This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
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.