Gil Morris

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!