182
RUSSIA.
Through exile, torture, madness,
But swell the martyrs' rolls?—
Rise in your ancient grandeur,
O race of love and fire,
And flame till ice and rock shall melt
In the blast of your holy ire!
Till the very stars shall fight for you,
And all the winds that blow
Shall swell your cry for Liberty,
Shall chant your speechless woe!
Let the sword rest in its scabbard;—
Your wrongs shall be the blade
To cleave the bonds that have bound you,
And win the world to aid.
In the might of Slavie manhood,
In the power of God on high,
Claim and defend your birthright!—
And the despot's rule shall die.
But swell the martyrs' rolls?—
Rise in your ancient grandeur,
O race of love and fire,
And flame till ice and rock shall melt
In the blast of your holy ire!
Till the very stars shall fight for you,
And all the winds that blow
Shall swell your cry for Liberty,
Shall chant your speechless woe!
Let the sword rest in its scabbard;—
Your wrongs shall be the blade
To cleave the bonds that have bound you,
And win the world to aid.
In the might of Slavie manhood,
In the power of God on high,
Claim and defend your birthright!—
And the despot's rule shall die.
