The daily morning journal and courier., 1905-12-28
THE CAPTIVE BELL or NOV
 GOROD.

Where linen pOurS its swollen flood Down through the dank marsh lands, Reddened full oft with fierce Morse
 blood,
 Traders, rough fighters herded here No craven, slaVIsh band They grew in might from year to year, And spread on every hand. ''Novgorod, the Great. fears naughtl' This the creed her sons were taught. Here Rurik ruled in simple state,
 Warrior and sage in one, And wisely guided Russia's fate
 On, toward the setting sun. Where, close by linens shores, arose Sophia's wondrous dome Walls of hewn stone repelling foes Christ's image found home; Paint my band shut" the Saviour
 cries.
 Tn that hand your city lies!' And safely Novgorod, the Great, Like waterfowl in nest, Guarded by marsh and kindly fate, Finds freedom, wealth and rest. Bell-towers grow up within her walls, For bells all Russia lovesi They soothe, they rouse with changing
 calls,
 They roar, they moan like doves. Prince, aye King, among the rest, Hangs the bell they love the best. The river-ways bring precious hoards From spicy Eastern chimes, Each Ocean-inlet wealth affords
 Of all the olden times: The streets with gladness overflow, The homes are homes of peace; While Curfew follows sunset glow All fear and trouble cease:-~ Lazily the great tongue goes Seek safe sleep and sweet repose." With tongues as ready to proclaim The sacred rights they hold, The brave New Towners gain the fame Of sturdy men and bold. Prlncelets, set over them 10 rule,
 Are taught the lesson well;-- Each townsman. drilled n Freedoms
 School,
 May sGtind the Council Bell:- Joyously the proud bell cries, Give to the State what in you lies" When breathless scoutA loretell the Wildly the Tocsin calls: Brown moor-hen hies her swift away Armed burghers man the walls. From well-squared stone to adze-hewn
 beam
 The belfry rocks and swings: Drowning command and terror scream, The faithful Great Bell rings: Ger all it sounds out loud and clear, gro arms! To arms! The foe is near!'' At sound of that sharp, brazen call Warrior and priest unite: Like hail thick showers of arrows fall. Blest Mary's tears alright Time and again the foes hurled down From walls that yalor keeps: Both man and saint fight for the town. Nor saint nor warrior sleeps. Der lake and wood wild war-notes
 flow Strike for your honest Dash back the foe!"
 Tn vain: Great Ivan wins at length; And Novgorod the Great, Humbled, bereft of former strength, Must open wide her gate, Three hundred chariot~loads of spoil Take road to Moskva town: Regretted more than wealth or toll Their bell comes crashing down. Its joyous spirit must, be crushed; Its voice for liberty be hushed! Stout wains, loud-creaking with its
 weight,
 Through pine woods grooming come: While droning bees bemoan its state, The sullen captive's dumb. On Moskva's walls now hoisted hight It guards the Sacred Gate: The dreadful Red Place all too nigh For bell, once free, what fate! Forced to forget its mother-tongue, No sweet, glad note shall e'er be rung. Forced to obey tyrant's will . To add it's loud acolaim--- To witness scenes that shock and chill, Deeds that 'twere sin to name;- For Freedoms Bell, oh, what 8 fate! Incite to slaughter--mock the dead To guard a murderer's royal state While Red Place gledms with fresher
 red!
 Can it forget the notes it rang, From curfew soft to battle-clang? Hundreds of years has Moscow stood Dead Freedoms gorgeous tomb; Here Tsars first knelt to Holy Rood And Tartar hordes brought doom. Hark! Crashing bombs with death are
 fraught!
 An empire wakes to life! The Holy City counts for naught In new and holier strife. Men ask that God-given rights be
 theirs Pledge that the stamp of honor bears Sometime, it seems, that mighty Bell Though mixed with baser dross, And throned in Ivan's Tower, as well, O'ertopping shrine and cross Must feel--yes, now-some old-time
 thrill:
 Repeat old notes So grand: Far sound it's echo Voices, still, That ring through all the land. When rtyrants bade enslaved notes toll, They failed to kill that free Morse Soul.
 $. T. DOUGLASS. New Haven. Conn, Dec, 1905.