[Footnote 24:  The oriental nations carry their guns at their backs, supported by a strap passing across the breast.]

DEATH-SONG.

  CHORUS.

  “Fame to us, death to you,
  Alla-ha, Alla-hu!!”

  SEMICHORUS.

“Weep, O ye maidens, on mountain and valley, Lift the dirge for the sons of the brave; We have fired our last bullet, have made our last rally, And Caucasus gives us a grave.  Here the soft pipe no more shall invite us to slumber —­The thunder our lullaby sings; Our eyes not the maiden’s dark tresses shall cumber, Them the raven shall shade with his wings!  Forget, O my children, your father’s stern duty—­ No more shall he bring ye the Muscovite booty!”

  SECOND SEMICHORUS.

  “Weep not, O ye maidens; your sisters in splendour,
  The Houris, they bend from the sky,
  They fix on the brave their sun-glance deep and tender,
  And to Paradise bear him on high! 
  In your feast-cup, my brethren, forget not our story;
  The death of the Free is the noblest of glory!”

  FIRST SEMICHORUS.

  “Roar, winter torrent, and sullenly dash! 
  But where is the brave one—­the swift lightning-flash? 
    Soft star of my soul, my mother,
    Sleep, the fire let ashes smother;
  Gaze no more, shine eyes are weary,
    Sit not by the threshold stone;
  Gaze not through the night-fog dreary,
    Eat thine evening meal alone,
  Seek him not, O mother, weeping,
    By the cliff and by the ford: 
  On a bed of dust he’s sleeping—­
    Broken is both heart and sword!”

  SECOND SEMICHORUS.

  “Mother, weep not! with thy love burning: 
    This heart of mine beats full and free,
  And to lion-blood is turning
    That soft milks I drew from thee;
  And our liberty from danger
    Thy brave son has guarded well;
  Battling with the Christian stranger,
    Call’d by Azrael, he fell;
  From my blood fresh odours breathing
    Fadeless flowers shall drink the dew;
  To my children fame bequeathing,
    Brethren, and revenge to you!”

  CHORUS.

  “Pray, my brethren, ere we part;
    Clutch the steel with hate and wrath! 
  Break it in the Russian’s heart—­
  O’er corpses lies the brave man’s path! 
     Fame to us, death to you,
    Alla-ha, Alla-hu!”

Struck by a certain involuntary awe, the Chasseurs and Kazaks listened in silence to the stern sounds of this song; but at last a loud hurrah [25] resounded from both sides.  The Teherkess, with a shout, fired their guns for the last time, and breaking them against the stones, they threw themselves, dagger in hand, upon the Russians.  The Abreks, in order that their line might not be broken, bound themselves to each other with their girdles, and hurled themselves