HOME OF THE DUELLIST. 51

And be the purpose of thy soul, Thy sun-bright course, the same."

And, as she drew them to her arms,

Down her fair cheek would glide A gushing tear like diamond spark,

A tear of love and pride.

She took her baby from its rest,

And laid it on her knee ; " Thou ne'er hast seen thy sire," she said,

" But hell be proud of thee :

" Yes, he'll be proud of thee, my dove,

The lily of our line, I know what eye of blue he loves,

And such an eye is thine."

" Where is my father gone, Mamma ?

Why does he stay so long ? " " He's far away in Congress-hall,

Amid the noble throng :

" He's in the lofty Congress-hall,

To swell the high debate ; And help to frame those equal laws

That make our land so great. E 2

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