HOLY RUSSIA.
43
Nor Islam's hate, though at Moscow's gate
The stormy bugles blow!
Fair will her eagle-banners float
Above Sophia's dome,
When heaven shall bring her righteous Czar
In triumph to his Rome;
And Constantine and Helena
Will "Alleluia!" cry,
To see the cross victorious
In their imperial sky.
Ah! what a day when all the way
To Marmora's sunny sea—
From Finland's snows to fields of rose—
Shall Holy Russia be!
The stormy bugles blow!
Fair will her eagle-banners float
Above Sophia's dome,
When heaven shall bring her righteous Czar
In triumph to his Rome;
And Constantine and Helena
Will "Alleluia!" cry,
To see the cross victorious
In their imperial sky.
Ah! what a day when all the way
To Marmora's sunny sea—
From Finland's snows to fields of rose—
Shall Holy Russia be!
