Classic Poem

God bless the Turk! God bless the Turk!
God bless the Turk! for this Christian work, —
May his noble shadow never be less!
May Mahomed guard him,
And Allah reward him,
And Suleyman bless him,
And the Houris caress him,
When with years o'erladen,
To the bowers of Adhan,
His spirit in soaring
Shall hover adoring,
And rest with the lowly,
And kneel with the holy,
Who kiss the beryl
And moon-white pearl
Of the never-ending
Bright steps ascending
Up to the nighest
Abode of the Highest,
In the infinite calm, in the clear serene,
Where the feet of God's wonderful Throne are seen!

In the name of God the most Merciful!
In the name of God the Compassionate!
Let us bless the good Sult├ón! —
He has guarded from danger
The brave-hearted Stranger —
He has stretched out his hand
To the chief of the band,
To the noble Kossuth!
Who from God's high commission,
Not for gold or ambition —
Less a lord than a lover —
Ruled royally over
His dear native land
With the sceptre of Truth;
O Prince of the Faithful!
From all that is scathful
Protect that dear life!
By his old mother's fears,
By his young children's tears,
By the anguish that lies
In the heart and the eyes
Of his desolate wife! —
By the land that he ruled,
By the people he schooled,
By the lessons he taught,
By the battles he fought, —
Guard him and keep him
By every endeavour.
The universe round
With a shriek shall resound,
It shall wail him and weep him,
And curse you for ever,
If you murder its hope,
If he cometh to harm.
Guard him and keep him
From chain and from charm,
From the hangman's rope
And the headsman's arm,
From the serpent snare
And the panting pursuit,
From the Russian bear
And the Austrian brute;
'Till the danger is past,
And the storm has o'er blown —
'Till safety's frail seed
Securely is cast,
And the harvest hath grown —
In the hour of his need
Be his kind host — afar
From the blood-seeking Czar,
Whom may Azrael blast
On his skull-builded throne!

In the name of God the Compassionate!
In the name of God the Most Merciful!
Let us help the good Sultân!
Let the Cross be uplifted,
The banners outspread,
Let the people be sifted,
Let the noble and gifted
Appear at their head!
With a million Crusaders,
Like those famed in story,
Let Europe advance,
And repel the invaders
Back, back, to their haunts!
Till their snows be made gory
Like lightning-lit foam!
Let recreant France
See and win back the glory
She squandered in Rome!
Let England the Strong,
With her hatred of wrong,
With the true strength that calms,
And with spirit elateful,
Be first on the road!
Let Ireland be grateful,
And pay back the alms
That his Highness bestowed!
Let the hearts of the peoples
Be stirred with emotion,
All over the West;
Let the belfries and steeples
Rock and reel like the ocean
In eternal unrest!
By the Rhine and the Rhone —
'Neath the bright Spanish skies —
By the Thames and the Tiber —
Like a giant awoken,
New-nerved with young fibre,
Let the people arise!
By the Seine and the Shannon
Let discord be dumb —
Let the silence be broken
By the thunder alone
Of the red roaring cannon
And heart-stirring drum!
For the battle that loometh —
The warfare that cometh —
The red fires that gleam —
The flight and pursuing —
The wrath and the ruin,
Are more than we dream!
Fire the guns! ring the bells —
Woe! woe! — for the war
'Twixt the Porte and the Czar
In the blue Dardanelles
Is the long-threatened fight
Of the Wrong with the Right —
Of Justice with Might —
Of the Day with the Night —
Of the Wreath and the Cord —
Of the Ploughshare and Sword —
Of the Slave with his Rod —
Of Darkness and Light —
Of the Devil and God!