As down a long valley, with cedars o’er spread
From war’s dread confusion, I pensively strayed.
The gloom from the face of fair heaven retired,
The winds hushed their murmurs, The thunders expired.
Perfumes as of Eden flowed sweetly along,
A voice as of angels enchantingly sung,
A voice as of angels enchantingly sung,
Columbia, Columbia, to glory arise,
The queen of the world and the child of the skies.
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