloody wounds!—Oh, madness! Hide that rapier's streaming point!
