And, when the sultry Sun rose high,
To tend the Herds, deep-lowing nigh,
Where the swift brook was straying.
One sturdy Boy, a younker bold,
Ere they were doom’d to sever,
Maintain’d poor Jacob, sick and old;
But now, where yon tall poplars wave,
Pale primroses adorn the grave—
Where Jacob sleeps, for Ever!
Young, in the wars, the brave Boy fell!