The White Czar

The White Czar is Peter the Great.Batyushka, Father dear, and Gosudar, Sovereign, are titles the Russian people are fond of giving to the Czar in their popular songs.

Dost thou see on the rampart's height
That wreath of mist, in the light
Of the midnight moon? O, hist!
It is not a wreath of mist;
It is the Czar, the White Czar,
Batyushka! Gosudar!

He has heard, among the dead,
The artillery roll o'erhead;
The drums and the tramp of feet
Of his soldiery in the street;
He is awake! the White Czar,
Batyushka! Gosudar!

He has heard in the grave the cries
Of his people: "Awake! arise!"
He has rent the gold brocade
Whereof his shroud was made;
He is risen! the White Czar,
Batyushka! Gosudar!

From the Volga and the Don
He has led his armies on,
Over river and morass,
Over desert and mountain pass;
The Czar, the Orthodox Czar,
Batyushka! Gosudar!

He looks from the mountain-chain
Toward the seas, that cleave in twain
The continents; his hand
Points southward o'er the land
Of Roumili! O Czar,
Batyushka! Gosudar!

And the words break from his lips:
"I am the builder of ships,
And my ships shall sail these seas
To the Pillars of Hercules!
I say it; the White Czar,
Batyushka! Gosudar!

"The Bosphorus shall be free;
It shall make room for me;
And the gates of its water-streets
Be unbarred before my fleets.
I say it; the White Czar,
Batyushka! Gosudar!

"And the Christian shall no more
Be crushed, as heretofore,
Beneath thine iron rule,
O Sultan of Istamboul!
I swear it; I the Czar,
Batyushka! Gosudar!"

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was an American poet and educator. He wrote many lyric poems known for their musicality and often presenting stories of mythology and legend. Some of his famous works include "Paul Revere's Ride" and "The Song of Hiawatha." Longfellow was one of the most popular American poets of his time and remains a significant figure in the canon of American literature.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Children's Crusade - [A Fragment.]

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Simple Poetry

Four By The Clock.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Simple Poetry

The Song Of Hiawatha - VII - Hiawatha's Sailing

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Simple Poetry

Fata Morgana

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Simple Poetry

English

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Batuschka.

From yonder gilded minaret
Beside the steel-blue Neva set,
I faintly catch, from time to time,
The sweet, aerial midnight chime--
"God save the Tsar!"

Above the ravelins and the moats
Of the white citadel it floats;
And men in dungeons far beneath
Listen, and pray, and gnash their teeth--
"God save the Tsar!"

The soft reiterations sweep
Across the horror of their sleep,

"Little Father," or "Dear Little Father,"
a term of endearment applied
to the Tsar in Russian folk-song.
As if some daemon in his glee
Were mocking at their misery--
"God save the Tsar!"

In his Red Palace over there,
Wakeful, he needs must hear the prayer.
How can it drown the broken cries
Wrung from his children's agonies?--
"God save the T...

Thomas Bailey Aldrich

The Little Czar

Oh, Great White Czar of Russia, who hid your face and ran,
Youve flung afar the grandest chance that ever came to man!
You might have been, and could have been, ah, think it to your shame!,
The Czar of all the Russias, in fact as well as name.

The Father of your People, your children called to you
To do the things to save them which only you could do.
Your soldiers whipped their faces, the trodden snow is red
With the blood of men and women; and the blood is on your head!

I saw in dreams a monarch, of his power all unaware,
Step down amongst his people from off his palace stair:
The Grand Dukes shrank and trembled, the traitors fled afar,
Through all the mighty Russias rang the order of the Czar!

You might have journeyed freely, wherever path is made,
Th...

Henry Lawson

This, My Song, Is Made for Kerensky

(Being a Chant of the American Soap-Box and the Russian Revolution.)



O market square, O slattern place,
Is glory in your slack disgrace?
Plump quack doctors sell their pills,
Gentle grafters sell brass watches,
Silly anarchists yell their ills.
Shall we be as weird as these?
In the breezes nod and wheeze?

        Heaven's mass is sung,
        Tomorrow's mass is sung
        In a spirit tongue
        By wind and dust and birds,
        The high mass of liberty,
        While wave the banners red:
        Sung round the soap-box,
        A mass for soldiers dead.

When you leave your faction in the once-loved hall,
Like a true American tongue-lash them all,
Stand then on the corner under starry skies
And get you a ga...

Vachel Lindsay

The March Of Ivan

Are you coming, Ivan, coming?, Ah, the ways are long and slow,
In the vast land that we know not, and we never sought to know.
We are watching through the daybreak, when the anxious night is done,
For the dots upon the skyline, black against the rising sun;
We are watching through the morning haze, and waiting through the night,
For the long, dark, distant columns that proclaim the Muscovite!
Are you coming, Ivan, coming? (Oh! the world is growing gray
With the terror of the future and the madness of to-day!)
Are you marching, Ivan, forward? (Oh! the world is darkning fast,
For the crimes of greater nations gainst the small ones in the past.)
Yours, in part, to make atonement, so remember what you are!
Ivan! Sing!, The Slav is coming! On for Russia and the Czar!


I...

Henry Lawson

Skaal

While they struggle on exhausted,
While they plough through bog and flood,
While they drag their sick and wounded
Where the tracks are drenched with blood;
While the Fates seemed joined to crush her
And her bravest hearts lie low,
I might sing one song for Russia,
Even though she be our foe.
Still be generous to foemen,
And have charity for all,
Right or wrong, fill up the wine cup;
Skaal! unto all brave men, Skaal!

While they suffer, cold and hungry,
All the heart-break of defeat,
And the twice heroic rearguard
Grimly holds the grim retreat;
While they fight the last alive on
Fields where countless corpses are,
We might drop one tear for Ivan,
Dead for Russia and the Czar!

Sullen grief of boorish brother,
Sisters scal...

Henry Lawson

Welcome To The Grand Duke Alexis

Shadowed so long by the storm-cloud of danger,
Thou whom the prayers of an empire defend,
Welcome, thrice welcome! but not as a stranger,
Come to the nation that calls thee its friend!

Bleak are our shores with the blasts of December,
Fettered and chill is the rivulet's flow;
Throbbing and warm are the hearts that remember
Who was our friend when the world was our foe.

Look on the lips that are smiling to greet thee,
See the fresh flowers that a people has strewn
Count them thy sisters and brothers that meet thee;
Guest of the Nation, her heart is thine own!

Fires of the North, in eternal communion,
Blend your broad flashes with evening's bright star!
God bless the Empire that loves the Great Union;
Strength to her people! Long life to the Czar!

Oliver Wendell Holmes