HOME OF THE DUELLIST.
The mother sat beside her fire,
Well trimin'd it was, and bright,
While loudly moan'd the forest-pines
Amid that wintry night.
Well trimin'd it was, and bright,
While loudly moan'd the forest-pines
Amid that wintry night.
She heard them not, those wind-swept pines,
For o'er a scroll she hung,
That bore her husband's voice of love,
As when that love was young.
For o'er a scroll she hung,
That bore her husband's voice of love,
As when that love was young.
And thrice her son, beside her knee,
Besought her favouring eye,
And thrice her lisping daughter spoke,
Before she made reply.
Besought her favouring eye,
And thrice her lisping daughter spoke,
Before she made reply.
"O, little daughter, many a kiss
Lies in this treasur'd line ;
And, boy, a father's blessed prayers,
And counsels fond, are thine.
Lies in this treasur'd line ;
And, boy, a father's blessed prayers,
And counsels fond, are thine.
"Thou hast his high and arching brow,
Thou hast his eye of flame;
Thou hast his eye of flame;
