THE dismal news ran through the land of Moush:
“Here comes the Khan Long Timour, fierce and fell,
The despot grim who devastates the world,
And who across the earth from east to west
Has marched, and measured it with his lame feet.”
This heard the great Amira of Sassoun,
And shook with fear. The crafty tyrant then
A lesson learned from Satan. He cried out,
“Oho! Oho!” His heart swelled high with pride.
He said, “I have found Out the way, the means.
“Lo, all the people of the land of Moush
I will expel, and drive them to Sassoun;
All empty that rich country will I leave;
Nor man, nor cat, nor dog shall there remain.
Then when Long Timour comes into our land,
He will behold the country desolate,
Village and town deserted of their folk;
And, struck with shame, he will turn back again.”
He spake, and gave command that it be done.
The wild tribes of the mountains of Sassoun
Gathered like black clouds when a storm is nigh,
They flocked together like a locust swarm,
And all came down upon the land of Moush.
Terror and panic then possessed Daron;
Moush was surrounded by a darksome fog.
The mother then disowned her infant child,
The groom forgot his bride; all tenantless
Their habitations populous they left,
And toward the vales and mountains fled away.
Who was that heroine with a manly soul?
‘Twas brave Garine of the land of Moush.
Her spouse was dead; she had an eight years’ child,
Her only and her well beloved son.
Garine was a dame of noble blood,
A scion of the house of Mamigon,
Stately and tall, in form a giantess.
Her brilliant eyes, like jewels, shone with light;
Her face was serious and inspired respect;
Her arms were mighty, full of strength and power.
Not crafty she, like Judith in old time;
She acted openly, with fearless heart.
Thinking to shun the close-impending ill,
She girt about her waist her father’s sword,
Inherited from aged Mooshekh’s hand;
She to her shoulder swung the shield of steel;
A brave and glorious soldier she became.
She took the little Mooshekh, her dear son,
Called on the name of God, and took the road.
As she went forward free and fearlessly,
Lo, wicked men pursued her. Once she turned
And strewed upon the ground that evil crew;
But in the distance when her eyes beheld
A host of brutal Koords that followed still,
She cried aloud: “Thouknowest, O my God!
I am a mother loving well my son;
But now my Christian faith and love for Thee
Conquer the mother love within my breast;
I will forget parental tenderness,
The natural love that warms a mother’s heart,
And I to Thee will sacrifice my son.
Once Thou didst hold the arm of Abraham
Lest he should sacrifice his only son.
But do not Thou hold back mine arm, O Lord!
Here let me sacrifice my youthful lamb.”
She spoke, and drew her sword, and on the spot
Mooshekh, her little son, she straightway slew.
As, when we slay a fowl, it flutters wild,
So little Mooshekh at his mother’s feet
Fluttered and died. The little dove’s pure soul
Fled forth and joined the flock of spirits bright.
“Oh!” then said brave Garine, “I have saved
His soul and faith. I from the Book have learned
It is the spirit that alone gives life;
The flesh is empty, void, and nothing worth.”
Thus brave Garine made her sacrifice;
And the barbarians saw the deed she did,
And they were struck with terror and amaze,
And where they stood they halted, stupefied.
But brave Garine then set forth again,
And as an eagle soars she darted up
Unto the summit of a lofty rock.
One side of it was sheer, a precipice
So deep his brain must reel who looked below.
Garine there upon the rock knelt down,
And upward turned her eyes to heaven’s height,
And murmured from the bottom of her heart:
“Ah, do not count it as a sin, my Lord!
Garine shed the blood of her young son.
Thou knowest, Lord, knowing the hearts of all,
My sacred faith ancestral I have served
Since baptism: my virtue I have kept,
Which is Thy gift, a grace received from Thee.
Mother Shamoone I remember well-
An orphan-loving, faithful woman she.
She gave her seven sons a sacrifice,
And thus defended she her holy faith.
Thou knowest, Lord, my sacrifice is small;
Greater by far was Thine upon the cross!
Oh, give thy servant strength to sacrifice
Her life for Thee! Not from despondency
A suicide, but as a volunteer,
A victim to my love for Thee, I come!”
These were the words that brave Garine spoke.
On her bright face she signed the sacred cross,
And down that deep and dreadful precipice
She threw herself, unshrinking, to the ground.
Her body was in pieces dashed; her soul
Fled, and ascended to the heights of heaven.
The Angel oped to her the heavenly gates.
Garine entered to the realm of light,
And there she found again her little dove,
And soul was joined with soul in that bright realm;
The mother was made happy with her son.
Armenian mothers, take example hence!
Whenever you shall read these lines of mine,
The lines that aged Hairig here has penned,
Be mindful of Garine, who, to keep
Her virtue and her pure God-given faith,
Unto destruction gave her mortal frame,
And won the heavenly kingdom by the deed.
Forever blessed be her memory!
(Mugurditch Chrimian Hairig)
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Based on Topics: Man Poems, God Poems, Life Poems, World Poems, Light Poems, Time Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Soul Poems, Faces Poems, Heaven Poems, Name PoemsBased on Keywords: stupefied, unshrinking, oho, tenantless, timour, giantess, koords, devastates, sassoun, moush, daron