The Widow's Appeal

Tempt imt my loy. nccursod bowl ! Xt nipt, nnt my brfgltt-eyed mgel boy ; Hfl is tLre Mar that lighls niy noul- öoothes my long grief withpride and joy. He is my jouiifícst bom - The last I have me left ; Make uot my homo forlorn, And leave it al 1 beref t ! Hi fattier lien in yomler gravo, i'wn ottrer graves ure there beeide ; Both pir and ponp, in dealh's ctlrt Wave, Now ttike thcir res( bMo by Blde ; 'ïwap thon, luad bowl, tiiat elew, And oït me bnt tliia one ; "Wagf uot thy battle through - Oh upare my darliiig sou ! All else tp thee 111 frcely ffivo, All saiTiüee on thee beBTOW - If thouwilt let the lahibkin live, NcT ltüve me JQylcsa hfTfl Ixlow. Lure not hin lips to taste, Dim uot bis ihoughtlesH eye. Elue eoon thy Bcourge will wete- llio victiui cari y die. Ok, eave the mother's bleeding woc, Show lücrey to (he widow now, For I niiiy beur the lOQg MO And 'n ath bopë! altar bow. Bnt spare, oh, spare my boy, Touih not his yoiithiul lu ad ; He ia a mother's joy, Thut lives when all are dead ! Oh, guide the fearful ehaft away, Hurl not Iho dart with fatal aim; I'll tfa-h Iiim prayers 1o fondly pay In gruti ful thaukB nnto tby nainc. Jn virtrw waye hel] go, Till Gol Phall bid Iiim eomc- IIíb heart bo free from woc, And heaven his ñnal home.