A Winged Goddess, Clothed In Vesture Wrought Of Rainbow Colours; One Whose Port Was Bold, Whose Overburthened Hand Could Scarcely Hold The Glittering Crowns And Garlands Which It Brought Hovered In Air Above The Far-Famed Spot. She Vanished; Leaving Prospect Blank And Cold Of Wind-Swept Corn That Wide Around Us Rolled In Dreary Billows; Wood, And Meagre Cot, And Monuments That Soon Must Disappear: Yet A Dread Local Recompense We Found; While Glory Seemed Betrayed, While Patriot-Zeal Sank In Our Hearts, We Felt As Men 'Should' Feel With Such Vast Hoards Of Hidden Carnage Near, And Horror Breathing From The Silent Ground!