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 The 
 
 Daughters of King Daher, 
 
 and Other Poems. 
 
The 
 
 DAUGHTERS OF KING 
 DAHER. 
 
 A Story of the Mohammedan Invafton 
 of Scinde, 
 
 ^xCn (©tijer 33omiS, 
 
 BY THOMAS HOOD. 
 
 L ondon : 
 SAUNDERS, OTLEY, AND CO., 
 
 66, Brook Street, Hanover Square, W. 
 1861. 
 
F Sboberl, Printer, 37, Dean Street, Soho, 
 
70 ^:^ 
 
 TO 
 
 MRS. S. C. HALL. 
 
 My dear Mrs. Hall, 
 
 If you will not allow that a recolle£lion of your 
 friendlhip, dated as far back as I can remember, is a 
 fufficient reafon for my infcribing this book to you, 
 I muft afk you to let me do fo, on the ground that in 
 January, 1853 Y^^ inferted in Sharpens Magazine the 
 firft poem of mine which ever appeared in print — and 
 thus introduced me to the public who have ever fmce 
 been fo kindly difpofed to me. 
 Believe me. 
 
 My dear Mrs. Hall, 
 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 Tom Hood. 
 
 928 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/daughtersofkingdOOhoodrich 
 
Prefc 
 
 ace. 
 
 The Jiory upon which the following poem is founded 
 I difcovered in the Jhape of brief memoranda among 
 papers to which I have had no caufe to refer for fome 
 period. At this dijiance of time I am unable to fay 
 from what four ce I obtained them^ but I believe I jotted 
 down the plot from a note in an old review — being 
 f truck with its adaptability to verfe. 
 
 It is pojftble that the note in queftion related to a 
 metrical chronicle or the writings of a native poet^ but I 
 have not met with either ; nor has the fubjeSf ever been 
 attempted before in Englijh to my knowledge, 
 
 The minor poems at the end are republijhed by per- 
 mijjion from the St. fames^s^ the Cornhill^ and Mac- 
 mi llanos Magazines, 
 
 Thomas Hood. 
 Brompton^ September^ 186 1. 
 
Contents. 
 
 The Daughters of King Daher. 
 
 Praecentoria . . . . xi 
 
 The Story . . . . , i 
 
 Terminatus . . . -53 
 
 Minor Poems. 
 
 The Song of the Lark in the City . '57 
 
 Home at Laft . . • .61 
 
 A Shell . . . . .65 
 
 Lines on the Death of Catherine (Hayes) 
 
 Buflinell . . . -74 
 
 To Goldenhair . . . '77 
 
 The Loft Expedition . . '79 
 
 Spring . . . . .81 
 
sgggggsgsHsgsasgsgggsHsasgsigsHgBsgsgsgsaiasg 
 
 WQ a OQ QOaQQOPQQOOOgQQOOOOOQOOOQOQOafeOOOCOCO<iW?gC-:fiQOQOOOOQQ0Qt^j 
 
 Prcecentoria. 
 
 S fome chance traveller, journeying through 
 
 the wilds 
 Of ancient lands — whofe exploits fill the 
 
 page 
 Of bygone hiftory — now defolate 
 And haunted by the bittern in the day. 
 And nightly by the owl and flitting wolf, 
 Finds a rare jewel lying in the grafs : — 
 Mayhap the drop that trembled at the ear 
 Of Cleopatra in the burning breath 
 Of Antony's love-whifpers — or the ftone 
 Of Caefar's ring — the brilliant in the pin 
 That looped the cloak of Alcibiades, 
 Or taught the ftole of Lais how to fhow 
 The gleaming ankle and the flender foot. 
 
xii Pr^centoria. 
 
 Or down the glimmering arcades of Time 
 
 Still farther back, within the Pharaoh's crown 
 
 It might have gleamed ; or in his daughter's hair. 
 
 What time fhe found the little ofier boat 
 
 Among the reeds ; or in the ftately creft 
 
 Of fome proud king, whom ancient Kiflion rolled 
 
 Adown its fullied waters to the fea. 
 
 So mufing — wondering of what diftant age 
 
 The coftly relic tells — the traveller ftoops 
 
 And faves it from oblivion, mounting it 
 
 In modern fetting, fuited to his purfe. 
 
 Not to the worth of the recovered gem. 
 
 Thus I, who lit upon this legend rare 
 Of the old Khalifate and Hinduftan, 
 Set it to numbers of mine own. 
 
 Perchance 
 Utter forgetfulnefs had fwallowed it 
 But for the daring of my verfe, which ftrives. 
 Though feebly, to preferve it. So, good hap. 
 
Pracentoria. xiil 
 
 The treafure may defcend to better hands 
 Than mine hereafter. Yet my beft of fkill 
 Has fpent itfelf upon it, being fkill 
 Lefs worthy than 'tis willing. 
 
 Thus 1 fing 
 An antique tale rehearfed in modern modes. 
 Whatever the blame I meet, my own — the praife 
 Is of the gem. That fimple fame is mine 
 In chancing on this legend little known, 
 Which to the peafant falls, whofe random fhare. 
 Turning the ridges in the fallow, frees 
 From its dark dungeon of fo many years 
 An ancient torque — twined of barbaric gold. 
 
The 
 
 Daughters of King Daher. 
 
 j WEET fwam the founds of night the 
 whole night through 
 About the tamarifks and plumed palms, 
 That clothed the fcented vales and flopes of Scinde. 
 The drowfy churr of infe^ls, and the note 
 Monotonous of that dark bird, which flits 
 Among the darkling ftems till daylight, drowned 
 In forefl: mifts, made midnight mufical. 
 The filver ftreamlets of the moonlight ran 
 Between the fhadows on the ground, and flole 
 In little glimmering breaks among the grafs. 
 L B 
 
2 'The Daughters 
 
 Pale the gold roofs of Oomerkote, and pale 
 
 Its filent ftreets in that wan flood of light. 
 
 Around the walls the wakeful fentinels 
 
 In armour, fludded with cold drops of dew. 
 
 Paced through the weary hours, and woke the night 
 
 With the long note of watch-cries, chanted round : 
 
 A wave of found that on the liflening ear 
 
 Broke — died into the diftance — grew again : 
 
 As in its circle on from tower to tower 
 
 The word was fhouted to each lonely guard. 
 
 Beneath the city in a hollow, wafhed 
 
 By yellow Indus fweeping to the fea. 
 
 And gemmed but late with flowers, that now were trod, 
 
 Lavifhly fhedding perfume, into mire. 
 
 Slept the white tents of the invader's camp. 
 
 Stilly as flatues fl:ood beyond the lines 
 
 The Arab outpofts, each with long lithe lance 
 
 Striking a black unwavering line of (hade 
 
 That pointed toward the city. Still as Death, 
 
of King Daher, 3 
 
 Slumber — its herald to how many ! — hung 
 About the army ; fave when reftlefs fteeds 
 Rattled their halter chains, or dreaming men 
 Struggled in fight forefliadowed. 
 
 Oomerkote ! 
 Oh Oueen of Scinde, to-morrow's fun beholds 
 Thy happy plains the fcene of fuch a ftrife 
 As leaves thee ever free — or ever fallen 
 Down — down — and trampled 'neath the Moflem's heel. 
 
 But come what might with day, the night was calm, 
 Smiling as Ocean fmiles o'er cruel rocks, 
 Whofe rending fangs await the haplefs barks 
 Gliding acrofs the foft, fmooth fwell to wreck. 
 
 Anon the moon 'mid drifted ifles of cloud 
 Paled flowly — dropt from fight. The fun unfeen 
 Yet fmote the topmoft peaks to ruby tints, 
 And filled the quivering air with fhafts of gold. 
 From crag to crag the Day with rofy feet 
 
 B 2 
 
4 T^he Daughters 
 
 Leaped down into the valley — through the trees 
 Weaving long woofs of light acrofs the gloom. 
 
 Then woke the ftir of arms, the neigh of fteeds. 
 
 The hum of bufy grooms ; and flumber died 
 
 With the faint wreaths of fmoke that floated off 
 
 From the extinguiflied watchfires, fhredded foon 
 
 To tiny flocks of mift among the boughs 
 
 Of interlacing foreft-trees which ringed 
 
 The rearward of the camp. 
 
 From point to point 
 
 The flandard of the Prophet raifed aloft 
 
 Slid — like the flrong-winged vulture hovering 
 
 Where his ftrange inflinft fcents the coming blood. 
 
 But when the flant rays reached the fparkling fward 
 
 And threw long fhadows weflward — rofe the cry 
 
 " To prayer — to prayer — good MuflTulmans to prayer !'* 
 
 As in fome level and flow-watered fliire 
 Befide a black and tardy-dimpled dyke. 
 
of King Daher. 
 
 A wild guft fwooping downward from a cloud 
 Spreads o'er a whitening ofier-bed, and bows 
 The fupple items — acrofs the army fwept 
 The call to prayer, and bent all heads to duft. 
 
 And while the Moflem ftill on Allah called, 
 And turned to Mecca and Mohammed's tomb. 
 Swift were the gates of Oomerkote unbarred. 
 Back fwang the valves of the majeftic doors 
 Of fcented fandal, boffed with filver nails — 
 And loofed the torrent of the troops of Scinde 
 Upon the vale beneath — a dufky flood 
 Like that which fills and overfills the courfe 
 Of fome fwift mountain-ftream in winter-time. 
 When all the peaks are mantled in a mift. 
 And lafliing rain-fpouts flant acrofs the fky. 
 Dimming the pale horizon with black bars. 
 
 Amid the flafhing tide of tofling arms. 
 And fluttering flags, and lances tremulous 
 
6 The Daughters 
 
 As brook-fide reeds with the impetuous hafte 
 Of thofe who bore them — caftled beafts of war 
 Swayed like huge galleons when upon the flood 
 Of fome wide arm of fea they crofs the bar. 
 Firft on the plain, the fwarthy cavalry 
 Beat a rude rhythm on the trampled turf, 
 
 And flirilled their trumpets. 
 
 High King Daher rode 
 Upon his mail-cafed elephant that clanged 
 Its armour-plates at every fwinging ftride. 
 
 So down the Hindu on the Moflem drave. 
 
 Then rofe and roared the din of battle, rolled 
 
 Far up among the echoes of the hills 
 
 Reverberant, that woke the wolf, and roufed 
 
 The tiger in his lair — who crouched and whined 
 
 To think it diftant thunder. 
 
 At the firft 
 
 The rufh of Indian warriors, fierce and ftrong. 
 
 Bare down the hofts of Iflam till their line 
 
of King Daher, 7 
 
 Wavered, and giving backward, in the midft 
 
 Bulged juft to breaking. This vi^hen Kafim faw — 
 
 The General of Khalif Waled's force — 
 
 He fpurred his fiery Arab to the point, 
 
 And hurled himfelf and his true body guard 
 
 So fiercely into battle that the foe, 
 
 Weakened by his own loofe advance, was checked — 
 
 Was flayed at firft — then ftopt — then turned to rout, 
 
 And driven backward on the morning's lines. 
 
 So have you feen the long Atlantic wave 
 
 Againft a clifF, upright, deep-rooted, tall, 
 
 Fling its white force in thunder, mounting up 
 
 Swift toward the creft, then, failing, backward fall 
 
 In mift and driving foam-flakes to the bafe. 
 
 Not long delayed the Moflem to regain 
 The yielded vantage, and with Hindu blood 
 Purpled each ftep of the recovered ground. 
 Hufhed were the fhouts. The clafh alone of arms. 
 And hifling rain of arrows, mixed with groans, 
 
8 The Daughters 
 
 Reached now the ears of liftening Oomerkote : 
 For teeth were clenched and blows in filence dealt. 
 And cry for quarter none. Each foot of foil 
 Was fiercely battled for, with life for life, 
 As though it were the Empire of the Eaft. 
 
 So all day long, while up the fteep of Heaven 
 The hot fun climbed, until his downward wheel 
 Glowed to the weft ward, doubtful warfare raged. 
 
 Foremoft in danger, bold King Daher ftrave 
 To turn the wavering fortune of the fray. 
 Where'er the foe upon his ranks brake in 
 Or preffed his legions backward — there his voice 
 Rang like a clarion. Then the coward turned 
 And faced the foe again, and valiant men 
 Vied with the king in onfet. 
 
 But a cry 
 " Daher is flaughtered !" ran along the line 
 That wavered as it heard — as you may note 
 
of King Daher. 
 
 By nodding grafles where a noifome fnake 
 Slides from his funny bafking-place to hide. 
 For, lo ! a crafty arrow fmote the king 
 Between the corfelet and the hood of mail 
 And buried in his throat its venomed barb. 
 Then from his beaft in death-throes Daher fell 
 Headlong among the fighting-men — and lay 
 Unknown and trampled in the panic flight 
 Which followed on his fall. Yet fome there were 
 Still faithful found, forgetful of themfelves. 
 Who gathered round the king and bare him back, 
 Hoping where hope was none — until they faw 
 A fmile upon his face begin to grow ; 
 And then they knew him dead : and looking found 
 The whole vaft army, which the morn beheld 
 Mafs upon mafs roll down from Oomerkote, 
 Now driving fcattered o'er the fliameful field 
 Like the laft clouds — ragged and ruddy-ftained — 
 That fly acrofs the heavens along the track 
 Of fome o'er-fpent and broken fummer ftorm. 
 
lO The Daughters 
 
 Then haftily they fcooped a fhallow grave 
 Within the trampled oozy ground, and hid 
 The kingly corfe — and fled. But there was one, 
 A wounded Moflem lying by the road. 
 Who faw the deed ; and when young Kafim pafled 
 The dying foldier caught his flirrup — called 
 The General to halt, and fhowed the place 
 Where the retreating Hindus had beftowed 
 The corfe of one they honoured. The purfuit 
 Was ftayed — the hafty grave was oped in hafte ; 
 And Kafim looked upon the dead man's face, 
 And knew the clay that once had been a king. 
 
 Meanwhile the fun, a fiery fhield, was quenched 
 
 In ruflTet mifts along the horizon's edge. 
 
 Above his lingering gold a fingle ftar 
 
 Stood fudden forth — like pardon o'er the couch 
 
 Of dying penitent — companioned foon. 
 
 As darknefs deepened all the vault of blue. 
 
 By brother lamps, flow growing into fight. 
 
of King Daher, 1 1 
 
 All night in Oomerkote the women wailed. 
 The Moflem fentry on the battle field. 
 Where dying men groaned to the fhivering gale, 
 Heard the fad fong they fang. It rofe and fank 
 Through all the long hours of the weary watch 
 And made night doubly lonely. This they fang : 
 
 " Oh, Indus ! Tell the Sea to which you flow — 
 And Ocean to the holy Ganges tell 
 The burden of our forrow. Moan ! moan ! moan ! 
 Daher the king is dead — is dead — is dead ! " 
 
 The cadence floated o'er the river's breaft 
 And fighed among the gorges in the hills. 
 Till echoes murmured back " is dead — is dead !" 
 
 " Oh, Indus ! By your banks he lies alone — 
 Bear down his corfe to Ocean. Ocean bear 
 His corfe to holy Ganges. Moan ! moan ! moan ! 
 Daher the king is dead — is dead — is dead !" 
 
12 ne Daughters 
 
 The river flowed unheeding on its way, 
 
 But fpeflral voices — high in the hollow hills — 
 
 Sobbed back the mournful dirge " is dead — is dead !" 
 
 '' Oh, Indus ! King and crown and kingdom fail : 
 
 Fair Scindia, envied to the fartheft chain 
 
 Of white-peaked mountains — ceafes. Moan! moan! 
 
 moan ! 
 Daher the king is dead — is dead — is dead !" 
 
 On paiSonate wings of forrow wafted far 
 
 The dirge lamented till the fnowy heights 
 
 Soft whifpered, each to each — " is dead — is dead !" 
 
 Not thus the Queen — the beautiful Ladhee — 
 Not thus the daughters of King Daher wailed. 
 But hoping where no hope was, ftill believed 
 That he would come with day. 
 
 With day he came ! — 
 Borne on a car before the invading hoft, 
 
of King Daher. 13 
 
 His crownlefs head funk on his lifelefs breaft, 
 
 His ftrong hands idly hollowed in his lap. 
 
 Then from the hearts of all in Oomerkote 
 
 Arofe a groan — as when a coming ftorm 
 
 Is voiced among the foreft patriarchs, 
 
 A thrill of horror rufliing through the wood. 
 
 The maidens wrung their hands — the warriors ftern 
 
 Wept without fhame among the girls. Old men 
 
 Shook their white heads at a remembered rhyme — 
 
 " When that the King of Scinde," it faid, " was k^n 
 
 Leading the enemy to Oomerkote, 
 
 The crown of cities fhould be loft indeed ! '' 
 
 But while the cry ftill fhuddered on the air, 
 
 A woman's voice fhrieked forth "I come — I come !'' 
 
 And with the found of wings a filken robe 
 
 Fluttered a moment o'er the battlements. 
 
 And then the wind fang in its flapping folds 
 
 As down it gleamed into the moat beneath. 
 
 And where is Daher's Queen — the proud Ladhee ? 
 
14 The Daughters 
 
 A crufhed corfe caft like worthlefs ocean-waif 
 Among the rank growths at the turret's foot. 
 
 Then all the hearts in Oomerkote fank down 
 And e'en the brave in battle quailed — and thus 
 The counfels of the coward did prevail* 
 
 Before the noon young Kafim and his troops 
 
 Paffed into Oomerkote, and filled her ftreets 
 
 With fear and tumult. In the city's heart, 
 
 CofFer'd within the central palace-walls 
 
 Like coftly gems, the fpoiling troopers found 
 
 Two maids, the laft of Daher's haplefs race. 
 
 Of beauty worthy children of a king. 
 
 " The General's prize ! " they cried. And fwift they bare 
 
 The fhrinking virgins to young Kafim's tent. 
 
 Hoping a guerdon for the welcome gift. 
 
 The firft was Fragrant called. Sweet lips were hers 
 That wooed each other, lacking others' love. 
 
of King Daher, 15 
 
 The fecond was the Sun — within whofe eyes, 
 As in the opal, lurked a tongue of fire 
 To wither and confume the thralled foul. 
 
 Oh what was Kafim's bofom, that thofe forms 
 Should fail to fill it with the flame of love ? 
 Was there fome maiden in his own dear land, 
 Whofe cheriflied image came between his eyes 
 And all fair women elfe ? Or did his heart 
 Own but Ambition miftrefs ? 
 
 He was young — 
 Stately beyond his years, a prince of men. 
 The tender prifoners looked on him with awe 
 That loft in admiration all its fear. 
 But vain coy looks beneath long lafhes fhot ! 
 Nor love nor pity woke they. So the girls 
 Stood filent, half in anger. Who may tell 
 What cruel vengeance will not woman wreak 
 For beauty flighted — e'en where harm would fpring 
 Of approbation ? 
 
1 6 The Daughters 
 
 Slowly Kafim fpake, 
 And chofe the truftleft of his trufty band 
 To execute the miffion. " Take," he faid, 
 " Thefe maids to Baghdad, to my Lord, and tell 
 How Daher is no more, and Oomerkote 
 Barracks the troops of Iflam. Mark you, too ! — 
 Thefe damfels are the KhaliPs — have a care 
 To treat them reverently, and give to them 
 All liberties fave one. In aft, word, thought. 
 Hold them moft facred prizes for our Lord, 
 The Khalif Waled — whom may Allah guard !" 
 
 So they departed with their charge. But he 
 
 Preft on thro' Scinde his conqu'ring hordes and bare 
 
 The ftandard of the Prophet onward ftill 
 
 Through all that province broad, which lay between 
 
 The fwift Hydafpes and the Indian Sea. 
 
 And VicStory followed where young Kafim led. 
 
of King Baher. 1 7 
 
 HERE was great feftival in Baghdad. 
 High, 
 Spire after fpire into the heart of night, 
 Her minarets were ftarred with myriad lamps : 
 And Tigris as it flowed beneath her walls 
 Mirrored a mimic heaven — flafhing back 
 Unnumbered fpangles — as the autumn fea, 
 Lapping at piles and piers, with fparks of light 
 Gleams bluely. Creflets flared along the ftreets, 
 Trick'd out with boughs, and flowers, and waving 
 
 fcarves. 
 The tinkling zittern and the rippling harp, 
 Like found of rivulets mingling with the waves 
 Of fome cape-ftieltered bay, made fweet the air, 
 And feemed the voices of the wind that ftirred 
 The chaplets and the banners and the flames 
 Of fcented torches fhedding heavy fmoke 
 Of incenfe. And the thronging people cried, 
 " Praife be to Allah — Who has turned the hearts 
 
 c 
 
1 8 The daughters 
 
 Of foemen from our faces — Who has given 
 Victorious progrefs to the Faithful. Praift 
 To Allah. And to Kafim honours great !" 
 
 The fhouts of joy to Waled's cafement rofe. 
 
 And paffed the golden lattice — and his brow 
 
 Was troubled for an inftant with a fhade, 
 
 The fhadow of a fliade — as when afar 
 
 Acrofs a funny landfcape, o'er the fields 
 
 Of waving grain, fwiftly a fleck of blue, 
 
 Cafl: by a palling cloud, wings like a bird 
 
 To lofe itfelf in diftance. So it died. 
 
 And Waled fmiled, as through the curtained arch 
 
 He ftept, and down the marble ftairs to where 
 
 The prifoner maids awaited his approach. 
 
 A filvery fountain, plafhing in a fhell 
 
 Of marble, made a found of fummer fhowers 
 
 Through the ftill corridors ; and frequent lamps 
 
 Shed moonlight through their alabafter globes. 
 
 While, here and there, among the orange trees. 
 
of King Daher. 19 
 
 In gilded cages mimic-noted birds 
 Sang fnatches from fweet lays of various lands 
 Learnt from the Khalif 's favourites, who came 
 From dufky India, fierce w^ith fun-w^arm blood. 
 From drowfed Circaffia, pale with amorous fleep, 
 And every other clime where beauty glows. 
 
 In a fmall chamber, chofen far aloof 
 
 By kindly forethought from the city's din. 
 
 Which triumphed where they forrowed, fat the maids. 
 
 Like cowering birds that in the fky perceive 
 
 The hawk — a movelefs fpeck unfeen of man. 
 
 Within a diftant corner clofe they crouched. 
 
 But e'en their fears betrayed unftudied charms ; 
 
 The Fragrant's fhoulder, from the fcarf efcaped. 
 
 Gleamed, pinkly-tinted, and her tiny foot, 
 
 A crumpled rofebud, peeped from out her drefs 
 
 Forgetful of its flipper. While the Sun, 
 
 Her hair releafed upon her fhoulders, gazed, 
 
 Like a gazelle in toils, with luftrous eyes, 
 
 c 2 
 
20 The Daughters 
 
 That juftified her name. Their liffome arms 
 
 Were wound about each other, and their hearts 
 
 Beat clofe in unifon. As when you peer 
 
 Among the fnaky ivies, where they make 
 
 At mid-day a green twilight, you difcern 
 
 A neft of fledglings — far away they creep 
 
 As their fmall home allows, and huddling bend 
 
 Their piteous eyes upon you filently : 
 
 So on the Khalif gazed the virgins, clafpt 
 
 In one another's arms and fpeechlefs. So 
 
 The curious Khalif o'er them leant and fcanned 
 
 Their fun-kifl: beauty. At his near approach 
 
 Their veils they dropt. But he by love inflamed 
 
 Brimmed o'er with fmiles, and " Oh fweet maids," 
 
 he faid, 
 '^ Fortune of War has borne you here. But, here, 
 You fhall find folace in Love's fortune, fuch 
 As is in Waled's gift. Then fear not ! know 
 This palace as your own, with all of fair 
 Or cofl:ly that is here in Baghdad found — 
 
of King Daher, 21 
 
 The Abode of Peace ! I pray you raife your veils, 
 That fo the beauties of your eyes and cheeks 
 Be garlands to the mufic of your fpeech." 
 
 " Not fo, great KhaUf," faid the Sun, " not fo ' 
 We pray you let us thus be covered." " Nay," 
 Said Waled. " For the fountain of your lips 
 Cools my heart's thirft — but yet a want remains, 
 And I do hunger to behold your face." 
 
 Again they murmured, " Pray you let it be." 
 But when they felt his brow grow dark, the Sun 
 Said, " Good my Lord, we had been proud to lay 
 Our little beauty at the Khalif's feet 
 Knowing that our unworthinefs would find — 
 In force of his acceptance — worth. Alas ! 
 Unworthy ever — now unworthy moft. 
 We do but crave your leave to be concealed." 
 
 " Is this your country's cuftom," Waled cried, 
 '^ To hide ungathered bloflbms from the day ? 
 
22 The Daughters 
 
 Or but the fancy of coy girls ?" Then (he, 
 With accents fainter, " In my land the maids 
 The brow uncovered wear. But thofe, unbleft, 
 Whofe purity or violence or fin 
 Has tarnifhed, hide the forehead. 
 
 Oh, not well 
 Does he his Khalif love who offers grapes. 
 Whence his own lips have kifled the fragrant bloom !" 
 With that {he ended, with a found of tears. 
 As, after fome long breath of wind finks down. 
 That woke a fudden rufhing in the trees. 
 The air grows dufk, and, filvery fweet, a fliower 
 Sobs, child-like, 'mid the funfhine half-obfcured. 
 Smites the gray duft and from the thirfty earth 
 Sucks up an incenfe, of frefti moifture born. 
 Like odorous fmoke of grateful facrifice. 
 
 " How now ?" cried Waled ; and his grizzled brows 
 Met ill a hafty frown, and fiery fparks 
 
of King Daher. 23 
 
 Gleamed dangerous in his eyes — " What words are 
 thefe?" 
 
 A careful hand had by the fifters placed 
 A filver difh piled high with lufcious fruits 
 To tempt the captives with the fragrance fine 
 Of pomegranates, ripe peaches, downy pink. 
 And mufky apples ftreaked with red and gold. 
 
 From thefe the elder chofe one juicy globe, 
 Whofe mottled rind fliowed fair — but deep within 
 The garden pirate, the black-belted wafp. 
 Had fcooped a hollow to the very core. 
 ^' See, dreaded Khalif, with what fpecious gifts 
 Your flaves do fervice — like your Generals ; 
 And offer fruit corrupted — worthlefs — bafe 
 With an enforced difhonour. Mighty Lord ! 
 When Kafim comes, the conqueror of Scinde, 
 Prepare the purple robe, the ring of gold, 
 And fling the mantle o'er his fhoulders — place 
 The fignet on his hand, and bid the fteed. 
 
24 T^he Daughters 
 
 Whereon the Khalif rides, be brought for him ; 
 Then let the heralds cry, ' Behold the man 
 The Khalif honours !' leading through the ftreets 
 Kafim, thus mounted, thus arrayed. 
 
 But add 
 A farther mark of favour. Home returned. 
 Let him within his palace waiting find 
 The daughters of King Daher for his flaves — 
 For we may be none other's elfe than his !" 
 
 Then Waled rofe in anger from his place 
 
 And took three hafty ftrides and fmote his hands. 
 
 Swift at the fignal mute obedient flaves 
 
 Stood in the doorway. '' Bid me Jaffier here !" 
 
 Said Waled. They were gone : and to the maids 
 
 He turned his pale face and his fiery eyes. 
 
 His white beard briftled with his rage, his hands 
 
 Twitched angrily, and knotty mufcles rofe 
 
 Along his arm, and in his forehead flood 
 
 Ropes of blue veins. 
 
* of King Daher. 25 
 
 " Speak clearly," fo he cried, 
 His voice harfh-grating fuddenly, " and tell 
 What man is this, whofe boldnefs has prefumed 
 To give his fovereign whzt his own bafe foul, 
 Sated, defired no longer. Women, fpeak !" 
 Then v^ith one voice the maidens anfwered him. 
 And murmured " Kafim." 
 
 Through his breaft there rufhed 
 A torrent, fierce, ungovernable, full 
 Of cruel thoughts, and drown'd his w^ifer mind. 
 Then in his heart an ancient evil woke — 
 Why did the babbling populace fo love 
 To bear that name upon their tongues, and cry — 
 " Kafim did this — great Kafim — mightieft 
 Of all in Baghdad"? — fcarcely they referved 
 (So full their praife) the Khalif — or they faid, 
 " Saving the one who rules" — a parrot-phrafe. 
 And glibly fpoken with fuch ready lips 
 As waited not the judgment of the mind. 
 
 So Waled from his inner heart awoke 
 
26 ' ^he 'Daughters 
 
 A thoufand lulled Tufpicions and diftrufts, 
 
 That flept uneafily beneath the guard 
 
 Of Friendfliip until then. The fhade, which paffed 
 
 Acrofs his brow, when through the lattice-work 
 
 The cries of viftory fmote upon his ear 
 
 Burdened with Kafim's name, returned again, 
 
 And darkly deepened to a folemn gloom. 
 
 That fpoke of coming anger — as at noon 
 
 Gather the coppery clouds, and hanging low 
 
 Spread o'er the landfcape lurid glimmerings. 
 
 Meanwhile the thunder in the diftance growls, 
 
 And round the ragged edges of the rack 
 
 The livid lightning plays — high, pile on pile. 
 
 The cumbrous vapours mount, with tempeft ftored. 
 
 And hoarfe the rain roars, beating down the wind. 
 
 " Is't not enough," mufed Waled, " that his name 
 Is linked with mine in honour, and the voice 
 Of Baghdad lauds his generalfhip — that now 
 He fends me thefe difhonoured Indian flaves ? 
 
of King Daher, 27 
 
 They were his own to hold — the prize of war, 
 And had he borne them to his own Hareem 
 No thought of mine had blamed him for the deed. 
 But now he wrongs me with a ftudied fliame ! 
 Let Kafim tremble. Where the wrong is great 
 Great (hall the vengeance be !" 
 
 While yet he mufed 
 Came JaiEer — at his fide a fcymetar, 
 Gold-fheathed and ivory-hilted, fmote the ground 
 At every ftep, until the palace rang 
 With warlike founds. The Captain of the Guard, 
 Moft trufted of the Khalif 's followers, 
 Was Jaffier. Lowly did he bow the head 
 Before the Khalif — feeking his beheft. 
 Then Waled, with the fire within his eyes, 
 But in his fpeech a calm unnatural, faid, 
 " Thus unto Kafim for the Khalif fpeak — 
 When to the General comes this fignet-ring 
 Let him give order that a noble bull, 
 Deep-dewlapped, and wide-horned, be brought to him. 
 
28 'Hhe Daughters 
 
 And let the beaft be flaughtered, and its hide 
 Stript from it. 
 
 In that hide let Kafim come, 
 Wrapt clofely, to the Khalifate. And, hark ! 
 Let none delay to execute our will !" 
 
 Low Jaffier bowed, his face unmoved with awe 
 
 Or wonder, and ftrode quickly from the hall — 
 
 His clamorous accoutrements proclaimed 
 
 His hafte in going. In his heart was grief 
 
 For Kafim — friends from childhood had they been. 
 
 As early playmates, and as comrades tried 
 
 Since then in frequent battle. When the troops 
 
 Of Iflam overran the plain of Scinde 
 
 Fain had bold Jaffier fliared their toils — their fears — 
 
 Their marchings — fightings — and the glory fhed 
 
 Around their brows triumphant. But the call 
 
 Of duty, never drowned in Jaffier's breaft 
 
 By pulfes of defire or greed, forbade 
 
 The wiflied-for toils of warfare by the fide 
 
of King Baher. 29 
 
 Of his old comrade Kafim. " Ah/' he thought, 
 " Had I been there, perchance a word of mine 
 Had turned him from ill purpofe." For he deemed 
 Sooner would Kafim from his duty fwerve. 
 Than the high juftice of the Khalif err. 
 Thus went he forrowing, though never doubt 
 Dimmed the allegiance that Jaffier held 
 To Waled — and his forrow did not pluck 
 From its own heart excufes of delay. 
 
 Ere yet the founds of boifterous feftival 
 Had died away in Baghdad's ftreets — ere yet 
 The flender lances of the morning pierced 
 The night's dark fliield of clouds along the range 
 Of eaftern mountains, wrapt in ftirouds of fnow, 
 Jaffier had reached El Bafrah. On the quay 
 He ftood, his dappled Barbary in a mift 
 Befide him panting. 
 
 By the fignet's power 
 He fwayed the feamen to his will ; and foon 
 
30 The Daughters 
 
 A long low galley tofied befide the pier. 
 
 About the bows a ferpent coil'd, and thruft 
 
 Its pointed head and fwelling fcaly throat 
 
 Above the water from a narrowing prow, 
 
 Knife-edged that clave the billow. On the thwarts 
 
 Twelve fturdy rowers poifed the fupple blades, 
 
 And — when the foot of Jaffier dipped the boat 
 
 In hifling ripples to the gunwale — broke 
 
 The mirrored fky to foam. Then with a bound 
 
 The veflel darted forth. Beneath the ftem 
 
 The eddies gurgled, and along the fides 
 
 Danced off in flafhing bubbles, dimly lit 
 
 By gleams of azure light. The grey of morn 
 
 Warmed overhead to rofe — the thread of moon 
 
 Melted above the bank of clouds — and day 
 
 Made golden ripples on the fea, and hung 
 
 Gold banners in the fky where clouds had been. 
 
 r 
 
of King Daher, 3 1 
 
 HE rout was ended. Sated of purfuit 
 The Moflems halted, and to Oomerkote, 
 Where now young Kafim lodged his 
 forces, turned 
 Their o'er-tired fteps. Day after day had paffed 
 In wearying victory. The Indian troops, 
 Gathered in hafte for the defence of all 
 That life holds dear, before the veteran fkill 
 Of the invader, fcattered, as the flocks 
 Of timid fheep before a watch-dog fcour, 
 And fliake the ground with quickly trampling feet : 
 But when from following the purfuer ftays. 
 Huddling they circle round him and prefent 
 A threatening front, yet — when he turns — retire. 
 Thus Kafim's van acrofs the Indus thrown 
 Was wearied with alternate ftrife and flight 
 By thefe poor patriots, vainly ftriving ftill 
 To drive the Moflem from their foil. The foe. 
 
32 The Daughters 
 
 Slow-moving, yet advanced ; and foot by foot, 
 Long-wreftling for pofTeffion, took the land. 
 So ftands a cliff — about whofe foot the waves 
 Hoarfe, clamorous, all the winters rave and rage, 
 And buffeting the headland, would encroach 
 Upon the confines of the coaft — in vain ! 
 The gray rock ftands — and at its folid bafe 
 Slow grows the land — flow finks the fea. At length 
 Ocean dethroned gives up its prey, and man 
 Refcues betimes to tillage what it yields. 
 And long years after, from its home, in-land. 
 The green trees and the gleaming cottages 
 Cluttered about its foot, the ancient cape 
 Acrofs the fmiling cornland looks to fea 
 Where its old foe, back-barrier'd, fullen roars. 
 So on the front of Kafim's vanguard trenched. 
 Wave after wave, the hopelefs force of Scinde 
 Defpairing broke — and from the battle fled. 
 To rally on the morrow, and return 
 Once more in iteration of defeat. 
 
of King Daher. 23 
 
 The rout was ended ; and young Kafim led 
 
 His tired fteed homeward. Through a long ravine, 
 
 Scattered with corpfes prone, whofe feet were turned 
 
 To Oomerkote, he thrid his way. The fun 
 
 Glared raylefs in the wide expanfe of blue 
 
 Where not a fleece of thinneft vapour hung. 
 
 Welcome to Kafim's ear, a thread of fpring, 
 Unfeen, betrayed itfelf with trillings foft 
 Upon a hollow ftone beneath the fhade 
 Of broad-leaved plants, a curtain glofly green 
 Of red-flowered creepers hung in wild feftoon : — 
 Welcome to Kafim's ear — as childifh voice, 
 And pattering feet along the gravel walk, 
 And the complaining of a tardy latch 
 Rebellious to fmall fingers — to the heart 
 Of fome home-wifhful traveller, who returns 
 After long wandering, doubtful what may be 
 His greeting at the gate. 
 
 The fteed releafed 
 
34 The Daughters 
 
 Cropt the luxuriant graffes that repaid 
 
 The bounteous overflowing of the ftream. 
 
 And Kafim cooled his brow, and waflied the duft 
 
 And ftain of battle from him. By his fide 
 
 His crimfon blade lay among crimfon flowers. 
 
 Upon the mofly floor of that flill nook 
 
 The warrior flung him down. Through arching 
 
 boughs 
 Thick-interlaced, fome drops of funlight rained 
 And flecked the fhadows, movelefs on the grafs 
 Save for a flickering where a refllefs bird, 
 Unfeen among the branches overhead, 
 Anon enhanced the filence with a fong. 
 
 The troopers turning from the chafe beheld 
 Their chieftain lying by the fount and paflTed, 
 Lowering their lances in obeifance due. 
 To feek for other fprings to flake their thirfl. 
 But in the jaws of the defile they met 
 A mounted mefl^enger who rode in hafl:e 
 
of King Daher. 35 
 
 With marks of travel on his face and beard, 
 And duft thick-lying in his mantlets folds. 
 " Where is the General ? Turn back — turn back 
 And guide me to him !" So his cry outran 
 His fteed, the while above his head he held 
 The fignet of the Khalif. 
 
 Then the men. 
 Obedient to the bearer of the ring. 
 Rode back with him, and from the path's laft turn 
 Pointed the fhady refting-place wherein 
 Their General fought repofe. 
 
 On Jaffier pafled, 
 And Kafim faw him coming and arofe 
 To greet him. But the forrow in his face 
 Reached him before his words, fo grave a thought 
 Sat on his brow, and fpread o'erfhadowing wings 
 That blotted out the fmile upon his lips. 
 Then Kafim's arms fell — empty of the friend 
 They fain had girdled. 
 
 Slowly Jaffier fpake — 
 
 D 2 
 
^6 The Daughters 
 
 " Thus unto Kafim doth the Khalif fay : — 
 ' When to the General comes this fignet-ring 
 Let him give order that a noble bull, 
 Deep-dewlapped, and wide-horned, be brought: and let 
 The beaft be flaughtered — and its tawny hide 
 Stript from it. And therein let Kafim come. 
 Wrapt clofely to the Khalifate. 'Twere well 
 That none delay to execute my will !' " 
 
 Then grief and wonder Kafim's bofom filled — 
 Grief that his fealty was fufpeft of ill. 
 And wonder of what ill he was fufpeil. 
 
 Thus mutely queftioned (for young Kafim's eye 
 Sought his in doubt) fad Jaffier (hook his head. 
 " Nay, that I know not ; fearch in thine own heart. 
 And if a thought of wrong therein has lurked — 
 Or, from it rifing, was exprefled in a6t. 
 Impute to that the fentence !" 
 
 " From the hour 
 
of King Daher. 37 
 
 When in his fervice I girt on the fword. 
 That fince has helped to fpread his Khalifate 
 Unto the fnow-peaked hills of wealthy Scinde, 
 My heart has never harboured e'en a thought 
 Difloyal to my Lord. Wherefore my fault 
 I know not. But I know that if he wills 
 To take my life, he takes but of his own — 
 In battle offered many a time to death, 
 Seemingly certain, for him. And I would 
 That thus it had been clofed — upon a plain 
 Where Vidtory trode before our troops, and led 
 To glory all who fell. I will obey." 
 
 Truth fat on Kafim's brow, his inmoft heart 
 Was written in his eyes : and Jaffier groaned, 
 And holding out his arms — for fome brief fpace 
 The friends upon ea.ch other's flioulders leaned. 
 And ftied fuch tears as men may flied unfhamed. 
 
 The fhadow of the palm had travelled fcarce 
 
 A hand's breadth from the time when Kafim heard 
 
38 The Daughters 
 
 The Khalif's bidding — fcarce the bird had reached 
 The cadence of its fong — when on their fteeds 
 The friends remounted, and with hurried beat 
 Of hoofs — re-echoed down the winding gorge. 
 Rattling from point to point — they hurried back, 
 And through the ftreets of Oomerkote rode faft 
 To where, within the Palace Court, the tent 
 Of Kafim flood. For fo the General 
 Decreed, and fcorned to dwell beneath the roof 
 Of palaces while Duty was a-field. 
 
 Then Kafim bade his faithful body-guard 
 Go flay the bull — and called his captains wife, 
 To hold a council with him, and difcufs 
 The conduit of the war. 
 
 Then he declared 
 The beft difpofal of the troops, and fhowed 
 Where victory would follow — where defeat : 
 And having given to each in ordinance ftrift 
 His future duties and his prefent charge. 
 
of King Daher. 39 
 
 He told the KhaliPs will concerning him, 
 And how his heart was innocent of guilt. 
 But liftened to the bidding of his Lord. 
 
 As, when a gallant bark glides o'er the wave, 
 
 Her canvas bellying to the wind, her prow 
 
 Flaked with the foam of going — when at once 
 
 A fudden flaw leaps ruffling on the lake 
 
 And dips her pennon — drowns her fail — and drags 
 
 Her crew to fwift deftruftion — burfts a groan 
 
 Of helplefs horror and amazement chill 
 
 From the pent bofoms of a watching crowd. 
 
 So, from the bold hearts round him, Kafim's words. 
 
 Hollow with grief, a deep-voiced echo woke. 
 
 And fudden ftir of forrowing furprife. 
 
 Was one among them, whom the General's fword 
 Had faved in battle. To his feet he fprang 
 And eager words of love and gratitude 
 Carried his heart away. So that he failed 
 
40 The Daughters 
 
 To note how every word he fpoke was changed 
 
 Into a cruel arrow as it fped. 
 
 " Be you," he cried, " our Khalif. We have fought 
 
 For you — not Waled. All the blood that runs 
 
 To fwell our hearts in viftory, freely poured. 
 
 Shall tide you on to Baghdad's Khalifate. 
 
 You prop our country's honour — you have fpread 
 
 Its name among the nations. You are loved 
 
 By our brave foldiers — as brave foldiers love 
 
 A chieftain, moulded after their own hearts, 
 
 A conqueror, wrefting kingdoms." 
 
 Kafim rofe. 
 His accents tremulous — his proud face pale. 
 And forrow fitting throned in his eyes. 
 
 " What words are thefe ? Did I not fay but now 
 I did not know my guilt — but this did know 
 That in the Khalif 's juftice was no wrong ? 
 Here is my guilt — it finds my weaknefs out 
 And fmites me through my pride. And now I feel 
 
of King Daher. 41 
 
 That would the Khalif pardon me, my life 
 Were all difloyal, in difloyal thoughts 
 It bred in others. Did great Waled fpare 
 My life this day — and add the further boon 
 To grant me what my heart defired the moft — 
 It would be now to die. 
 
 For all the love 
 That you profefs me — yield me this requeft 
 To give my bofom peace before I die. 
 Never hereafter think upon my death 
 Save as an offering needful for the good 
 Of him whom Allah chofe to rule the ftate, 
 That by my ceafing from the hearts of men 
 There might not be a corner kept from him 
 In any living breaft of thofe he ruled." 
 
 Then rofe the captains, one by one j and mute 
 Paft from the chamber, trufting not with fpeech 
 Their lips — fo near their hearts had climbed to them. 
 Each after each approached the chief, and wrung 
 
42 The Daughters 
 
 His hand at parting — dropping on it tears 
 Pricelefs beyond all jewels, being fhed 
 From the ftout hearts of warriors. 
 
 As they filed 
 From out the hall, a tumult in the ftreet 
 Arofe, where fturdy foldiers dragged along 
 The bull, deep-dewlapped, and wide-horned, who hung 
 Againft the halter — fnorting fpumy fmoke 
 From his diftended noftrils, while his hoofs 
 Wide-parting, Aid along the pavement, loath 
 To tread except in freedom. At the door 
 They fmote him and he fell. His fiery eye 
 Dulled quickly — his limbs fliivered, while a thread 
 Of purple blood acrofs his muzzle ftreaked. 
 And dropt into the duft — and he was dead. 
 
 From the warm flefh they ftript the fteaming hide 
 As Kafim bade them. But ere yet the knife 
 Had pierced the fhaggy covering of the breaft, 
 Kafim was dead ! 
 
of King Daher. 43 
 
 The noble heart, fo full 
 Of paflionate love of glory, burft in twain : 
 So fierce the ftruggle which obedience held 
 With confcious innocence and hate of fliame. 
 
 When to the tent the foldiers came to tell 
 
 His 'heft accomplifhed — on the marble floor 
 
 They found him, feeming fleeping. On his fhield 
 
 His noble head repofed — his glorious limbs 
 
 Flung with an idle grace of liftleflhefs, 
 
 That well might tempt the fculptor, on his cloak. 
 
 Then they took up the body — mourning him 
 As a tried comrade, and a General 
 Who loved his foldiers well, and never led 
 His armies to defeat. 
 
 On Jaffier's heart 
 There fell a fenfe of lonelinefs and want : 
 He miffed the ftrong grafp of his hand — his voice 
 In echoes incomplete ftill haunted him, 
 
44 The Daughters 
 
 And made him long to hear its found again. 
 As thofe who wake by night would fain recall 
 The fong entire — from which a broken line 
 Rings in their ears from weary chime to chime. 
 And by his death his innocence was proved. 
 And Jaffier fighed, " It is ill done — ill done ; 
 But how I know not. For his great heart burft 
 To think that it was doubted." 
 
 Then they wrapt 
 The corpfe within the hide, and drew with cords 
 The edges till they met. Next fafhioned they 
 A litter rude of boughs, and fo bellowed 
 The body on a bier unworthy. 
 
 High 
 Upon the flioulders of four prifoners placed, 
 Dead Kafim pafTed between the filent rows 
 Of foldiers, who in forrowing wonder came 
 (For fwift along the camp the evil news 
 Flew upon wings of rumour) to behold 
 
of King Daher. 45 
 
 For the laft time, the chieftain who had led 
 To Death — to Viftory — never to Defeat. 
 
 And from that hour the fortune of the war 
 
 Veered like a fickle wind that fwings a vane 
 
 Sudden from Eaft to Weft, and holds it there 
 
 With gufty perfeverance. O'er the fords 
 
 Of fwelling Indus, e'er a week had pafled, "^ 
 
 The invaders fled before the avenging fteel 
 
 Of Scinde's fierce tribes. Another week beheld 
 
 Their troops retiring, harafled on the rear 
 
 By hovering bands of archers, and the raids 
 
 Of horfemen fweeping by the column's flank, 
 
 And fpreading death, diforder, and difmay. 
 
 Then the retreating foldier wrung his hands. 
 
 And cried, " Were Kafim here, this had not been !" 
 
46 The Daughters 
 
 ! ILENT the Khalif Waled fat. His brows 
 Were knit with lines of thought, for in 
 his heart 
 
 A vague mifgiving — provident of ill — 
 Had houfed itfelf. In vain the dancing girls 
 Swam through their threaded dances, and in vain 
 The fweet-voiced flaves chanted in unifon 
 Their tales of love or war, or cunning praife 
 O'ergarlanded with flattery. He was fad 
 With waiting JaiEer's feeming-flow return. 
 As women pale and ficken, while they gaze 
 Acrofs the waters for their hufbands' fail, 
 Bound homeward from the fifhing ground, till 
 
 Hope 
 Dies like a lamp unfed within a tower 
 Overlooking Ocean. So Revenge afTumed 
 The afpecft Love puts on, the while it waits 
 For the return of the expecSed one. 
 
of King Daher. 47 
 
 At length a horfeman through the city rode 
 To where the Palace o'er the Tigris hung — 
 And lighted at the gate. The Khalif knew 
 Full well that ftalwart rider — and full well 
 The dappled Barbary he backed — for oft 
 When in the plain below the warriors played 
 At warlike games — when the jereed was flung — 
 That horfe and rider, feeming one, had fkimmed 
 Acrofs the turf — as fkims the long-winged fwift 
 Above a lake — and caught the flying dart 
 And turned it back againfl: the hand that caft. 
 
 Meanwhile, the murmurs of a gathering crowd — 
 Which quefl:ioned vainly what the foldiers bare 
 Wrapt in a black bull's hide — upon the wind 
 Was borne into the chamber. Waled rofe 
 And fmiled — for he perceived his will was done ! 
 
 They bare the burden in and laid it down 
 Upon the marble table in the midft 
 
48 The Daughters 
 
 Of Waled's Hall of Banquet. Curious flaves 
 Peered from behind the pillars, or devifed 
 Errands imagined that could form excufe 
 For near approach to where the Khalif flood. 
 With hands that trembled in their eager hafte 
 To ope the hide. He toyed with it, as one 
 Who finds a treafure-cafket, yet delays 
 To raife the lid — tormenting his own mind 
 With the delicious mifery of doubt. 
 
 " Go call the Indian maids !" he cried to one. 
 Who loitered neareft on a miffion feigned. 
 Then from the inner bower where they fat 
 In a delightful twilight haze that fwam 
 Through many folds of curtains, dropt with gold. 
 Looped with the white ftud of a fhapely pearl. 
 And broidered o'er with cunning flowers in filk. 
 The fiflers came. 
 
 The Khalif grimly laughed, 
 And ftrode to meet them. On the Fragrant's arm 
 
of King Daher. 49 
 
 Laying his hand ungently in his hafte. 
 
 Until the blood bluflied in the dufky fkin, 
 
 Againft the cruel preffure of his grafp — 
 
 " See how the Khalif is obeyed," he faid. 
 
 And from the calm face fhred away the hide 
 
 And fhowed where Kafim lay. 
 
 A happy fmile 
 
 Like that which curves the pouting rofebud lips 
 
 Of fleeping children, lingered on the mouth, 
 
 And Death had fmoothed the furrows Time and Care 
 
 Had on his brow recorded. Still a flufh. 
 
 In memory of Life, was on the cheek. 
 
 And underneath their lids the deep brown eyes 
 
 Showed faintly. Death feemed only Life at reft. 
 
 So peaceful and fo perfect, free from touch 
 
 Of diflblution, was the dead man's face. 
 
 " See how the Khalif is obeyed — behold 
 
 The fate of him who dares to fhame his lord !" 
 
 Then in the dark eyes of the Indian maids 
 
 £ 
 
so The Daughters 
 
 A fubtle fmile grew — brightening till their lips 
 Smiled alfo. And the Fragrant overflowed 
 The filence with the filver of her fpeech. 
 As a flow-dripping fountain brims its fliell 
 And drops melodious on the marble bafe 
 When the flill moon is regnant. 
 
 Thus fhe fpake : 
 " Kings of great juflice do not make of Hafle 
 An ally in great deeds ; or, on the charge 
 Of thofe that hate him, flay a fervant tried, 
 And ever faithful found. Him we accufed 
 For that through him our father died — through him 
 Our houfe was rendered defolate — ourfelves 
 Made flaves and prifoners in a flrange, ftrange 
 
 land : 
 For had we come with but our fimple tale 
 Of natural grief, your pride had laughed to fcorn 
 Our fupplication. Therefore our deceit. 
 For know that Kafim was to us, as is 
 A father or a brother \ and his hand . 
 
of King Daher. 51 
 
 Touched not our honour — from its very hem 
 Of purity refrained. 
 
 We do fucceed — 
 Vengeance is ours, and in the Khalif's houfe 
 Of judgment, lo ! there is great forrow !" 
 
 Dark 
 Grew Waled's countenance ; and loud his words 
 The cruel mufic of the maiden's fpeech 
 Drowned in their wrathy tumult, as the roar 
 Of thunder quenches the inceflant found 
 Of wind and rain, when Autumn's fultry nights 
 Are wept away in ftorms. 
 
 Thus lafl-ing woe 
 Was wrought to Waled by a woman's craft. 
 Long — long the Moilem mourned the General 
 Mighty in aftion, pure in thought and word. 
 Whom ready Envy flaughtered ruthleflly 
 At prompting of the flanderous tongue of Hate. 
 
 E 2 
 
52 
 
 The Daughters of King Daher. 
 
 That night the daughters of the Indian King, 
 Unfullied, pure as the unopened buds — 
 That ne'er encounter fummer's looks of love 
 But drop untimely in the vernal frofts — 
 Pafled from the vext earth to the quiet fky 
 Where never forrow mars the heart's repofe. 
 
Terminatus. 
 
 HUS ends an ancient tale of ancient times. 
 When on the provinces of wealthy 
 Scinde 
 
 The followers of the Prophet made defcent. 
 And fpread their conquering armies o'er the land. 
 Bearing the creed Mohammed's Koran taught 
 Among the tribes of India. Other arms, 
 Since then vidlorious in the Eaftern land. 
 Have chronicles well worthy, telling much 
 Of victory — treachery boldly quelled — and deeds 
 Of favage wrong borne nobly, through a faith 
 Purer than that of Illam — at whofe fpread 
 A broader light arifes in the Eaft. 
 
54 Terminatus, 
 
 Yet would the poet grieve did Time's fwift lapfe 
 Carry this ftory to the filent Tea 
 Of dark Oblivion. 
 
 Mournful is the tale, 
 And pointing how the round of wrong completes 
 Its perfeft circle of fad circumftance. 
 Inflexible — involving virtue's felf 
 In fuflFering fequent on an evil deed. 
 
 So on a mountain height a fhard fet loofe 
 By idle hands, that reck not what they do, 
 Defcending, gathers impulfe as it fpeeds. 
 Until whole fnowfields, flipping from their hold 
 Upon the fteep, fwoop downward, burying 
 The fleeping villages within the vale : 
 And after, melting — leave to mark their courfe 
 Long furrows on the hill- fide — in the plain 
 Vafl: rocks, and trees uprooted, that may ferve 
 As folemn monuments in coming years 
 Of the difaflrous avalanche. 
 
Terminatus. 
 
 55 
 
 The Lyre 
 That lately to an Indian meafure thrilled 
 Is filent. Ended is the fad old fong 
 Of the two daughters of the King of Scinde. 
 
The Song of the Lark in the City. 
 
 HE rainy mift was hanging low. 
 Creeping flow — 
 
 Creeping along the crowded ftreet. 
 Dulling the echo of bufy feet, 
 As the throngs pafTed by in ceafelefs flow, 
 Haflening, hurrying to and fro. 
 
 Overhead was a flcy of lead. 
 
 Never a glimpfe of blue to be feen — 
 
 Never a gleam the clouds between — 
 
 And my heart fank low with doubt and dread ; 
 
 And thoughts of the morrow, 
 
 Its care and forrow. 
 
58 Song of the Lark 
 
 And the toil for daily bread. 
 Filled my heart with a wild mifgiving : 
 ** Without a friend to love or pity, 
 All alone in this crowded city — 
 Where is the ufe of living ? " 
 
 Trill— trill— trill ! 
 
 The fong of a lark 
 
 Scattered the vifions dreary and dark, 
 
 And woke my heart with a thrill. 
 
 Poor little lark, in its tiny prifon 
 
 It chanted its fweet fong over and over. 
 
 As if it were only newly rifen 
 
 From the fields of emerald wheat and clover : 
 
 And the notes came pouring. 
 
 Heavenward foaring — 
 
 Up — up — up ! 
 
 As if the cup 
 
 Of its happinefe were overflowing, 
 
in the City. 59 
 
 Out on the hills with a frefli breeze blowing, 
 And the fky to eaftward redly glowing. 
 In the bright green country far away. 
 At the morn of a funny fummer day. 
 
 Sorrow vaniflied — gloom was banifhed — 
 
 Forgotten the dreary mifty weather ; 
 
 And long leagues ofF, where the corn was green, 
 
 Up in the funlight's golden flieen. 
 
 My heart and the lark were mounting together — 
 
 H igh — high — high 
 
 In the bright blue fky. 
 
 Trill— trill— trill ! 
 
 So cheerily ftill 
 
 The lark in the midft of the bufy city. 
 
 Over and over fang its ditty ; 
 
 Raifmg my heart like a holy beatitude. 
 
 So, with all gratitude, 
 
6o Song of the Lark in the City. 
 
 Cheered and chaftened, 
 
 Onward I haftened, 
 
 Bleffing the bird for its merry fong. 
 
 That haunted my heart the whole day lon^. 
 
 
Home at Laji. 
 
 I ISTER Mary, come and fit 
 Here befide me, in the bay 
 Of the window — ruby-lit 
 
 With the laft gleams of the Day. 
 
 Steeped in crimfon through and through 
 
 Glow the battlements of vapour ; 
 
 While above them, in the blue, 
 
 Hefper lights his tiny taper. 
 
 Look ! the rook flies weftward, darling. 
 
 Flapping flowly overhead ; 
 
 See, in dufky clouds, the ftarling 
 
 Whirring to the willow-bed. 
 
 Through the lakes of mift, that lie 
 
 Breafl-deep in the fields below. 
 
62 Home at Laji. 
 
 Underneath the darkening fky 
 Home the weary reapers go. 
 
 Peace and Reft at length have come. 
 
 All the day's long toil is paft ; 
 
 And each heart is whifpering ^' Home — 
 
 Home at laft ! " 
 
 Mary ! in your great grave eyes 
 
 I can fee the long-repreft 
 
 Grief, whofe earneft look denies 
 
 That to-night each heart's at reft. 
 
 Seven years ago you parted — 
 
 He to India went alone ; 
 
 Young, and ftrong, and hopeful-hearted — 
 
 " Oh, he would not long be gone !" 
 
 Seven years have lingered by ; 
 
 Youth, and Strength, and Hope have fled 
 
 Life beneath an Indian fky 
 
 Withers limb and whitens head. 
 
 But his faith has never faltered ; 
 
Home at Loft, 6^ 
 
 Time his noble heart has fpared : 
 
 Yet, dear, he is fadly altered — 
 
 So he writes me. Be prepared ! 
 
 I have news — good news ! He fays — 
 
 In this hurried note and fhort — 
 
 That his fhip, ere many days. 
 
 Will be anchored fafe in port. 
 
 Courage ! — foon, dear, will he come — 
 
 Thofe few days will fly fo faft ; 
 
 Yes ! he's coming, Mary — Home — 
 
 Home at laft ! 
 % % 'ik % % 
 
 Idle words ! — yet ftrangely fit ! 
 In a veflTel, leagues away. 
 In the cabin, ruby-lit 
 By the laft gleams of the Day, 
 Calm and ftill the loved one lies : 
 Never tear of joy or forrow 
 Shall unfeal thofe heavy eyes — 
 They will ope to no To-morrow. 
 
64 Home at Laft, 
 
 Folded hands upon a breaft, 
 Where no feverifli pulfes flutter, 
 Speak of an unbroken reft, 
 That no earthly tongue may utter. 
 And a fweet fmile feems to grow — 
 Seems to hover on the lip, 
 As the fliadows come and go 
 With the motion of the fhip. 
 
 Reft and Peace at length have come- 
 
 Reft and Peace how deep and vaft ! 
 
 Weary wanderer — truly Home — 
 
 Home at laft ! 
 

 A Shell, 
 
 ITS JOURNEY. 
 
 HE cold gray dawn was beginning to ftiine 
 Over the Auftrian frontier-line. 
 From a fl-reak of pink on the water's edge. 
 
 It climbed up the cloud-clifFs, ledge by ledge ; 
 Till at laft the day rofe broad and bright. 
 Routing the fcattered ranks of night. 
 
 The rays of the fun crept down and down 
 From the roof-tops into the ftreets of the town ; 
 Where, on either fide of the guard-houfe entry. 
 An imperturbable Auftrian fentry. 
 Clad in grimed white coat and breeches, 
 Stood upright in the watch-box niches. 
 
 F 
 
66 A Shell 
 
 Each was fmoking his morning pipe ; and fweet 
 Curled the odorous incenfe along the ftreet , 
 The morning air blew frefh but foft. 
 And lifted the tiny blue ringlets aloft, 
 Preferving their flavour foothing and bland, 
 Rich and mellow — fo that, poor fellow. 
 The beggar, diflant Tome hundred feet 
 From the fentry-boxes black and yellow, 
 Tafted the relilh at fecond hand. 
 
 And now, foon after the morning's break. 
 The little town is beginning to wake. 
 Shutters fwing backward, and blinds arife, 
 As the drowfy houfes open their eyes. 
 Heads peep forth at the windows, and yawn 
 In the fmiling face of the rofy dawn. 
 Soon the urchins, knuckling fleep 
 Out of their eyelids, fchoolward creep , 
 Then the girls for water going 
 Set the tongues and fountains flowing \ 
 
A Shell 67 
 
 And laft a general bufy hum 
 Tells that the time of toil is come. 
 
 Hark ! on the daybreak breezes borne, 
 
 Rings the note of a diftant horn ; 
 
 And rattle of wheel and rhythm of hoof 
 
 Come faint from the high-road far aloof. 
 
 But ever approaching nearer and nearer. 
 
 The found grows louder, the horn rings clearer \ 
 
 For the mail with its fiery horfes eight 
 
 Is galloping up to the frontier-gate \ 
 
 Over the bridge with a roll like thunder. 
 
 Then with a roar the archway under. 
 
 And clattering, pattering over the ftones, 
 
 While the heavy Diligence fways and groans. 
 
 Toiling the foam o'er their tangled manes. 
 
 And guided by chances rather than reins. 
 
 The eight little fturdy plunging nags 
 
 Slide and fcramble over the flags. 
 
 F 2 
 
68 A Shell 
 
 When the journey commenced, in Italy's fky 
 The funfet's glory began to die ; 
 Their hurrying hoofs the whole long night 
 Have fcattered the flint-fparks left and right. 
 And now, when the moon has funk to reft. 
 The ftrong little horfes, two abreaft, 
 Pull-up on the Auftrian frontier-line, 
 Juft as the day is beginning to fhine. 
 
 The fentries have fmuggled their meerfchaums 
 
 away — 
 Never were fentries ftifFer than they ; 
 When the Corporal fierce at the door appears, 
 With a red mouftache, and rings in his ears. 
 Quick at his call the frontier-guard 
 Comes wheeling out of the barrack-yard. 
 The Drummer fmart raps out " The Surround," 
 And the butts of the mufkets ring on the ground. 
 Then each fleepy paflenger climbs from his perch. 
 And the Emperor's fervants begin the fearch. 
 
A Shell 69 
 
 So out come the keys, and down on his knees 
 Goes a foldier devoutly at every box ; 
 And cords are unknotted, and opened are locks j 
 While the things infide get tumbled about, 
 As the contraband trifles are handed out — 
 And the traveller's patience expires by degrees. 
 
 At length the fearch approaches its clofe, 
 
 When the fat little Corporal, poking his nofe 
 
 O'er the door of the mail, as he goes to unlock it. 
 
 Finds a parcel there in the pocket ! 
 
 What it is he cannot difcover — 
 
 He turns it, and twifts it, and feels it all over ; 
 
 And finifties up his careful infpeftion 
 
 By fpelling out the whole direction. 
 
 " Ha ! this is a man we ought to watch — 
 
 This exile in England — ready to hatch 
 
 Any treafon againft the State !" 
 
 So he orders the Diligence ftill to wait 
 
 While he takes the package in, to fee 
 
yo A Shell. 
 
 What its hidden contents may be. 
 In thofe crafty fingers what knots could hold ? 
 The feals give way, and the wraps unfold : — 
 And the Corporal grunts in wonder, '' Well ! 
 I thought it was fomething elfe than a fliell !" 
 
 Only a fhell, that in former time 
 
 Had a tiny habitant, wont to climb 
 
 'Mid the coral and weed of the azure deep, 
 
 On whofe bofom the fhadows of Venice deep. 
 
 No great wonder the Corporal's fmile. 
 
 As he caft his eye on the fimple toy. 
 
 Which, as he guefled, was meant to beguile 
 
 The exile's heart with a foolifli joy. 
 
 And empty remembrance of once-on-a-while ! 
 
 " Let it go !" faid the Corporal ftout. 
 As he carried the little parcel out. 
 
A Shell 71 
 
 So away went the mail with its eight frefli fteeds, 
 
 Out of the town, and over the meads ; 
 
 Till the found of its going died away. 
 
 And the fun had reached to the middle-day. 
 
 Oh, the Corporal laughed as he entered the door, 
 With its two ftifF fentries ftanding before. 
 " Had it been a crazy Englifliman, well 
 Could I underftand fuch folly. A (hell !" 
 
 ITS MESSAGE. 
 
 Over the land, and over the fea. 
 The little parcel travelled to me. 
 Quickly I tore the cover away 
 And faw the fhell that within it lay ; 
 Ah, I knew a friendly hand 
 Had culled it on that diftant ftrand. 
 
 Ten long years ago, when I, 
 From my native land, by night, 
 
72 A Shell, 
 
 Hurried in a fecret flight. 
 
 Such a fliell as this did lie 
 
 On the laft verge of the fhore 
 
 I might tread again no more ! 
 
 Then in foolifh idle fafhion. 
 
 In the homelinefs of paflion. 
 
 Up I fnatched the fliell, and caft 
 
 Far into the waters vaft \ 
 
 Murmuring, " When the waves reftore thee 
 
 To the ftrand from which I tore thee, 
 
 From my exile o'er the main 
 
 I, too, fliall return again," 
 
 That was ten long years ago — 
 
 Years how heavy-paced and flow ! — 
 
 And again I fee a fliell. 
 
 Like that one — remembered well — 
 
 On the dear Italian fl:rand 
 
 When I left my native land ! 
 
 Spite of Aufl:rian prohibition, 
 
A Shell. 73 
 
 Spite of frontier inquifition, 
 Hearts Italian o'er the fea 
 Send their meffenger to me 
 And the fhell has done its miflion. 
 
 With a holy deep delight. 
 As at fome great facred rite. 
 Reverently I raifed the (hell 
 That its errand it might tell — 
 Placed its pink lips to mine ear — 
 Heard its whifper low and clear : — 
 Faintly of the fea it fighed, 
 That dark blue, that diftant tide — 
 Adria's wave, that fwells and falls 
 Round the fair Venetian walls. 
 And the murmur of the fea 
 Spoke the meflage fent to me : — 
 " Patience ! Venice will be free !" 
 
Lines on the Death of 
 Catherine (Hayes) Bujhnell. 
 
 jUT late among us with that fmile fo 
 tender,* 
 Thrilling the hearts of the attentive 
 throng 
 With all that Genius and true Feeling render 
 To give a charm to Song. 
 
 Now — gone ! Yet mourn her not, for fhe rejoices : 
 In the bright realm, to which her foul has fled, 
 
 * Thofe who remember Mrs. Bufhnell cannot fail to reca 
 the peculiarly fweet fmile with which fhe greeted the applaui 
 that never failed to follow her fong. 
 
Lines. 75 
 
 She joins her voice with Heaven's exultant 
 voices — 
 One of the happy dead ! 
 
 Yet we muft grieve — we, who are left behind her. 
 To lack companionfliip fo fine and rare ; 
 
 To feel a void where we were wont to find her — 
 To mifs her everywhere ! 
 
 As — in fome foft Spring morning, dim and early — 
 Ere yet the daylight has difperfed the dark — 
 
 Soaring aloft above the meadows pearly. 
 We hear the trilling lark ; 
 
 Our ear the mounting melody ftill follows. 
 Towering in circles on its pinions ftrong — 
 
 Till an abrupt and fudden filence fwallows 
 The clear yet diftant fong ! 
 
76 Lines. 
 
 Thus we — her voice within our hearts ftill ringing — 
 Scarce feel our lofs in full — but doubting, figh, 
 
 " She is not dead. We have but miffed her finging. 
 She was fo near the fky !" 
 
 r 
 
To Goldenhair. 
 
 FROM HORACE. 
 
 H, Pyrrha — tell me, whofe the happy lot 
 To clip thee on a couch of lavifh rofes- 
 Who, bathed in odorous dews, in his 
 fond arms enclofes 
 Thee, in fome happy grot ? 
 
 For whom thofe nets of golden-gloried hair 
 Doft thou entwine in cunning carelefsnefses ? 
 Alas, poor boy ! — who thee, in fond belief, carefles, 
 
 Deeming thee wholly fair ? 
 
78 To Goldenhair. 
 
 How oft fhall he thy ficklenefs bemoan 
 When fair to foul fhall change — and he, unlkilful 
 In pilotage, beholds — with tempefts wildly wilful — 
 
 The happy calm o'erthrown ! 
 
 He, who now hopes that thou wilt ever prove 
 All void of care, and full of fond endearing. 
 Knows not that varies more, than Zephyrs ever- 
 veering, 
 
 The fickle breath of Love. 
 
 Ah, haplefs he, to whom — like feas untried — 
 Thou feemeft fair ! That my fea-going's ended 
 My votive tablet fliows, to thofe dark Gods fufpended. 
 
 Who o'er the waves prefide. 
 
 
The Loji Expedition. 
 
 IFT — lift, ye mifts from ofF the filent 
 coaft. 
 Folded in endlefs winter's chill embraces j 
 Unfliroud for us awhile our brave ones loft ! 
 Let us behold their faces ! 
 
 In vain — the North has hid them from our fight ; 
 
 The fnow their winding flieet — their only dirges 
 The groan of ice-bergs in the polar night 
 
 Racked by the favage furges. 
 
 No Funeral Torches with a fmoky glare 
 
 Shone a farewell upon their fhrouded faces ; — 
 
8o "The Loft Expedition, 
 
 No monumental pillar tall and fair 
 Towers o'er their refting-places. 
 
 But Northern Streamers flare the long night through 
 Over the clifFs ftupendous, fraught with peril. 
 
 Of ice-bergs, tinted with a ghoftly hue 
 Of amethyft and beryl. 
 
 No human tears upon their graves are fhed — 
 Tears of Domeflic Love, or Pity Holy ; 
 
 But fnow-flakes from the gloomy fky overhead, 
 Down-fhuddering, fettle flowly. 
 
 Yet Hiftory flirines them with her mighty dead, 
 The hero-feamen of this Ifle of Britain, 
 
 And, when the brighter fcroll of Heaven is read. 
 There will their names be written ! 
 
spring. 
 
 ERE, where the tall plantation firs 
 Slope to the river down the hill. 
 Strange impulfes — like vernal ftirs- 
 Have made me wander at their will. 
 
 I fee, with half-attentive eyes. 
 
 The buds and flowers that mark the Spring, 
 And Nature's myriad prophecies 
 
 Of what the Summer Suns will bring. 
 
 For every fenfe I find delight — 
 
 The new-wed cufhat's murmured tones. 
 
82 spring. 
 
 Young bloflbms burfting into fight 
 And the rich odour of the cones. 
 
 The larch, with taflels purple-pink, 
 Whifpers like diftant falling brooks ; 
 
 And fun-forgotten dew-drops wink 
 Amid the grafs in fliady nooks. 
 
 The breeze, that hangs round every bufh. 
 Steals fweetnefs from the tender {hoots. 
 
 With here and there a perfumed gufh 
 From violets among the roots. 
 
 See — where behind the ivied rock 
 Grow drifts of white anemonies, 
 
 As if the Spring, in Winter's mock. 
 Were mimicking his fnows with thefe. 
 
 The fingle bloom thofe furzes bear 
 Gleams like the fiery planet Mars ; — 
 
spring. 
 
 The creamy primrofes appear 
 In galaxies of vernal ftars ; 
 
 And grouped in Pleiad clufters round, 
 Lent-lilies blow — fome fix or {qw^yi : 
 
 With blofTom-conftellations crown'd 
 This quiet noolc refembles Heaven. 
 
 83 
 
London : 
 F. Shoherl, Printer, 37, Dean Street, Sobo, W.