Page:Pocahontas, and Other Poems.djvu/68

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HOME OF THE DUELLIST.
"But ere the earliest violets bloom  We in his arms shall be,— So, go to rest, my children dear,  And pray for him and me."
The snow-flakes rear'd their drifted mound  O'er hill and valley deep, But nought amid that peaceful home  Disturb 'd the dews of sleep;
For lightly, like an angel's dream,  The trance of slumber fell Where innocence and holy love  Maintain'd their guardian spell.
Another eve,—another scroll.—  Wist ye what words it said ? Two words, two awful words it bore,—  The duel!—and the dead!
The duel!—and the dead!—How dim  Was that young mother's eye,— How fearful was her lengthen'd swoon—  How wild her piercing cry.
There's many a wife whose bosom's lord  Is in his prime laid low,
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