102 ODE TO THE AUTOCRAT. 



Such fight as Greeks and Poles have fought ; 

 Freedom with life is cheaply brought; 

 But when she conquers to make free, 

 Curst is the boon of Liberty. 



In vain the south assembled 



The flower of the brave, 

 And Europe's centre trembled 



Wkh the roll of the martial wave: 

 Freedom's Crusaders to the North, 

 Rush'd with chivalrous ardour forth, 

 But bleaching 'neath the Arctic sky 

 The bones of their vast batallions lie. 



Yet well might the Conqueror's vision 



O'er his glittering files dilate, 

 As with proud yet stern precision 

 They wound in martial state 

 O'er the Niemen's dark and troubled stream. 

 That flashed with many a falchion's gleam : 

 *T was grand — 'i was dreadful to behold 

 That dazzling coil its Jength unfold. 



Still in the flush of glory 



The Throne-Subverter went, 

 Leaving his vestage gory 



Where'er his path he bent; 

 But not with freedom could he lure 

 The Cossack wild, and Russian boor; 

 Smolensk, and Borodino's height. 

 And Moscow's pyre stern truths endite. 



Unto the soil that bore him 



The veriest slave will cling ; 



The bleak skies bending o'er him 

 More genial than the spring 



Which beams and blooms in other lands ; 



The sterile fields his father's hands 



For ages till'd, content he ploughs, 



And at his fathers' altar bows. 



Vain dream ! with swords to sever 

 The lv)nds of servile minds ; 



More firm, more fast than ever 

 The subtle shackle binds : 



