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Dinah Maria Mulock - The Dead Czar
Work rating: Low

LAY him beneath his snows, 
The great Norse giant who in these last days 
Troubled the nations. Gather decently 
The imperial robes about him. `T is but man,-- 
This demi-god. Or rather it was man, 
And is--a little dust that will corrupt 
As fast as any nameless dust which sleeps 
`Neath Alma`s grass or Balaklava`s vines. 

No vineyard grave for him. No quiet tomb 
By river margin, where across the seas 
Children`s fond thoughts and women`s memories come 
Like angels, to sit by the sepulchre, 
Saying: "All these were men who knew to count, 
Front-faced, the cost of honor, nor did shrink 
From its full payment: coming here to die, 
They died--like men." 

But this man? Ah! for him 
Funereal state, and ceremonial grand, 
The stone-engraved sarcophagus, and then 
Oblivion. 

Nay, oblivion were as bliss 
To that fierce howl which rolls from land to land 
Exulting,--"Art thou fallen, Lucifer, 
Son of the morning?" or condemning,--"Thus 
Perish the wicked!" or blaspheming,--"Here 
Lies our Belshazzar, our Sennacherib, 
Our Pharaoh,--he whose heart God hardenèd, 
So that he would not let the people go." 

Self-glorifying sinners! Why, this man 
Was but like other men:--you, Levite small, 
Who shut your saintly ears, and prate of hell 
And heretics, because outside church-doors, 
Your church-doors, congregations poor and small 
Praise Heaven in their own way;--you, autocrat 
Of all the hamlets, who add field to field 
And house to house, whose slavish children cower 
Before your tyrant footstep;--you, foul-tongued 
Fanatic or ambitious egotist, 
Who thinks God stoops from His high majesty 
To lay His finger on your puny head, 
And crown it,--that you henceforth may parade 
Your maggotship throughout the wondering world,-- 
"I am the Lord`s anointed!" 

Fools and blind! 
This Czar, this emperor, this disthronèd corpse, 
Lying so straightly in an icy calm 
Grander than sovereignty, was but as ye,-- 
No better and no worse;--Heaven mend us all! 

Carry him forth and bury him. Death`s peace 
Rest on his memory! Mercy by his bier 
Sits silent, or says only these few words,-- 
"Let him who is without sin `mongst ye all 
Cast the first stone."
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