THE DEAD CZAR.
9
THE DEAD CZAR.
AY him beneath his snows, The great Norse giant who in these last days
Troubled the nations. Gather decently
The imperial robes about him. 'T is but man,—
This demi-god. Or rather it was man,
And is—a little dust, that will corrupt
As fast as any nameless dust which sleeps
'Neath Alma's grass or Balaklava's vines.
No vineyard grave for him. No quiet tomb
By river margin, where across the seas
Children's fond thoughts and women's memories come
Like angels, to sit by the sepulchre,
Saying: "All these were men who knew to count,
Front-faced, the cost of honor, nor did shrink
From its full payment: coming here to die,
They died—like men."
By river margin, where across the seas
Children's fond thoughts and women's memories come
Like angels, to sit by the sepulchre,
Saying: "All these were men who knew to count,
Front-faced, the cost of honor, nor did shrink
From its full payment: coming here to die,
They died—like men."
But this man? Ah! for him
Funereal state, and ceremonial grand,
The stone-engraved sarcophagus, and then
Oblivion.
Funereal state, and ceremonial grand,
The stone-engraved sarcophagus, and then
Oblivion.
