Mounted on Kyrat strong and fleet,
His chesnut steed with four white feet,
Roushan Beg, called Kurroglou,
Son of the road and bandit chief,
Seeking refuge and relief,
Up the mountain pathway flew.
Such was Kyrat’s matchless speed
Never yet could any steed
Reach the dust-cloud in his course;
More than maiden, more than wife,
More than gold and next to life,
Roushan the Robber loved his horse.
In the land that lies beyond
Erizoom and Trebizond
Garden-girt his fortress stood;
Plundered khan, or caravan
Journeying north from Koordistan,
Gave him wealth and wine and food.
Seven hundred and fourscore
Men-at-arms his livery wore,
Did his bidding night and day;
Now through regions all unknown
He was wandering, lost, alone,
Seeking without guide his way.
Suddenly the pathway ends,
Sheer the precipice descends,
Loud the torrent roars unseen;
Thirty feet from side to side
Yawns the chasm; on air must ride
He who crosses this ravine.
Following close in his pursuit,
At the precipice’s foot
Reyhan the Arab of Orfah
Halted with his hundred men,
Shouting upward from the glen,
“La il Allah! Allah-la!”
Gently Roushan Beg caressed
Kyrat’s forehead, neck, and breast;
Kissed him upon both his eyes.
Sang to him in his wild way
As upon the topmost spray
Sings a bird before it flies.
“O my Kyrat, O my steed,
Round and slender as a reed,
Carry me this danger through!
Satin housings shall be thine,
Shoes of gold, O Kyrat mine!
O thou soul of Kurroglou!”
Kyrat, then, the strong and fleet,
Drew together his four white feet,
Paused a moment on the verge,
Measured with his eye the space,
And into the air’s embrace
Leaped as leaps the ocean surge.
As the surge o’er silt and sand
Bears a swimmer safe to land,
Kyrat safe his rider bore;
Rattling down the deep abyss,
Fragments of the precipice
Rolled like pebbles on a shore.
Roushan’s tasseled cap of red
Trembled not upon his head;
Careless sat he and upright;
Neither hand nor bridle shook,
Nor his head he turned to look,
As he galloped out of sight.
Flash of harness in the air,
Seen a moment like the glare
Of a sword drawn from its sheath!
Thus the phantom horseman passed;
And the shadow that he cast
Leaped the cataract underneath.
Reyhan the Arab held his breath,
While this vision of life and death
Passed above him. “Allah-hu!”
Cried he; “in all Koordistan
Breathes there not so brave a man
As this robber Kurroglou!”
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