Page:Songs of Russia.djvu/40

 Not far from Plevna, fifty and a hundred steps away, There is a grave, but where it lies no passer-by could say. The place is all forsaken, a dreary spot and lone; No wreath lies on that sepulchre, there stands no marble stone; There grows no grass, no flower, no leaf—yet there in death’s embrace A hero rests, a soldier brave who came of Jewish race. Upon the spot where erst he fell in battle he doth lie, Where Russia celebrates with pride her greatest victory.

A deep, dead silence reigns around; all things have fallen asleep; But when the clock upon the tower at midnight boometh deep, A strong east wind begins to blow; it thunders, it appals,