Classic Poem

From fertile Gallia's peopled shore
Around what countless millions pour,
(Where'er her threat'ning eagles soar,)
To spread the reign of anarchy.

Proud Gallia's flag triumphant spread,
Their daring troops the generals led
Through climes whence freedom long had fled,
The once fair realms of Germany.

At length arrang'd with martial pride,
Their glittering weapons gleaming wide,
They cross'd the Dwina's foaming tide,
Elate with hopes of victory.

Th' undaunted Monarch of the North
Sent all his gallant legions forth,
To prove their prowess and their worth,
And rid the world of tyranny.

Smolensko's Prince in patriot ire,
Inspir'd his troops with martial fire,
Compell'd th' invaders to retire,
And Russia gain'd her liberty.

A broken and disorder'd host,
Their eagles fallen, their leaders lost,
The Dwina's flood once more they cross'd,
Before a conquering enemy.

Struck with dismay and panic dread,
Fast o'er Volhynia's plains they fled,
Behind, the conquering army sped,
Platoff's intrepid cavalry.

The drifted snow was crimson'd o'er,
And many a deep-stain'd river bore
Its water to the distant shore
Of the dark rolling Vistula.

By ills of every kind distress'd,
By cold benumb'd, by hunger press'd,
Forc'd on the frozen earth to rest,
The sky their only canopy.

Subdu'd by winter's rig'rous sway,
To famine and disease a prey,
The once Grand Army pin'd away,
On Poland's dreary boundary.

Ambition! at thy tyrant will,
Such scenes of misery earth must fill;
Horrors attend thy progress still,
Such are thy deeds of cruelty.