Bade him return upon the same
A corpse, or else come back with fame,
The tender mother bids farewell,
To that sweet boy she loves so well;
And binding round his waist the sword,
Thus cheers his heart by deed and word:
“My only son, my darling boy,
’Twill fill your mother’s heart with joy,
To know this blade you nobly wield
For freedom, in the tented field;