The Attorney-General screams, and passes by.
Dear lost companions of the noisy art,
Dear as the ruddy drops that glad my eyes;
Dear as the hopes that lately fed my heart,
When first I saw the daring conflict rise.
No more I weep, they do not sleep;
In yonder hall, a grisly band
I see them sit, they linger yet,
And only wait a rallying hand.
With me in dreadful harmony to join,