“Or yet to wish his life away,
“Wherefore then should I do him wrong?
“To you soldiers does such belong.
“If that a price be on his head?
“’Tis for those by blood who have their bread.”
The gen’ral then had nought to say;
But gave her leave, on the next day,
Of her friends to go and take farewel;
Her mother heart-sore grief did feel:
An officer and forty men