The Circassian Chief: A Romance of RussiaKingston, William Henry Giles
History
The Circassian Chief: A Romance of Russia
Kingston, William Henry Giles
Caucasus -- History -- Juvenile fiction
As the deep glow gradually faded from the horizon, leaving a clear view
of the ocean's margin, the man from the mast-head shouted in tones of
delight, "Abasa! Abasa! land! land! the land of Circassia!" The effect
was electrical. All on board turned their gaze towards the east. The
Hadji and the devout Mahometans ceased from their morning prayer; the
seamen mounted the rigging; and, as a light gauze-like veil of mist was
drawn up to the sky, the blue mountains of the lofty Caucasian range
appeared just rising above the waters in the far distance.
Ivan's heart beat with enthusiastic delight as he gazed on the land of
his birth, the land of all his most romantic aspirations. The
accomplishment of his eager wishes--the fulfilment of his vow--would not
much longer be deferred. His earnest gaze was fixed on the scene, as
mountain after mountain, and hill after hill, rose to view.
As the zebeque glided swiftly towards land, the more minute details of
the landscape could be distinguished; mountains of every fantastic form
were seen piled one on another, clothed with verdure from the bright
water's edge to the topmost peak, where they seemed lost in the pure
blue sky. Trees of various foliage bent over precipitous and rugged
cliffs, bounding a smiling valley, through which meandered a sparkling
stream; by its banks grazed herds of cattle while numerous horses
galloped in unrestrained freedom over the velvet lawn.
The zebeque had made the shore rather too far to the south of their
destination, and as she coasted calmly along, Ivan gazed with enraptured
and untiring eye on the lovely scene. Far as the eye could reach, up
the sides of the steep sloping hills, numerous flocks of white sheep
were seen quietly grazing, and from craig to craig, bounded nimbly with
long and slender limbs the jet black goats.
He looked on the unostentatious abodes of his countrymen, their little
cots built on the slopes of the gently swelling hills, amid fields of
ripening corn, their farm yards surrounded by groves of trees covered
with fruit, from among which the thin smoke from their domestic hearths
curled upward in wreathy pillars. All around appeared the abodes of
contentment and peace--how sadly deceitful and treacherous. In another
day all might be laid waste, and a howling desert usurp its place.
The lately dignified Hadji, excited to the most enthusiastic delight,
walked the deck with the activity of youth, pointing out to Ivan the
names of the different little inlets, bays, valleys, and mountains as
they coasted along.
They were saluted too, as they passed, by many a band of warriors,
hastening towards the scene of strife in the north, where their invaders
had landed. Many a gallant chief, in his war array, his bright armour
glittering in the sun, galloped by, waving his shining sword to salute
them, attended by a band of followers, shouting defiance to their foes,
and singing hymns of victory.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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