LIFE FOR A LIFE.
93
LIFE FOR A LIFE.
'TIS but a phantom of the weary brain,An image wrought by sleepless nights of pain—I know 'tis false, as false as earth can be,Thy hand, my son, from blood of man is free.
Ah! ha! Thou shrinkest, oh, my son! my son!If thou art guilty then am I undone!Still thou art mine, a widow's only child;Some subtle serpent has thy heart beguiled.
Plead for thee, boy? ay, give my life for thine—A mother's love is holy, pure, divine.I will away, to Cromwell will I hie,And save thee, boy, ay, save or with thee die!
