Their measured cadence mingling gave,
’Twas thus th’ exulting chorus rose,
While many an echo swell’d the close:—
“From the fields where dead and dying
On their battle-bier are lying,
Where the blood unstanch’d is gushing,
Where the steed uncheck’d is rushing,
Trampling o’er the noble-hearted,
Ere the spirit yet be parted;
Where each breath of heaven is swaying