‘Russia Under The Czars.’

OF thraldom and the accursèd diadem In that vast snow-land, shout the passionate tale; Touch graybeards in the mart, bid braggarts quail, And rouse the student lone from his old phlegm To breathe the self-same sacred air with them, Spirits supreme, our brothers! whose avail Is sacrifice. Nay, make no woman’s wail: Rome is re-born! whom kings dare not contemn. On Neva’s shore-streets tho’ high blood be spent, There this lorn world’s renascent hopes are meeting: In camp is Mucius, at the bridge, Horatius; Regulus walks in gyves, magnificent; And thence men hear--O sound sublime and gracious! The unquelled heart of Cæsar’s Brutus beating.