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Попутный веет ветр. — Идет корабль, |
Во всю длину развиты флаги, вздулись |
Ветрила все, — идет, и пред кормой |
Морская пена раздается. Многим |
Наполнилася грудь у всех пловцов. |
Теперь, когда свершен опасный путь, |
Родимый край они узрели снова; |
Один стоит, вдаль устремляя взоры, |
И в темных очерках ему рисует |
Мечта давно знакомые предметы, |
Залив и мыс, — пока недвижны очи |
Не заболят. Товарищу другой |
Жмет руку и приветствует с отчизной, |
И господа благодарит, рыдая. |
Другой, безмолвную творя молитву |
Угоднику и деве пресвятой, |
И милостынь и дальних поклонений |
Старинные обеты обновляет, |
Когда найдет он все благополучно. |
Задумчив, нем и ото всех далек, |
Сам Медок погружен в воспоминаньях |
О славном подвиге, то в снах надежды, |
То в горестных предчувствиях и страхе. |
Прекрасен вечер, и попутный ветр |
Звучит меж вервий, и корабль надежный |
Бежит, шумя, меж волн. |
Садится солнце. |
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Меж горных стен несется Терек, |
Волнами точит дикий берег, |
Клокочет вкруг огромных скал, |
То здесь, то там дорогу роет, |
Как зверь живой, ревет и воет — |
И вдруг утих и смирен стал. |
Все ниже, ниже опускаясь, |
Уж он бежит едва живой. |
Так, после бури истощаясь, |
Поток струится дождевой. |
И вот обнажилось |
Его кремнистое русло. |
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Менко Вуич грамоту пишет |
Своему побратиму: |
«Берегися, Черный Георгий, |
Над тобой подымается туча, |
Ярый враг извести тебя хочет, |
Недруг хитрый, Милош Обренович. |
Он в Хотин подослал потаенно |
Янка младшего с Павлом |
Осердился Георгий Петрович, |
Засверкали черные очи, |
Нахмурились черные брови… |
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