| |
| HARD by the walls of Plevna, not fifty yards away, | |
| There lies a grave forsaken, scarce visible to-day; | |
| Forsaken and neglected, uncared for and unknown, | |
| No wreath is there to mark it, no monument of stone. | |
| No grass, no flowers, grow there beneath those sullen skies; | 5 |
| ’Tis there a sleeping hero, a Jewish soldier lies— | |
| A Jewish soldier fallen in Plevna’s bloody fight, | |
| When Russia, all victorious, put forth her conquering might. | |
| |
| The world is hushed to slumber and silence reigns around, | |
| A silence all unbroken, no voice, no breath, no sound; | 10 |
| But when the chimes of midnight ring from the ancient tower, | |
| Out of the east awakens a storm wind, strong in power. | |
| Across the land it rushes, and, stronger and more strong, | |
| It roars and howls and thunders in tumult wild and long, | |
| Until the earth it cleaveth as with the trump of doom, | 15 |
| And, sword in hand, the soldier arises from his tomb. | |
| |
| Upon the wall he standeth, as in the dauntless past, | |
| And from his heart sore-wounded, the blood flows free and fast. | |
| His soldier’s blood flows freely, his heart is wounded deep, | |
| And in a voice of thunder he calls the dead from sleep. | 20 |
| “Awake my warrior comrades, awake and judge aright; | |
| Say, did I not stand bravely beside you in the fight? | |
| Like you, did I not perish on Plevna’s battle plain | |
| For Russia’s greater glory, for Russia’s greater gain?” | |
| |
| And as his words fall silent, there wakes to life once more | 25 |
| A mighty host, unnumbered as sand upon the shore; | |
| A mighty armed multitude arises at his hest, | |
| From far and near they gather, they come from east and west; | |
| With marching and with clanging, with heavy, echoing tread, | |
| Until they stand before him, an army of the dead; | 30 |
| And ev’ry soldier answers, with high uplifted hand, | |
| And swears: “Yea, thou hast fallen for Czar and fatherland.” | |
| |
| And all again is silent, no voice, no breath, no sound, | |
| The mighty host has vanished and stillness reigns around; | |
| But still the Jewish soldier stands on the fortress wall, | 35 |
| And soon his words, resounding, like fiery missiles fall, | |
| “O! Russia, for thy honor did I lay down my life! | |
| O! Russia thou hast torn me from children and from wife! | |
| Why dost thou now condemn them to exile and despair? | |
| My curse, my heavy curses, to thee the winds shall bear.” | 40 |
| |
| And scarcely has he uttered these curses, fraught with pain, | |
| When swift the storm-wind carries him to his grave again. | |
| And at the self-same hour, and at the self-same place, | |
| The self-same actors nightly that gloomy scene retrace. | |
| The soldier’s bitter curses grow deeper night by night, | 45 |
| They deepen and they gather until they rise in might, | |
| Borne on the tempest’s pinions, far o’er the land they fly, | |
| And on Gatschina’s palace forevermore they lie. | |
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