| |
| A THOUSAND years! Through storm and fire, | |
| With varying fate, the work has grown, | |
| Till Alexander crowns the spire, | |
| Where Rurik laid the corner-stone. | |
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| The chieftain’s sword, that could not rust, | 5 |
| But bright in constant battle grew, | |
| Raised to the world a throne august,— | |
| A nation grander than he knew. | |
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| Nor he, alone; but those who have, | |
| Through faith or deed, an equal part: | 10 |
| The subtle brain of Yaroslav, | |
| Vladimir’s arm and Nikon’s heart: | |
| |
| The later hands, that built so well | |
| The work sublime which these began, | |
| And up from base to pinnacle | 15 |
| Wrought out the Empire’s mighty plan. | |
| |
| All these, to-day, are crowned anew, | |
| And rule in splendor where they trod, | |
| While Russia’s children throng to view | |
| Her holy cradle, Novgorod. | 20 |
| |
| From Volga’s banks; from Dwina’s side; | |
| From pine-clad Ural, dark and long; | |
| Or where the foaming Terek’s tide | |
| Leaps down from Kasbek, bright with song: | |
| |
| From Altaï’s chain of mountain-cones; | 25 |
| Mongolian deserts, far and free; | |
| And lands that bind, through changing zones, | |
| The Eastern and the Western sea! | |
| |
| To every race she gives a home, | |
| And creeds and laws enjoy her shade, | 30 |
| Till, far beyond the dreams of Rome, | |
| Her Cæsar’s mandate is obeyed. | |
| |
| She blends the virtues they impart, | |
| And holds, within her life combined, | |
| The patient faith of Asia’s heart,— | 35 |
| The force of Europe’s restless mind. | |
| |
| She bids the nomad’s wanderings cease; | |
| She binds the wild marauder fast; | |
| Her ploughshares turn to homes of peace | |
| The battle-fields of ages past. | 40 |
| |
| And, nobler yet, she dares to know | |
| Her future’s task, nor knows in vain; | |
| But strikes at once the generous blow | |
| That makes her millions men again! | |
| |
| So, firmer-based, her power expands, | 45 |
| Nor yet has seen its crowning hour,— | |
| Still teaching to the struggling lands | |
| That Peace the offspring is of Power. | |
| |
| Build, then, the storied bronze, to tell | |
| The steps whereby this height she trod,— | 50 |
| The thousand years that chronicle | |
| The toil of man, the help of God! | |
| |
| And may the thousand years to come— | |
| The future ages, wise and free— | |
| Still see her flag, and hear her drum | 55 |
| Across the world, from sea to sea! | |
| |
| Still find, a symbol stern and grand, | |
| Her ancient eagle’s wings unshorn: | |
| One head to watch the Western land, | |
| And one to guard the land of morn! | 60 |
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