The Maiden of Moscow :: :: University of Virginia Library

Th' imperial captain fulmined forth
His fierce defiance to the North:
“Soldiers!” 'twas thus th' appeal was couch'd,
His mighty mind was thus avouch'd;
“Dragged on by an imperious fate,
Behold proud Russia's giant state!
March! march!—the rolling Niemen cross—
Bear consternation, fear, and loss,
Far through Her territorial wilds;—
While coming glory bravely gilds
Our arms,—and promises to reign
O'er this our second proud campaign
Of Poland—as before!
But well our second peace shall bear
Its own firm guarantee—declare,
With voice impartial, just, and fair,
To Russia—bearded in Her lair—
Her counsel's influential share
In Europe is no more!”

II.

Who may describe that mighty host
Which made that laurell'd leader's boast?
Unnumber'd tribes and nations blent,
Framed that monarchic armament.

Could Xerxes leap to life and breath,
Envy should blight him back to death!—
Could Macedonia's conqueror lord
Be once more to the light restored,
He would not weep for worlds beside—
Ask but to share that leader's pride!—
Such victories as those bands so brave—
So proud, must gain—leave nought to crave!—
While th' universal glory's light
Must, like the sun, make all things bright:
To think that other conquests yet
Could add to wreaths so thickly set
Would seem dishonour sore:
No! Fame is finish'd!—Fate fulfill'd!
Yet Victory's soul through all instill'd
Shall glory evermore!—
Conquest shall conquer on for ever—
Eternal gain, without endeavour!
An everlasting victory,
The victory of such host must be!
How gloriously the legions go,
Setting the air around a-glow!
The myriads of that Suzerain's might,
His lions of the thunderous fight—
Their sabres' dreadful daylight bare,
And forth in joy and hope they fare:
Forth speed they fast in power and pride,
There seems one earthquake where they ride,—
One lightning where they glare!

III.

Star of the North! Shroud—shroud thy beams,
Those sabres' hot disastrous gleams
Shall dry up all thy rays.
Winter shall vanish from the world;
His sceptre from his cold grasp hurl'd,
('Though yet thy glories shall be furl'd)—
Shine—Realms of Frost!—one blaze!
One blaze of these proud arms, the while
An atmosphere doth round them smile,
Of splendour nothing may defile,
Well lengthening out his days,—
Lengthening and lightening days of climes,
Where once look'd pale, ev'n summer's primes,
And dull morn's roseate ways!
Where art thou in that martial crowd—
Suzerain of armed battalias proud,
Their leader and their liege avow'd?
Thou with thy guards, th' invincible,
Dost forward march, upholden well
With hope and grim delight, and trust
To tread an empire into dust!
Lord of the laurels! ponderest thou
The justice of thine actions now?—
Didst ponder well and meetly pause
To weigh the worth of thy great cause?
Ere Battle, summoned once again,
Rose from red dust with furious train!—

Dread potentate of armaments,
Think'st virtue to thy vow assents,—
Thy rash and ruinous vow, to doom
A nation's freedom to the tomb?
Ride on! Heaven's will is done through thee;
Who reads th' Almighty Mystery?—
The Future and our Faith!
Ride on! Whate'er thy human mood,
From evil yet may spring up good—
Be it as Justice saith!

IV.

Thou may'st be made—Oh, dark! Oh, blind,
Th' awakener of a people's mind!—
Th' enkindler of their soul—
Their more majestic soul, renew'd,
When all the low is lost—subdued,—
The little dares no more intrude—
The great hath chief controul!—
For patriotism's waken'd zeal,
Bright honour—'tis a heaven to feel;—
And duty's 'hests fulfill'd—
Exalt a nation's mighty heart
Through every generous, glowing part—
By petty aims unchill'd.—
A high disinterested sense
Of feeling banishes from thence
All stale and trivial dreams—
Their cares are grown colossal then—
Each man is brother of all men—
Love universal beams!

Then spread,—and ne'er to sink again
To seas, its mingling streams!
All interests nobly merged in one,
As one Stupendous Virtue shone;
Each felt and wrought for all,
And selfishness was not,—nor fear,—
Souls grew to souls more sacred-dear
Than ever since the fall!
For public dangers make men bold—
Endear all ties a thousand fold,
And bind in blessed thrall!

V.

Thus dearer to each other shewn—
Dearer to Him who made them grown,
They well may blessing claim;
So from a national distress
May spring a common happiness,
Without or taint or blame!—
And thou, that fain as conqueror dread,
Through prostrate realms would'st glorying tread,
And rule with rod of steel—
May'st prove—so Heaven doth well controul—
Creator of their loftier soul,
And Cause of their best weal!

VI.

From Italy's delicious shores
A human tide impetuous pours,

To swell that warrior throng.
They leave their deep empurpled sky—
Their atmosphere's warm luxury—
The flower—the grape—the song.—
They leave their land of palaces,
Where all divine enchantment is,
For rugged climes and bleak:
The fountain and the vine-robed plain—
The grot—the urn—the classic fane—
Th' untroubled lake—the tideless main,
For skies no sun-tints streak!
Their earth that half in heaven appears,
Where bright her Alpine brow she rears,
They leave for deserts blind;
Where, stretch'd in stark monotony,
The unsummer'd landscapes wearying lie,
A load on eye and mind!

VII.

From Guadalquivir's banks of bloom
Proud Chivalry's own first-born come!—
Spain's godlike kings of fight!—
Shout, “To the rescue for Castile!”
Brace casque on head,—bind spurs on heel,
Ye men of mould and might!—
Hidalgo fierce, and cavalier,
Let the Andalusian coursers rear
Beneath your warlike weight.
Guerilla staunch, and Torreadore,
With Freedom's meteor'd tricolor,
Join Spain's old banner'd state.

Arm! arm! on St. Iago call!
Come, bold and brave! come, one and all!
Ye matadores, for brand and ball—
Leave horns that toss and tear—
Let Spain's death-lashing bulls go free;
'Gainst Scythian prowler fierce must ye
Couch lance of flame triumphantly—
Old Muscovy's grim bear!

VIII.

Throng'd there—Bavaria's blue-eyed sons—
Forget the soil where Danube runs,
Through harvest-fields—right plenteous ones,
A monarch to the main!
Aye! subject to that sovereign sea,
He seems as mighty and as free,
The glory of the plain!
They crowd into the ranks of war,
To plunge in those chill regions far,
Of barrenness and gloom—
Changing the pruning-hook and scythe
To lance and sword, with bearing blythe;
Resigning smile and bloom.
Ah! yet may they recall in vain,
With yearnings of a sickening pain,
Affectionate and strong,
Those days of calm repose and peace
That roll'd in glad and bright increase,
Luxuriously along;

When savage wastes around them spread,
And desolations wild and dread
Close in on every side;
And hideous hardships bow them down,
An infant's weakness even to own,
Once giants in great pride!

IX.

From other climes and regions crowd
Arm'd thousands at that summons loud
(It boots not all the tale to tell),
As at some deep magician's spell;—
The fair-hair'd tribes of Saxony
Stout Regnier leads—brave hearts and free—
Westphalia's phalanx'd warriors cling
Around the banner of their king;
Proud Poniatowski heads his Poles—
The fire of ages in their souls,
Long smouldering—now no check controuls;
Sons of the Jagellons, and heirs
Of the old Piastes, leave—leave your lairs—
Come forth, ye lions!—from your mane
Shake, as the dew-drop, now your chain;
Up with your ensigns to the sky—
The patriot's vow is victory!
In Poland's burning veins now stirs
The blood of th' ancient Casimirs;
Th' old Sobieskies' bounding blood,
With Kosciusko's fiery flood!

Let wakening Lithuania start,
And join with Poland, heart to heart;
While France' throned eagles, link'd with yours,
Soar to a sky no cloud obscures,
And eyeing Freedom's dawn begun,
Flash ray for ray,—and sun for sun!—
Each glance of their unshackled eye,
A dazzling noon of Victory!
Let Czartoryski's heart rejoice,
And let him raise his honour'd voice,
Grand mareschal of their senate's choice;
The Nestor of their councils he
In reverenced Eld's supremacy;
His country's prospects brightening round,
Her yoke unfix'd, her gyves unbound;
Now lend that Spirit—born to aspire
Even more than Youth's triumphant fire!—
From Slavery's ashes they th' accurst
Behold the all-glorious phœnix burst,
Still beautiful with old renown,
And, crown'd with new majestic crown,
Apparell'd with thy pomp, oh! Past,
Where stars of Future light are cast!—
A fair,—yet venerable sight,
To fill the astonish'd earth with light.

X.

Amidst this mighty army's throngs
Of various climes, and laws, and tongues,

How many a noble mind elate
Rushes impetuously on fate;
For honour and distinction pines,
Beckon'd where bright adventure shines!
What dreams on fire, with daring's zeal!—
What prompt resolves—firm judgments steel!—
What quick upspringings of the soul!—
What stretchings on to glory's goal!—
There beat strong hearts, whose bright desire
Might kindle embryo worlds with fire,
Or proudly (hearts that ne'er have blench'd!)—
Light up unquicken'd suns, or quench'd!—
Their fervour—deathless and profound—
Their force—their faith—without a bound!
On such electric energies—
Such elements of life as these—
Creation's issues might depend,
Did ev'n such zeal not find its end!—
Their thought might wield the worlds above—
Did even such fire not transient prove!—
But whispers low a voice that saith—
“The end of such things is but death.”

XI.

Glory is but a passing flame—
Honour the nothing of a name!
And victory but an empty sound;—
These petty triumphs have their bound!
Then mourns the full heart in the breast—
Augustly troubled and distressed!

The high soul stoops to prey on care,—
Magnificently sorrowing there!
Rejecting—once the adored renown—
The blazon'd gauds—the fiery crown!—
And sighing for a loftier state,
Greater through wish of being great,
Than through the proudest helps of fate!
Raised higher by the exalting will,
Than all that might its aims fulfil;—
Aye! lifted more by such desire
Than could it—all it asks acquire!—
Oh—more—yet measurelessly more—
Advanced—upraised—from Earth's dim floor—
From all the nothingness of dust—
Than were its dreams—all truth, all trust!
Yes!—Nought can shine so high-sublime
Through all Eternity as time—
As this brave challenge, proud and high—
Defiance given to Destiny!
This mounting through the empty space—
This speeding through the goalless race—
This grappling with the worlds unseen—
This being what we ne'er have been!—
The soul with mightiest yearnings fraught—
Wins all things—wakes all things from nought—
Creating to itself alone—
And making wondrously its own
The Glory ne'er yet felt nor known,
And shaping out such shadowy scheme
As mocks the Real with a Dream!—

Oh! greatest 'tis to be so great
'Gainst strong Reality and Fate;
And nobler is this grand distress
Than all atchievement's best success—
Than all supremacy's excess!

XII.

They part—they pass—they wind—they wheel—
They sweep along—a sea of steel—
A forest of far-shadowing plumes—
Like foam—where billowy Ocean booms—
Huge heaving hills seem rolling there,
Where massive chariots, ordered fair,
Their ponderous passage take—
Aye! heaving hills of Car and Wain,—
Those terrors of the artillery train
That groan along the encumbered plain,
And teach the ground to shake!—
One Firmament of Lightning shines
'Mid air—where o'er those lengthening lines
Their banners, hung from straight-stemmed pines,
Float broad their skyey course—
Dense clouds of Infantry o'erspread
The earth, (where strange eclipse they shed—
Reverberates loud their measured tread—)
And Hurricanes of Horse!—

XIII.

Thus the Army of Invasion pours,
Like Oceans that o'erflow their shores—

A flood of life and breath,
That commonwealth of conquerors there,
Their trappings glittering with Despair
And Death, that pales the conscious air,—
(Each pants his leader's fame to share)—
Their swords and souls unsheathe!
That nation of Napoleons comes!
Now tremble, Europe's threatened homes!—
They come in rushing wrath,
A nation of Napoleons!—They
Would snatch another world and lay
Ev'n at their monarch's feet to-day,
And make all his beneath!
Each, emulous of that dread fame,
Would build an echo of His Name
On deeds of doom and death!
Sweep on, tremendous waves of war!
Methinks arise dim mists from far,
Stretched overshadowingly,
That round your crests of terror cling,
And pale them, and about them fling
A wan cold hue of perishing—
The livery of the Grave's stern king
When stricken spirits flee!

XIV.

And Russia! dost thou wait supine
While banded powers thus challenge thine?

Not so! Spreads fast and free
Through her great empire's broad extent,
One towering mood magnificent,
From boundary sea to sea!
Throned conqueror! gaze upon this sight,
Disclosed to mental view aright,
And own its dignity!
From tossing Baltic's waves of pride,
To waters of the Caspian's tide,
Or the Arctic Ocean's iron side,
Her myriads summoned be!
Russia in arms awaits the shock,
Firm as some time-unshaken rock,—
Russia in arms 'gainst thee!
Aye! not her hosts' proud ranks alone,
Strong-rallying round her shrine and throne,
In attitude of might are shewn,—
A nobler muster's made.
There marshalled are the minds of men,—
More strong to aid than ten times ten
The opposing myriads told again—
A Sabaoth-strength to aid!
There gathered in one glorious mass,
Stand forth great thoughts that shall not pass;
There centered is their heart,—
One hope—one will—one soul—one trust—
One chartered purpose and august!
Most sure defence, not built on dust,—
From earth,—clay,—death,—apart!—

A mighty championship indeed!
Break—break the spear,—an useless reed;
Set free your weak ally, the steed,—
Forget your phalanxed swarms to lead,—
Your sounding chariots burn.
Yes! million bosoms well may prone
To earth be pressed before The One;
These myriads massed to One alone,—
Till those that hate might change their tone,
By the union of their Love undone—
Whose lessons first they learn!—
Whose tasks first thus are learned,—'twere well
Could they, too, practice these;—the spell
Of Love, the bright, the bland,—
Confessing thus, till crushed might fall,
Before that Victory-Presence all
Those foes, and own your virtue's thrall—
True heroes—thrice-linked band!—

XV.

Your brows with haloes shine enwreathed,
With angel-panoplies ye are sheathed;—
There Heaven, twice over, sure hath breathed
The quickenings of Her might!
Bright armies of the embattailled thought,—
The untameable—the unbribed—the unbought!—
Have Ye, to these fierce conflicts brought
Ye souls, unstained and white!—
Champions of Conscience, league sublime,—
Blessed—honoured to remotest time,

Indeed the invincible!
Man dare not dream what powers divine,
Whose shadows ev'n with victory shine,
May help your war, your barriers line,
And 'midst your strongholds dwell!
Dread chivalry of the upraised heart,—
The immortal, the immaterial part,
Whose arms are Faith and Right!—
Battalia of the purposed soul,
Whose glory claims Heaven's blazon roll,
March on! like Truth and Light!
Innumerous as the sands must be,
In sooth your legions proud and free,
And borne on lightning wing.
Thoughts—warriors all!—high Feelings, made—
Leaders of Feelings that arrayed
In endless triumphs spring!—
Succession ceaseless—boundless flow
Of high resolves, that gush and glow
As conquest's heart was won!—
All patriot hopes—all hero-dreams
Together blend their countless streams,—
Far lengthening on and on!—
The electric sympathies are spread
From sense to sense, while strength is shed
Ev'n on the very frailest head,—
Methinks seem here, in sooth, no Dead!—
They spread so wide and far!—
With Hope, Faith, Honour, Ardour rife

The Land seems like one boundless Life,
Upstarting to the immortal strife,
Cheered on by holiest star!
Heaven's peace past understanding seems,—
(So much that strife on their side teems
With sacred argument—pure dreams—)
In heart of all their war!

XVI.

They start—they wake—like wildfire, swift
The impulse doth each heart uplift—
Each thrilled existence warms!
The Spirits of the People spring,
As though new freed, on heavenward wing,
And press, and crowd, and throng, and cling,—
A universe in arms!—
More strong, ev'n measurelessly more,
Than empire's strength when battle's roar
Shakes earth, as billows shake the shore,
Far scattering wreck and rout!
'Tis not war's iron clang and din—
Too oft man's proud and splendid sin,—
Whose tissued web the Furies spin,—
All that is most of God within
Most sways and speaks without!
Russia! let no vague fears oppress,
With faint dismay and pale distress;
Through thy proud realms immense,
With calm determined soul await
The slow developments of Fate;

Deliverance yet shall make elate
The injured land, the outraged state,
Which still shall hurl, sublimely great,
Defiance and Defence!
Russia! the deep Solution, soon
Of this strange crisis shall be known.
Bear on undaunted still!
The Unvanquishable Right—the Rock—
Supports thee in this deadly shock,
And man's great World of Will!