With outstretched arms, with death-clutched hands,
His mother's darling lies,
No more, till rent the grave's dark bands,
To glad her loving eyes.
Gone the last hope! faint gleam of light—
Death stalks before their eyes—
While yells and screams of wild delight
From the frenzied crowd arise.
O God of mercy! can it be?
It is a hideous dream—