The congressmen came out to see Bull Run, The congressmen who like free shows and spectacles. They brought their wives and carriages along, They brought their speeches and their picnic-lunch, Their black constituent-hats and their devotion: Some even brought a little whiskey, too, (A little whiskey is a comforting thing For congressmen in the sun, in the heat of the sun.) The bearded congressmen with orator’s mouths, The fine, clean-shaved, Websterian congressmen, Come out to see the gladiator’s show Like Iliad gods, wrapped in the sacred cloud Of Florida-water, wisdom and bay-rum, Of free cigars, democracy and votes, That lends such portliness to congressmen. (The gates fly wide, the bronze troop marches out Into the stripped and deadly circus-ring, “Ave, Caesar!” the cry goes up, and shakes The purple awning over Caesar’s seat) “Ave, Caesar! Ave, O Congressmen, We who are about to die, Salute you, congressmen! Eleven States, New York, Rhode Island, Maine,