text:  The Neva may rush To its fountain again; The bill of a bird Lake Ladoga may drain; The blast from the Pole May be held in a chain; But the cry of a Nation Was never in vain! When the bones of our chiefs Feed the wolf and the kite; When the spurs of our squadrons Are bloody with flight; When the Black Eagle's banner Is torn from its height; Then dark-hearted dreamer! Beware of the _night_! I hear in the darkness The tread of the bold; They stop not for iron They stop not for gold; But the Sword has an edge And the Scarf has a fold