  He came, proud monarch of the Land of Snows, Triumphant, in his argent chariot, decked With jewels mined in regions of the polar zones! He came! his fifty snowy steeds were swift As howling north-winds, and their flowing manes Were flecked with diamonds brighter than Brazilian stones! He came! To celebrate his triumph, first He spread a fleecy mantle o'er the earth— A frozen shroud symbolic of the Death he wrought. And then to every pendent branch he hung A glittering sword,—the tyrant's right to rule,— Demanding greater homage than ever warrior sought. More brilliant pageant than the Ice-King's in The Land of Flowers, never graced return Of oriental monarch from victorious wars. But oh! beneath the sparkle and the gleam Of crystal beauty beats an icy heart, And a sullen silence his splendid triumph mars; The waterfalls that leap from jutting ledge In happy song, are speechless as the tomb, And every melody that haunts the woods and streams Has vanished from the earth, and Nature's voice That erstwhile woke the matin in the mead Is silent now as music of forgotten dreams. Back to thy home in the icy Land of Snows, O tyrant czar! No cringing southern heart Pays honor to thy rich magnificence and power. Back with thy splendor and thy glistening gems! This is the land where every freeman bows But to the Queen alone, whose sceptre is the flower. Back, that our sovereign may usher in The reign of love with sunshine and with song, And drive away the gloom from every southern hearth. Back rude invader! to Siberian climes! And let our royal daughter, Spring, return To fill with happiness and beauty all the earth. |
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