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Those who on the bloody plain, Shriek with the voices of the slain: Those who thro' the darkness glare, And the sleepless murd'rer scare: Those who take their surly rest On the troubl'd dreamers breast: Those who make their nightly den In the guilty haunts of men. Thro' the heavy air I hear Their hollow trooping onward bear: The torches shrinking flame is dim and pale; I know thy coming; mighty master, hail! (All repeat again.) Mighty. master, hail! 3d Mystic. Lo! the mystic volumes rise! Wherein are lapt from mortal eyes Horrid deeds as yet unthought, Bloody battles yet unfought: The sudden fall and deadly wound Of the tyrant yet uncrown'd; And his line of many dyes Who yet within the cradle lies. Moving forms, whose stilly bed Long hath been among the dead; Moving forms, whose living morn Breaks with the nations yet unborn, In mystic vision walk the horrid pale: We own thy presence; mighty master, hail! (All.) Mighty master, hail!