Page:The Siege of Valencia.pdf/87

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from Scio's isle, A voice of song, a voice of old, Swept far as cloud or billow roll'd,   And earth was hush'd the while.

The souls of nations woke! Where lies the land whose hills among, That voice of Victory hath not rung, As if a trumpet spoke?

To sky, and sea, and shore Of those whose blood, on Ilion's plain, Swept from the rivers to the main, A glorious tale it bore.