By his fond mother’s love, whose tireless hands
No comforts for her only offspring spared
From earliest childhood, when the sweet babe slept,
Soft—nestling in her bosom all the night,
Like a half-blown lily sleeping on the heart
Of swelling summer wave, till that sad day
He left the untold treasure of her love
To seek the rude companionship of war.
The fiery fever struck his swelling brain
With raving madness, and the big veins throbbed