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130
VERMONT
Was it here an armed host,
  Like two clouds where lightnings play,
Or two oceans, tempest tost,
    Clashed and mingled in the fray?
Here that, 'mid the din and smoke,
Roar of guns and sabre stroke,
Tramp of furious steeds, where moan
Horse and rider, both o'erthrown,
Lurid fires and battle yell,
  Forty thousand brave men fell?

V.

O brothers, words are weak!
What tongue shall dare to speak?
Even song itself grows dumb
In this high presence.—Come
Forth, ye whose ashes lie
Under this arching sky!
Speak ye in accents clear
Words that we fain would hear!
Tell us when your dim eyes,
Holy with sacrifice,
Looked through the battle smoke
    Up to the skies;
Tell us, ye valiant dead,
When your souls starward fled,
How from the portals far
Where the immortals are,
Chieftains and vikings old,
Heroes and warriors bold,
Men whom old Homer sung,
Men of each age and tongue,
Knights from a thousand fields
Bearing their blazoned shields
  Thronged forth to meet ye!