Innocuous as the phantom chivalry
That flames and hurtles from yon boreal sky!
Now wave thy pennon, Russia, o’er the land
Once Poland; build thy bristling castles high;
Dig dungeon’s deep; for Poland’s wrested brand
Is now a weapon new to widen thy command—
An awful width! Norwegian woods shall build
His fleets; the Swede his vassal, and the Dane:
The glebe of fifty kingdoms shall be tilled
To feed his dazzling, desolating train,