O sleep not, my babe, for the morn of tomorrow
Shall soothe me to slumber more tranquil than thine;
The dark grave shall shield me from shame and from sorrow,
Tho the deeds and the doom of the guilty are mine.
Not long shall the arms of affection enfold thee;
Not long shalt thou hang on thy mothers fond breast;
And who with the eye of de light shall behold thee,
And watch thee, and guard thee, when I am at rest!