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Now consider and event
Good advice, ye all!

How the soonest, how the quickest,
Fort Azof may fall?

The Boyars, they stood in silence.
And our father dear,

He again began to speak,

In his eye a tear:

Come, my children, good dragoons.

CAUCASUS.

At midnight

The moon arose; and lo! the ethereal cliffs

Of Caucasus, whose icy summits shone
Among the stars like sunlight, and around
Whose caverned base the whirlpools and the waves
Bursting and eddying irresistibly
Rage and resound forever.

The noonday sun

Now shone upon the forest, one vast mass
Of mingling shade, whose brown magnificence
A narrow vale embosoms. There huge caves,
Scooped in the dark base of those aery rocks,
Mocking its moans, respond and roar forever.
The meeting boughs and implicated leaves
Wove twilight o'er the poet's path, as led
By love, or dream, or God, or mightier Death,
He sought in Nature's dearest haunt some bank,
Her cradle in his sepulchre. More dark
And dark the shades accumulate—the oak,
Expanding its immeasurable arms,
Embraces the light beech. The pyramids
Of the tall cedar overarching, frame
Most solemn domes within, and far below,
Like clouds suspended in an emerald sky.

THE COSSACK.

From the Danube was I riding,
When she crossed my path to-day;
Straight my spur the war-horse chiding,
"Speed," I cried, "away!"

Over the blue pines of the eastern woods, Upon the icy crags where Russian eagles Sat lean famine-withered.

and

So he turned

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hunger flashing in

his

eye,

And listened; presently upon the rock

He wet his beak, and plumed his ragged feathers, And rose with terrible and savage clang

Into the frightened air-nor rose alone, But at the sound the golden beak of Prussia And the two-headed bird of Austria Came swooping up, and o'er the happy land Held bloody carnival; for each one tore A bleeding fragment from his proper beak, As of a kid caught straying and alone.

So there went up a cry from earth to heaven, And pale-eyed nation asked, "Is there a God?" But other blood than Polish blood hath dyed Green Vistula to red, and there hath come In these last days a dreader Nemesis

One who hath spoiled the spoiler, and for blood Asked blood-for shattered throne hath shattered

thrones,

So that the nations have forgot their fears, And crying exulting, "Yea, there is a God!"

SAINT PETERSBURG.

See! From the Finland marshes there
'Tis proud St. Isaac's rears in air,
Pillar on pillar, that shining dome!
And just beyond its glorious swell,
'Tis the slender spire of the Citadel
Where the great Czar Peter slumbers well
All by the Neva's flood foam-

That lifts it across till the golden bars
Gleam and burn with the midnight stars!
Taller than Luxor's shafts, and grander,
Looms the pillar of Alexander

Guarding the palace that fronts the square;
And, out where the mist o'er Okhta flies,
The towers of the Nevski Cloister rise-
Shrine of the saint who, deathless, lies
Circled with jewels rare;

And Smolnoi's wealth of spangled blue
Beams all the dusky distance through.

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Guard of the Crescent banner,
Gleaming on tower and gate-
The banner unfurled by the Prophet,
The banner in league with Fate.

Nor boom the guns of the Fortress,

When sunset airs blow free,

While the warriors kneel, as the echoes

Die over steepe and sea

Kneel and pray that the Moslem

Lord of the world may be.

Gone are the Turk, and the Crescent,

And the Fortress of Khodja Bey;

And lo! in their place, Odessa,

And the Russ with a grander sway—
The Russ and the Royal Eagle,

That makes the Fate his prey !

THE DIVISION OF POLAND.

Upon earth's lap there lay a pleasant land, With mountain, wood, and river beautified, And city-dotted. For the pleasant land The icy North and burning South did battle Whose it should be; and so it lay between them Unclaimed, unowned, like the shining spoils Under the crossed lances of contending chiefs; Or like April days, whose morn is sunshine And evening storm. Its never-failing fields Strong men and sturdy, robed in vest of green, And when the year was older took their payment In grain and gold. Its ever-smiling homes

True wives and comely daughters tenanted, Round the most holy altar of the hearth Moving like holy ministers. To them

Sorrow and pain, envy and hate, came ever; Only the mild-eyed, kind consoler, Death,

Called them from happy life to happier, Where eyes are shining that can have no tears, And brows are beaming that can never frown, And lips are breathing love that cannot lie. There went a whisper of their happiness

"Ah," she said, "your steed detaining, Stay and hear your love's complaining, See how tears my cheeks are staining; Dear Cossack, O stay!"

"Well thou knowest when last we parted, Liska, what distress was mine; Almost was I broken-hearted,

Now the turn is thine!"

"Dear Cossack, forbear to grieve me, Must I lose thee, canst thou leave me, Grief will sure of life bereave me, If I thee resign!"

"Break not thus your hands with wringing;

Hush the sob, and dry the tear! Soon from battle laurels bringing, Love, expect me here."

"Laurels bought with blood alarm me, Glory cannot tempt nor charm me,

Ah, there's naught on earth could harm me, Wert thou safe, my dear!"

SUNSET IN MOSCOW.

O the splendor of the city, When the sun is in the west! Ruddy gold on spire and belfry,

Gold on Moskwa's placid breast; Till the twilight soft and sombre Falls on wall and street and square, And the domes and towers in shadow

Stand like silent monks at prayer. 'Tis the hour for dream and legend. Meet me by the Sacred Gate!

We will watch the crowd go by us; We will stories old relate; Till the bugle of the barracks

Call the soldier to repose,

And from off the steppe to northward Chill the wind of midnight blows.

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