Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine — Volume 57, No. 351, January 1845. Various

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      Is it the wind from tower to tower

      Low-murmuring at midnight hour?

      Athwart the darkness light is stealing,

      Portentous, red with unrelenting ire,

      Inhuman deeds, and secrets dark revealing!

      Ye guilty, who may quench the kindled fire!

      Fall, city of the Czars, to rise

      Ennobled by self-sacrifice,

      Than tower and temple higher and more holy!

      The wilful king appointed o'er mankind

      To plague the lofty heart, and prove the lowly,

      Is fled! — Avenger, mount the chariot of the wind!

      Be thine, to guide the rapid scythe,

      To blind with snow the frozen sun,

      Against th' invader doomed to writhe,

      To rouse the Tartar, Russ, and Hun!

      Bid terror to the battle ride!

      Indignant honour, burning shame,

      Revenge, and hate, and patriotic pride!

      But not the quick unerring aim

      Of volley'd thunder winged with flame,

      Nor famine keener than the bird of prey,

      Nor death — avail the hard of heart to tame!

      Blow wind, and pierce the dire array,

      Flung, drifted by thy breath, athwart the frozen way!

      Before the blast as flakes of snow

      Drive blindly, reeling to and fro,

      Or down the river black and deep

      Melt — so the mighty sink to sleep!

      Like Asshur, never more to boast!

      Or Pharaoh, sunk with all his host!

      So perish who would trample down

      The rights of freedom, for renown!

      So fall, who born and nurtured free

      Adore the proud on bended knee!

      Roll, Beresina, 'neath the bridge

      Of death! rise Belgium's fatal ridge!

      Rise, lonely rock in a wide ocean,

      To curb each haughty mad emotion!

      To prove, while force and genius fail,

      That truth is great, and will prevail!

      The hour is coming — seize the hour!

      Divide the spoil, the prey devour!

      Howl o'er the dead and dying, cry

      All ye that raven earth and sky!

      With beak and talon rend the prey,

      Track carnage on her gory way,

      To chide o'er many a gleamy bone

      The moon, or with the wind to moan!

      Benumb'd with cold, by torture wrung,

      To winter leave the famine-clung,

      O thou for whom they toil and bleed,

      Deserted in their utmost need!

      Hear, hear them faithful unto death

      Invoke thee with the fleeting breath,

      And feel (for human still thou art)

      Ruth touch that adamantine heart!

      Survive the storm and battle-shock,

      To linger on th' Atlantic rock!

      From ghastly dream, from death-like trance

      Awake to woe, devoted France!

      To care and trouble, toil and pain,

      Till glory be acknowledged vain,

      And martial pomp a mere parade,

      And war, the bravo's bloody trade!

      A beacon o'er the tide of time

      Be thou, to point the wreck of crime!

      The spoiler spoil'd, from empire hurl'd,

      The dread and pity of the world!

      O then, by tribulation tried,

      Abjuring envy, hate, and pride,

      Warn'd of the dying hour foretold

      Of earth and heaven together roll'd,

      Revering each prophetic sign

      Of judgment and of love divine,

      Bow down, and hide thee in the dust,

      And own the retribution just;

      So may contrition, prayer, and praise,

      Preserve thee in the latter days!