THE RUSSIAN'S DREAM OF CONSTANTINOPLE.
Hail to the glorious morning
When the Cross again shall shine
On the summit of Saint Sophia,
O city of Constantine!
And that day of sack and slaughter
When the wild, despairing cries
Of "Kyrie Eleison!" fainter
Went wailing up to the skies,
Shall be lost in the splendid triumph
As the Church reclaims her own,
And the Patriarch welcomes our Lord, the Czar,
To the Cæsars' ancient throne!
When the Cross again shall shine
On the summit of Saint Sophia,
O city of Constantine!
And that day of sack and slaughter
When the wild, despairing cries
Of "Kyrie Eleison!" fainter
Went wailing up to the skies,
Shall be lost in the splendid triumph
As the Church reclaims her own,
And the Patriarch welcomes our Lord, the Czar,
To the Cæsars' ancient throne!
Shame to the laggard Latins!
Shame to the grovelling Greeks!
The crescent above Sophia's dome
Their foul dishonor speaks!
But, over Holy Russia,
Its Cross triumphant towers,
And the creed and the crown of Constantine
Alike shall yet be ours;
And the grandeur of our dominion
For the woes of the past atone,
Shame to the grovelling Greeks!
The crescent above Sophia's dome
Their foul dishonor speaks!
But, over Holy Russia,
Its Cross triumphant towers,
And the creed and the crown of Constantine
Alike shall yet be ours;
And the grandeur of our dominion
For the woes of the past atone,
