THE Cossack! the Cossack! his steed is his throne; On the steppe and the desert his glory is known; For he sweeps like the wind from the camp to the fray, And woe to the foe and the flying that day! 'False Pagan!' he cries, 'are you slave — are you Shah — Now die by this lance, or take oath to the Czar!' The Cossack! the Cossack! a flame of the South Is the glance of his eye, is the word of his mouth, For the steed that he rides — for the saint he implores — And, fairer, and dearer, the girl he adores. The maiden's fond lover — the Czar's faithful warder — Ho! drink to the Cossack, from border to border! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE VANISHING RED by ROBERT FROST ON A GREEK VASE by FRANK DEMPSTER SHERMAN TO A LADY TO ANSWER DIRECTLY WITH YEA OR NAY by THOMAS WYATT IN REMEMBRANCE by ADRA CAROLINE BATCHELDER ANNUNCIATIO B.V. by JOSEPH BEAUMONT THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 34. REMINDING HER OF A PROMISE (1) by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |