Classic Poem

Black eagle of Russia! hurrah! hurrah!
Oh, never before in so holy a war,
Did the clang of thy talons, the flash of thine eye,
Lure the valiant, where brave hearts might well beat so high!

Strong and wild foams the Danube, — lo! fiercely and wide,
Red rolling from battle comes on the broad tide,
While the Russ and the Moslemah, — Pacha and slave, —
Close grappled in death struggle down the dark wave.

How the Pontic rings back to the deep-measur'd bay,
Of the river-king's hounds yelling out for their prey!
And the she-wolf and raven have come with their brood,
And scream from the hills for a share of the food.

Nor shall they lack blood, — they are wild with delight, —
They are fierce for the banquet that waits them to-night;
But the Turk and the Tartar are fiercer by far
Than the vulture or wolf when they snuff up the war.

Then on, like the torrent you're leaving behind;
Speed, speed, like the sons of the storm and the wind;
Forward, sabre and spear, on the Musselman's track, —
And may yours be the onset that never looks back!

While Gaul's wither'd lilies flout idly the sky;
While England talks on of her " ancient ally; "
Give the rein to your chargers, the spur to their flanks,
And burst like a storm through the infidel ranks.

If ye hurl from the empire he dares to pollute,
And drive back to his den, by Mount Caucasus' foot,
The ruffian and robber who sits on the throne
Which the princes of Christendom once sat upon, —

From the hills of the east to the streams of the west,
Black eagle of Russia! Thy wings shall be blest;
Till old Greece shall revive at the sound of thy name,
And Zion's high-places exult in the fame!