“And then the battle-trumpet blew;
    And the true brother sprang and drew
    His blade to smite the traitor through;
  And so they clashed above the bier, and the Night sweated bloody dew.

    “And all their children, far and wide,
    That are so greatly multiplied,
    Rise up in frenzy and divide;
  And choosing, each whom he will serve, unsheathe the sword and take
          their side.

    “And in the low sun’s bloodshot rays,
    Portentous of the coming days,
    The Two great Oceans blush and blaze,
  With the emergent continent between them, wrapt in crimson haze.

    “Now whichsoever stand or fall,
    As God is great, and man is small,
    The Truth shall triumph over all: 
  Forever and forevermore, the Truth shall triumph over all!

  III.

    “I see the champion sword-strokes flash;
    I see them fall and hear them clash;
    I hear the murderous engines crash;
  I see a brother stoop to loose a foeman-brother’s bloody sash.

    “I see the torn and mangled corse,
    The dead and dying heaped in scores,
    The headless rider by his horse,
  The wounded captive bayoneted through and through without remorse.

    “I hear the dying sufferer cry,
    With his crushed face turned to the sky,
    I see him crawl in agony
  To the foul pool, and bow his head into bloody slime, and die.

    “I see the assassin crouch and fire,
    I see his victim fall,—­expire;
    I see the murderer creeping nigher
  To strip the dead.  He turns the head,—­the face!  The son beholds his
          sire!

    “I hear the curses and the thanks;
    I see the mad charge on the flanks,
    The rents, the gaps, the broken ranks,
  The vanquished squadrons driven headlong down the river’s bridgeless
          banks.

    “I see the death-gripe on the plain,
    The grappling monsters on the main,
    The tens of thousands that are slain,
  And all the speechless suffering and agony of heart and brain.

    “I see the dark and bloody spots,
    The crowded rooms and crowded cots,
    The bleaching bones, the battle blots,—­
  And writ on many a nameless grave, a legend of forget-me-nots.

    “I see the gorged prison-den,
    The dead line and the pent-up pen,
    The thousands quartered in the fen,
  The living-deaths of skin and bone that were the goodly shapes of men.

    “And still the bloody Dew must fall! 
    And His great Darkness with the Pall
    Of His dread Judgment cover all,
  Till the Dead Nation rise Transformed by Truth to triumph over all!”

    “And Last—­and Last I see—­The Dead.” 
    Thus saith the Keeper of the Key,
    And the Great Seal of Destiny,
    Whose eye is the blue canopy,
  And leaves the Pall of His great Darkness over all the Land and Sea.