The Highlands of EthiopiaHarris, William Cornwallis, Sir
History
The Highlands of Ethiopia
Harris, William Cornwallis, Sir
Ethiopia -- Description and travel
"God is great!"--ejaculated a gaily-bedecked stripling, as he added an
extra pinch of powder, for good luck, to the handful already poured into
his long culverin. "Bring me alien, that he may feel the hands of the
mighty, and _Inshallah_! if the leader of the expedition be of my mind,
we shall not return empty-handed to have our beards laughed at by these
fat kafirs from Hinde. Better were it to quaff at once the waters of
immortality. But alas! Amru! the star was little on the ascendant
when, forsaking the pleasant terraces and the cypress-waisted damsels of
Mocha, thy stupid head dreamt of receiving two piastres a day from the
treasury of the Sheriffe, or of being cooped up with infidels in a
perfect _Jehannam_ upon earth."
This speech was received with considerable applause, for the Reis Amru
was well liked by his comrades in arms. Jokes passed freely among the
youth, who were all in high good humour at being released from the dull
stupidity of a hot garrison; and each talked gaily of his future deeds
of prowess, although as yet nothing had transpired as to the nature or
object of the enterprise.
But the veterans were crowded together in a mass, and their scowling
downcast looks betokened little satisfaction in the coming march. A
one-eyed ancient, who had witnessed as many fights as the remaining
locks upon his wrinkled head, was employed in grinding a notch from his
long sweeping sword, whilst he ever and anon gave vent to his spleen and
displeasure. "No good can ever come of intercourse with these
unbelieving savages," growled the old man to a fellow gambler. "The
skulking sons of the Debeni have been in close conference with the Ameer
for the greater part of the day; and the youth Osman is not the leader
to conduct a party of the Faithful among the deserts and the hills of
this parched land. Blood will flow from the veins of these hot-headed
striplings, crimson as the cloth which flaunts above their head-gear.
Aye, and the dream of the last night can be now easily interpreted.
Listen to me," he muttered, in lower accents: "I dreamt of the pleasant
lands of Saba, and saw the sparkling waters flowing over the bright
green turf. The tribe of my fathers had assembled together, and the
`hail, welcome, may your arrival be happy,' came soothingly to my
wearied ear; but an impassable gulf yawned at my feet, and the cold
touch of the dread Azrail startled me from my slumbers. Nevertheless if
we be fated to perish by the hand of the savage, it shall never be said
that old Kasim Ali was the man to oppose his destiny."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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