Many, o'erborne with grief and watching
At couch of those oppressed with pains,
A hurried hour of slumber snatching,
Woke with the fever in their veins.
Spared not the children or the father,
Passed not the anxious mother by,
In one swift grave the parents gather
Their offspring with them as they lie.
Lamented many a one his dearest
Borne to the house whence no retrace,