Poem by Richard Chenevix Trench

To Nicholas, Emperor of Russia

 ON HIS REPORTED CONDUCT TOWARDS THE POLES.

What would it help to call thee what thou art?
When all is spoken, thou remainest still
With the same power and the same evil will
To crush a nation’s life out, to dispart
All holiest ties, to turn awry and thwart
All courses that kind nature keeps, to spill
The blood of noblest veins, to maim, or kill
With torture of slow pain the aching heart.
When our weak hands hang useless, and we feel
Deeds cannot be, who then would ease his breast
With the impotence of words? But our appeal
Is unto Him, who counts a nation’s tears,
With whom are the oppressor and opprest,
And vengeance, and the recompensing years.

1. To the Same (If sorrow came not near us, and the lore)
2. The Same
3. On the Results of the Last French Revolution
4. To the Same (Songs of deliverance compassed thee about)
5. Sonnet (What good soever in thy heart or mind)

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