All shall bend alike, when I lift my pike, and aloft that sceptre toss.
Then proudly neigh, &c.
In a night of storm, I have seen a form, and the figure was a giant,
And his eye was bent on the Cossack’s tent, and his look was all defiant.
Kingly his crest, and toward the West with his battleaxe he pointed;
And the form I saw was—Attila—of this earth the scourge anointed:
From the Cossack’s camp let the horseman’s tramp the coming crash announce;
Let the vulture whet its beak sharp set on the carrion field to pounce!
And fiercely neigh, &c.
What boots old Europe’s boasted fame, on which she sets reliance,