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Unconscious babe! I would not wish Thy deep repose to break:Better in peace to slumber there, Than like thy mother wake.
Sleep on, sleep on, my darling babe Till Heav'n's resistless voiceShall rouse the slumb'rers of the tomb, And bid thy soul rejoice.
Sweet child! thine infant eyes had scarce Beheld life's op'ning dawn,Than thou wert fatherless, and I A widow left forlorn.
Nor e'en the last sad grief was giv'n, His dying form to see;He fell upon a foreign shore, Unwept by all but me.
Henry! thy nature suited ill The battle's stormy rage—Then wherefore go, my only love, The bloody war to wage!
How happier I, didst thou repose Beside our infant son,Than buried thus in field of strife, Where bloody deeds were done.
