Moscow
Moscow, I love thee with a filial love,
Strong, burning, tender, which a Russian knows!
I love the holy gleam thy brows above,
Thy battled Kremlin in its calm repose.
In vain the foreign Potentate6 essayed,
Great Russian giant of a thousand years,
To cope with thee, and, by deceit betrayed,
To make thee bow thy soul to craven fears.
In vain the Stranger spurred; you reared; he fell!
The world grew silent ’neath his mighty spell;
Whilst thou alone didst live, my stately one,
Thou heir to glories ours, and ours alone!
Thou livest still, and every stone of thine
Doth tell of generations tales divine.
Footnotes
6 Napoleon.