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HOME OF THE DUELLIST.
53
Engulph'd beneath the wat'ry main,
Where bitter tempests blow;
Where bitter tempests blow;
Or crush 'd amid the battle-field,
Where slaughter'd thousands rest;—
Yet know they of the speechless pang
That rives her bleeding breast ?
Where slaughter'd thousands rest;—
Yet know they of the speechless pang
That rives her bleeding breast ?
Who lies so powerless on her couch,
Transfix "d by sorrow's sting ?
Her infant in its nurse's arms,
Like a forgotten thing.
Transfix "d by sorrow's sting ?
Her infant in its nurse's arms,
Like a forgotten thing.
A dark-hair 'd boy is at her side—
He lifts his eagle-eye—
"Mother!—they say my father's dead,—
How did my father die?"
He lifts his eagle-eye—
"Mother!—they say my father's dead,—
How did my father die?"
Again, the spear-point in her breast!
Again, that shriek of pain!
"Child! thou hast riven thy mother's soul,
Speak not those words again."
Again, that shriek of pain!
"Child! thou hast riven thy mother's soul,
Speak not those words again."
"Speak not those words again, my son!"
What boots the fruitless care ?
They're written wheresoe'er she turns ;
On ocean,—earth,—or air:
What boots the fruitless care ?
They're written wheresoe'er she turns ;
On ocean,—earth,—or air:
