'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
Which to their corses came again,
But a troop of spirits blest:
"For when it dawn'd—they dropp'd their arms,
And clustered round the mast;
Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,
And from their bodies pass'd.
"Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
Then darted to the sun;
Slowly the sounds come back again,