THE SLAV AND THE TURK.
'To not the lordly Crescent that stirs our souls to rage,
Although in Europe's story it reddens many a page ;
Not Mekka's fervid gospel, though oft its votaries pour'd On shuddering Christian valleys the storm of fire and sword ;
'Tits not for us upon that faith to fix a felon stain,
Whose champions brought us lore, and light, and art through conquered Spain ; From Arab schools and Arab skill we've gained too much to damn With Catholic anathema the children of Islam !
No! 'tis the horde from Oxus poured which set the baneful rule Of a soulless, base, and bloody race in the bright lands of Stamina; The race that boasts where'er its hosts of savage conquerors trod No grass can grow, no blossom show the fostering breath of God. The Crescent-flag on high they fount, the gilt Koran they kiss; They pray a chiming Arab chatInt, no fast or feast they miss ; But nought can cleanse their bosoms from the foul, dark blood that ran In the veins of their savage fathers from the wastes of wild Turan.
'Mid squabbling in our homestead, they came in blood and fire; Through squabbling in our homestead they stayed, a presence dire ; Now Nemesis, awaking, knocks at their robber-gate, But squabbling in our homestead avails to stay their fate. We form a single homestead, we Celt, and Slav, and Greek, Latin, and Goth, together,—why, mutual hurt to wreak, Should dynasties or statesmen goad on good Christian folk, When Christian kin are struggling to break the Tatar yoke?
What reeks it if our kinsmen in ignorance be sunk, Like that in which their masters have lain for ages drunk Though deeds of blood defile them, still shall we deem the same Of serfs by wrong embruted and lords whom nought can tame ? Ages of power and splendour on these have failed to tell ; Now comes the hour of Vengeance,—who dares forbid its knell? Up, Christians ! strike for Freedom ! God's curse upon the work Of villain statesmen plotting to save the ruffian Turk !
M. K. Y.