Classic Poem

Chained to the icy peak,
Rent by the vulture's beak,
Scourged of the bitter brine;
Brother of Caucasus,
The gods have wrought on us
Horrors to rival thine!

In the wilderness wreck we stand,
In the depths of the desolate land,
To our dead in their graves we cry:
" Brothers! that rest in peace
In the land where the wicked cease,
Is it better to live or die? "

And our dead from their graves reply:
" The Merciful moves on high.
The arm of His strength is nigh,
In the sorrows that learn of Faith
To smile in the eye of Death.
It is braver to live than to die! "