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I beheld the Flemish weavers, with Namur

and Juliers bold, Marching homeward from the bloody battle

of the Spurs of Gold ;

Saw the fight at Minnewater, saw the White

Hoods moving west, Saw great Artevelde victorious scale the Gol

den Dragon's nest.

And again the whiskered Spaniard all the land

with terror smote; And again the wild alarum sounded from the

tocsin's throat;

Till the bell of Ghent responded o'er lagoon

and dike of sand, “I am Roland ! I am Roland ! there is victory

in the land !”

Then the sound of drums aroused me. The

awakened city's roar Chased the phantoms I had summoned back

into their graves once more.

Hours had passed away like minutes; and,

before I was aware, Lo! the shadow of the belfry crossed the sun

illumined square.



This is the place. Stand still, my steed,

Let me review the scene,
And summon from the shadowy Past

The forms that once have been.

The Past and Present here unite

Beneath Time's flowing tide, Like footprints hidden by a brook,

But seen on either side.

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