To Russia

'Neath a giant tent Of the heavens blue, Stretch the verdant Steppes; Range beyond the view.

On the distant rim Lift the outlines proud, Of their mountain walls To the drifting cloud.

Through the Steppes there rolls Stream on stream to sea, Wide meandering, Straying far and free.

Do I Southward gaze— Like the ocean there, Ripening fields of grain Wave and ripple fair.

Softest velvet sod Decks the meadow floor, In the vineyards green Swells the grape once more.

Do I Northward turn— O'er the waste lands lone, Soft as eider down Are the snowflakes blown.

And his azure waves High the ocean lifts, On his cold blue breast Now an iceberg drifts.

And as leaping flame Burn the Northern lights, On the darkness gleam Through the silent nights.

Even so art thou, Russian realm, become,— Thou my native land, Shield of Christendom!

Far away hast thou, Throughout lands untold, In thy glory fair, Russia, been enrolled!

Art thou not in space E'en o'er well supplied? Where a spirit bold Freely wanders wide!

Hast thou not alway Gold and grain rich stored? For thy friend a feast? For thy foe a sword?

Guards and shields thee not With a sacred might, Holy altar forms, Deeds of glory bright?

To whom hast thou e'er Bent an humble knee? Or before whom bowed Seeking charity?

In the Kurgan deep, Met in open fight, Thou hast e'en subdued The fierce Tartar's might.

Fought to bloody death The Lithuanian horde, The defiant Pole Scattered with a sword.

And how long ago, Black clouds, rising out Of the distant West, Compassed thee about?

'Neath the lightning flash Sank the woods away, Trembled the earth's breast, Piercéd with dismay.

And the inky smoke Ruinous did rise From the village burnt To the cloudy skies.

Loudly to the fight Then the Tsar did call— Russia swift replied, Coming one and all.

Women, children came— Men from age to youth, Gave their evil guest Bloody feast in truth!

And in lonely fields Under ice and snow, To his endless sleep Laid the victim low.

Where the snowstorms wild Raised o'er him a tomb, While the North wind sang Dirges in the gloom.

Town and village too Over all our land, Now like ant hills swarm With this Christian band.

Now from distant shores O'er the cruel sea, Ship on ship draws near Homage paying thee.

Blooming are thy fields, Soft thy forests sigh, Hid in earth's dark breast Golden treasures lie.

And to East and West, To the South and North— Flies thy louder fame Through the wide world forth!

Holy Russia, thou Dost deserve to be "Mother" called by all, In our love to thee!

For thy glory fair We should face the foe, And thy freedom guarding Glad our lives bestow!