Ode to 
 
 The Russian People 
 
 JOHN WILLIAM SCROLL 
 
ISOO 
 
 Class __J^S_i51l_ 
 
 Book _X.31.Q^ 
 
 Gopyii^tr* 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 
 
ODE TO THE 
 RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN WILLIAM SCHOLL 
 
 Author of "The Light-Bearer of Liberty^ and other 
 poems" "Social Tragedies, and other verse," etc. 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 The Poet Lore Company 
 
 Publishers 
 
 1907 
 
Copyright 1907 by John William Scholl 
 
 All Rights Reserved 
 
 jUBgARYofCONSRESsI 
 I Two Copies Received | 
 
 1 MAh 8 190^ 
 
 L Cooyrletit Entry 
 
 cuss ^ XXcf, No. 
 'COPY B. / 
 
 r 5 3^37 
 
 The Gorham Press, Boston 
 
Shall we whose fathers bravely fought and well 
 To make our Freemen's heritage secure. 
 Shall we, the sons of Freedom's lineage pure. 
 
 Hedged in with good dear-bought by those that fell, 
 
 Forget in ease and comfort those that dwell 
 In harsher bonds and harder to endure? 
 Alas, we cannot reach a hand to cure 
 
 The crying evil or the curse dispel! 
 
 But we whose money-bags are loosed to send 
 Quick comfort round the world to human need 
 When earthquake, famine, fire, or flood has 
 wrought. 
 Shall we not loose our heart-strings, nobly spend 
 The hoarded sympathy and cry ' God speed 
 
 When men grow free whom our example taught? 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 1 
 
 God's march across the ages 
 
 Is sometimes marked with blood. 
 
 Where righteous battle rages 
 
 For Freedom and the Right, 
 
 There God stands in His might 
 To bless the purple flood. 
 
 II 
 
 Whilom a figure rose 
 
 Colossal mid the snows 
 
 With scepter and crown 
 
 Of old renown, 
 
 And ruled a mighty realm 
 
 With counsels firm and iron hand 
 
 No subject millions could overwhelm. 
 
 Nor yet withstand, 
 
 But they fell on their knees and worshiped rather 
 
 The crook that guided, the rod that smote. 
 
 And gathered from conquered lands remote 
 
 To kiss the hand of their 'little Father' 
 
 In loyal love. 
 
 All lords above, 
 
 God's vicar absolute, 
 
6 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 Resistless to do his people good, 
 
 And strong in good repute 
 
 To save the multitude 
 
 From barren dreams and wild desires, — 
 
 The fatal madness that aspires 
 
 To grasp the wheel of its own fate 
 
 And guide the storm-tossed Ship of State, — 
 
 The nations, gazing from afar. 
 
 Hailed him with one accord the Great White Czar. 
 
 HI 
 
 A challenge came to all the world : 
 
 Let your battle-flags be furled. 
 Stop your cannon's brutal thunder 
 And undo the fatal blunder 
 Of the sword's supreme appeal. 
 Justice stronger is than steel 
 To protect the commonweal. 
 Trust is more than thickest armor, 
 Truth than sharp diplomacy. 
 Let our peoples' love grow warmer, 
 Knit by noble courtesy. 
 Cast aside your armaments, 
 Meet in solemn parliaments. 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 And war shall cease, 
 
 And olive-branched peace 
 
 Shall wing her blessings over all the lands; 
 
 For every throne that lofty stands 
 
 On piles of human skulls 
 
 Must totter and fall at last 
 
 When the God of hosts annuls 
 
 Its charter with trumpet blast." 
 
 So spake the Great White Czar. 
 
 The nations heard afar, 
 
 And good men dreamed that the hour had come 
 
 To muffle the turbulent, jubilant drum, 
 
 To forge all swords into pruning-hooks. 
 
 To fashion spears into shepherds' crooks, 
 
 Remand the warrior to the fields 
 
 Where honest toil to the eater yields 
 
 Life-giving bread 
 
 And not death's harvest red. 
 
 And seers unrolled the splendid vision 
 Of worlds redeemed beneath the banner 
 Of him who stood in the snows 
 Colossal and white 
 With imperial might 
 And godlike manner, 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 With a will to conquer indecision 
 And bring the burdened world repose. 
 
 And poets sang the destiny 
 
 Of the young-old land beyond the sea, — 
 
 The land of the never-backward step, 
 
 Whose will, from age to age the same, 
 
 In high, imperial aim. 
 
 Had balked at naught. 
 
 But ever onward kept 
 
 And bravely wrought 
 
 Or doggedly waited 
 
 Until the enemy's strength abated. 
 
 And the onward movement, fated 
 
 As her world-historic role. 
 
 Brought her nearer to the goal, 
 
 Nearer to the midland seas, 
 
 Nearer to the southern ocean. 
 
 Nearer to the vast Pacific, 
 
 Whither, with splendor and pomp magnific, 
 
 In prescient hope and high devotion. 
 
 She sought on open port, 
 
 A friendly beckoning resort, 
 
 Wide-armed for her burdened argosies, 
 
 That her land-locked people might be free 
 
 To share in perpetuity 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 The fruits of peace 
 
 Whose blessings never cease. 
 
 And statesmen, far-seeing, wise, 
 
 Men of high emprise. 
 
 Heard the challenge of peace 
 
 From their mighty neighbor. 
 
 And gladly joined in the blessed labor 
 
 Of men's release. 
 
 Only the demon of distrust 
 
 Grinned at the shapes of the beautiful dream, 
 
 As sceptic demons ever must 
 
 In the face of the good supreme. 
 
 IV 
 
 'Tis the Ideal, 
 Not the Real, 
 
 Rules the w^orld. 
 By the Ideal, 
 Not the Real, 
 
 Are Zeus' lightnings hurled. 
 
 The people's dream. 
 The people's will, 
 
10 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 Are the law supreme 
 And shall be still 
 With gathering strength 
 Throughout the length 
 Of every land, 
 Till the besom of doom 
 In God's right hand, 
 Like the dread simoom 
 On Afric's strand. 
 Shall sweep His handiwork away 
 I^^To the consuming fires of the last great day. 
 
 Enthroned in the consenting heart 
 Of a hundred million men, 
 Incarnate will of the citizen 
 And symbol of justice and power. 
 Of purity in temple and mart. 
 Of wisdom in council and cabinet. 
 The ruler stands an impregnable tower, 
 With never a cannon or bayonet; 
 But, armed with exile and the knout. 
 Preserved by ikons and amulets, 
 And safely hedged all round about 
 With Cossack sabers and bayonets, 
 Intrenched in formal power, 
 The Past's unquestioned dower, 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE ii 
 
 The sceptered autocrat 
 Is reft of glory and shorn of strength 
 When his subject milhons behold at length 
 In him the oligarch's pliant tool, 
 The royal cat's-paw of misrule, 
 The symbol of robbery and death. 
 Of darkness and famine and evil fame. 
 Of bloody horrors without a name 
 That nations point the finger at 
 And hold their breath. 
 
 The stable throne 
 Is based alone 
 
 On perfect trust. 
 Only his reign 
 Can long remain 
 
 Whose rule is just. 
 
 How are the mighty falling! 
 
 A crowned anachronism 
 
 Is brought before Time's judgment bar. 
 
 A lingering Christian despotism. 
 
 The last and most appalling, 
 
12 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 Is tried at length by fire 
 
 And stands convicted of the mad desire 
 
 Of lawless conquest and unholy war. 
 
 A nation's truth and honor plighted, 
 
 By greed and mad ambition blighted, 
 
 Has opened eyes to see and know 
 
 Her pride brought low 
 
 In splendid woe; 
 
 For the figure that whilom rose 
 
 Majestic mid the snows 
 
 And wore a crown 
 
 Of old renown 
 
 Has forfeited his good repute 
 
 And stands a beggar destitute, 
 
 Still crowned in awful irony, 
 
 But weak and fearful as a frightened child 
 
 That looks into the darkness with the wild 
 
 Wide eyes of sightless speechless fear, 
 
 Foreboding still some evil near. 
 
 What subtle mockery 
 
 Of power imperial ! 
 
 What better is a crown than cap and bells 
 
 When royal will dwells not below ? 
 
 What fatal lies the ermine tells 
 
 Whose ample snow 
 
 Enwraps within its costly folds 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 13 
 
 The cowering form of one that holds 
 
 A scepter aimless, 
 
 With nerveless hand though blameless! 
 
 When Caesar's throne is the symbol of greed 
 
 And not of help in utmost need, 
 
 Of gloom funereal 
 
 And not of life and freshening light 
 
 That lead men out of death and night, 
 
 No magic word nor mystic rite 
 
 Can force due reverence. 
 
 The lie, the weakness, and the fear, 
 
 The want of heart and honest sense, 
 
 The cowardly semblance of reform, 
 
 The temporizing with the storm, 
 
 Are swift forerunners of the world's cold sneer. 
 
 Mad business this to let an empire's reins 
 
 Slip to the hands of reckless dukes 
 
 Who rule or ruin for golden gains. 
 
 Such deeds invite the mamelukes 
 
 To sweep their masters from the throne of statete. 
 
 And found new dynasties wth the consent of fate 
 
 What boots an open sea 
 
 When bought with perjury ? 
 
 What boots a wide domain, 
 
 Where fear alone can long maintain 
 
 A barren and inglorious reign ? 
 
14 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 Not lands, but men, true men, 
 
 The patriot wise, the clear-eyed citizen. 
 
 Can make a nation great 
 
 And stay the hand of fate. 
 
 When foes are at the gate. 
 
 How are the mighty falling! 
 
 O crowned anachronism. 
 
 Most Christian despotism, 
 
 Thy fate is most appalling! 
 
 Dishonored at Time's judgment bar, 
 
 Guilty of lawless and unholy war. 
 
 Bankrupt in heart, and whelmed with fatal care. 
 
 Defeated, driven to despair,— 
 
 The nations look on from afar 
 
 And hail no more the Great White Czar. 
 
 VI 
 
 O patriot people, thy hour is come! 
 
 The autumn to thy blood-sown fields 
 
 A late but precious harvest yields. 
 
 Your hands with bootless toil are numb. 
 
 Your bruised hearts ache with the nameless woe 
 
 Of beasts o'erdriven that know not why 
 
 They waste beneath the lash and die; 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 15 
 
 Yet rise, O burdened people, show 
 
 Thy prophet voices are not unheard, 
 
 Unheeded the new heroic word 
 
 That rings and sings throughout the land! 
 
 O people of the Untried Dream, 
 
 Our hopes and prayers are with the band 
 
 Of stalwart heroes that withstand 
 
 The onward current of ancient wrong, 
 
 And swear that it shall not prolong 
 
 Its curse beyond this hour supreme. 
 
 Thy dream is worthy, O patient race. 
 
 Beware, lest patience dream too long 
 
 Until the precious hours of grace 
 
 Are gone forever! Rise! Be strong! 
 
 Pluck now the fruits of strength and live. 
 
 No Caesar ever deigned to give 
 
 His subjects freedom. Ye cannot kneel 
 
 Before the anointed tyrant's throne 
 
 And win your rights by meek appeal. 
 
 The answer is ever lead and steel. 
 
 Ye cannot sit and sigh or moan 
 
 O'er wrongs endured or rights denied, 
 
 And hope that Caesar will e'er disown 
 
 A single act once ratified, 
 
 For sympathy 
 
 With moaning misery. 
 
i6 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 The world can hear you and sympathize, 
 
 But Caesar cannot hear your cries. 
 
 A ducal chorus about the throne 
 
 With greedy clamors drowns your moan. 
 
 Lie not supine, 
 
 But rise at length 
 
 In manhood's conscious strength, 
 
 And scale the heaven of your own desires. 
 
 To fetch true manhood's purest fires 
 
 From altars of liberty divine, 
 
 To light your glorious path 
 
 Out of this labyrinth of night and woe. 
 
 That with just and guiltless wrath 
 
 And without ignoble scath 
 
 You may strike the fated blow. 
 
 Be one, O mighty people, one, 
 
 In heart and hope and purpose one, 
 
 And wrest your rights with stainless hands! 
 
 Be one! Be strong! Your right hands clasp 
 
 In Freedom's glorious brotherhood 
 
 Which tyrants never yet withstood! 
 
 Be one! Be strong! For want of unity 
 
 Hath ever been your tyrant's opportunity. 
 
 And if your new-found liberty 
 
 Is ever wrested from your grasp, 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 17 
 
 Twill be alone when mad Disunion 
 With Faction in unblest communion 
 Shall call some mighty man of destiny 
 To spur his charger through your futile ranks 
 And tread you down to abject slavery. 
 Be one, O mighty people, one! 
 Be strong to smite, but wise to shun 
 The errors of an earlier time, 
 The madness of a southern clime. 
 From Caesar's shipwreck seize the scattered planks 
 And build anew your ship of state. 
 And pilot her through rocks and shoals 
 To stormless havens! He whose arm controls 
 All fates, shall make and keep your nation great. 
 
 VH 
 
 What constitutes a state ? 
 
 A grand monarque and a Richelieu, 
 And ranks oi grands and cardinals, too, 
 A court of flattering parvenus. 
 The struggling tiers itat suppressed. 
 And the people, a patient ass, oppressed 
 With the triple load, king, baron, and priest ? 
 
 These constitute a state ? 
 
1 8 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 What constitutes a state ? 
 
 An imbecile king and a cabinet, 
 
 A House of Lords and a Royal Gazette, 
 
 A rotten Commons, — a cringing set, — 
 
 Church tithes and war taxes, a constitution, — 
 
 An undigested divine confusion, — 
 
 And human rights a d d illusion ? 
 
 These constitute a state ? 
 
 What constitutes a state ? 
 
 An ocean of madness loosed and surging, 
 The Darkness out of his deeps emerging, 
 The brute red hand at the task of purging, 
 And silks and laces, the thing unclean. 
 And Freedom a god with rites obscene, 
 The spouse of Freedom the guillotine ? 
 
 These constitute a state ? 
 
 What constitutes a state ? 
 
 A faded parchment a century old, 
 
 The names of patriot dead enrolled, 
 
 A Fourth of July and omnipotent gold. 
 
 Old Glory, and hunger, the clamoring masses, 
 
 'One man, one vote,' and the warring of classes, 
 
 And bosses to muzzle and drive the asses ? 
 
 These constitute a state ? 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 19 
 
 What constitutes a state ? 
 
 ' Tis a bough of the world-old Igdrasil 
 
 With the sap of the ages a-flowing still, 
 
 And budding in wisdom and blooming in will, 
 
 And fruiting in deeds of the mighty and wise, 
 
 With a shadow as broad as the wide blue skies, 
 
 Where worth from unworth may struggle and rise. 
 
 This constitutes a state. 
 
 What constitutes a state ? 
 
 O never a God- or man-made thing 
 Come forth out of night at a single spring, 
 And naught can stifle its bourgeoning. 
 And what though the ancient branches die 
 And crash as the whirlwind fates speed by ? 
 There are new buds shooting up nearer the sky. 
 
 This constitutes a state. 
 
 VIII 
 
 In whose will doth the state reside ? 
 In whose might doth the law abide ? 
 
 In his, who by the accident 
 Of royal birth and mute consent 
 
20 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 All private wills doth override ? 
 
 God's ban is on the imperial race. 
 
 No royal dream nor proud ukase 
 
 Can set at naught the primal law 
 
 That great men dwindle in their sons 
 
 And perish in the third degree 
 
 Of their depraved posterity: 
 
 That genius through swift cycles runs 
 
 From wretched hovel and bed of straw 
 
 To palace and throne, to purple and power, 
 
 Then back again in evil hour 
 
 To hide its shamed gentility 
 
 In rags and deep humility. 
 
 'Twas ever thus that men grew free. 
 
 For they who strive to contravene 
 
 Life's surging from its mystic deeps, 
 
 Its ebbing unto levels mean 
 
 Are like King Knut beside the sea 
 
 Who bade the tides no farther creep. 
 
 Or doth the imperial will alone 
 
 Its mandates and decrees make known 
 
 By popular majorities ? 
 
 Ten thousand peasants, dull, oppressed, 
 
 On whom the empire's burdens rest, 
 
 Who look with resignation dull. 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 21 
 
 Upon their birthright void and null, 
 In whom the genius of their race 
 No spark of aspiration laid, 
 But like dumb cattle dully made 
 Each like to each, without a trace 
 Of selfhood human and distinct. 
 Of reason with the great gods linked. 
 Can these ten thousand sightless pawns 
 For whom no fated vision dawns, 
 Can these be God's authorities. 
 The faithful over a few things 
 Held worthy of the throne of kings ? 
 
 One mighty heart is more than they. 
 One prophet soul doth all outweigh. 
 For he shall rule who hath the power 
 To guide his flock and not devour. 
 
 In whose will doth the state abide ? 
 In whose might doth the law reside ? 
 
 In theirs who dare to conquer and reign, 
 The mighty synod of heart and brain 
 Whose labors still the state maintain, 
 The host of spirits choice and brave 
 Who ride today the crest of the wave, 
 
22 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 Tossed up by the heaving of the main 
 No special order of wealth or birth 
 In fixed caste shall rule the earth, 
 But they who scorning meaner things 
 Give transient deeds immortal wings, 
 Anointed daysmen of the King of kings. 
 
 How hath the state solidity ? 
 How hath the law validity ? 
 
 By virtue of Cossack sabre-stroke, 
 
 Siberian exile, noisome choke 
 
 Of prison mines ? Or all the terrors 
 
 That sceptered might is armed withal ? 
 
 Or must perforce all men obey 
 
 Because the good and just hold sway ? 
 
 'Twere doubly blest, O poor oppressed, 
 
 To live and die at their behest, 
 
 To bear the petty burden of their errors 
 
 And share the ample life they bring to all. 
 
 And yet the God of nations is a god of hosts. 
 
 His care is ever for the multitude. 
 
 From these by devious ways scarce understood, 
 
 At times that baffle human reckoning, 
 
 He raises prophet, statesman, priest, or king, 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 23 
 
 As seemeth best. And when these leave their 
 
 posts, 
 Not wholly worthy of His awful trusts, 
 With silent hand and swift He surely thrusts 
 The faithless stewards from their lofty seats, 
 And raises men of low degree 
 To rule His people and to set them free. 
 Thus evermore God's hand repeats 
 The miracle of human destiny. 
 
 The multitude is God's great surging sea, 
 His reservoir of spirit energy. 
 From which the nations' destinies arise. 
 And whoso strives to muffle the dull cries 
 Of peasant millions, or the workshop's hordes, 
 Is striving 'gainst his own foredoomed lords, 
 To shut the living God from history. 
 
 The welfare of His millions is God's test of states. 
 And bursting bombs and swift death-dealing blows, 
 His rude and bloody vengement when unblessed 
 
 fates 
 His cloud of witnesses have crushed to brute repose. 
 
24 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 IX 
 
 Too bitter and too long 
 
 The deep ancestral wrong, 
 
 Too halting and too late 
 
 The scheme to palliate, 
 
 And stay the hand of sullen hate. 
 
 No flood e'er burst its dam 
 
 With current calm and undisturbed, 
 
 But seething and roaring. 
 
 In cataracts pouring. 
 
 It sweeps down the valley 
 
 With might resistless 
 
 Till by its own ruin balked and curbed; 
 
 E'en then but a moment listless 
 
 It leaps again with mighty rally 
 
 And plows through the jam 
 
 Till far down the plain 
 
 It gathers again 
 
 And flows no longer errant, 
 
 But forms a majestic current, 
 
 Whose broad unruffled bosom bears 
 
 In mirrored beauty through prospering airs 
 
 A hundred freighted argosies 
 
 In safety to the quiet seas. 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 25 
 
 Build the dam of your despotism 
 
 As deep and broad as you may, 
 
 The human floods will o'ertop it quite 
 
 And plunge it down in an hour of fright. 
 
 Though built, O Caesar, to stand for aye. 
 
 Some day must see the cataclysm. 
 
 The office of light is to shine. 
 
 'Tis vain that you draw a line 
 
 And say: "Within this bound 
 
 Darkness shall dwell," while all around 
 
 The dawn is rising clear and white. 
 
 'Tis vain you decree an endless night 
 
 When light reflected from a thousand peaks 
 
 Is streaming in your valleys low, 
 
 And all the heavens with their gorgeous streaks 
 
 Bid darkness and the deeds of darkness go. 
 
 The office of thought is to leap 
 
 From brain to brain, from soul to soul, 
 
 Its unseen silent pace to keep 
 
 Until it has leavened the whole. 
 
 'Tis vain that you draw a line 
 
 And say: "Thus far the divine 
 
 Promethean fire shall kindle, 
 
 And beyond its flame shall dwindle 
 
26 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 And cease at last to burn, 
 
 And men to beasts return." 
 
 For heavenly fire is never quenched 
 
 When kindled in one patriot soul, 
 
 Though limb from limb is rudely wrenched 
 
 And martyr fires consume him 
 
 Or hurled stones entomb him. 
 
 The end may be far. 
 
 But fixed as a star 
 
 Is the far-seen goal; — 
 
 Freedom without a flaw, 
 
 Freedom girded with law. 
 
 Too bitter and too long 
 
 Is the deep ancestral wrong. 
 
 Horror shall rear her Cimmerian brood, 
 
 But out of horror shall come forth good. 
 
 Then welcome the gory flood! 
 
 Welcome the deluge of blood, 
 
 When Madness makes a way 
 
 For Freedom's glorious day! 
 
 Too little faith have we who shrink 
 
 From plunging when we reach the brink, 
 
 Thoucrh knowings that the farther shore 
 
 Shall know such horrors nevermore. 
 
 Welcome the deluge, if it come! 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 27 
 
 Shout for Victory! Be not dumb! 
 Pray to the God of life and Hght 
 For Victory to the Rioht! ' iJ 
 
 P 
 
 m 
 
 X 
 
 For whose glory will you fight, 
 
 O lerjons of St. Peter's land ? 
 
 For the People ? For the Right ? 
 
 Or that oligarchic band 
 
 That overwhelm 
 
 Your sacred realm ? 
 
 What victor's crown, 
 
 What fair renown 
 Is won by shooting brethren down ? 
 
 Make firm the tyrant's rule, 
 
 And be his bloody tool, 
 
 And then his suppliant fool. 
 
 When all too late the firm-wrought chain 
 
 Hath rendered ^very struggle vain. 
 
 He stalks in martial pride along your lines 
 
 And smiles his royal thanks. 
 
 And holds before your serried ranks 
 
28 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 His infant heir to serve his deep designs. 
 
 A little child should stir men unto peace, 
 
 To love and love's increase, 
 
 And not to fratricidal war. 
 
 Is it a thing to battle for, 
 
 That a Romanoff smiled, 
 
 And a little child 
 
 Looked v^ide-eyed wonder as you passed .'' 
 
 Would that the Rubicon were crossed, the die 
 
 were cast! 
 O that you felt for one brief hour 
 That Russia's welfare, Russia's power 
 Is something nobler than a Romanoff's dower! 
 
 But woe to her children, and woe to her lords. 
 When Russia's scourged by her Cossack hordes, 
 Who, faithful to bloodshed and horrors alone. 
 Would slaughter their kinsmen to strengthen a 
 throne. 
 
 Sad fate theirs to do and die 
 
 Nameless and fameless. 
 Sternly their trade to ply, 
 
 Warring so shameless. 
 
 O that their story 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 29 
 
 Might share in the glory 
 
 Of Russia freed! 
 
 O that a grateful people, 
 
 From every jubilant steeple, 
 
 Might fling their praise 
 
 On every wind 
 
 To all mankind! 
 
 In proud forefeeling of that ample day 
 
 Our confident hearts exult and say: 
 
 O people of the Untried Dream, 'God speed!' 
 
 XI 
 
 What means this dark and treacherous hint 
 That Russia's voice shall be stifled yet ? 
 Does he who promised without stint, 
 (His son upon a stable throne to set, 
 And quell rebellion and insurgent hate 
 And spare himself a tyrant's luckless fate,) 
 Of his imperial and unchanging will, 
 To make her counsels henceforth law supreme. 
 Does he, forsooth, because his Cossacks still 
 With brethren's blood intoxicated kill. 
 Presume to reinstate the old regime ? 
 
30 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 Audacity beyond the world's belief 
 
 And perfidy — God bring him soon to grief 
 
 Whose counsel turns the promise to a lie\ 
 
 The Romanoff's hard fate it is to try 
 
 His subjects' all too fond fidelity 
 
 Beyond endurance. May their will be sped, 
 
 And God preserve him lest he lose his head! 
 
 Once more the stern old lesson has been taught 
 
 That freedom but by vigilance is bought. 
 
 O Russia, be no longer duped and fooled, 
 
 But say, the right to rule lies with the ruled, 
 
 And saying, dare maintain the mighty truth. 
 
 And seal it with your blood, if needs must be 
 
 That tyrants choose the sword's arbitrament 
 
 To urge in mad despair the outworn plea 
 
 Of right divine to rule the brave and free. 
 
 O rise and smite and prove in very sooth 
 
 That ye are men for any argument. , 
 
 So long as Caesar gives you liberty, 
 
 So long his royal gift may be withdrawn 
 
 To please a courtier's whimsy or his own, 
 
 And ye are free — to bear his tyranny! 
 
 But if ye take it with the hand of power 
 
 'Tis yours forever and your children's dower! 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 31 
 XII 
 
 At last, ye patience-tried, at last 
 
 The night of the will-o'-the-wisp is past. 
 
 Ye know him now for what he was and is, 
 
 The plaything of the awful destinies! 
 
 He doffs the imperial mask with his own hand 
 
 And shows his face, that all may understand 
 
 His utter scorn of Russia's hopes and prayers. 
 
 Behold a weakling toiling in the snares 
 Of greedy faction, hurled from act to act 
 By base intrigue whose hand is never slacked, 
 A royal shuttle-cock beat to and fro 
 'Twixt mortal fear and timid confidence, 
 An ermined coward trembling at the blow 
 That soon shall end his purple impotence! 
 Or, if not weakling, then behold a foe, 
 With sops of lies to keep you in suspense 
 Until his thunders can be forged anew 
 To hurl Promethean doom on yours and you! 
 
 He calls your leaders into parliament 
 To be his eyes and hands — the instrument 
 Of his unchanging grace — to see your need 
 And execute your will with seemly speed. 
 
32 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 And vows, henceforth no law shall be decreed 
 But by their prescient voices freely given. 
 Your bonds, O mighty people, now are riven! 
 
 Alas! The cloven hoof of despotism 
 
 Is boldly thrust from out the ermine's fold. 
 
 The sightless demon of imperialism 
 
 Refuses to release his blighting hold 
 
 On Russia's bleeding throat. Too late, too late, 
 
 O Czar, thy manifest shall prove thy fate! 
 
 Canst thou prorogue a people's parliament ? 
 Canst thou alone decree the empire's laws ? 
 Canst thou defeat a people's high intent 
 And render null and void each several clause 
 That guarantees their freedom ? Canst thou make 
 And unmake councils, courts, and cabinets ? 
 Thy creatures thwart the people's will and break 
 Each several pledge ? Thy cunning hand abets 
 This monstrous deed, this most colossal crime 
 Of throttling a new birth of laggard Time ? 
 Throw down the gauntlet! They shall take it up. 
 And when thou drinkest wine again, red blood shall 
 fill the cup. 
 
 _ m 
 
 The English Stuart was a babe in craft, 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE ss 
 
 A tyro in the arts of perfidy. 
 O had young Russia drunk a healing draught 
 From England's gushing springs of liberty, 
 She too had risen in time of utmost need 
 And fought long since her gallant Runnymede! 
 She too would rise again in conscious might 
 And bare her mighty arm her foe to smite, 
 And call her waiting Cromwell from the plow 
 To guide her destiny and save her now. 
 
 O shall it be in vain, that Freedom's dream 
 Betokened sunrise ? Shall the hour supreme, 
 The vital need a puny people find, 
 A race unworthy of the task assigned ? 
 
 XIII 
 
 Not in a day, 
 
 O not in a day good friends, 
 
 The victorious struggle ends, 
 
 Nor ever may 
 
 Till Freedom and Right 
 
 Are Law and Might 
 
 Throughout the land. 
 
34 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 O not in a day, 
 
 Not in a day, good friends, 
 
 The destined conflict ends, 
 
 But through long failure and defeat 
 
 The victor's crown is made more sweet, 
 
 Its touch more bland 
 
 To patriot brows! 
 Long be the struggle, sweet the patriot's rest, , 
 When victory comes to the oppressed, 
 When hate is quenched within the subject's breast 
 
 As the tyrant cows, 
 
 And the victor can be just 
 
 To fallen crownless dust. 
 
 XIV 
 
 The pregnant moment nears, 
 
 Heavy with hopes and fears. 
 
 That shall thrill the world to cheers 
 
 Or loosen a chorus of sneers. 
 
 All eyes are strained to watch. 
 
 All ears are bent to catch, 
 
 The first swift sign of kindling light, 
 
 The first prophetic word of might. 
 
 If any dreamed that like a sluggish beast 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 35 
 
 The patient Russ would sleep beneath the lash, 
 
 His foolish dream is broken 
 
 By the potent word now spoken. 
 
 From Finland to the utmost East, 
 
 From arctic seas to Euxine's sunny shore 
 
 Hath passed that elemental flash 
 
 Of mighty hope, and tyranny shall be no more. 
 
 Come together, ye brave elect. 
 Charged with powers to build a realm 
 Higher than party and broader than sect, 
 That storms of fate shall not overwhelm. 
 
 Come to your old historic hall. 
 Scholar and artisan, peasant and prince, 
 Come to answer your people's call 
 With courage Caesar to convince 
 That fate stands garbed as a citizen. 
 Speak with sober might like men 
 Who know their duty, and knowing dare 
 To royal ears the truth declare. 
 
 And when your imperial Peeping Tom 
 With eye alarmed peeps through some chink, 
 Let him behold you grave and calm. 
 Like men who nobly act and think 
 With heart set singly on stable good. 
 
36 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 Far-looking peace for the multitude. 
 
 And if his startled ear is held 
 
 To hear fate's syllables outspelled 
 
 By prophet Hps, perchance impelled 
 
 To ghastly martyrdom, O let him hear 
 
 The people's mandate, void of fear. 
 
 Speak loud that he may catch the note 
 
 Above the clamors of Reaction's throat 
 
 That bawls incessant in baffled rage 
 
 To drown the voice of Freedom's host. 
 
 Democracy, throw down thy gage 
 
 And dare all Hell into the Hsts! 
 
 The day is thine whate'er the cost. 
 
 And dawnhght breaking through the mists 
 
 Will show God's recompense for what was lost. 
 
 And if his Cossacks summon at the door 
 To quench thy light forevermore. 
 Remember to what end thy seers were sent! 
 Our English Charles once had a parliament! 
 
 XV 
 
 Not yet, alas! not yet 
 
 The sun of tyranny is set. 
 
 The twilight gathers round the throne, 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 37 
 
 But when the hour of night comes on 
 What prophet dare predict the dawn ? 
 
 " Somewhat have I against thee, too," 
 The apocalyptic angel saith: 
 " I know thy works, what thou wouldst do, 
 I know thy hopes, the tangled clue 
 Thou seekest in this night of dread. 
 Behold, thou seekest only bread! 
 And when thy starving sons are fed. 
 Canst thou with sweet abundance filled 
 Still strike for freedom with holy passion, 
 For her still burn with quenchless zeal. 
 Still struggle valiantly to fashion 
 The bulwarks of the commonweal. 
 To consummate what thou hast willed ? 
 
 Thou wouldst be free! Then be indeed! 
 All men will waft thee fairest speed. 
 The bondage of thy ancient faith 
 Cast off as gyves, ere thou indue 
 The sacred vestments of the free! 
 Some loftier vision of God must shake 
 Thy soul to inner freedom ere thou wake 
 To see how arduous Freedom's rites, 
 How jealous and how stern is she. 
 
38 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 How swift she helps, how sure she smites 
 When to her altars men are true. 
 No land can live half bond, half free, 
 In bond to mitre, freed from crown, 
 When crown and mitre needs must be 
 The symbol of God's firm unity! 
 Then cast the double despot down! 
 
 God speaks no more through crowned kings, 
 And mitered priests, of sacred things. 
 He dwells in every conscious soul, 
 He speaks by word. He works by deed 
 To fashion worlds, to stake their goal, 
 And nations to His purpose lead. 
 
 Thou wouldst be free ? Then be indeed! 
 God speaks not through anointed kings 
 And priests, and yet of sacred things 
 He speaks, and blessed they who hear 
 And answer to His summons clear. 
 Yet some there be among thy sons 
 Who deem that law is freedom's foe! 
 Behold, for these no fresh hopes glow. 
 No thread of gold and purple runs 
 In splendor through the web of life. 
 But ever with God and fate at strife. 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 39 
 
 So doomed in sad futility 
 To chafe in bonds they cannot break, 
 To feel a thirst they cannot slake. 
 They dash their strength incessantly 
 Against the granite of the crag, 
 With hearts that never faint or flag 
 In false rebellion counted liberty! 
 
 Thou swearest loud, thou wouldst be free, 
 
 And yet thou canst not clearly see 
 
 A brother in the ancient race 
 
 Whose loins brought forth the saintly one 
 
 Whose martyred days so swiftly run 
 
 For love's sweet sake in Galilee, 
 
 But spittest in his guiltless face. 
 
 And plottest horrors of blood and shame 
 
 Beyond the tongue of man to name! 
 
 Thou wouldst be free ? Then be indeed! 
 The hearts of distant peoples plead. 
 Crush out that black drop from thy blood. 
 That life's red tide of love may flood 
 Thy civic heart and wholly cleanse 
 That fen of blight and pestilence!" 
 
40 ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 
 
 O speed the light to those in night! 
 Turn beasts of burden into men, 
 And our best hopes shall burn again, 
 Our faith shall turn at last to sight. 
 
 Not yet, alas! not yet 
 
 The sun of tyranny is set, 
 
 But swift as doom 
 
 The deepest gloom 
 
 Shall whiten into radiant dawn! 
 
 Somehow, sometime, 
 
 If thou but dare, 
 
 As sure as God's will marches on 
 
 Triumphant still in every clime. 
 
 Thy future olgry shall fulfill our prayer! 
 
 XVI 
 
 God's march across the ages 
 
 Is sometimes marked with blood. 
 
 When righteous battle rages 
 
 For Freedom and the trampled Right, 
 
 There God stands in His ample might 
 To bless the purple flood. 
 
ODE TO THE RUSSIAN PEOPLE 41 
 
 God's march across the ages 
 
 Is sometimes marked with scourge. 
 But where His spirit rages 
 In ocean-swell, in earthquake lift, 
 In tempest shock, or plague's unthrift, 
 
 We feel His upward urge. 
 
 God marches through the ages, 
 
 His march is evolution. 
 But when the tyrant rages, 
 And sets his hand against God's will, 
 To thwart His providence, lo! still 
 
 His name is REVOLUTION!