Poems (Campbell)/The Distracted Mother

by Dorothea Primrose Campbell

THE DISTRACTED MOTHER.

Peace forsakes my throbbing bosom—
 Reason flies my bursting brain—
Mercy, Heav'n! and must I lose him;
 Never see my child again!

Hark! yon shriek that loudly floated
 On the gale, so piercing wild—
'Tis the voice on which I doated—
 'Tis my darling, only child!

Still I see his bosom bleeding—
 Stretch'd upon his early bier:—
Mothers! when my tale is reading,
 Drop the sympathetic tear.

Edward was my pride and pleasure;
 Graceful grew my manly boy;
All his mind a fund of treasure—
 Seat of innocence and joy.

But my Edward, fir'd by glory,
 Fled my fond protecting arms;
Sigh'd for fame in honour's story,
 Sigh'd for battle's wild alarms.

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!

Shall I never more behold thee,
 Dearest treasure of my breast,
Never in my arms enfold thee,
 Never to thy lips be prest?

Yet my starting eyes are tearless,
 And my burning cheeks are dry;
Raging frenzy makes me fearless—
 Whither, whither, shall I fly?

Mark! a radiant train attending,
 Edward mounts the vaulted sky;—
See the blazing pomp ascending,
 Far above the stars they fly.

Stop, my child, I come to meet thee—
 Stop, my love, my darling boy!
Keep thy sweetest smile to greet me
 In those realms of endless joy.

There no bloody hand shall part us,
 There no ruffian force I'll fear,—
Angels there shall safely guard us,
 Hush each sigh, and dry each tear.