DISPUTE.[4]

Once, before a tribal meetingOf the mountain throng,Kazbek-hill with Shat-the-mountain[5]Wrangled loud and long.“Have a care, Kazbek, my brother,”Shat, the grey-haired, spoke;“Not for naught hath human cunningBent thee to the yoke.Man will build his smoky cabinsOn thy hillside steep;Up thy valley’s deep recessesRinging axe will creep;Iron pick will tear a pathwayTo thy stony heart,Delving yellow gold and copperFor the human mart.Caravans, e’en now, are wendingO’er thy stately heights,Where the mists and kingly eaglesWheeled alone their flights.Men are crafty; what though tryingProved the first ascent,Many-peopled, mark, and mightyIs the Orient.”“Nay, I do not dread the Orient,”Kazbek, answering, jeers;“There mankind has spent in slumberJust nine hundred years.Look, where ’neath the shade of plane treesSleepy Georgians gape,Spilling o’er their broidered clothingFoam of luscious grape!See, ’mid wreaths of pipe-smoke, lyingOn his flowered divan,By the sparkling pearly fountainDozeth Teheran!“Lo! around Jerusalem’s city,Burned by God’s command,Motionless, in voiceless stillness,Death-like, lies the land.“Farther off, to shade a stranger,Yellow Nilus laves,Glowing in the glare of noonday,Steps of royal graves.Bedouins forget their sortiesFor brocaded tents,While they count the stars and sing ofAncestral events.All that there the vision greetethSleeps in prized repose;No! the East will ne’er subdue me;Feeble are such foes!”“Do not boast thyself so early,”Answered ancient Shat;“In the North, look! ’mid the vapours,Something rises! What?”Secretly the mighty KazbekAt this warning shook,And, in trouble, towards the nor’wardCast a hurried look.As he looks, in perturbation,Filled with anxious care,He beholds a strange commotion,Hears a tumult there.Lo! from Ural to the Danube,To the mighty stream,Tossing, sparkling in the sunlight,Moving regiments gleam;Glancing wave the white-plumed helmetsLike the prairie grass,While, ’mid clouds of dust careering,Flashing Uhlans pass.Crowded close in serried phalanxWar battalions come;In the van they bear the standards,Thunders loud the drum;Streaming forth like molten copperBatteries, rumbling, bound;Smoking just before the battleTorches flare around;Skilled in toils of stormy warfare,Heading the advance,See! a grey-haired general guides them,Threat’ning is his glance.Onwards move the mighty regimentsWith a torrent’s roar;Terrible, like gathering storm-clouds,East, due east, they pour.Then, oppressed with dire forebodings,Filled with gloomy dreams,Strove Kazbek to count the foemen,Failed to count their streams.Glancing on his tribal mountains,Sadly gloomed the hill;Drew across his brows his mistcap,And for aye was still.

Once, before a tribal meeting

Of the mountain throng,

Kazbek-hill with Shat-the-mountain[5]

Wrangled loud and long.

“Have a care, Kazbek, my brother,”

Shat, the grey-haired, spoke;

“Not for naught hath human cunning

Bent thee to the yoke.

Man will build his smoky cabins

On thy hillside steep;

Up thy valley’s deep recesses

Ringing axe will creep;

Iron pick will tear a pathway

To thy stony heart,

Delving yellow gold and copper

For the human mart.

Caravans, e’en now, are wending

O’er thy stately heights,

Where the mists and kingly eagles

Wheeled alone their flights.

Men are crafty; what though trying

Proved the first ascent,

Many-peopled, mark, and mighty

Is the Orient.”

“Nay, I do not dread the Orient,”Kazbek, answering, jeers;“There mankind has spent in slumberJust nine hundred years.Look, where ’neath the shade of plane treesSleepy Georgians gape,Spilling o’er their broidered clothingFoam of luscious grape!See, ’mid wreaths of pipe-smoke, lyingOn his flowered divan,By the sparkling pearly fountainDozeth Teheran!“Lo! around Jerusalem’s city,Burned by God’s command,Motionless, in voiceless stillness,Death-like, lies the land.

“Nay, I do not dread the Orient,”

Kazbek, answering, jeers;

“There mankind has spent in slumber

Just nine hundred years.

Look, where ’neath the shade of plane trees

Sleepy Georgians gape,

Spilling o’er their broidered clothing

Foam of luscious grape!

See, ’mid wreaths of pipe-smoke, lying

On his flowered divan,

By the sparkling pearly fountain

Dozeth Teheran!

“Lo! around Jerusalem’s city,

Burned by God’s command,

Motionless, in voiceless stillness,

Death-like, lies the land.

“Farther off, to shade a stranger,Yellow Nilus laves,Glowing in the glare of noonday,Steps of royal graves.Bedouins forget their sortiesFor brocaded tents,While they count the stars and sing ofAncestral events.All that there the vision greetethSleeps in prized repose;No! the East will ne’er subdue me;Feeble are such foes!”

“Farther off, to shade a stranger,

Yellow Nilus laves,

Glowing in the glare of noonday,

Steps of royal graves.

Bedouins forget their sorties

For brocaded tents,

While they count the stars and sing of

Ancestral events.

All that there the vision greeteth

Sleeps in prized repose;

No! the East will ne’er subdue me;

Feeble are such foes!”

“Do not boast thyself so early,”Answered ancient Shat;“In the North, look! ’mid the vapours,Something rises! What?”

“Do not boast thyself so early,”

Answered ancient Shat;

“In the North, look! ’mid the vapours,

Something rises! What?”

Secretly the mighty KazbekAt this warning shook,And, in trouble, towards the nor’wardCast a hurried look.As he looks, in perturbation,Filled with anxious care,He beholds a strange commotion,Hears a tumult there.Lo! from Ural to the Danube,To the mighty stream,Tossing, sparkling in the sunlight,Moving regiments gleam;Glancing wave the white-plumed helmetsLike the prairie grass,While, ’mid clouds of dust careering,Flashing Uhlans pass.Crowded close in serried phalanxWar battalions come;In the van they bear the standards,Thunders loud the drum;Streaming forth like molten copperBatteries, rumbling, bound;Smoking just before the battleTorches flare around;Skilled in toils of stormy warfare,Heading the advance,See! a grey-haired general guides them,Threat’ning is his glance.Onwards move the mighty regimentsWith a torrent’s roar;Terrible, like gathering storm-clouds,East, due east, they pour.

Secretly the mighty Kazbek

At this warning shook,

And, in trouble, towards the nor’ward

Cast a hurried look.

As he looks, in perturbation,

Filled with anxious care,

He beholds a strange commotion,

Hears a tumult there.

Lo! from Ural to the Danube,

To the mighty stream,

Tossing, sparkling in the sunlight,

Moving regiments gleam;

Glancing wave the white-plumed helmets

Like the prairie grass,

While, ’mid clouds of dust careering,

Flashing Uhlans pass.

Crowded close in serried phalanx

War battalions come;

In the van they bear the standards,

Thunders loud the drum;

Streaming forth like molten copper

Batteries, rumbling, bound;

Smoking just before the battle

Torches flare around;

Skilled in toils of stormy warfare,

Heading the advance,

See! a grey-haired general guides them,

Threat’ning is his glance.

Onwards move the mighty regiments

With a torrent’s roar;

Terrible, like gathering storm-clouds,

East, due east, they pour.

Then, oppressed with dire forebodings,Filled with gloomy dreams,Strove Kazbek to count the foemen,Failed to count their streams.Glancing on his tribal mountains,Sadly gloomed the hill;Drew across his brows his mistcap,And for aye was still.

Then, oppressed with dire forebodings,

Filled with gloomy dreams,

Strove Kazbek to count the foemen,

Failed to count their streams.

Glancing on his tribal mountains,

Sadly gloomed the hill;

Drew across his brows his mistcap,

And for aye was still.

FOOTNOTES:[4]This piece is famous for the description it contains of Russia’s progress eastward.[5]Two mountains in the Caucasian range subdued by Russia with the rest of the Caucasus.

[4]This piece is famous for the description it contains of Russia’s progress eastward.

[5]Two mountains in the Caucasian range subdued by Russia with the rest of the Caucasus.

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