 | Lyrics: By Martin F. Tupper |  |
154
Woes for the Czar.
Guilty despot, God-forsaken,
And by Judgment overtaken,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
Hypocrite, that didst dissemble,
Now in abject terror tremble,
Woe, woe to thee!
And by Judgment overtaken,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
Hypocrite, that didst dissemble,
Now in abject terror tremble,
Woe, woe to thee!
Hark! the dogs of war are gather'd,
Bear! to bait thee, closely tether'd,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
Even Turkey's angry legions
Hunt thee up to thine own regions,
Woe, woe to thee!
Bear! to bait thee, closely tether'd,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
Even Turkey's angry legions
Hunt thee up to thine own regions,
Woe, woe to thee!
155
Meaning mischief, we will do it,
Caitiff,—deeply shalt thou rue it,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
North and South our volley'd thunder
Shall thy carcase tear in sunder,
Woe, woe to thee!
Caitiff,—deeply shalt thou rue it,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
North and South our volley'd thunder
Shall thy carcase tear in sunder,
Woe, woe to thee!
France with tiger-fury hounds thee,
England's lion-might surrounds thee,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
Sworn to havoc without pity,
Fleets and forts and field and city,
Woe, woe to thee!
England's lion-might surrounds thee,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
Sworn to havoc without pity,
Fleets and forts and field and city,
Woe, woe to thee!
Not that we would kill the People,
But, in sparing street and steeple,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
We will blow each fort and palace
To the bourn of Meshech's malice,
Woe, woe to thee!
But, in sparing street and steeple,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
We will blow each fort and palace
To the bourn of Meshech's malice,
Woe, woe to thee!
156
Cronstadt shall be crush'd and batter'd,
As Sebastopol is shatter'd,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
Meshech, Rosh, and Tubal—humbled,
To destruction shall be crumbled,
Woe, woe to thee!
As Sebastopol is shatter'd,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
Meshech, Rosh, and Tubal—humbled,
To destruction shall be crumbled,
Woe, woe to thee!
We will raise the ghost of Poland,
Thine unlaid and fearful Foeland,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
We will arm the Fins and Tartars,
And Siberia's million martyrs,
Woe, woe to thee!
Thine unlaid and fearful Foeland,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
We will arm the Fins and Tartars,
And Siberia's million martyrs,
Woe, woe to thee!
Moscow shall be curst as Edom
When we give thy serfs their freedom,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
Petersburg shall be as Babel
When they find thy strength a fable,
Woe, woe to thee!
When we give thy serfs their freedom,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
Petersburg shall be as Babel
When they find thy strength a fable,
Woe, woe to thee!
157
Think not kingcraft now can spare thee,
Nicholas, for doom prepare thee,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
No indulgent statesman's finger
Can avert what shall not linger,
Woe, woe to thee!
Nicholas, for doom prepare thee,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
No indulgent statesman's finger
Can avert what shall not linger,
Woe, woe to thee!
O thou tyrant, dread this hour,
When the People in its power
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
To the dust shall trample gladly
Thee, that durst to rule so madly,
Woe, woe to thee!
When the People in its power
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
To the dust shall trample gladly
Thee, that durst to rule so madly,
Woe, woe to thee!
Greatest criminal, that ever
Roused mankind their yokes to sever,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
Never more shall peace or slumber
Soothe thy moments, few in number,
Woe, woe to thee!
Roused mankind their yokes to sever,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
Never more shall peace or slumber
Soothe thy moments, few in number,
Woe, woe to thee!
158
Conscience, with such sin to whelm it,
Shall be hell in crown and helmet,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
Fear, thy sleepless pillow scaring,
Shall bemock thy guilty daring,—
Woe, woe to thee!
Shall be hell in crown and helmet,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
Fear, thy sleepless pillow scaring,
Shall bemock thy guilty daring,—
Woe, woe to thee!
All men's strength, in wrath uprisen,
Shall stand round thee like a prison,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
All men's wrath shall tread thee under
Hated, hoof'd, and torn asunder,
Woe, woe to thee!
Shall stand round thee like a prison,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
All men's wrath shall tread thee under
Hated, hoof'd, and torn asunder,
Woe, woe to thee!
Dead!—How sudden was thy sentence,
Mercy-past, as past repentance,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
Dead!—O sinner unforgiven,
Dragg'd before the bar of Heaven,—
Woe, woe to thee!
Mercy-past, as past repentance,
(Woe, woe to thee,—)
Dead!—O sinner unforgiven,
Dragg'd before the bar of Heaven,—
Woe, woe to thee!
| Lyrics: By Martin F. Tupper | |