works

Whim will she wake once more from slumber?When, worn out with strife,Lot'd, wilt Thou lie down to restAnd grant us people life?Truly in Thy might, Thy livingSpirit we believe;Liberty and right shall triumph.And, O Lord, to TheeEvery tongue on earth shall prayThrough the length of days.Meanwhile, rivers rise in flood,Swollen streams of blood.Mountains beyond mountains, crags in stormcloudscloaked,Wild heights sown with sorrow, soil that blood hassoaked.“And there. Our Majesty surprised(Naked and starving though it be),A poor, but natural liberty.The hunt is o n ! ...” Since then, the groundIs strewn with conschipts’ scattered bones.And tears? And blood? Enough to drownAll emperors with all their sonsAnd grandsons eager for the throneIn widows’ te a r s ... And maidens’ tearsShed secretly the whole night long?What of the fiery tears of mothers?The blood-stained tears of aged fathers?Not rivers now — a sea, full-flood,A sea of f i r e ... Glory! Glory!Glory to wolf-hounds, trappers, hunters,And to the tsars, oud “little fathers”,Glory!And glory to you, dark-blue mountains,Frost and snow protect you;And to you, grcat-heavted heroes,God does not forget you.Struggle o n — and, be triumphant!God Himself will aid you;At your side fight truth and glory,Right and holy freedom.“Bannock and croft are ail your own;They were not alms, were not a gift, —No one will seize them for his own,Clap you in chains and drag you off.In our domain . .. We’re civilized,