r^^rv:-^'sa£;-i> .-^is^
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 / ■ 
 
 tM^^ 
 
 , y-'^V: 

 
 , I lU-v^.i 
 
 CONSISTING OP 
 
 TALES FROM THE CLASSICS. 
 
 AND 
 
 IHtscellaneous pieces. 
 
 By KOI KAI. 
 
 LONDON: 
 HAYMAN BROTHERS, 5, WHITEFRIARS STREET, FLEET STREET. 
 
 1853.
 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 TALES FROM THE CLASSICS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Annihilation of Caethage 1 
 
 Cambyses, King of Persia 11 
 
 Hero and Leandeb 23 
 
 Claudia 28 
 
 TlTTIA 30 
 
 Hippomenes and Atalanta 31 
 
 AcoNTius AND Cydippe , 33 
 
 Calliehoe and Coeesus 35 
 
 Taepeia 37 
 
 Thalassius 39 
 
 Cyefs and Tamy'eis 40 
 
 King Philip and Astee 43 
 
 Duke of Albany's Escape 44 
 
 MODERN POEMS. 
 
 Hee Majesty the Queen 49 
 
 The Attack on her Majesty . . . . ■ . 53 
 
 The Exile's Eeturn 54 
 
 Reminiscence of a Visit to Waterloo ... 80 
 
 Mount Jj^tna 81 
 
 The Avalanche 82 
 
 The Thunderstorm 83 
 
 On Time 85 
 
 841 fi77
 
 IV CONTENTS. 
 
 Pagb. 
 
 On Space 86 
 
 On Mass or Matter 87 
 
 Ode to Balleegttnge 87 
 
 To Lilt 88 
 
 On Jealousy 89 
 
 On Atheism . . . ■ 91 
 
 Desiee for Home 92 
 
 In Memory of a Sister 93 
 
 On a Mtrcn Esteemed Friend 95 
 
 LociTSTS in India 98 
 
 Recollections of a Governess 99 
 
 For Valentine's Day — To Ehoda . . . . . 100 
 
 To Ehoda 101 
 
 To A Lady 102 
 
 To SOME Fair Railway Travellers .... 104 
 
 My First Grey Hair . . . ' . . . . 105 
 
 Retrospection 106 
 
 To A Friend Ill 
 
 On the Christening of an Infant .... 112 
 
 Impromptu 113 
 
 To the Memory of a Sister 114 
 
 The Delights of India 115
 
 TO THE PUBLIC. 
 
 TOU NEED NOT EOR A PEEPACE LOOK ; 
 't is BETTER EAR TOU READ THE BOOK.
 
 ^0cms. 
 
 TALES FEOM THE CLASSICS. 
 
 Snniijtlation of ^arftagr. 
 I. 
 
 Oh, Cato ! Cato ! great as is thy name, 
 For one fell act thou 'rt cursed for e'er to fame,- 
 Thy fiend-like counsel, urging to destroy 
 Eome's rival, Carthage, in her pride and joy. 
 Too fully was thy mind resolved on this : — 
 " Proud Carthage shall be made a wilderness ;" 
 Ay ! though she have been mistress of the main, 
 Of Sicily, Sardinia, and Spain. 
 And now the occurrences we will relate 
 That stamp' d the seal to her lamented fate. 
 And show that if there were a " Punic-faith," 
 It had a parallel in Eoman wrath. 
 
 II. 
 
 The Eomans, having form'd the base resolve 
 The City's demolition to involve, 
 Albeit no cause could justify the act, 
 Dissimulated with their usual tact.
 
 ANNIHILATION OF CARTHAGE. 
 
 Eome first demanded its submission ; then, 
 Three thousand scions of the noblest men, 
 As hostages ; and, when deliver' d, she 
 Demanded next, Carthage should put away 
 All arms and hostile implements of war 
 "Which Carthage and its cities near and far 
 Contain' d, — as forfeited to Eome. "Was this 
 (Which was its safeguard — that its only bliss) 
 Demand complied with ? Ay ! I grieve to say, 
 Two hundred thousand armour-suits that day, 
 And thirty hundred engines with their frames, 
 Eelinquish'd were, — or offer'd to the flames. 
 
 III. 
 Next, Eome demanded Carthage hence should leave 
 Her name alone, the Eomans to deceive ; 
 That all inhabitants, what sex or sort, 
 Should quit their city — suburbs, walls, and fort ; 
 And elsewhere raise a Carthage, as they chose, 
 For that which fate decreed they were to lose ; 
 And eighty stadia from the sea were they 
 To keep the bound'ry of its walls away. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And now the Carthaginians, at last. 
 Discover' d how theii' doom had been forecast ; 
 That Eoman jealousy would not endure 
 So vast a rival, 'though on distant shore ; 
 And heeded but as nought the sacrifice 
 They'd made already to retain their prize. 
 And sith that all must leave their habitation 
 At the demand of that all-haughty nation.
 
 ANNIHILATION OF CARTHAGE. 
 
 Which scrupled not in its severe oppression, 
 For e'er of Carthage to ensure possession, 
 With joint acclaim resolved they to oppose 
 The deadly Jiat of their deadly foes. 
 
 V. 
 
 Their gates were made impervioiis to all 
 
 Confederates of Eome. The rampart waU 
 
 Was rapidly repair' d and palisaded ; 
 
 The outer, inner slopes were strong stockaded. 
 
 And now that all their arms had been resign'd, 
 
 They sought around their substitutes to find, 
 
 By forging others suited to their mind. 
 
 Blast furnaces were set to work, and aU 
 
 Plied hard for home — their life, or funeral. 
 
 Two thousand swords and lances, darts and shields. 
 
 Their anxious weU-wrought labour dail^ yields. 
 
 TI. 
 
 Eesolved as were the people of the town 
 To strive at utmost to defend their own ; 
 The brightest page of history ne'er show'd 
 An action so renown' d as that which glow'd 
 In the brave bosoms of the fairest women, 
 Whose fortitude was proved — and not in seeming, 
 But deed ; for, when of means there was a need. 
 They shore their beauteous locks from off their head 
 To furnish bow-strings for the cause desired ; 
 The same for engines, ere they were required. 
 
 TIT. 
 
 And though at treaty, made in days of yore. 
 Twelve ships they may possess, and build no more ;
 
 ANNIHILATION OF CARTHAGE. 
 
 Tet, two short months sufficed them to produce 
 A fleet of three times forty sail, for use ; 
 And as the channel, Cothon's mouth, was block'd, 
 Another strait was driven, which was stock' d 
 With a stanch fleet, that pass'd into the sea, 
 Committing havoc on the enemy. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Poor creatures ! would that I might herein state. 
 If aught avail' d them ; would I might relate 
 If all their pains, if all their labour vain, 
 AVould e'er resuscitate their cause again. 
 'T is pitifid, for they had not the pow'r, 
 But fought and bled for years ; until the hour 
 "When Grod or fate decreed their punishment, 
 At hands of Scipio, — whom Eome had sent 
 To enforce her dire decree against the nation, 
 As nought would please her but extermination. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Oh, Dido ! Dido ! was it alone for this, 
 
 ^neas gavest thou thy queenly kiss, 
 
 Offering him thy Carthage as his home ; 
 
 That he shall — great progenitor of Eome — 
 
 Quit thee so ! to found a race in Italy, 
 
 The which, hereafter, Carthage shall destroy ? 
 
 If 't were not fate, this act, what call it ye ? 
 
 If 't were not fate, 't was Eoman infamy. 
 
 'T is terrible, to recognize in fame, 
 
 What raised the one, and closed the other's name. 
 
 Heart-rending 't is to know that this brave race, 
 
 By fate was doom'd to suffer dread disgrace.
 
 ANNIHILATION OF CARTHAGE. 
 
 Heart-sickening, too, to find that one so brave. 
 
 Should e'er to vice so own itself a slave. 
 
 As gladiatorial and insensate Eome 
 
 Ave proved herself, — until she own'd no home. 
 
 Meet punishment for one, so cruel a queen, 
 
 "Who hated all whom she might equal ween. 
 
 Scipio had gone to Eome, a candidate 
 
 Por ^dileship, a sub-place in the state. 
 
 The admiration that his virtues claim' d 
 
 The people charm' d ; and consul he was named. 
 
 And though, as yet, below the lawful age, 
 
 He took command, in Africa to wage 
 
 The ensanguined war that sullied the bright page 
 
 Of history ; by deeds, on either part. 
 
 Befitting more the hyaena's cunning art, 
 
 Or wolf's ferocity, as when its prey 
 
 It seizes unsuspecting on the way ; 
 
 For, quarter neither Eome nor Carthage took, 
 
 And either foe the other's heart at struck. 
 
 XI. 
 
 The siege commenced, and three long years endured, 
 AVTiereby the youngest soldier was iniu-ed 
 To scenes of frequent combat — life or death, 
 As either combatants resign' d their breath. 
 For, no one giving way — so firm they stood — 
 The plain was streaming with their confluent blood. 
 The conflicts were most frequent and most dire ; 
 No common quarrel theirs, no common ire.
 
 6 ANNIHILATION OF CAETHAGE. 
 
 The one side sought its rival to destroy ; 
 
 The other to repel the invader for a time : 
 The first, though conquer' d, might again annoy ; 
 
 The last, victorious, up hill would have to climb ! 
 
 XII. 
 
 The courage of the Africans exceeds belief; 
 But Asdrubal was chosen as their chief, 
 A general whose exploits were bedimm'd. 
 His sword with blood and cruelty begrimm'd. 
 The Eoman force was oft and oft repulsed, 
 
 And as oft met with terrible disaster ; 
 And more than oft, their power was convulsed, 
 
 Einding once more they 'd well nigh met their master. 
 But Scipio was with them, — yet in grade 
 At first a volunteer, next consul made. 
 His name alone sufiiced with one and all, 
 Descendant of the conqueror of Hannibal, 
 To rouse the wearied Eomans to renew 
 The deadly strife. Eeduced now to a few. 
 They met to fight and bleed, and met again, — 
 'T was useless — 'till they notice on the main 
 A reinforcing army, sent to end 
 By numbers only ; nothing less shaU bend 
 The spirit or the fortitude of those 
 Who stiU hold Carthage firm against her foes. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The siege again was press'd, the town was storm'd ; 
 
 Against the citadel the assault was form'd. 
 
 It fell, the B}Tsa, Dido's ancient home. 
 
 Colonized by her or ere its rival Eome ,
 
 ANNIHILATION OF CARTHAGE. 
 
 Existed ; seven centuries before 
 
 That deathly demon desecrates her shore, 
 
 And where queen Dido slew herself of yore. 
 
 Another victim prominently now 
 
 Comes boldly forth to consecrate her vow, — 
 
 The wife of Asdrubal. Ay ! he, the bold, 
 
 The valiant general, who now has sold 
 
 His honour, reputation, family, and fame, 
 
 To treachery ; for, that's the only name 
 
 Can designate so vile an act — to yield, 
 
 "With forty thousand men, and quit the field, 
 
 To four times told their number, their own lives 
 
 To save ignobly ! Have they saved their wives ? 
 
 Not all ! For, Asdrubal' s own lovely wife, 
 
 A sanctuary seeking from the horrid strife, 
 
 Fled, as disdaining to become a slave 
 
 To Roman'.thraldom. JS'o ! She sought her grave. 
 
 She scorn'd her country's ruin to survive ; 
 
 She scorn'd her husband — lie was Jit to live. 
 
 Her children twain close clasping to her breast. 
 
 Shone on the rampart ; blessing them she cast 
 
 Headlong the trine far forth into the flame 
 
 Of burning turrets ; everlasting shame 
 
 Bequeathing to her lord, whose infamy 
 
 Imperishably lives in history. 
 
 XIT. 
 
 Scipio shed tears when he beheld the fate 
 Of that vast city, owning now no gate, 
 No wall, or rampart, parapet, or ditch. 
 Euin was carried to so great a pitch,
 
 8 ANNIHILATION OF CARTHAGE. 
 
 Tliat, like to Babylon or Nineveh, no trace 
 Eeraains to mark there e'er was such a place. 
 
 Scipio reflected on the fate of Troy, 
 And Persia's subversion by " the boy" * 
 Whose kingdom e'en had erst been parcell'd out 
 To satraps, who each other sought to rout : 
 Until the Roman forces conquer' d all, 
 And merged vast countries in the common fall. 
 
 Scipio consider' d the vicissitude 
 Of circum stances ^even as they stood ; 
 And noting now that once so proud a state 
 As Carthage had been doom'd thus dire a fate. 
 He fear'd him for the destiny of Eome, 
 "Whose arms extensive spread thus far from home. 
 Babylon was greater, Nineveh no less, 
 And yet these ivorlds are lost in nothingness. 
 Then wherefore wonder, where no cause for dread, 
 That Rome may fall, hjjiat overhead ? 
 Declines have frequent chanced and chanced again. 
 How great soe'er the state, soe'er the pain ; 
 And in the fate of Carthage, 'midst the groan 
 Of thousands, Eome accelerates her own. , 
 
 XV. 
 
 Scipio but little deem'd so sad a view 
 
 As of her fate he 'd sketch' d would e'er prove true ; 
 
 That Eome, the greatest conqueror of all. 
 
 Would soon degenerate, — so soon would fall ; 
 
 And leave a race as differing from the first 
 
 As thearch-angel Grabriel from the accurst ! 
 
 ^Alexander the Great so called.
 
 ANNIHILATION OF CARTHAGE. 
 
 For, Cruelty ! beyond all crimes the greatest, 
 Punisliment, or soon or late, thou meetest ! 
 And God of Eome, 'though not the Eoman God, 
 Has direly punish' d her with vengeful rod ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And why was Carthage chasten' d ? Dost forget 
 
 The tortured Eegulus — whose groans do yet 
 
 Disturb us through the door of history — 
 
 Because he would not act with treachery, 
 
 As, in a cask confined, with studded nails 
 
 Projecting inward, each his flesh assails. 
 
 As porcupine loitlwut, the cask within; 
 
 "Where'er he turn'd they tore his quivering skin : 
 
 His eyelids also — mercy's boon alone. 
 
 To guard 'gainst blindness the Ahnighty One 
 
 Has given — were dipt from off their rest ; 
 
 And thus he lay the morning's sun to test. 
 
 His arms and feet were bound, lest he thereby 
 
 At times alleviate his misery. 
 
 At last he died, or cruel was sacrificed 
 
 By Carthage, — Carthage sadly then ad\dsed. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Did this produce no vengeful feeling then ? 
 Ay ! then, as now ; and ever wiU again 
 Like cruelties instil such deadly hate. 
 That not the lapse of years can e'er abate 
 The rancour of revenge that deep, has grown 
 The deeper, — smother'd hitherto, now shown. 
 Might this dire feeling for revenge ne'er end, 
 1 Xor sacrifice of arms and children tend
 
 10 ANNIHILATION OF CARTHAGE. 
 
 To mitigate the enduring hateful feehng 
 
 Nought before could check, their hearts revealing ? 
 
 The sequel shows ! And ye as weU may try 
 
 To stop the spheres whilst o'er free space they fly, 
 
 As check the Roman wrath and jealousy. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 And, searching history, we always find 
 The same sad feeling animate mankind. 
 T\Taatever nation and whatever race 
 Thorough the change of circumstance we trace, 
 All is ambition ; aU is cruel crime, 
 When comes revenge, or soon or late its time. 
 But come it will ; and then, revenge again 
 Succeeds revenge in alternating train. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Oh ! may bright Albion learn in time to reck 
 
 A greatness overgrowing — overgrown — 
 Her individual warrior's pride to check, 
 
 Whose arms unstaid would dim the brightest throne. 
 May she from Eome and other faU'n estate, 
 
 Learn there 's a boundary to earthly greatness ; 
 The late haught conqueror,* whose fall was great, 
 
 Ambition proved to be an incompleteness. 
 Oh ! let her know to conquer without pride, 
 
 To govern boldly even in her weakness : 
 Let kindliness to all, the land bestride ; 
 
 The less her pride, the more beloved of meekness. 
 Let her take lesson from the dynasties 
 
 Which, great and glorious, yet have pass'd away ; 
 
 * Napoleon.
 
 ANNIHILATION OF CARTHAGE. 11 
 
 Let her believe the ■worm that never dies 
 
 Exists in all, to all eternity. 
 And let her then xesolve, with gentle rod 
 To govern well, and ne'er forget Jier God ! 
 
 Camljgscs, J^in^ of |;3ersia. 
 
 r. 
 Cambtses, from a courtier, sought 
 To know what Persians of him thought ; 
 The fawning courtier to the king 
 Commenced anew his flattering, 
 By which he often gain'd his gold — 
 " Great king ! thou art so much extoU'd, 
 That words to express, I cannot find, 
 The admiration in their mind 
 For great Cambyses, Persia's king," 
 Thy rule as well as minist'ring ; 
 Perfect art thou, in thy sway, but — " 
 " But what?" exclaimed the king, " but what? 
 Explain thyself, or, by my fay, 
 Unscath'd thou goest not away." 
 " Obedient to thy order. Prince ! 
 Reluctant I comply ; but since 
 Commanded by thee to explain, 
 If Persia love its sovereign.
 
 12 CAMBYSES, KING OP PERSIA. 
 
 I do SO, — but, in deadly fear 
 
 Of tliy dread hatred falling here." 
 
 Some words he added, and so near 
 
 The king, that none, save him, might hear. 
 
 II. 
 He placed his hand upon his heart, 
 But saw the king, on sudden, start : 
 Who quick exclaim'd — " Thou hast a son, 
 Sir courtier! let me see him soon." 
 Cup bearer to the king was he. 
 And forth the cup brought instantly. 
 "Set down the wine," Cambyses said; 
 " Prexaspes ! thou upon his head 
 Set'st value, more than on thy own; 
 A father should who loves his son ! 
 Come, father, son, stand wide apart ; 
 We soon will see who has a heart. 
 Thou said'st, but now, what all suppose, 
 That wine affects my mind's repose ; 
 The truth of this report of me, 
 All who are here shall forthwith see. 
 And thou shalt own the calumnies ; 
 What ! wine impair my faculties !" 
 
 III. 
 
 " Prexaspes' son !" the tyrant said, 
 " Thy left hand raise above thy head." 
 Then seized a bow from archer near. 
 And drew the string: close to his ear : 
 
 ^t> 
 
 " Can I now shoot him through the heart ? 
 
 t3^ 
 
 Nay, nay ! Prexaspes, do not start !
 
 CAMBYSESj KING OF PERSIA. 13 
 
 The Persians lie, and they shall find 
 
 That wine does not impair my mind ; 
 
 When next thou hear'st them so exclaim, 
 
 Say, no ! it but improves his aim !" 
 
 Discharging, he, the fatal brand, 
 
 Said, " Have I not a steady hand ?" 
 
 The arrow struck the wretched youth. 
 
 And proved, alas ! the tyrant's truth ; 
 
 The shaft entire had pierced his heart, 
 
 He lifeless fell with sudden start. 
 
 His father saw his life depart. 
 
 But dreading instant death as well. 
 
 He praised the act — I shame to tell : — 
 
 " Apollo, coiJd not better aim 
 
 His shaft." The king, — " Now on thee shame ; 
 
 Who own'd a heart, I said but now, 
 
 We soon would prove, — or he, or thou. 
 
 Now say, and look on him again, 
 
 Hast tliou a heart, — or he that 's slain ?" 
 
 The dastard which, the Muse would never own : 
 
 The fawning courtier, or the tyrant-crown. 
 
 IT. 
 
 The morrow brought Cambyses' rage ; 
 And why ? Because he'd slain the page. 
 The sullen looks of those around 
 Increased his ire, — as soon they found. 
 " Bring me the knot of courtiers there." 
 " My lord ! they 're nobles." " Bring them here ! 
 Exasperate me not, or find 
 I '11 do as bids my vengeful mind,
 
 14 
 
 CAMBYSES^ KING OF PERSIA. 
 
 As some of ye shall quickh^ know, 
 But guess not, ere I strike the blow ; 
 And now they come, the noble twelve, 
 "Whose graves I 've orders sent to delve. 
 I 've nothing done, as yet : — they all 
 Shall perish under earth and wall. 
 My Syrians all, my trusty slaves ! 
 Arrange yourselves around the knaves ! 
 
 V. 
 
 " Now, Persian nobles, high of rank, 
 Te aU well know I little thank 
 Ye, each, for your deportment since 
 I sent Prexaspes to the prince, 
 My brother Smerdis, who was slain 
 By some assassin on the plain, 
 At fall of night, when well 'tis known, 
 My courtier left the prince at noon ; 
 And sure he did not lurk or roam 
 About until the prince left home. 
 Besides, what cause had he to kiU 
 A youth to whom he bore no ill ! 
 Nor, how should I ! — he was my brother ; 
 What ! I kill him, who have no other ! 
 
 Ti. 
 " And though my sweet wife, Meroe, 
 Was put to death, — her constancy 
 Was not for me, — 'twas for my brother 
 Smerdis, whom she loved, — no other ; 
 Not I, who was her chosen master. 
 Was prized by her since that disaster.
 
 CAMBYSES, KING OP PERSIA. 15 
 
 His death was e'er her constant theme ; 
 In thought by day, — by night in cbeam. 
 Then wonder not the jealous devil 
 "Would oft inspire the thought of evil : 
 For who could brook such constant taunt ? 
 'T was to my breast a night-mare gaunt, 
 That came to rob me of my rest ; 
 And her I 'd taken to my breast ! 
 'M.J feelings taught me at the time 
 To sacrifice her was no crime ; 
 And though to do so caused such pain, 
 The deed I would enact again ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 " And e'en when that justiciary, 
 Who judged betwixt the prince and me, 
 "Was flay'd alive, — his skin nail'd on 
 The bench whereat he spurn' d the throne, — ^' 
 Could I do more than give his place 
 To him who held it as a grace ? 
 His son, the son of him I 'd slain, 
 Did lie of want of grace complain ? 
 "Would he, in judgment where he sate, 
 For life forget his father's fate ? 
 He now would know a partial judge 
 From Persia's judgment seat canH hudge ; 
 And as 't is late uow to complain, 
 No fear of partial judge again ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 " No evidence I need to bring. 
 The Icind of love ye bear your king :
 
 16 CAMBYSES, KING OF PERSIA. 
 
 The guilty look, the frequent start, 
 
 Betray the workings of yoi;r heart. 
 
 The end is this, — that ye or I 
 
 Must surely on the instant die. 
 
 Yet, start not ! for ye have a voice : 
 
 Shall I he slain, and ye rejoice ; 
 
 Or ye destroy'd and I be left. 
 
 Of trust}/ ministers bereft ? 
 
 Come, say! be quick, — there 's little time 
 
 To spare for men who own their crime 
 
 By silence stern and looks aghast. 
 
 What ! silent still ? The moment 's past : 
 
 Straight bear them to their earthly doom. 
 
 The ready grave their common tomb ; 
 
 Alive inhume them, fitting food 
 
 Por worms that love the courtly blood." 
 
 The swarthy slaves, who were at hand, 
 
 Forthwith obey'd the fell command ; 
 
 Twelve victims of Cambyses' malice 
 
 "Were buried deep within the palace. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Croesus, the Lydian, was there, 
 A captive-free for many a year ; 
 Por Cyrus him had overthrown 
 And seized his sceptre and his crown : 
 • When Cyrus died, Cambyses next 
 Detain' d him on some slight pretext. 
 And since the hour he lost his throne 
 He could not caU his life his own ; 
 And yet he ventured, when he saw 
 Cambyses thus usurp the law.
 
 • CAMBYSES, KING OF PEBSIA. 17 
 
 To show the dangers he would cause 
 
 By violating sacred laws — 
 
 The laws of Medes and Persians, 
 
 Irrevocable ever since 
 
 His father, Cyrus, did by might 
 
 Persia and Media unite. 
 
 Besides, the cruelty to aU 
 
 Terrific was, and might appal 
 
 Those of high or low estate, 
 
 "Who well might dread an equal fate. 
 
 X. 
 
 Cambyses heard with seeming calm, 
 
 Tet, to his breast 'twas far from balm. 
 
 Him for a suppliant to upbraid ! — 
 
 A captive lon^, whose death he 'd staid. 
 
 "Presumptuous prisoner," he eaid, 
 
 " What ! know'st thou not, there is a law 
 
 In Persia's code, that has no flaw. 
 
 According claim unto the king 
 
 To please himself in every thing 
 
 He does : — so great his pow'r and might, 
 
 The day he can turn into night. 
 
 Lydian prince, 't is known to aU, 
 
 Cyrus delay' d thy funeral, 
 
 For reason none that I can see 
 
 Save proof of his great clemency ; 
 
 But when his son receives reproof 
 
 From one he cherish'd 'nea;th his roof, 
 
 'T is time to light the funeral pile. 
 
 And show 't was but postponed awliile."
 
 18 CAMBYSES, KING OF PEESIA. 
 
 XI. 
 
 The Croesus, long resign' d to death, 
 Knew that it would be wasting breath 
 To sue for life, and mercy crave — 
 'T were fitting only for a slave ; 
 In dying as became a king 
 He hoped for angels' minist'ring, 
 In his transit to that bourn, 
 From whence, alas ! there's no return. 
 " Conduct me forth ! I wish to die. 
 And quit this scene of infamy ; 
 When Cyrus saved me from the pile. 
 He gain'd the world's approving smile ; 
 And sith that he hath ceased to live, 
 I 've never ceased his loss to grieve ;] 
 But since Cambyses held the throne. 
 Has Croesus never fail'd to moan." 
 
 XII. 
 
 " Thanks, thanks for this, a hold remark ! 
 To execution bear him, — hark ! 
 The thunder's sound is unpropitious 
 To the completion of my wishes ; 
 And yet, my fiat has gone forth, 
 To oppose me is of little worth." 
 
 The ministers of cruelty 
 Eemoved the prince as if to die ; 
 But trusting soon the king's repentance 
 Would save exaction of the sentence, 
 The execixtion was deferr'd. 
 And at the dawn the king was heard
 
 CAMBYSES, KTNTG OF PERSIA. 19 
 
 Bewailing his impatient act : 
 
 " Oh, gods ! that I could now retract 
 
 The hasty order given, — since 
 
 'T is I have slain the Lydian prince." 
 
 XIII. 
 
 A slave rush'd in with greater haste 
 Than pleased the monarch's usual taste ; 
 " What means this insolence ? thou slave." 
 " His life,— oh ! Sire !— his life to save,"— 
 " Ris life ! loliose life ?" he quick exclaim'd. 
 " His, that Lydia's king was named ; 
 Once Croesus, //7>;2f/ of Cyrus great, 
 And thy progenitor ! " " Eelate 
 The cause and meaning of this act ; 
 For, now the sentence we retract, 
 And pleased are we the Lydian king 
 Is now indeed a living thing. 
 Produce him here, — still with the guard, 
 That all of them may meet reward.''^ 
 
 XIV. 
 
 He paused, awaiting their return ; 
 Yet, on his brow, there seem'd to burn 
 A cloven-foot-shaped seam, — the while 
 His lips display'd sardonic smile. 
 What means this sudden change of mind ? 
 Begrettecl he ? No ! Ye shall find 
 That he was pleased, and Croesus shared 
 Again his roof; — but who had dared 
 His strict command to disobey. 
 By sparing Croesus' life one day ? 
 
 c2
 
 20 CAMBYSES, KING OF PERSIA. 
 
 They came, — the king express'd his thought 
 To Croesus, and embraced him ; ought 
 He not his servants to have praised ? 
 For, Croesus they from death had raised. 
 Alas ! upon that blood-stain' d plain, 
 They all were on the instant slain. 
 
 XY. 
 
 The innocence should, or guilt, be known 
 Both of Prexaspes and the crow"n, 
 Regarding Smerdis' doubtful fate, 
 The cause of which we now relate : — 
 When the kmg of Ethiopia 
 Sent a bow to him of Persia, 
 Saying, " 'Till a man be found 
 To bend this bow, respect our ground." 
 Of all the warriors crowding there, 
 Not one was to be seen who e'er 
 Could bend that bow, save he alone, 
 The heir — prince Smerdis — to the throne. 
 Now whether this caused jealousy. 
 Or else, the love of Meroe, — 
 Whom still Cambyses, where he went, 
 Took as his "brightest ornament," — 
 For Smerdis would increase the more ; 
 He forth was sent from Egypt's shore, 
 With orders to appear again. 
 Never, — unless the king were slain. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 The same night, something in a dream 
 Forewarn' d Cambyses of a scheme
 
 CAMBYSES, KING OF PERSIA. 21 
 
 To place his brother on the throne ; 
 
 And Smerdis was to reign alone. 
 
 Cambyses to be, — 't is as well 
 
 The dream's remainder not to tell. 
 
 His fears saw Smerdis on the throne : 
 
 He started, — woke. Was he alone ? 
 
 No ! Prexaspes watch' d his pillow, 
 
 And saw his breast rise like the billow, 
 
 And soothing said, " My liege ! what stream 
 
 Of circumstances in thy dream 
 
 Has caused such tremor in thy frame ? 
 
 To hear it let thy servant claim. 
 
 Thy subject ever, and thy slave ; 
 
 In aught of thy behests I crave, 
 
 Whate'er the need, whate'er the want, 
 
 To be thy faithful confidant." 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The king related all his dream, 
 Omitting what his ivisli woidd seem. 
 The courtier, therefore, swore an oath 
 The worst of deeds to do, — yet loath. 
 Thereon the king, now bolder grown. 
 Exclaim' d, " Now, safe I 'm on my throne ; 
 Smerdis sounds not as a name 
 That e'er was meant for eartlily fame, 
 And rather seems to have been given 
 Predestining him for early heaven. 
 Then, heaven's fiat must be done ; 
 Thy thought and mine unite as one. 
 Thou knowest well the deed I mean : 
 Eemove him from this wretched scene.
 
 2,2 CAMBYSES, KING OF PERSIA. 
 
 This night depart, thyself alone, 
 For none may know why thou art gone, 
 And when thou hast perform' d the deed 
 Eeturn in haste, — and we succeed." 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Prexaspes heard the king's command, 
 And forthwith left dark Egypt's land. 
 He travell'd fast for many a day, 
 And still the prince was far away. 
 At last, he reach'd the " wish'd for" town. 
 And one that Smerdis call'd his own. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 AVe do not note the frequent chance 
 By which the prince escaped the lance 
 Of the assassin, who was there 
 To form for him his sepulchre. 
 But he who cares not for his life, 
 Ne'er fails to find the hour of strife ; 
 Ne'er fails to find the fitting time. 
 When he may sure commit the crime. 
 Enough to say, that on the plain 
 "Was Smerdis by Prexaspes slain ; 
 And when he came to claiin reward. 
 He fully met the king's regard. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Prexaspes, faithful to the crown. 
 Although the king had slain his son, — 
 In retributive punishment, 
 By heaven preordain'd and sent,
 
 CAMBYSES, KING OF PERSIA. 23 
 
 Sooth, for the part he basely took, 
 "When he at Smerdis' life-blood struck, — 
 Was long reserved for stranger fate 
 Than met the rest, — Cambyses' hate. 
 
 ^txo ant( lLean'0ti. 
 
 YoiJNG God of Love ! how mighty is thy power ! 
 As showest thou in every age and hour. 
 For ■v\itness Hero and Leander hight — 
 Priestess the one, the last a youthful knight. 
 Abydos was his birthplace — from the shore 
 Of Hero's tower, a mile perhaps or more 
 Directly distant 'cross the "boimdless" stream 
 Of Hellespontus, Xerxes' futile dream. 
 Where HeUe from her seat of golden fleece 
 FeU on the wave, and left her name to Greece ; 
 But if obliquely measured, then the space 
 In gliding o'er, a boat would twice that trace. 
 And turning to regain the former shore 
 Would form a curve quadruple it or more. 
 
 Where Hero met Leander is well known ; 
 At Venus' temple — Sestos was the town. 
 60 fair was Hero that Leander cried, 
 Drawing himself more closely to her side,
 
 24 HERO AND LEANDER. 
 
 " Thou lovely being, priestess wherefore art ? 
 
 To see thee once, how sad for us to part ! 
 
 Tet part as e'en we must, again we meet, 
 
 As proves that gaze, that flush, that ling'ring greet. 
 
 Till then to Venus I commend thy care ; 
 
 Dii'ect my coiu-se to-night by torch's glare 
 
 Display 'd in thy fixir hand on Hero's tower : 
 
 At sight of it I'll meet thee in an hour. 
 
 Yenus ! Neptune ! Nereids ! Mercury ! aid 
 
 Me Helle's stream to cross and woo the maid!" 
 
 Hero beheld and heard, and inward felt 
 The whisper' d breathings of the youth who knelt 
 Beside her feet, and lowering her eyes. 
 She sigh'd a " veni" on his enterprise. 
 
 Such Leander's tumultuous delight, 
 While pondering o'er a feat he'd do that night, 
 His heart throbb'd high, up-heaved his panting breast,- 
 Her he would meet once more, or ever rest. 
 Tor, what the sea, or calm or rough, to him ? 
 To ardent love like his 'twas but a stream ; 
 Or what to him were parents' yea or nay — 
 Could passion like to his e'er pass away ? 
 Of heaven he dream' d — aU else he set at nought, 
 An angel's image aU entranced his thought. 
 His friends had noticed in the sacred fane 
 His paUid brow — and notv 'twas pale again. 
 A mother's jealous eye had guess'd the cause ; 
 She could not overthrow great nature's laws. 
 What could be done ? 'Twere useless to advise, 
 'Twere best to guard and shut him from those eyes.
 
 HERO AND LEANDER. 25 
 
 So, -when they touch' d the shore and gain'd their home, 
 Strict watch was placed lest he abroad might I'oam. 
 
 His kindred's vigilance o'er Leander thrown 
 "Was baffled well — he 'scaped it and the town ; 
 The stream he reach'd, the torch beheld on high, — 
 " Oh ! wait my love, my life, to thee I fly." 
 Although the sea's broad favouring bosom bore 
 Leander swift to Sestos' sigh'd for shore, 
 Courage he own'd and strength to bear him on — 
 Such to Alcmena came Ampliitryon — 
 Springing, he threw his arms and swam so fast 
 The shore of Sestos was embraced at last. 
 
 He did not, like the Brutus, kiss the land, 
 His "mother earth," he'd gentler work on hand; 
 But 'merged and ran intently to the goal 
 Where moved within his life, his heart, his soul. 
 
 Poor Hero, since she first had view'd the lad, 
 Had only thought of him and her so sad ; 
 She fear'd her for the youth who bold had dai-ed 
 To love a priestess, one who oft had seared 
 The libertine, the lustful, and all those who'd dare 
 Aspire to gain the purest of the fair. 
 She fear'd her for herself—hen sacred state, 
 Her character, her friends, — alas ! too late. 
 She saw Leander, loved him at the first ; 
 Oh ! would he come again ? her heart would burst ! 
 
 He came again ! still wetted with the wave. 
 And found her timelily her life to save ; 
 For trembling, fainting, on his footsteps hearing. 
 She fell into his arms, the more endearing.
 
 26 HEEO AND LEANDER. 
 
 To say what pass'd 's beyond the poet's power, 
 The rapturous burning of that fleeting hour ; 
 The mind alone the scene can well conceive 
 That true has loved, and loved but to believe. 
 The heart that cares not aught for worldly pleasures, 
 Eegarding only those of higher treasures, 
 Such heart absorb'd, alone can form a thought 
 Of ecstacy so sweet their first embraces brought. 
 
 Oft was their meeting, 
 
 And frequent their sigh ; 
 Life was in greeting, 
 
 To part was to die. 
 
 Yet had they e'er known 
 
 They would ne'er meet again, 
 
 Oh ! Death would be welcome, 
 To end their deep pain. 
 
 Fair Hero as ever 
 
 Was watching one nierht. 
 Uplifted her hand 
 
 "With the torch blazing bright, 
 
 When shrieks of wailing struck upon her ear, 
 How dread she trembles : — is there cause for fear ? 
 The breeze was blowing fresh, the waves ran high, — 
 Does she not hear a deep-drawn gasping sigh ? 
 
 Tes, yes, alas ! repeated was the sound. 
 As nearing Sestos' shore the way it found ; 
 She " Hero " heard, and heard but once that cry. 
 And instant swoon'd — Oh, would it were to die !
 
 HEKO AND LEANDER. 27 
 
 The morning found her in that helpless state, 
 "With the corpse of Leander for her mate. 
 For calling on her name he reach' d the shore, 
 And having breathed it thrice, — he could no more. 
 The peasants bore him fast to Venus' fane : 
 " Ah ! Hero ! Priestess ! give him life again." 
 'Twas all in vain — for Hero could not hear ; 
 Her life was Ms — his death was death to her. 
 And so 'till morn they laid the body down 
 Where cold it lay reposing on the stone. 
 
 Hero recover' d slowly. " 'Tis a dream ! 
 Great Goddess ! does a spectre on me gleam ? 
 Is this my Leander — my dearest life, 
 To whom I have been even as a wife ! 
 Gods ! is he dead? and has the jealous wave 
 Torn from my arms the youth I'd die to save ? 
 Ah, yes ! but I will not remain alone ! 
 No, no, Leander ! we will still be one. 
 Forgive me, goddess ! I am in despair, 
 AVithout Leander's love I could not bear 
 One moment more to live — and thus I die." 
 This said, she from the cliff sprang instantly, 
 And instant sank — and left no hope to save 
 That lovely creature from the engulphing wave.
 
 28 
 
 Thou pure and gentle Yestal maid, 
 'Gainst whom so dire a plot was laid, 
 To burn, or build thee up in wall. 
 Or bury under earth and all. 
 
 On pretext of iacontinence ! 
 Who saved thee from so sad a fate ? 
 The goddess Yesta, proud and great. 
 She came and noticed thou were wrong' d ; 
 Claudia she knew to her belong' d, 
 
 And baffled well their false pretence, 
 By showing them thy innocence. 
 And how did she effect her plan 
 To vmdicate thy ways to man ? 
 'T was thus : — As when her image borne 
 On Eoma's ship, then all forlorn 
 And lying in the Tiber stranded. 
 The goddess' image not yet landed. 
 And bands of men had fail'd to prove 
 Their boasted strength the bark to move, 
 The vestal virgin, pure in heart, 
 Stood calm before them, void of art ; 
 Proving to all she had no guUe, 
 And so on death could even smile. 
 
 And to the goddess thus she pray'd : 
 " Secluded Vesta ! thou hast*staid 
 Apart from one who claims thy aid ; 
 Secluded then no longer be, 
 But prove thy vasty power for me.
 
 CLAUDIA. 29 
 
 Befriend me in tliis great distress 
 And show the might of holiness. 
 I pray not for the fear of death, 
 But calumny, whose blasting breath 
 Out-terrors death ; the blighting lie 
 Would shut out immortality." 
 
 Her girdle then she slow untwisted. 
 And by its slight aid, unassisted. 
 It being fasten' d to the prow, 
 She moved the ship, and turn'd its bow 
 Shoreways, and track' d it to the shore, 
 Of joyful voices 'midst the mighty roar. 
 
 Her innocence thus proved to every breast. 
 Her noble ancestor she next address' d : 
 " Great Appius Coecus' shade ! regard me now. 
 As ever, pure ; I 've not forsworn my vow. 
 The wretch who 'gainst my * continence exclaim'd, 
 Fails of the mark at which he basely aim'd ; 
 And lest he dare again repeat the strife, 
 No further wish have I for transient life ; 
 The fire eternal Vesta claims her right 
 Was ne'er by me nnnourish'd day or night. 
 My lamp 's now sped ; the oil has ceased to flow. 
 And, goddess ! now I bend me to the blow." 
 
 Her father's name upon she loud then cried, 
 And shrouding close her face, sank down and died.
 
 30 
 
 Not only Claudia proved her virgin power, 
 By trailing straight the stranded ship to shore ; 
 But Tutia, too, a lovely vestal maid, 
 Eepell'd the charge against her virtue laid : 
 Precisely like to Claudia's the sense, 
 Accusing her of past incontinence. 
 
 " Goddess Vesta ! on thee I solemn call, 
 Preserve me from a living funeral. 
 My faithful vows, it well is known to thee. 
 Have ever been preserved with purity. 
 Then suffer not," she cried with gasping breath, 
 " Thy faithful votary to suffer death, 
 E'en as they punish' d in a former time, 
 By direst treatment of the hateful crime ; — 
 A dungeon drear, dug deep in the damp soil. 
 Held bed, a loaf, some water, wine and oil ; 
 A lighted lamp was placed in a recess. 
 And when disrobed of her pure vestal dress 
 She loath descended in the cavity. 
 To end her life by their depravity, 
 The cave forthwith was closed ; the horrid scream, 
 "Within so loud, without was but a dream. 
 The wretched girl of famine soon would die. 
 And her soul mourn to all eternity." 
 The gracious Vesta heard the virgin's pray'r, 
 And gave her power to do what none would dare 
 Attempt — save those who, truly innocent. 
 Fear none of man's decrees of punishment.
 
 TUTIA. 31 
 
 And thus to her spake Vesta : " Eaise that sieve, 
 And tb my power thy ready credence give. 
 Implore thy judges as a kind behest 
 To grant thee, s:tippliant, thy last request, 
 Accordance, straight to visit Tiber's shore 
 Its waters pure the sieve within to poixr ; 
 Thy truth or guilt to rest upon this sense, — 
 The sieve well fill'd to prove thy innocence ; 
 And bring it thence to Vesta's temple here. 
 The sieve still fill'd, and nought hast thou to fear." 
 
 Tutia her anxious task performed, and 
 Fill'd the pervious vessel in her hand. 
 And bore it to the holy fane, in sight 
 Of Eoma's emperor in all his might. 
 
 The calumny proclaim'd a false pretence, 
 Thus plainly proved to all her innocence. 
 The accuser ne'er recover' d from the shock, 
 And forth was hurl'd from the Tarpeian Eock. 
 
 f^ippomenes anti ^talanta, 
 
 Iasis lasius' child of Arcady, 
 
 And of his wife, the goddess Cybele, 
 
 Of Hymen's chains for life wish'd free to be. 
 
 Beloved she was by princes of pretence, 
 
 Who sought the beauty in her innocence ;
 
 32 HIPPOMENES AND ATALAXTA. 
 
 Yet they were doom'd to ne'er see home again : 
 They came and woo'd, and woo'd, alas ! in vain, 
 lasis was Atalanta also named, 
 As nimble-footed she was justly famed. 
 She claim' d with lovers each to run a race, 
 Prepared for which there was an ample space : 
 Unarm' d were they to be — she held a dart — 
 The suitor being allowed advanced to start, 
 And he who could precede her to the goal 
 IMisht henceforth claim her as his life and soul. 
 But he, alas ! whom she had overta'en 
 "Was, with the shaft she held, that moment slain 
 Eor, as he fail'd, the virgin's ready dart 
 "Was straight directed to his panting heart ; 
 But if he won, the maid was instant his, 
 Forthwith to be saluted with a kiss. 
 
 Of all who linger' d in their fearful race 
 In Clio's ancient page we have no trace : 
 But as her skill at racing was display' d. 
 Great was the carnage by the winged maid ; 
 For all had perish' d who had dared to own 
 A love with which their life so soon had flown. 
 
 Hippomenes, son of Macareus, came 
 And boldly own'd the ardour of his flame. 
 As Venus knew the danger of her friend 
 And fear'd his youthful life about to end, 
 The goddess gave, that he might win with ease, 
 Three golden apples to Hippomenes. 
 In Tamasea, Cyprus' sacred plain, 
 Venus gather' d lasis' golden bane.
 
 HIPPOMENES AND ATALANTA. 33 
 
 These to be scatter' d, tempting, in the space, 
 Pursuant Atalanta, at the race. 
 
 Ban Hippomenes, and an apple threw 
 The ready ground upon, full in her view. 
 As Atalanta, now less swift of flight, 
 Approach' d, the apple's brightness charm'd her sight. 
 She stoop'd to seize it — while yet further on 
 Two more were thrown, but distant one by one. 
 Her eagerness increased to clutch the rest, 
 WhUst she forffot the issue of the test! 
 The second apple gather' d to her hand 
 Weigh'' d with the first waafotmd to correspond ! 
 And as she reach' d the third, she sought no more, 
 Hippomenes had gain'd — the race was o'er. 
 
 The moral of this tale is quickly told — 
 Love proved the incentive, not the burnish'd gold. 
 
 ^contius antr Cgtiippe, 
 
 In Dian's temple, where her rite 
 Was celebrated on the ni^ht, 
 A youth, unconscious of his power, 
 Beheld Cydippe ; happy hour ! 
 She form'd one link of virgins pure, 
 Who'd fire the breast of the demure.
 
 34 ACONTIUS AND CYDIPPE. 
 
 Cydippe was a maid well knowB, 
 
 And was the beauty of the town. 
 
 Acontius was her lover's name ; 
 
 He burn'd with fire — she own'd no flame. 
 
 Acontius was of Ceos' isle, 
 
 Delos own'd Cydippe' s smile ; 
 
 Cydippe was of lofty birth, 
 
 And his was but of little worth. 
 
 Of all the lovely virgin throng 
 
 She form'd the theme for poets' song ; 
 
 Of all the beauties clustering there 
 
 Venus' brightness was her share. 
 
 Poor Acontius, whose heart w^as gone — 
 Acontius poor ! for wealth he'd none ! — 
 Knowing he had no chance or hope, 
 Tet felt not as a misanthrope ; 
 And planning, how to gain the maid. 
 Although he rank'd beneath her grade, 
 An apple on, he, with a stile. 
 Inscribed two lines in youthful guile 
 The surface on, and offer' d her. 
 As being the fairest of the fair. 
 
 Not Venus on Mount Ida felt such pride. 
 When Paris her's the apple did decide, 
 Agaiast Minerva's claim and Juno's might. 
 Who proffer' d kingdoms and a soldier's right ; 
 iN'or as At'lanta when she apples found, 
 Hippomenes had scatter' d on the ground, 
 As felt Acontius as he saw the maid 
 E/ctain the apple in her hand when laid.
 
 ACONTIUS AND CYDIPPE. 35 
 
 The golden apples of Hesperides 
 Were less a prize to Hercules. 
 
 Cydippe read these words full clear : 
 " By Dian's bow I solemn swear 
 Acontius shall my husband be." 
 He had fulfill' d her destiny. 
 Betray' d, but she had made the vow ; 
 
 And as she view'd the kneeling youth, 
 
 She plighted him her virgin truth, 
 And Hymen join'd them, lovers now. 
 
 Calltrrjor aittr Corcsus. 
 
 LoYED Cdresus Callirrhoe, 
 
 A haughty nymph of high degree ; 
 
 He Bacchus' priest at Calydon, 
 
 Her birth she claim'd within that town. 
 
 Enamour' d deep of her was he, 
 
 And still the maiden's heart was free ; 
 
 Hia ardent love but met disdain, 
 
 To Bacchus he applied in vain. 
 
 The god to move the cause from thence, 
 Conjured a frightful pestilence. 
 That slew without reserve the young. 
 The aged, — all on life who hung, 
 
 d2
 
 36 CALLIRRHOE AND CORESUS. 
 
 Though others fell of each degree 
 Yet scathless was Callirrhoe. 
 
 The oracle besieged, to know their fate, 
 An edict issued through the state, 
 To appease the god, and thus prevent 
 A further sphere of punishment, 
 His altar on, and as a prize, 
 Callirrhoe to sacrifice. 
 
 The nyinph was brought, and Coresus 
 Prepared to obey his Nemesis. 
 As being priest 'twas his the right 
 To turn the maiden's day to night. 
 He seized her frame, and up on high 
 The dagger raised — what ! must she die ? 
 It fell at once to give him rest, 
 And enter' d deep his stricken breast. 
 Eevenge had fled and love return' d, 
 Affection only in him burn'd, 
 And looking on her, though to die, 
 He felt that death was ecstasy. 
 
 Callirrhoe, alas ! now learn' d 
 To approve the love she erst had spurn' d; 
 And knoT^ing now 'twas pure and holy. 
 She gave herself to melancholy : 
 So, broken-hearted she became. 
 As owning now a futile flame. 
 Nought could be done — it was too late — 
 She must obey the will of fate ; 
 And feeling her ingratitude, 
 As by a fountain's side she stood,
 
 CALLIRRHOE AND CORESUS. 37 
 
 She perisli'd by the fatal dart 
 That swift had pierced his prostrate heart. 
 The Attic fount now bears her name — 
 Contemn'd by love, preserved by fame. 
 
 The ruler of the Capitol of Eome, 
 Tarpeius Spurius, detain' d at home 
 Tarpeia, his daughter. "Why did he ? 
 Dreaded he some hidden treachery ? 
 Eomulus, king of Eome, was now at war 
 With Cures' king, whose army was not far 
 Encamp' d away — and come to avenge the rape 
 (Surroimdiag Eome, preventing aU escape) 
 Of Sabine virgins, lovely maids and wives, 
 Hazarding their aU, their wretched lives, 
 To conquer or to die and clear the stain 
 Their 'scutcheon bore, and even yet regain 
 The honour' d name their ancient race had borne, 
 Till late so ignominiously torn 
 By fraud away, and dastard perfidy. 
 As, when the Sabine virgins throng'd to see 
 The sports, spectators of the race and game, 
 The citizens, to their eternal shame.
 
 38 TARPEIA. 
 
 Bereft them from their venerated home 
 To furnish wives for men of bandit Eome. 
 
 Tarpeia, (was not this a Sabine name ?* 
 For treachery 's not oft link'd with Eoman fame) 
 Tatius met by stealth ; and, as reward, 
 His promise gave, if she would bribe the guard 
 To leave the passage free and ope the gate, 
 He'd offer her the coffers of the state. 
 
 Tarpeia from each knight an oath now claim' d, 
 " By Italy," to spare the friends she named ; 
 Her kindred's lives, 'bove aU they must respect, 
 E'en though her own by chance may meet neglect. - 
 
 The guerdon that she sought, 'tis easy told. 
 Claim' d all their bracelets forged of massy gold ; 
 Ajid lest their golden rings might yet escape. 
 Her strange request was framed in cunning shape, — 
 Whate'er they carried in sinister hand. 
 Was forthwith to be placed at her command. 
 
 King Tatius came at the appointed hoiir. 
 The gate was ope'd — the drawbridge made to lower, 
 That he might enter with his armed bands. 
 Who brought their shields and bracelets in their hands. 
 The Sabines entered Eome : the king was first — 
 His regal bracelet from his arm he burst 
 And cast it on Tarpeia, with his shield. 
 As passing on he sought the battle field. 
 Each soldier acted thus, and heap'd his chain 
 And shield upon her, tiU the girl was slain. 
 Thus acted one and aU without regard, 
 For treachery e'er wiU have its just reward. 
 
 * Some say she was a Sabine slave-girl.
 
 TARPEIA. 39 
 
 And when tlie dreadful strife and carnage ended 
 That her perfidious act had thus attended, 
 When Tiber's waters ceased thereat to shine 
 In turbid streams of hue incarnadine, 
 They placed her body, bracelets, shields, and all 
 Entomb'd within the new built Capitol. 
 
 Tarpeia's body buried on the hiU, 
 Gives the Tarpeian Eock her sad name still. 
 
 ^ijalassius. 
 
 Thalassius was a handsome youth of Eome 
 Who scarce had ever left his father's home. 
 At time of Eomtdus, ere the Sabine fight 
 Had turn'd the day of heroes into night. 
 The Eoman sports he even had not join'd, 
 Nor in the cohorts do his name we find. 
 
 While, at the Sabine rape, a Sabine maid 
 Who claim to Venus' beauty might have laid, 
 Distinguish' d for her elegance and grace, 
 Was forced away along the crowded space. 
 The abductor, fearful of a rival's claim 
 To the fair maid, now half exposed to shame, 
 Aloud exclaim' d, as bearing her away, 
 " I take her for Thalassius ! make way !"
 
 40 THALASSIUS. 
 
 No sooner had "Tlialassius" resounded 
 Than the hearts of all who heard rebounded, 
 And all were eager that the lovely prize 
 Should safe be brought to greet Thalassius' eyes ; 
 They all, save one, desired that none but he 
 Should have the right to guard her chastity. 
 
 'T is diJBcult to say when they were brought 
 Both face to face, what occupied their thought ; 
 
 But the brow of the one flush' d ruby red, 
 
 Whilst pale was the other, as if he were dead,— 
 
 The roseate hue had suddenly fled. 
 Soon Hymen came and instant join'd the pair, 
 The handsome to the fairest of the fair. 
 So great their happiness, that from that day 
 " Thalassius" was a by- word in the play 
 At Eoman nuptials, and not long since 
 At marriage of the peasant and the prince. 
 
 Cgrus anti ^amsris. 
 
 Assteia's conqueror at Babylon, 
 
 Cyrus the great, Mandaue's warlike son, 
 
 (The daughter of the king Astyages, 
 
 Whose Median throne he likewise won with ease,) 
 
 Albeit a mean-bom son of Cambyses,
 
 CYRUS AND TAMYRIS. 41 
 
 Had Croe3us, king of Lydia, subdued 
 Entirely by his constant fortitude. 
 Though Asia part was his, and Babylon, 
 Yet conquest panting to push further on, 
 He march' d against the savage Scythian race, 
 Then govern'd by a queen named Tamyris ; 
 Whose son in battle was by Cyrus ta'en, 
 Ajid shortly after number' d with the slain, 
 Or ere the mother met him on the plaia : 
 And no one yet, save woman, had a chance, 
 To cope with Cyrus at the deadly lance. 
 
 Tamyris, instant as she saw the king 
 His gallant forces forth so nobly bring, 
 Sent all her powers on. Her cavalry 
 To check his foremost horse charged instantly ; 
 And with her army far outflanking his, 
 She thought the battle might be won with ease. 
 
 The Persic horsemen found the Kazzac race 
 A sturdier than the Syriac, face to face : 
 The Persian not with Median had to deal, 
 Nor yet the Lydian lancer's edge to feel, — 
 A sterner, stronger, hardier foe than aU 
 At last met Cyrus — at his funeral ! 
 The Scythian footman was as brave as Mede 
 Or Persian either — either if at need. 
 
 "With numbers pressing, whilst by numbers prest, 
 Cyrus received a javelin in his breast. 
 The queen was victor in a fearful fight; 
 Nor ceased her troops the carnage until night. 
 Meanwhile, and burning for revenge, Tamyris 
 With sad ferocity had slaiu the Cyrus,
 
 42 CYRUS AND TAMYRIS. 
 
 And striking off his head — a well fill'd cup 
 
 Of human blood being brought, where it might sup,- 
 
 She cast it in, exclaiming " Take thy fill ! 
 
 Thou hast an immortality of ill." 
 
 How strange ! a hero who had won the world. 
 Was sudden from his throne by woman hurl'd ! 
 
 As Aster, a dexterous archer, one day, 
 Came to Maeedon's king his obeisance to pay, 
 And service to seek in the suite of that priuce, 
 The better the king of his skill to convince, 
 He offered to kill in its rapidest flight, 
 Immediate, a bird on the wing, in his sight. 
 
 The occurrence took place at the siege of Methone, 
 A town of Pieria in Macedony ; 
 
 'Though not on the confines, 'twas not far from Thrace, 
 But this will suffice for the site of the place. 
 
 Philip believed he had archers enough 
 With strong bows of ash-stick, and catgut most tough ; 
 And thus spake the long, " We '11 employ you if we 
 Make war on the birds, on emergency." 
 
 Aster, provoked at this answer, return' d 
 To his home ; but his auger fierce inwardly bum'd
 
 KING PHILIP AND ASTER. 43 
 
 To be ridiculed, spurn' d — to be treated so cruel, 
 " King Philip of Macedon tbis thou shalt rue weU : 
 Contempt thou hast cast on a poor lowly loon, 
 "^Tho wiU teach thee a lesson in war very soon ; 
 As quickly thou'lt see — or rather thou'lt feel, 
 For after thou'rt stricken thou'lt not see the steel !" 
 And daily he watch' d for the king to come near, 
 And the moment arrived to his vengeance so dear ! 
 He shot forth an arrow with label thereby 
 Attach' d, and directed "To; Philip's right eye." 
 His right eye it struck, 'twas to bhnd him for ever ; 
 " No thanks to the archer ! — forget him ! Oh, never ! 
 I'll be even with him," said the king to his page, 
 "When the pain had subsided, and also his rage. 
 " So shoot back the arrow to Aster, and say. 
 King Phihp declares that 'tis excellent play : 
 But 'twill prove a (disaster to him — and full soon, 
 As Aster shall find when we've taken the town ; 
 Por I give him my word on the faith of a king, 
 On a lofty raised gibbet Sir Aster shall swing." 
 The town was soon captured — and, terrible sport ! 
 Poor Aster was hang'd fuU in sight of the court. 
 
 END OF TALES EEOM THE CLASSICS.
 
 44 
 
 EJe ©ufee of Slllians's (IHscape. 
 
 In 1482. 
 
 I. 
 
 As Albany, close prisoner in tlie keep 
 
 Of Edin's castle, sighed for his escape. 
 
 His partisans and friends slept not the while 
 
 On beds of sloth. The day being fix'd for trial, 
 
 One hope alone to save their duke remain' d, 
 
 Or ere the scaffold 's with his life-blood stain' d. 
 
 They means at last contrived to send him word 
 
 A vessel lay, with Gascon wine on board. 
 
 In Leith's capacious harbour, where he might 
 
 Remain concealed — but come he must that night. 
 
 To aid him in his purpose and his hope, 
 
 A billet they had sent him and a rope : 
 
 Noting, the first, that ere two days were done, 
 
 The morrow's eve — perhaps the setting sun, 
 
 Would find him living in the dreaded land, 
 
 Or corpse for crows to peck at on the strand. 
 
 His persecutors fix'd so soon should die — 
 
 "Within a day and night's resolve — their enemy. 
 
 The coil of cord would " stand him weU at need," 
 
 He might with such an adjuvant succeed ; 
 
 His trusty chamber chiel performed his part — 
 
 'Though watch'd by aU — with most consummate art. 
 
 Two small sized rundlets holding wine were pass'd 
 
 By warders unsuspecting to the last. 
 
 The two being open'd found were to contain 
 
 The coil of rope, wax'd billet, and champagne.
 
 ALBANY^S ESCAPE. 45 
 
 II. 
 
 To obviate suspicion of tlie guard, 
 
 He pray'd its captain's presence in Ms ward 
 
 Tq sup with him ; and since the runds of wine 
 
 Held more than one could quaff, or yet the twain. 
 
 He press'd the warden to allow his men 
 
 To join in the carouse — within his ken. 
 
 They gamed and wassail' d till the hour grew late ; 
 
 The time had pass'd to close the inner gate. 
 
 The warders long ere this began to feel 
 
 The effects of wine, plied by the chamber chiel. 
 
 Their leader not so soon — biit now the time 
 
 Had lapsed. To save his life, the duke a crime 
 
 Commits, and from the chieftain's baldrick drew 
 
 A dirk with which he thrust him through and through, 
 
 Or ere alarm was given, or the sound 
 
 The inebriate soldiers' party yet had found. 
 
 The duke, whose blood now rose to deadly deed, 
 
 "Well knew if one escaped, himself must bleed ; 
 
 "With rapid blows he stabb'd each to the heart, 
 
 Caring not how — but that their life should part. 
 
 For, instant after, and, as not exempt 
 
 From strange barbarity, he show'd contempt 
 
 By heaping, with his servant's aid — Oh ! shame ! 
 
 The bodies four within the fiery flame, 
 
 "When through the armoiir press'd their flesh that swells 
 
 They were like tortoises on fire in iron shells. 
 
 III. 
 
 The keys forthcoming of the fortress doors, 
 "Were next secured, as ever precious stores ;
 
 46 Albany's escape. 
 
 And closing fast each outer bolt and bar, 
 The duke felt thankful they had got thus far. 
 As that which dire necessity reqvured, 
 The nearest wall they sought, and most retired, 
 And stealthy hurried to the brink where they 
 Must make descent — ay ! long ere break of day. 
 The chamber chiel 'gan first himself to lower 
 Straight o'er the clifi" which beetled to the shore, 
 Two hundred feet in height — the rope in strength 
 "Was firm enough, but not of proper length ! 
 Oh ! when the menial look'd up to his master 
 And scream' d to him the fact of the disaster, 
 Breathes there a man who envies him his thought 
 As Albany the information caught ! 
 The chamber chiel could not advance, retreat — 
 He found no crag to rest his pendent feet ; 
 His hold relax'd— the rope glid through his hand, 
 He harshly fell — oh ! would it were on sand ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 The blood-stain'd Albany but heard the fall — 
 A scream — a sigh— and silence follow' d all. 
 Each moment saw his Hfe with danger fraught. 
 Eternity was encofiin'd in his thought. 
 His death or life dependent on a thread, — 
 "Was tMs a time to think on blood late shed ? 
 What can he do ? A thought like lightning flash, 
 Eesolved liim to return ; — what ! risk another crash ! 
 
 V. 
 
 Swift rushing to his prison in the tower, 
 
 He ope'd the doors — the minutes seem'd an hour ;
 
 Albany's escape. 47 
 
 The sheets lie tore from liis accustom' d bed 
 Whereon no more he 's doom'd to lay his head. 
 He sought the castle wall and embrasure, 
 ^nd twisted firm the sheets to make more sure ; 
 The cord he lengthen' d by this simple mean, 
 And now or death he'U dare, or the ravine. 
 Each knot examined he, and lowering 
 CarefuUy himself, in high air towering, 
 He pass'd the parapet of the rampart o'er 
 And rugged rocks — until he found no more. 
 The extremity he reach'd, and safe the plain, — 
 And now he'll see if his companion's slain. 
 
 VI. 
 
 With thigh-bone fractured, senseless he lay. 
 But, heaven be praised ! he's not a lifeless clay. 
 The shock was great — yet stUl remain.' d the breath 
 And pulse to indicate escape from death. 
 Ferocious though the duke to aU of those 
 Who thwarted him, and aU his deadly foes, 
 It seem'd but vile to leave to die alone 
 His faithful servant — here his only one. 
 Stalwart Albany, with surpassing strength, 
 Carried the wounded man away ; at length, 
 Leith's ample harbour reach'd — the ship was nigh, 
 Ajid sail'd with him ere dawn broke on the sky. 
 And anchor cast near towers of Dunbar 
 Leaving behind all wondering at his star. 
 
 VII. 
 
 At Edin castle nought that night was known : 
 His dreaded flight the mom reveal'd alone.
 
 48 Albany's escape. 
 
 The cord was seen — the twisted sheets o'erhung 
 
 The precipice down which the duke had swung 
 
 Himself and his companion in flight, 
 
 And ere his purposed death but one short night. 
 
 Alarm was instant given — and the stench 
 
 In David's tower could not rise from the trench ! 
 
 His flight discover'd, and the burning mass 
 
 Of corpses — could astonishment surpass 
 
 The horror and the sadness of the scene, 
 
 Which brought to light remains of those who'd been 
 
 The innocent companions of the man 
 
 Whose crimes now spread to an enormous span ? 
 
 His Majesty, king James, enraged, confounded, 
 
 Disdain'd beHef, until himself had sounded 
 
 The fatal prison and the bloody room 
 
 Where Albany had done that deed of gloom. 
 
 E>'n OF FIKST PAET.
 
 MODEEN POEMS. 
 
 I. 
 
 Wk saw her when she was a lovely child, 
 
 With countenance majestically mild, 
 
 An ample brow, with light cerulean eyes, 
 
 Which beam'd with light reflected from the skies : 
 
 And a complexion delicately pale, 
 
 With yet a constitution sound and hale. 
 
 Demeanour graceful, elegant, and bland ; 
 
 A neck unrivalled, saving by a hand 
 
 Of snowy whiteness, and a well form'd arm. 
 
 The oft acknowledged test of female charm. 
 
 With fingers gently tapering, and a wrist 
 
 So proudly by the envious bracelet kiss'd : 
 
 An exemplary manner altogether, 
 
 Proclaim'd that England held like her no other. 
 
 II. 
 
 A few years pass'd — a very few — but they 
 Have served a glorious era to display. 
 The lovely child — the ardent, anxious girl, 
 Must now within a wider vortex whirl.
 
 50 HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 
 
 Her Eoyal relative who held the crown, 
 
 Was call'd by death the sceptre to lay down. 
 
 Her change to woman's form had caused delight 
 
 To all who loved their Queen — their Queen by right. 
 
 The nation ever prayed — nor prayed in vain — 
 
 Victoria the First might o'er them reign. 
 
 And to the Omnipotent committed her, 
 
 Who is adored — nay — worshipp'd in their prayer. 
 
 III. 
 We saw her in her coronet of light, 
 Eefulgent circling o'er a forehead bright ; 
 We saw her gliding in most gorgeous state. 
 The crowd encircling, 'till^attain'd the gate, 
 Where princes, nobles, statesmen, knights await 
 Her stately presence to postpone the day, 
 'Till they must meet again the royal array. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Who that first view'd the Queen return as yet. 
 
 Can the excitement, elegance forget ? — 
 
 The beauty, sweetness, majesty, and grace 
 
 That in her shone reflected ? What efface 
 
 Remembrance of the ardour of the crowd 
 
 Who throng'd around the car and cortege proud ? 
 
 And who can e'er forget the graceful bow 
 
 Acceptive of regard from high and low ? 
 
 Or who, still more, the sweet angelic smile 
 
 That gemm'd her brow — her eyes flash'd light the while ? 
 
 Though years may pass — and ages intervene. 
 
 An asre can ne'er obliterate the scene.
 
 HEE MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 51 
 
 Her regal brow was close around embraced 
 By a tiara ; and in her dress were traced 
 Gorgeous ornaments of the purest taste. 
 IJer kind demeanour, and her princely mien, 
 Were well befitting such a nation's queen. 
 
 y. 
 
 Tet, though surrounded by a vasty crowd 
 
 Of subjects greeting her in huzzas loud, 
 
 And with a courtly duchess as her aide, 
 
 She felt that one was wanting by her side. 
 
 Who was that one ? Attendants could not guess. 
 
 Save those who knew her cause of loneliness. 
 
 Her parent was the being most beloved 
 
 Of all on earth. Her conduct ever proved 
 
 A bright example for the beauteous race 
 
 Of Albion's daughters. AVhat can that efface ? 
 
 In all her actions famed, her constancy 
 
 Has ne'er displayed such grace and majesty 
 
 As in the filial love she always bears 
 
 Tow'rds her who train'd her for the crown she wears. 
 
 TI. 
 
 And where rests mainly praise, the twain between, 
 On the illustrious mother or the queen ? 
 The wild bird of the wilderness, its blood 
 Yields to its oflspring, for their daily food : 
 If aught had happ'd to her whom she had nursed, 
 The royal mother's heartstrings would have burst. 
 Her days and nights — existence altogether — 
 Were wrapp'd in her who loved to call her " mother." 
 
 £ 2
 
 52 HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Yet words were faint, and language ne'er can well 
 
 Express such love — a love ineffable. 
 
 And what a glorious retrospect the last 
 
 Bears ever in her mind ! Por now, as past, 
 
 She finds the hopes that fond had been confessed, 
 
 Eealities — as knows her anxious breast. 
 
 Oh ! who on earth could hope for more reward 
 
 Than falls to her — such filial regard ? 
 
 VIII. 
 
 'Tis for posterity I now relate 
 
 The effect produced on all her regal state. 
 
 The shouts of admiration that attended 
 
 The lovely Queen, who had now ascended 
 
 The proudest and most mighty throne on earth. 
 
 Full proved to all her kindliness and worth, 
 
 And rule beneficent — though prompt to punish ill- 
 
 Her faithful subjects owned their monarch's will. 
 
 "VVhate'er her acts — howe'er her heart inclined, 
 
 The willing people lent a willing mind. 
 
 Her actions ever virtues, still the same, 
 
 Exemplary — her courage not a name. 
 
 Such theme upon, the muse, I crave to tell 
 
 Would fain but love unceasingly to dwell. 
 
 IX. 
 
 And next we find, illustrious our queen 
 A stranger from afar calls on the scene. 
 A Prince to whom it pleased her to accord 
 Her royal hand, — he was her chosen lord.
 
 HEB, MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 53 
 
 Soon the regal nuptials were proclaimed, the 
 Day appointed, and her Majesty 
 Was due affianced to the Prince Serene, 
 A comely husband for so fair a queen. 
 
 X. 
 
 Oh ! may the scions of that noble race, 
 Though we may not be living it to trace, 
 Add glorious lustre to Great Britain's throne 
 Until they 're call'd to the Almighty One ! 
 And well that name, Victoria, shows thy powers. 
 Queen of victory — victory ^which showers 
 Blessings and happy freedom o'er the land 
 Where'er thy gallant warriors, hand to hand, 
 Engage the foemen, enemies to peace. 
 Enslavers of the world, which you release. 
 
 E\\t Attack on ^tv fHajcstg, 
 I. 
 
 The vile attempt that past has stain' d the age 
 By one whose name shall not pollute my page, 
 To hurt the person of our worshipp'd queen 
 Was dastardly. Her life is but a scene 
 Of kindliness to aU — extreme to those 
 Who but for her had never known repose.
 
 54 THE ATTACK ON HER MAJESTY. 
 
 The widow, fatherless, and poor who wait, 
 Have never yet been spurn' d her palace gate, 
 Nor unrelieved. What can the villain show 
 To serve as motive for his coward blow ? 
 'T has always been the sons of Albion's boast 
 To bear respect to tliose who claim it most ; 
 The gentler sex — the weaker vessel — and 
 All who in need of man's protection stand. 
 And since a queen adventures without guard 
 Abroad to roam — must tJiis be her reward ! 
 
 II. 
 Among the British people high or low 
 Breathes there a man who would have struck that blow ? 
 Go forth, and searching strict, inquire around 
 Through England's length and breadth — where could 
 
 be found. 
 To equal in its despicableness, 
 An act like this man's want of manliness ! 
 Place him before his equal in his strength. 
 And then mark well Ids courar/e : to what length 
 "Would he adventure ? I shall say no more. 
 But pray God send him far from Britain's shore. 
 
 A FEAGilENT, WRITTEN AT SEA. 
 
 Adieu to thee, " City of Palaces !" now 
 We leave thee for ever, with jovial brow ;
 
 THE exile's eetuen. 55 
 
 Our steamer 's impelled ou her voyage A;vitli speed, 
 With Hope at her prow, and with Doubt on a reed. 
 Our deep aspii'ations we breathe o'er the deep, 
 That all be preserved though embosom' d in sleep ; 
 And may those who serve on the bark and who guard 
 Her inmates all meet with theii' well earn'd reward ; 
 And may our companions strive to obtain 
 A mutual regard that ebauishes pain ; 
 And may the fair ladies so gentle to view. 
 Add daily to virtue a beauty anew ; 
 Ajid may those sweet children as playmates enjoy 
 Their pastime in pleasure and void of alloy. 
 If all do their duty the one to the other. 
 Like masons they'll prove themselves brother and brother. 
 Tester morn, at stroke of nine, 
 
 Our anchor cleared the river's brine. 
 
 At eve the steam had ceased to play, 
 
 And thus we pass'd the farewell day. 
 "We anchor' d diu-ing night — but now 
 
 Again propel the pressing bow ; 
 
 And quick the packet leaves us when 
 
 The ocean will be ours again. 
 
 I 've long'd to watch the ow^boimd prow 
 
 With anxious hope upon my brow, 
 
 But now those days are past, and we 
 
 Seek home, our heart's idolatry. 
 
 Our thoughts revert to those we left 
 
 Awhile agone — awhile bereft ; 
 
 Our aged parent's voice to hear, 
 
 And that of sister soft and clear ;
 
 56 * THE EXIliE's RETURN. 
 
 A brother's honest hand to seize, 
 
 And clasp it with redoubled squeeze. 
 
 And then our old companions come 
 
 To welcome us a stranger home ; 
 
 And should there be some dead and gone, 
 
 Tet few of us are left alone. 
 
 'T is thus we're promised certain joy, 
 
 And nought but death our hopes destroy. 
 
 And some we leave on India's shore, 
 
 Whom part of us will meet no more ; 
 
 And as our absence they regret 
 
 So them we never can forget. 
 'Tis when we have parted the feelings are shown, 
 And those who regard us are left all alone. 
 'Tis at the last moment of bidding adieu, 
 The breast heaves in gaspings — though sudden not new,' 
 'T is when the " God bless you," the briefer "Good bye" 
 Is past, you observe the fuU tear in the eye. 
 Who would not leave home and his friends thrice again, 
 Once more to indulge in such exquisite pain. 
 
 Tet how must that one's heart-blood burn, 
 
 Who knows for her there's no return ; 
 
 And how must lie feel now who finds 
 
 That fate removes him — love resigns. 
 How lovely beauteous to the aching eye, 
 To view the azure of the ocean sky. 
 The lighter blue, and deeper, darker shown 
 Upon the horizon's clear expanded zone. 
 The ambient clouds reflecting brighter hue, 
 In amber, topaz, purple, and soft blue ;
 
 THE exile's RETUHN. ' 57 
 
 The mind is soften' d and relieved from care, 
 Save of the thoughts the breast perchance may share ; 
 The breeze so fresh has freshened yet the more, 
 As glides our bark its distance from the shore. 
 Our course is straight, the magnet points full true, 
 And all is bright and lovely to the view. 
 The thought so free extends beyond the sky, 
 Reposing only on eternity. 
 
 Then, where the wonder that we seek the sea. 
 To ease the mind and make the body free ? 
 And wherefore wonder that the freshen' d air 
 So soothes the breast if burthen' d with its care ? 
 
 And now the waves have turned to lighter green, 
 And sweetly changed the thus high brighten' d scene : 
 The little snowlike frothings here and there. 
 Display the gushings of the fitful air, 
 And nought is seen amid the vast expanse, 
 Save waves in undulating elegance. 
 
 Alas ! for there's no change of scene, 
 
 Monotony will intervene ; 
 
 So, aU should strive to while away 
 
 The hours that pass so heavily. 
 Oh steam ! thou locomotive power. 
 
 That changest ages to an hour ! 
 
 Steam, that lessest space between 
 
 The arid soil and evergreen ! 
 
 Thou 'rt part and parcel of a whole 
 
 Which serves to feed the human soul : 
 
 Thou 'rt part and parcel of a name 
 
 That best enhances Britain's fame :
 
 58 THE exile's return. 
 
 Thou'rt one of man's bright vagaries, 
 That raises earth unto the skies ! 
 
 How wonderful ! thou canst propel 
 The bark in spite of ocean's swell ; 
 Thy line direct is onward borne, 
 And no exhaustion thee has worn. 
 The wind, to thee opposed direct 
 Thy onward course has seldom check'd ; 
 And time is all that thou requirest, 
 To reach the goal that thou desirest. 
 
 The zenith now desires the sun, 
 And half the torrid day has run : 
 The ship's commander seeks to find, 
 "When half the day is left behind ; 
 And half the day extends before] 
 The morrow's morrow sees the shore. 
 
 Although we're steaming now so fast, 
 Diana sails before the mast ; 
 And though we reach the horizon soon, 
 We 're bid adieu to by the moon : 
 Cynthia 's quickly waning now, 
 And changed from smooth to rugged brow. 
 Behold the snow-like frothy foam 
 Expressing we are far from home ; 
 Behold its scintillatmg glow, 
 That flashes bright as driven snow ; 
 Behold the stars appearing bright 
 And coruscating in the light ! 
 These scintillations which appear 
 ^ E'en serve to aid our purpose here ;
 
 THE exile's return. 59 
 
 For well 'tis known, if thus the sea, 
 The progress will more rapid be. 
 
 When shall w? see the flying fish 
 An object of our younger wish ? 
 As gliding o'er the briny wave, 
 They strive their hopeless life to save, 
 Bonetas from, and Albacore, 
 "Whose death pursuit is ne'er giv'n o'er. 
 
 We seek the exhibition grand, 
 Which holds the products of each land, 
 Divided as it is in parts 
 For objects shown to win our hearts ; 
 The Eusse, the Prusse, the Frenchmen claim 
 A portion to enhance their fame. 
 The Spanish, Danish, Norman race, 
 Have, each, distinction in that space ; 
 The Ottoman, the Persian power 
 There strive to prove their fabrics' hour, 
 And India does not delay 
 To claim her artisans' display. 
 
 And now, at last, we view the land. 
 Apparent in that distant strand ; 
 And note a low extensive coast 
 That's prized by those who know it most, — 
 Madras's shore, — and seen afar 
 By light of mid-day, not of star. 
 
 The trees presented to the view 
 Are not peculiar or new ; 
 Some dwellings on the coast appear, 
 And, next, the shipping, here and there ;
 
 60 THE exile's return. 
 
 The lighthouse distant, comes to sight ; 
 A stranded vessel 's seen its night ; 
 'Tis lying high upon the strand, 
 Immoveable through press of sand ; 
 But on we pass, and anchor sure 
 Sink deeply in the sandy shore. 
 
 A boat comes nigh — a catamaran 
 "We iirst beheld, which near us ran. 
 "We pack a ready suit of clothes. 
 And haste to view the lion shows ; 
 But as we near the treacherous shore, 
 We careful note the billows roar. 
 Masoola boats contain a crew 
 "Whose loud vociferations shew 
 The guerdon they desire to have 
 "When they have borne you through the wave. 
 And now we reach Madras's town. 
 Our cares in novelties to drown, — 
 So much as one apportion'd day, 
 May furnish, ere we steam away. 
 
 "We saw the equestrian statue, where 
 Great Chantrey has condensed his care ; 
 "Where he has proved his proudest art, 
 By all that genius can impart ; 
 "Where all the lineaments are shown, 
 That sure his future fame shall crown ; 
 "Where all is pleasing to the sense, 
 "Where nought appears save excellence. 
 
 And next we view'd the domicile. 
 Where " coasters" rule of Britain feel,—
 
 THE exile's return, 61 
 
 A stately mansion built in pride, 
 A handsome fort its site beside. 
 The strand is seen — the roaring sea 
 The shore bespreading with its spray. 
 No time allowing further view, 
 "We took repast and bid adieu. 
 
 And now comes on apace the night : 
 Behold the steamer's distant light. 
 The boat receives us all again. 
 Once more to venture on the main ; 
 And thus to dare the briny wave, 
 With hope that Heaven all may save : 
 And rowing freely from the shore, 
 We gain our destined ship once more. 
 'T was difficult to reach the deck 
 Without annoyance, or a check ; 
 But soon by aid of ready hands, 
 We bid adieu to India's lands, 
 And swift the steamer moves again. 
 To plough its passage through the main. 
 
 The lighthouse now appears abaft, 
 And fresh the breezes onward waft ; 
 And steam, that vast and mighty power, 
 Propels us through ten knots an hour. 
 We now betake ourselves to rest. 
 To dream of those by whom we're blest. 
 
 The morning comes — our hopes are high, 
 And constant seek for novelty. 
 Our course is now for land of " Gralle," 
 Which soon will hail our wooden wall.
 
 62 THE exile's return. 
 
 And lo ! behold those flying fish, 
 Disturb'd amid their quiet's wish : 
 Behold theui rise, and fly, and dive, 
 So sudden in the briny wave. 
 
 And see ! there's now a distant sail, 
 Projects its presence light and pale, 
 As passing o'er our onward bows, 
 A course sou'-westward straight she shows ! 
 Tet soon full aft she will appear. 
 So rapid is our steam career. 
 No more to day — our course is good ; 
 We live in hope, though solitude. 
 
 The flying fish again renew 
 Their route, pui-sued — while now pursue 
 Bonetas, and the Albacore, 
 Wliich e'en are found so far from shore. 
 The Albacore, beneath the wave. 
 Pursues the fish which flies to save 
 A life soon lost within the stream. 
 E'en as it ends its flying dream. 
 'Tis wonderfid ! the fish below 
 Can equal with it onward go : 
 So, as the upper dips beneath, 
 'Tis grasp'd within the finnied sheath. 
 
 Another sail appears — No, two ! 
 There, there they are on starboard bow ; 
 And suddenly a third is seen, 
 Which bears its standard bright, I ween — 
 A steamer, with the news from home 
 That ventures on these seas to roam.
 
 THE exile's return. 63 
 
 How beautiful e'en now appears 
 Ton gallant ship, as straight she steers ; 
 Top gallant sails uprear'd aloft 
 "With higher sails — not " bended " oft. 
 
 The sky is darken'd o'er again, 
 The clouds portend the coming rain ; 
 A sHght refreshing shower glides on — 
 'Tis here — 't has ceased — and now 't is gone. 
 It serves to clear the air, and prove 
 Its visit is but one of love. 
 
 The island now stands forth to sight, 
 'Tis noon — the sun is shining bright. 
 And soon we '11 reach our destined shore, 
 Soon the land we '11 greet once more. 
 Next, porpoises fiU up the van. 
 As far as eye may onward scan. 
 At first they anxious seek the ship, 
 But, as they near it, sideling slip. 
 And vast in numbers bound away. 
 Their course denoting by the spray. 
 ' Tis curious, that e'en as soon 
 As one is pierced by the harpoon. 
 The rest will instant glide away ; 
 And nought proclaims their future stay. 
 
 More vessels float at left and right. 
 From morn to noon — from noon to night ; 
 And thus, without much inward change, 
 Our daily course we straightway range. 
 But that which softly meets the eye, 
 Is azure reflect of the skv.
 
 64 THE exile's return. 
 
 A reflect from the vasty deep, 
 Its beauteous rays to ever keep. 
 The sea has now become so calm, 
 The mind soon owns the soothing balm ; 
 And nought 's required to ease its care, 
 Beyond the sea and balmy air. 
 An amphitheatre is seen 
 Of sable spots engulph'd in green ; 
 A darkling crescent follows fast, 
 Outspreading us before the mast ; '' 
 Yet, soon as we approximate, — 
 They're porpoises — they shun their fate. 
 And crossing o'er our rapid bow. 
 Albeit our speed 's at utmost now, 
 They disappear on larboard side, 
 To spurn the ship as on they gUde, 
 And nought is seen on either hand, 
 But waves, by breezes Ughtly fann'd. 
 
 A storm comes on, and laves the deck. 
 The isle appears a distant speck ; 
 The wind has veer'd to " oflf the land," 
 No fear exists our bark may strand. 
 We take our rest in hope resign'd, 
 To-morrow's morn the coast to find. 
 
 The morrow comes — at break of day 
 'Tis known we've made our wonted way ; 
 Yet stiU far off the isle appears, 
 The object of our hopes and fears. 
 Its grey appearance, dimm'd by clouds, 
 As if enveloped 't were in shrouds,
 
 THE exile's return. 65 
 
 Is yet refreshing to tlie view — 
 
 The mind e'er seeks for something new. 
 
 The current sets to east and north, 
 And though 't is not of vasty worth, 
 It stni delays us on the way, 
 But shall not stop my roundelay. 
 
 The darkening tints display more strength. 
 The island 's seen of greater length. 
 A flash of light appears, or here 
 Or there — 't is but the spray afar ; 
 Some cocoa trees are likewise view'd, 
 Enjoying their deep solitude ; 
 And soon we hope to cast the chain, '<- 
 And anchor deep within the main. 
 
 The patamaran 's an outrigg'd boat, 
 "With spare logs bound — and safe 't wiU float : 
 A crew composed of two or three, 
 "Who form its "whole ship's company." 
 They ply a trade of fishing here, 
 A trade they follow void of fear, 
 "With boats so light, in stormy weather. 
 Their sides seem lined with buoyant leather. 
 The waves now imdulate so high. 
 They raise the ocean to the sky ; 
 And so these boats are driven on, 
 And soon you find they 're past and gone. 
 They sought the steamer but to show ^ 
 How safely they may seaward go ; 
 The outer balance log at side. 
 Secures them whilst at sea they ride.
 
 66 THE exile's return. 
 
 The cliffs in the bay- 
 Have been formed to' give way, 
 And so will the island 
 No longer own day ; 
 And nought will remain, 
 To bear and sustain 
 The name that it held, 
 In the midst of the main. 
 And thus each continental land 
 WiU pass away — though once so grand. 
 An epoch of siz thousand years, 
 Darkens its day — it disappears. 
 The mountains that are now so high, 
 And bear their summits to the sky, 
 The lapse of ages that we've named, 
 WiU ruin aU — though once so famed. 
 
 The pilot now appears in sight. 
 To guide us in, or ere the night. 
 To Point de Galle, the outmost line 
 That India's coasts shall e'er define. 
 He comes in tiny hoUow'd tree, 
 That grows upon the coast we see : 
 It bears within a slender mast. 
 Two oars — and one to trail it past ; 
 And outer rigg'd with two strong trees, 
 'Tis paddled safely through these seas. 
 The captain now his power resigns, 
 To him who soon the harbour finds. 
 The lighthouse, church, and fort appear 
 "With distant rocks, and others near.
 
 THE exile's eeturn. 67 
 
 And cocoa-nuts are seen apace ; 
 
 Of other trees there 's scarce a trace. 
 
 Of anthracite, the steamers here, 
 Eequire a mass the voyage to clear, — 
 A distance of two thousand miles — 
 It lessens space and care beguiles ; 
 But nought suffices so to cloy 
 Our pleasures, and to check our joy, 
 As choking up the ship with coal — j 
 It harrows all our life and soul. 
 
 The passengers now go on shore. 
 Save those who 've known the place of yore. 
 They stay the night, and on the morrow, 
 Leave the town with nought of sorrow. 
 The Cingalese, a crafty race. 
 Teach all to bear in mind the place. 
 By vending " gems," though bits of glass- 
 No cunningness can their's surpass. 
 What gold soe'er you take on shore. 
 One ducat of 't you '11 see no more. 
 
 And now our friends return on board 
 With trinkets that they 've bought, to hoard 
 As presents for their friends at home, 
 And those that wish us not to roam ; 
 And well these little keepsakes serve 
 Our earlier friendships to preserve. 
 Our resolutions to renew. 
 Our thoughts retain for ever true. 
 
 The mail received, the steam prepared, 
 To end the voyage we have dared ; 
 
 f2
 
 68 THE EXILE^S RETURN. 
 
 The captain, pilot, all on board, 
 The ropes "haul'd taught," and all secured. 
 We press the purple deep again, 
 Some with pleasure, some with pain ; 
 The breeze blows strongly on the bow, 
 A night of calm we '11 not have now. 
 And they whose inclinations keep 
 Them free of care, yet, may not sleep. 
 
 The undidations of the sea 
 In vallies deep form heavily ; 
 And heat, found here, through twofold cause, 
 Disturbs the human framework's laws, » 
 'Till malady relieves the pain. 
 And all our nature 's fresh again. 
 
 At morn, — 't was ere the break of day, — 
 As I awoke, through splash of spray, 
 A sudden sound of " stop her" broke 
 Upon me like a thunder stroke. 
 I rush'd upon the deck and heard 
 Some poor Lascar was overboard. 
 I saw a darkling mass " a head," 
 'T was, then I thought, the floating dead ; 
 But soon we found at morning light. 
 The man had vanish' d from our sight, 
 A life buoy only floated on. 
 In place of him now past and gone ; 
 And though the ship yet ceased to move, 
 Our efibrts unavailing prove ; 
 And so the buoy was trail' d again, 
 The sailor drowning on the main.
 
 THE exile's return. 69 
 
 The ship pursued its usual course, 
 And all remaiii'd for better — worse. 
 
 Were the atmosphere clear, 
 
 And the sun would appear, 
 
 Then, gaily our steamer, 
 
 In its course we would steer. 
 Those snow-white pencilliugs on the main. 
 As far as may the eye attain, 
 Display the force whereby the wind 
 Opposes vast the deep you find. 
 The breeze now freshens yet the more, 
 As we gain distance from the shore. 
 And onward is a threatening sky, 
 "With waves that rise as mountains high ; 
 But lightly rolls the anxious boat, 
 Witli helmsman steering, taught by rote ; 
 She gaily rides upon the wave, 
 The while her decks the billows lave, 
 And many a crash is heard below 
 Of things not made for overthrow. 
 The stormy petrel lone appears 
 Thus far from shore, yet void of fears. 
 And in our course he boldly steers. 
 He seems to live upon the wave, 
 With nought of food his life to save ; 
 And were it not he 's seen to rest 
 The wave upon his willing breast. 
 We scarce could deem that he can have 
 Repose, or aught his life to save. 
 
 He who has travell'd o'er the main 
 Will rarely seek the sea again.
 
 70 THE exile's return. 
 
 Altliough the miud be brought to bear 
 
 The incidents upon that share 
 
 His time and thought, indeed, 't is rare 
 
 That he enjoys them much beyond 
 
 The hour he ceases to despond ; 
 
 The sea's expanse, the horizon's view, 
 
 The azure sky, the ocean blue, — 
 
 All serve to recompose the mind, 
 
 So long as calmness sways the wind. 
 
 But when the elements are changed, — alas ! 
 
 Another scene comes forth to pass ; 
 
 The mind is ruffled by the wave, 
 
 And hopes for peace it cannot have : 
 
 The constant change for e'er progressing, 
 
 Noise and turmoil most distressing. 
 
 Leave no hope for peace of mind. 
 
 As all who pass such trial find. 
 
 The dangers that surround us here 
 May ever prove a source of fear ; 
 A plank alone extends its length 
 To guard us from the ocean's strength. 
 Were one slight bond but torn away 
 We 're cast upon the vasty spray. 
 
 And should the full-prest boiler burst. 
 We 're half destroy' d, — that 's not the worst. 
 The well trimm'd boats that rest along 
 The steamer's sides, albeit strong. 
 Will not suffice to stem the wave — 
 Although they've ample space to save, 
 Provided dread the hurricane 
 The efforts neutralize of man ;
 
 THE exile's return. 71 
 
 And from the hidden sunken rock, 
 That suddenly projects its shock 
 Against the destined fragile sides 
 Of that which on the ocean glides — 
 For ever puts a tragic end 
 To lives which else might further tend. 
 
 Another danger is, of lire, 
 That serves to show God's anger dire, 
 And in an instant blazes forth, 
 To prove the sailor's sudden worth. , 
 By chance alone the boat they save. 
 And all their messmates from the grave. 
 'Tis not through fate, but wUl of God, 
 We 're spared from his chastising rod. 
 Then, let us ever bear in mind. 
 In Him alone we safety find. 
 
 A victim we received at Galle, 
 And soon beheld his funeral. 
 His careworn face and pallid brow. 
 Bespoke the fate that scared him now. 
 We saw him on the deck, and view'd 
 His wan and hopeless solitude : 
 Some three days pass'd, when quick we heard 
 His corse was sheath' d, to be interr'd ; 
 JSTot in the earth to lie, but main, 
 From whence it yet would rise again. 
 A fearful time had lapsed since he 
 Had been foredoom' d to die at sea ; 
 And when the mournful hour had come 
 That he must meet his mortal doom,
 
 72 THE exile's return. 
 
 He quickly pass'd from us away 
 At three hours past the noon of day. 
 Encofiin'd was he — and a shroud 
 Of British flags, so elsewhere proud, 
 Bespread his wooden winding sheet, 
 In care of servants of the fleet. 
 
 The steamer's crew were all assembled, 
 And passengers — save some who trembled- 
 In dress befitting the occasion. 
 That now admitted no evasion. 
 The clergyman, whose duty 't was, 
 To expound the course of nature's laws. 
 Some verses of the chapters read, 
 Approved for service of the dead ; 
 And manfully the sailors' mien 
 Display' d their feelings at the scene — 
 A scene which none can ever view, 
 At least a Briton good and true. 
 Save by expressing on his brow 
 The feelings that oppress him now. 
 The thought that he as well as one 
 Who to his long account has gone, 
 Is e'en as subject to be borne 
 His comrades from, and to be torn 
 For ever from his friends, his wife, 
 Or all that's dear to him in life, 
 Siifiices to involve the mind. 
 As all of us shall some day find, 
 In one sole care — that we must die, 
 And learn at last eternit^\
 
 THE exile's eetuen. 73 
 
 The coffin, at the destined sign, 
 Was made the gangway to resign. 
 To instant sink within the wave. 
 With hope that God a soul might save. 
 The port was closed, a moment more, 
 And all proceeded as before. 
 A novel sadness lurks behind 
 In those who are not quite resign'd ; 
 But those who 've view'd such scene apast, 
 Are not so sad — 'tis like the last. 
 
 To force the coffin to descend, 
 A mass of iron they append, 
 To give it weight and steadiness, 
 Or ere it enter the abyss. 
 But whatsoever weight we add, 
 To sink it to a distance sad, 
 Perchance is useless to submerge 
 The body 'neath a certain verge. 
 Suspended it will aye remain,* 
 'Twixt earth and heaven, in the main ; 
 And there 'twill for a period rest — ^ 
 Decomposition is the test — 
 The pressure upwards and at side, 
 Is equal to the downward tide ; 
 And so, beyond a certain line. 
 Its progress downward 't will resign. 
 And thus, ivitJwut the loadstone's force, 
 'Twixt earth and heaven is its course. 
 
 * This is an idea held by some.
 
 74 THE exile's return. 
 
 The Sunday service is perform' d 
 A missionary by, well arm'd 
 In panoply of virtue's laws, 
 Who preaches well the Christian's cause. 
 
 The Maldive islands now we 've pass'd ; 
 'Twas late at night — and onward fast 
 We hope with favoring gale to find 
 A speedy course, with breast resigned. 
 
 Some seven days have pass'd and we 
 Have scarce attain'd one sixth the way ; 
 For Aden still is far a-head, 
 At hither side of Babel's dead.* 
 So slow our progress yet has been. 
 We scarcely seven knots have seen 
 Within the hour, by length of line, 
 Or sextant's aid— that aid divine. 
 
 The sea again resumes its calm, 
 Our breasts are soothed with softening balm. 
 The boatswain's bird has flown along ; 
 With snowlike plume and piuion strong ; 
 And now the sturdy duck-like gull 
 Against the vrind contrives to pull. 
 Au elasticity of mind returns ; 
 For rapid progress each heart burns. 
 The sea as well as clouds portend, 
 No rain a-head — the rain at end. 
 How lightly the heart 
 Now loves to impart 
 Its feelings to others 
 With which it may part ! 
 
 * Balelmandel, the gates of death.
 
 THE exile's retuen. 75 
 
 And oh ! that that feeling, 
 
 So willingly given, 
 
 May raise us from earth 
 
 To enslirine us in heaven ! 
 The hope that we now inward feel, 
 As we inspect the magnet steel. 
 Of \dewiug that yet distant spot. 
 To visit which is now our lot, 
 All occupies our constant thought. 
 
 The anxious heart must e'er return. 
 To that for which it first did burn ; 
 And though that object shall have fled 
 To realms that hold the distant dead ; 
 And though thou know'st that in the tomb, 
 She forms a part of nature's womb ; 
 She's e'en the same as if on earth, 
 "Wlien first thy love to she gave birth. 
 
 It has been and is frequent said, 
 "We hold communion with the dead ; 
 And I have often thought it true, 
 "When one was present to my view. 
 In form and beauty e'en the same. 
 As when she erst before me came. 
 And deeply have I frequent pray'd 
 Once more that I might view the maid. 
 At times I've prayed so earnestly. 
 That I have almost wish'd to die 
 "Were I on earth to still remain 
 And never see her like again. 
 EeaHty refused, alas ! — 
 'T was in a dream it came to pass.
 
 76 THE exile's keturn. 
 
 I. 
 
 Ajid oftentimes our thoughts revert to Ind, 
 Where we have frequent pass'd a merry day, 
 
 Yet where a friend we 've sought and fail'd to find 
 From first to last — ay ! till we came away. 
 
 'T was e'en the same when we have breathed in Scinde, 
 Where friendships lasting scarce could go astray ; 
 
 Tor there the inhabitants are surrounded 
 
 By sea, at well as sand, which terribly abounded. 
 
 II. 
 The lahourer of Hindostan now Uvea 
 
 In bondage worse than that of Nubian slave 
 And though he time and labour freely gives, 
 
 A pittance he can scarce contrive to save 
 His children to support, and labouring wives,* 
 
 And paucity of cattle which they have ; 
 And whilst he hopes he '11 never be accurst 
 By greater ills than these, yet still his heart has burst ! 
 
 III. 
 
 The Zameenders, or landholders, who lend 
 Their gold to those who cultivate the soil, 
 
 Usurious charges cruelly demand. 
 
 And rob the latter of three-fourths their spoil ; 
 
 And when they've forced extortion to the end, 
 Extortion such as makes the blood to boil. 
 
 And want of rain has stopp'd the " harvest home," 
 
 The wretched labourer is forced afar to roam. 
 
 * Some even of the poor m India have more than one wife.
 
 THE exile's return. 77 
 
 IV. 
 
 A famine comes, and steals with deadly pace. 
 
 Eemoving all within the family's reach ; 
 And as it comes it stares them in the face, 
 
 And soon they cease to have the power of speech : 
 And then -ndth death they rim a fearful race, 
 
 Who quick a lesson manages to teach 
 That aU must learn — or be he prince or ryot,* — 
 And one which never fails to make them very quiet. 
 
 V. 
 
 In Bundelkund whilst fast I traveU'd on 
 
 In palankeen t, the wretched half starved creatures 
 
 Rush'd to the road, with faces pale and wan, 
 Tou scarce might notice they had any features. 
 
 They next with wailings and loud plaints began 
 To cry for food ! their famdies and teachers, 
 
 Until they'd gain'd their end and foimd relief 
 
 Which haply solaced, for the time at least, their grief. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The skeletons that glared upon my route, 
 Prom staring skulls that told the horrid fate 
 
 Of those whose flesh was ate by the wUd brute, — 
 In haste proportion'd to its famish'd state. 
 
 But served to show how much the aid of " fmit. 
 And corn, and wine, and oil," which came too late, 
 
 Had been desired ; or ere they souglit a grave, 
 
 That, sad, alas ! they were predestined ne'er to have. 
 
 * Ryot, a husbandman. f In 1838.
 
 7S THE exile's RETURX. 
 
 VII. 
 
 'Tis strange! the beasts had not destroy'd the bones, 
 But left them — seekinij other food more rare : 
 
 As if, indeed, they were a heap of stones ; 
 
 For certain they had left them — that was clear, 
 
 But what the deuce should render them so fair ? 
 AVas it the effect of sunshine, which alone 's 
 
 The finest linen-bleacher ? — as at home 
 
 In England, you will find, if much about you roam. 
 
 Tin. 
 
 And some were lying iu an ample field 
 
 Dead and dying — the flesh reduced to skin. 
 
 And others spread so thick, they cover' d like a shield 
 The pathway, where they managed to creep in. 
 
 Oh death ! that can thy power so ruthless wield, 
 Destroying those who 're spotless — those who sin ; 
 
 Why can 'st thou not respect the early fate 
 
 Of those who frequent souglit thee — yet are desolate ? 
 
 IX. 
 
 'T was sickening to behold the mangled bark 
 Of those whom vultures greedily attack'd, 
 
 Ay ! e'en before gaunt death had left them stark, 
 Or thieves their little all had from them sack'd. 
 
 And there were portions undevoured at dark — 
 Xo further food the satiate jackals lack'd ; 
 
 So dogs and ravens fed with such voracity. 
 
 As 'twere with Sivatherian capacity.
 
 THE exile's return, 79 
 
 X. 
 
 And there I've noticed, when a famish'd band 
 Of girls and women — infants at their breast 
 
 Were sudden forced by dearth to leave their land, 
 GPhe ruling power's benevolence to test,* 
 
 The farmers never spared a grasping hand 
 
 To rob them of their food — though not the best ; 
 
 And e'en though they might die incontinent. 
 
 It caused the farmers no change in their sentiment : 
 
 XI. 
 
 For they would raise the price of sought for grain, 
 And yet the poor must purchase it, or die ; 
 
 And thus of penury they exacted gain 
 
 From those who frequent left them with a sigh ; 
 
 And yet they ventured to implore with pain — 
 In humble agony for relief they cry. 
 
 'T is thus, amidst the misery of others. 
 
 The Zamindars t support themselves and lazy brothers. 
 
 (unfinished.) 
 
 * Nine thousand persons were daili/ fed, under my supervision, 
 at Delhi, by order of the Government of India, and thousands else- 
 where. 
 
 t Native landholders of Hindust'han,
 
 so 
 Ecminisance of a Fisit to SiEaterloo. 
 
 The corn is growing where the dead 
 
 Were thick in battle overspread ; 
 
 And where was once a wide ravine, 
 
 Save rifest verdure nought is seen. 
 
 The undulating ground appears, 
 
 To brighten in the lapse of years ; 
 
 And nought that's seen woidd serve to show 
 
 That here was struck so dire a blow : 
 
 But, one vast cone of earth on high 
 
 Uprears its head and seeks the sky, 
 
 A Prince's wound to signalize 
 
 Most prominently to our eyes. 
 
 And lo ! the Duke of Wellington 
 Had no commemorative stone ; 
 Although the hero of the day, 
 Wlio fought aud drove the foe away. 
 
 That " mound" will yet, in after age. 
 Be " Arthur's" called in Clio's page. 
 " Arthur, Prmce of Waterloo, 
 A soldier brave, and statesman true." 
 
 A little distant, on the right. 
 Bold Hougoumont appears in sight, 
 A chateau terribly renown' d 
 For struggles which no limit found ; 
 Where Erance and England, hand to hand. 
 Opposing dealt the deadly brand ; 
 Where " die or conquer" was the word. 
 As each his foe at thrust the sword.
 
 VISIT TO WATERLOO. 81 
 
 A few who held the post at first, 
 Eetain'd it to the last — as erst : 
 Nor could the Frank with all his pow'r, 
 E'er call it his for half an hour. 
 Reserve upon reserve push'd on, 
 To take the place ere set of sun. 
 Not all the might of Buonaparte, 
 Coiild cause a yielding on our part ; 
 Not all the force with which he strove, 
 To drive us from the house and grove. 
 Could aught effect — 'twas all in vain, 
 He came but to retreat again. 
 
 Next, to the left appears the house, 
 Where fire and havoc were let loose, 
 "Where more than twice the noble foe, 
 Contrived to lay our forces low, 
 Aud take the farm, and hold it till 
 A force appeared of greater skill ; 
 Which qiiickly drove him back again 
 With loss, not honour of, but slain. 
 
 Jlotint ^Etna. 
 
 What power can equal e'er the conflict dire, 
 
 When Ocean's wave meets Etna's liquid fire ? 
 
 Deep thunder is as nought to the dread sound 
 
 When lava flame the refluent wave has found. 
 
 ft
 
 82 MOUNT ^TNA. 
 
 The sea receding as the mass flows o'er, 
 
 Whilst burning, bursting, crasliing from the shore, 
 
 The rushing, choking, hissing, gurghng crush, 
 
 Eedoubles as the sea receives its rush ; 
 
 Of depth immense, of breadth a vast expanse, 
 
 It all absorbs what in its way may chance. 
 
 "Woe to the boatman rowing on the wave ! 
 'T were futile to attempt his life to save : 
 The boiling surge uprolling seals his doom, 
 Death holds the wave, and lava forms his tomb. 
 
 While mass succeeding mass the shore extends 
 With burning lava as the way it wends, 
 And wave repelling, seizing as its right 
 The sea's dominions, by its greater might, 
 The mountain's fiery store becomes now void, 
 Nor more can it destroy — 't has all destroyed. 
 
 The conflict ends, and with attendant balm, 
 The region is restored to its accustomed calm. 
 
 How strange ! The mighty avalanche is found 
 To burst its bonds at e'en the slightest sound ; 
 A w^hisper or a sigh, or less than these, 
 A breath removes it from its bed with ease.
 
 THE AVALANCHE. 83 
 
 Huge loosen'd rocks it seizes in its fligiit, 
 And bears them noonday from, to sudden night ; 
 And when it falls, how awful is the scene ! 
 As from the height it leaps to the ravine, 
 Destruction bearing in its downward course, 
 "With swifter pace than has the fleetest horse, 
 It bulk increases, and increases speed, 
 And happy he who safe its coiirse may heed. 
 
 The faU has ceased — and nought can there be seen, 
 Save snow-clad plains, where once was a ravine. 
 
 The traveller who dares such storm to brave, 
 Is eed sigh fareweU to earth ! But Grod may save, 
 And God does save : — and yet as he returns, 
 The fugitive, alas ! for worldly pleasure burns. 
 
 €\}t ^fjunUcr Storm* 
 
 Hark ! hark ! what is that distant sound ? 
 
 Behold that distant light ! 
 And see ! the clouds now frown around. 
 
 And eve turns into night. 
 
 It comes ! it comes ! the storm is here, 
 
 And ruthless does it fall ; 
 
 The aspect of the sky is drear, 
 
 'T has ope'd its flood-gates all, 
 a2
 
 84 THE THUNDER STORM. 
 
 How awful was that liglitning flash, 
 Forth darting from the cloud ! 
 
 How mighty is that thunder crash 
 Eesounding deep and loud! 
 
 Again it comes, ah ! we are — free ! 
 
 Thank God ! it has but riven 
 That slender palm, that lofty tree 
 
 Whose height was in the heaven. 
 
 It rages yet with monster force, 
 With monster force it strides ; 
 
 The whirlwind dire has no remorse. 
 Destruction with it rides. 
 
 The storm which thus burst overhead, 
 
 Is now fast passing hence ; 
 The horizon gain'd, there is no dread ; 
 
 Thanks to Omnipotence ! 
 
 Yet lightning glares, and thunder rolls : 
 
 But soften' d is the sound : 
 And like the muffled death-bell toUs, 
 
 'Tis heard on other ground. 
 
 This soon will cease ; the lessening glare 
 Is mark'd without a dread ; 
 
 The rolling noise is heard more rare, 
 The stars shine overhead. 
 
 Tet listen still ; there is a slight, 
 But distant rumbling noise ; 
 
 The welkin now is clear and bright, 
 Let nature all rejoice !
 
 85 
 
 Time — that evanescent thing 
 
 That pangs and pleasures e'er will bring, 
 
 Time, that has nor last nor first — 
 
 Aiding all, save those accurst, 
 
 Time still proves its constant power. 
 
 Greater than the golden shower. 
 
 Time exists eternally — 
 
 It ne'er was born, and ne'er can die. . 
 
 Time to all displays its power, 
 
 For who can say " 'tis mine, the hour ?" 
 
 Time is power and power is time. 
 
 Where'er the region, e'er the clime ! 
 
 Time's meridian 't is of life. 
 
 And with events 'tis ever rife. 
 
 Time exclaims, " I cannot die, 
 
 I live to all eternity: 
 
 Where's my middle — where my end — 
 
 Where exists my constant friend?" 
 
 His constant friend exclaims apace, 
 
 " Fm thy friend, thy equal — Space." 
 
 Thus hand in hand they constant go. 
 
 Time and Space for ever flow ! 
 
 Nought can e'er their bonds release. 
 
 Not when all the worlds shall cease.
 
 86 
 
 ©n Space, 
 
 Space is e'en the same as Time, 
 
 Erom first to last they equal climb ! 
 
 From first to last tliey constant will 
 
 Display their ever equal skill. 
 
 Who shall say, " Whereon now rest 
 
 My feet, beneath them what is prest ? 
 
 Below them what exists to show 
 
 That Space can thence no further go ?" 
 
 The end of all things e'en must end 
 
 At something which must further tend ; 
 
 The utmost distance we may guess, 
 
 In Space, but proves its mightiness ; 
 
 The utmost boundary we may trace. 
 
 Does still, beyond it, rest on Space ! 
 
 And thus that Space for ever tends 
 
 To prove that limit has no ends. 
 
 With Time its brother, hand in hand 
 
 'T will ever tie a constant band — 
 
 For ever flow on equaUy, 
 
 E'en though " the earth shall meet the sky ;" 
 
 E'en though Creation cease — sun, stars, and all. 
 
 Be crush' d in one last universal fall !
 
 87 
 
 (Bn IHass or fHattcr. 
 
 "What is Matter ? "What is Mass ? 
 'Througli strange transitions does it pass : 
 'Tis small, 'tis large, not infinite, 
 Althougli 't is used with vasty might. 
 What atom can we not divide — 
 Nor inner has, nor outer side ? 
 What atom has not right or left, 
 And what can be of form bereft ? 
 
 Yet Time, and Space, and Matter's form 
 Are hidden things to us, a worm ! 
 And though the first have each no end, 
 Upwards the last can never tend. 
 
 ©tie to Ballccsuncje* 
 
 Time calls me from thee, Balleegunge ! 
 In wilds chaotic deep to plunge : 
 And as I strive my heart to find, 
 I feel, alas ! 't is left behind ! 
 'T is left unchanged amidst my friends, 
 The loss of whom deep grief attends. 
 But fate impels me to a scene. 
 Where all is strange that may be seen,
 
 88 ODE TO BALLEEGUNGE. 
 
 Where all is novelty to view, 
 
 Where all is foreign, all is new. 
 
 A sadness rests upon my heart, 
 
 A grief as from my friends I part. 
 
 And never shall I overcome 
 
 A feeling that I leave a home 
 
 Where I have found a brother's heart, 
 
 Where woman bore a sister's part. 
 
 Where father, mother — more than friend — 
 
 Have shown their kindness without end. 
 
 To e'er forget such friendship, fraught 
 
 With kindness, can the heart be taught ? 
 
 Ah, no ! I feel that through my life 
 
 E'en though it were to pass in strife. 
 
 Oblivion never can remove 
 
 My thoughts from those I've learn'd to love. 
 
 Sweet Balleegunge ! I bid adieu. 
 
 To all the friends who cherish you ! 
 
 How beautiful is innocence ! Behold that child, 
 AVho shyly hid her countenance, and smiled : 
 Who as the lily pure preserves its fame. 
 And doubly so — she proves it by her name. 
 Behold her hazel eyes, so slyly turn'd 
 Askance on those whose love she soon has eam'd !
 
 TO LILY. 89 
 
 Oh ! could she know her anxious father's thought, 
 
 Who through her life her happiness has sought, 
 
 Her tender aspirations would so tend 
 
 That as her life commences it should end. 
 
 And could she know the hopes he rests On her, 
 
 That all his wishes to her good refer, 
 
 Her resolutions would be good — so young 
 
 She scarce can fathom whence those hopes have sprung. 
 
 And well he trusts to one his daughter fair. 
 Who now has ceased her father's home to share ; 
 And may this lady love her as her own, 
 And treat her as an angel left alone ; 
 And may the child increase in ev'ry grace, 
 And never do an act she woidd efface ; 
 And like her beauty may her path be spread, 
 With flowers as bright as those upon her head. 
 
 The little girl is now composed in sleep ; 
 Oh ! that we all our thoughts as pure could keep 
 As thine are, sweetest Lily ! Now, my love, 
 This kiss I give thee, my regard to prove. 
 If angels dream, then may thy dreams be sweet 
 As they in heav'n dream — whom may'st thou meet ! 
 
 WEITTEN AT THE BEQUEST OF A lADT. 
 
 Of jealousy whence comes the cause, 
 
 To make man break through nature's laws ?
 
 90 ON JEALOUSY. 
 
 From hatred haps it, or from love ? — 
 For disputants would either prove. 
 AVhilst some declare that love produces 
 Jealousy, with its abuses ; 
 So, others think the jealous shows 
 With hatred that his bosom glows. 
 
 The feelings of the rankling heart, 
 Are known to those who own the smart : 
 But, truly, none can feel so sad. 
 As he whose breast with love is mad ; 
 And doubly mad to e'er discover. 
 His loved one loves another lover. 
 For, certain 't is his every thought 
 Is wrapt in hers, which his has caught. 
 And should his be not ardent love, 
 Then, jealousy would fail to prove 
 The power it has upon the mind 
 Of him to whom it is confined. 
 Yea ! what so dreadful as the thought 
 That woman's heart can e'er be bought ! 
 And what so cankering to the mind 
 Of one who loves, when he shall find 
 Another 's gain'd the heart now lost 
 To him who sees his path is crost ! 
 
 Perhaps through vanity he feels 
 The wound that now his heart reveals ; 
 "Who finds his oft imagined power 
 To rule in Yenus' Paphian bower. 
 Has been o'erthrown and set aside 
 By one who'll now such love deride.
 
 ON JEALOUSY. 91 
 
 What degradation yet to find 
 Another has possess' d the mind 
 Of her whom he has loved so well, 
 Whose love is heaven — coldness, hell ! 
 I'd rather be a mongrel cur. 
 Than still to love and worship her, 
 Who after loving me had turn'd 
 The heart from me another eam'd ! 
 I'd rather perish in the moat, 
 Than still retain such servile thought ! 
 If spurn' d by her who loved me erst — 
 My heart would, o'er excited, burst. 
 Oh ! what so fearful — what so sad, 
 To hap the heart to — 'till 'twere mad ! 
 
 If woman knew how man's heart burns 
 As throughout life to her it turns. 
 She ne'er would heartless try her power, 
 By causing him one painful hour. 
 For, by relieving him of care, 
 She threefold love of his will share. 
 
 (Bn ^tijeism. 
 
 If there be not a God on high, 
 
 JVho placed the planets in the sky ? 
 
 Or, if allowing they are there 
 
 From first — AVho made them glide through air ?
 
 92 ON ATHEISM. 
 
 Who gave tliem motion, order, form, 
 Harmonious beauty ? Not a loorm. 
 It was some constant, vasty power, 
 That lives for ever to this hour,^ — 
 The Almighty Being, at whose nod, 
 Insensate tilings e'en call him " Grod." 
 
 Ah ! were there not a God above. 
 How sad would all our actions prove ; 
 And were this scene to ne'er have end. 
 To what would all our actions tend ? 
 To gross debauchery and lust, 
 To malice, hatred, and disgust ; 
 To overcome and circumvent 
 The fool in every ardent bent ; 
 And aU that man to do would strive, 
 Would be to see no rival live. 
 
 How sad, alas ! this retrospect ; 
 Yet true 'tis thus the world is deckt : 
 How bright soe'er the form may seem, 
 The rest within 's a wretched dream. 
 And yet the Christian fervently 
 Eelies on God in Christ to die. 
 
 Qesirc for i^ome. 
 
 I sigh to see my native strand, 
 I sigh to leave this distant land,
 
 DESIRE FOE HOME. 93 
 
 I sigh to meet those whom I love, 
 And long remembrances to prove. 
 
 How sad the exile from his home 
 Oft finds the hours ! E'en though lie roam 
 Through cities, towns, and villages, 
 And all that bears man's vestiges, 
 He ne'er can find, when far away, 
 A sister's love, a mother's sway. 
 All is dark, aU is dreary. 
 All is hopeless, all is weary ; 
 Nought can bring him aught of pleasure, 
 Not the world's vain hoarded treasure. 
 Leaving those he loves the most, 
 Leaving those bis constant boast, 
 Leaving aU that for him care. 
 He passes life in bleak despair ; 
 And aU he can 's to look on high, 
 Then bow him down, in hope to die. 
 
 3In memory of a .Sfetcr. 
 
 I LOVED to caU to mind the nursery scene, 
 When I was eight years old, and thou fifteen ; 
 When in thy gentle manners were display'd, 
 The brightest virtues that adorn a maid ; 
 When nought of passion, nought of anger were 
 Apparent in thee, fairest of tbe fair.
 
 94 IN MEMORY OF A SISTER. 
 
 And, after parting — when, in later years. 
 We met again, and sanctified our tears, 
 How great our joy when we could both explain 
 What hours we 'd past in pleasure — what in pain. 
 Thou madest me the recipient of thy thought, 
 Which with the gems of earth could not be bought ; 
 And siu-ely as there is a heaven above. 
 We reach it nearest in a Sister's love. 
 
 But when the hour arrived that we must sever, 
 Each from the other — and 't was alas ! for ever ! — 
 Thou didst not shed a tear, while yet the rest, 
 A father, mother, brothers, felt the test ! 
 Wliat meant that strange, forbidding, dreadful sign, 
 Foreboding thou no longer sister mine ? 
 Durst she not cloud my brow, as at the last 
 A transient look my sister on me cast ? 
 Whate'er the cause, e'en now I cannot tell, 
 Her feelings how she could subdue so well. 
 
 In India's clime, when I had bode a year 
 Precisely to one day, a cause of fear 
 Appear' d in black lined margins of a note 
 That had been brought by the last packet boat. 
 My home in England from : — I rush'd up stairs. 
 At once determined to assure my fears. 
 I tore the seal — I read the first quatrain, 
 Oh ! God forgive me ! God ! oh, ease my pain ! 
 Tlie rest I coiild not see — I lay me down 
 The sofa's cushions on, my grief to drown. 
 
 The menials came, when long the time had pass'd, 
 That they might serve as usual my repast ;
 
 IN MEMORY OF A SISTER. 95 
 
 They found me in that melancholy etate, 
 "Which many years accompanied my fate. 
 They tried to soothe me, but 't was all in vain, 
 Por years and years I constant felt that pain. 
 
 Yes ! she had died, the one I loved the most ; 
 She loved me — " best of brothers" was her boast. 
 I 've often prayed in vain to hear her voice : 
 May angels, Heaven in, with her rejoice ! 
 
 I. 
 
 I KNEW her when a lovely girl 
 
 Of sixteen years of age, 
 As one pre-eminent to grace 
 
 The poet's ardent page : 
 
 II. 
 I saw her trip along the walk 
 
 As light as the gazelle. 
 And one whom none could gaze upon. 
 
 Save under Cupid's spell. 
 
 Ill, 
 
 And as we met at intervals 
 
 Wliile visiting my home. 
 The sight of her repress' d in me 
 
 Anxiety to roam.
 
 96 ON A MUCH ESTEEMED FR! 
 
 I IV. 
 
 With her, my sister and her own 
 Were join'd each hand in hand. 
 
 And thus the lovely triad oft 
 Would grace the summer strand. 
 
 v. ■ 
 
 A lapse of years now intervened, 
 
 We grew to adult state, 
 And fate proved even then that each 
 
 Was ruled by ruthless fate. 
 
 VI. 
 
 For none of us at that young time 
 Had chanced to change our lot ; 
 
 And thus we each would say to each, 
 " Forget — forget, me not," 
 
 VII. 
 
 A further lapse of time occurr'd, 
 
 We parted — met again : 
 But much had happ'd within that space, 
 
 To cause me poignant pain. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 My sister fair had pass'd away, 
 
 To angels' home above, 
 And sever'd thus for evermore 
 
 That fragile link of love. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Once more we met — her sister dear 
 Had changed her single state ; 
 
 And cycles in my destiny, 
 Had proved me child of fate.
 
 TO A MUCH ESTEEMED FRIEND. 97 
 
 X. 
 
 And' she who claims my present theme, 
 
 Was seized by dire disease ; 
 'Twas one that prays upon the frame 
 
 By slow yet sad degrees. 
 
 XI. 
 
 And though she knows full weU it takes 
 
 No false unerring aim, 
 Such fortitude is shown by her. 
 
 Our own must blush with shame. 
 
 XII. 
 
 And whilst we weep, as she relates 
 
 The nature of her ill, 
 Her angel eye is seen to beam, 
 
 Her mind yet brighter still. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Yet there is hope upon her brow, 
 
 A calmness in her mien, 
 A sweetness inexpressible, 
 
 And rarely ever seen. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Oh ! may that hope expand itself, 
 
 And may she live for those, 
 Who yet have suffer' d griefs enough. 
 
 Enough of human woes. 
 
 The lacly to whom the above lines were addressed, expired within 
 one week after they were penned and presented, and had been 
 acknowledged by herself in writing.
 
 98 
 
 ILocusts ill Kntiia. 
 
 How'strange appears that distant cloud 
 That casts its shadow like a shroud 
 The plain upon, and hill and dale, 
 And still it has an aspect pale. 
 
 And now it glistens in the sun. 
 As swift it passes further on — 
 It changes suddenly its route, 
 A straightway progress does not suit. 
 
 How wonderful ! the cloud descends 
 The earth upon, and soon it ends 
 Its further flight — and not a dot 
 Upon the heavens marks the spot. 
 
 And now a line in progress slow. 
 Is seen to glide, and death to throw 
 Upon the scene of verdure clear, 
 Which rapidly must disappear. 
 
 For, winged insects are the veil 
 That forms the cloud of aspect pale ; 
 And they have fasten' d on the plain, 
 To leave a blight that will remain. 
 
 And nought of verdure can exist 
 A moment where these insects rest : 
 The locusts have destroy' d the leaf. 
 And left behind the peasant's grief. 
 
 And myriads in their hunger eat 
 The plant and leaf, or bitter, sweet ; 
 And nought wiU scare these " flights" away 
 Save beat of cymbals night and day.
 
 LOCUSTS IN INDIA. 99 
 
 'Tis well, if when the fields are free 
 Of these invaders — e'en a tree 
 Their ravages can yet avoid, 
 Alone, among the rest destroy' d. 
 
 EecoUrctions of a (Soberness. 
 
 Whilst but a boy of tender years — 
 Some fourteen summers, — it appears 
 I loved and was esteem' d by one, 
 "Wlio twenty years had pass'd alone. 
 ' T was ecstacy ! to watch her eyes, 
 As oft she heard my deep drawn sighs ; 
 And when she sang an air to me, 
 'T was full of love and poesy. 
 
 How fleeting was the passing hour, 
 "When oft I met her in her bower ; 
 She pitied me — yet knew I not 
 My love e'er occupied her thought. 
 She could but see the gazing youth 
 Betraying love from eyes of truth — 
 She could but note the colour gone 
 Prom ofi* his brow — they were alone, 
 D' ye trow she felt not inwardly, 
 'T was cruel to check her lover's sigh ? 
 And trust ye not she found the youth. 
 Display more pure than man his truth ; 
 h3
 
 100 RECOLLECTIONS OF A GOATIENESS. 
 
 And who, at that fast ripening age, 
 
 Was sullied not by pilgrimage. 
 
 He had not yet contrived to learn, 
 
 The heart he views so taciturn. 
 
 In this world takes alone its birth — 
 
 And though " an angel's," 'tis " on earth !" 
 
 And thus his ardour and his love. 
 
 He by his death would swear to prove. 
 
 Alas ! we never met again ! 
 And separation closed oiir pain ; 
 Tot pain it was, at least, to me. 
 To live in such an ecstacy. 
 Her image often yet returns, 
 And still my heart as ever b\ims. 
 
 FOR VALENTI^'E'S DAY. 
 
 How beauteous is thy fairy form 
 
 That glides by at the eve, 
 Imparting such sweet ecstacy, — 
 
 Save lover, who 'd believe ? 
 
 That lightning-like, that transient glance, 
 
 Destro}-ing all control, 
 Is not for me, and vanishes, 
 
 Tet vrithers up my soul.
 
 TO RHODA. 101 
 
 Then, maid ! avert those radiant eyes 
 From him who could not bear 
 
 With others' heart thy loveliness 
 One moment e'en to share. 
 
 All impulse yet that's uncontroll'd, 
 "Would claim thee for my mate ; 
 
 But thou, fair maid, canst not be mine,- 
 Predestiued 't is by fate. 
 
 And fate, alas ! can ne'er be shunn'd ; 
 
 'T is hopeless to repine, 
 One thought will harrow all my life, 
 
 Thou never canst be mine ! 
 
 ^0 Ejjotia. 
 I. 
 
 Last eve I saw thee once again, 
 
 'T was part with pleasure, part with pain ; 
 
 Pleasing when thou turn'd'st to me, 
 
 Painful when thou turn'd'st away. 
 
 Pain excessive as I found 
 
 Thy carriage bore thee from the ground. 
 
 As less'ning in the distant line 
 
 Ceased symmetry to well define 
 
 Thy sylph-like form — and radiant grace 
 
 That brightens all thy beauteous face.
 
 10^ TO EHODA. 
 
 The mind, the sweetness iinconceal'd, 
 The look of soid one glance reveal' d. 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh ! he were worse than misanthrope, 
 "Who in that glance could lose all hope — 
 AU hope of sympathetic feeling. 
 E'en though in Chaos he were reeling : 
 And when thou turn'dst thine eyes to Heaven, 
 Was it to crave to be forgiven ? 
 Ah, no ! that fair angelic face, 
 Betray' d no sign requiring grace. 
 Was it to pray for him who saw 
 And loves thy image as " The Law ?" 
 
 Thy second look was 't e'en the same, 
 To caU upon thy Maker's name ? 
 Tes ! he beHeved who saw thee then, 
 His earthly good invoked again. 
 
 ^0 a ilatig, 
 I. 
 
 Wheis' first I caught that lightning glance 
 
 That burst upon my sight, 
 I tuned my tongue to utterance, 
 
 And view'd thee with deUght.
 
 TO A LADY. 103 
 
 II. 
 
 The door was ope'd — thy form I saw, 
 
 And seized thee in my arms ; 
 I knew that though I broke the law, 
 
 It gave to me thy charms. 
 
 III. 
 And oh ! to have my kiss return' d 
 
 "With truth and pressure tliine, 
 It proved that in thy bosom burn'd 
 
 A warmth that equall'd mine. 
 
 And though I could not dare to hope 
 
 My love response would meet, 
 I felt as sad as misanthrope, 
 
 And all was incomplete. 
 
 V. 
 
 For whilst thy friend beside thee sate, 
 
 I could not own my flame ; 
 When we were left alone by fate, 
 
 I breathed it — not with shame. 
 
 Oh ! when thou heard' st my pressing pray'r, 
 
 With ear inclined to praise, 
 From earth to Heav'n it brought me near, 
 
 And made mine happy days. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Yet, when thou would' st not then comply, 
 
 To ease my aching heart, 
 Thou left'st me but in grief to sigh 
 
 That I must from thee part.
 
 104 TO A LADY. 
 
 Tin. 
 And when tte next appointed place, 
 
 Appear' d, a distant spot, 
 Where I once more might thee embrace, 
 
 Yet, no ! thou earnest not. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Another day, a happier hour, 
 'T was destined we should pass : 
 
 For as I fretted in the bower, 
 I saw thee through the glass. 
 
 X. 
 
 To teU of what happ'd at that place. 
 
 Becomes no pen of mine ; 
 But nought from memory can efface. 
 
 That ever I am thine. 
 
 Eo some J?air Eailbja|j Erabellcrs, 
 
 The lovely girls I saw to-day, 
 
 As fast we travell'd on our way, 
 
 And with them laugh' d within the train, 
 
 Where we will never meet again. 
 
 Entranced my thoughts as I sat there, 
 
 So near the fairest of the fair. 
 
 By turns we joked and pass'd the day, 
 
 Porgetting time that flew away ;
 
 TO SOME PAIR RAILWAY TRAVELLERS. 105 
 
 And each in turn assail' d my heart, 
 With which I found 't was ease to part. 
 The eyes of two were dark as night, 
 The others were of azure light ; 
 The hair of one was auburn clear, 
 The locks of three were not so fair ; 
 Their foreheads high were smooth as mole, 
 Their eyes pierced through my very soul. 
 I sigh'd I might divide in twain, 
 My iuward breast, alas ! ia vain. 
 I sigh'd I might my heart divide, 
 Por those fair beings at my side. 
 
 I promised them they should appear, 
 In verse though I might not be near, 
 And thus I keep my self-pledged word. 
 As yet my name they never heard, 
 I bid them now a first good night. 
 The last was ere I lost their sight ; 
 And when I view them once again. 
 Oh ! may our meeting not be vaiu ! 
 
 fHs j?trst &xtv ^m. 
 
 I SAT me down in grave despair. 
 As I beheld my first grey hair ; 
 It seem'd as if my day were gone, 
 And I should henceforth be alone.
 
 106 MY FIRST GREY HAIR. 
 
 I pluck' d it out, aud trusted then 
 No more to find ; aud yet again, 
 Where only one had first appear'd, 
 Two grizzly hairs bedeck'd my beard. 
 
 And these were pluck' d too, — still some more 
 Came forth — for every two a four ; 
 And thus they rapidly increased, 
 Aud on the black ones made a feast. 
 
 UntU the half my once black head, 
 Became as grisly as the dead. 
 Oh ! who shall stop their on career, 
 Until the victim reach his bier ? 
 
 Retrospection, 
 
 A FEAGME^-T WRITTEN IN INDIA. 
 
 'T WAS when I parted from my home 
 Not yet intent abroad to roam ; 
 'T was when I parted from my sire, 
 Ambition set my breast on fire. 
 I long'd, within coUegiate walls, 
 And memory oft the wish recals, 
 To cope with others in the strife 
 That fix'd (for e'er ?) my sphere in life. 
 I strove with others not in vain, 
 Until I'd nothing more to gain ;
 
 RETROSPECTION. 107 
 
 Until attain' d the topmost rung, 
 "Whereon my after fate has hung. 
 Until all those I 'd learn' d to dread, 
 At last, beheld me o'er their head. 
 
 And were there none who bore with pain 
 To see me " first," and " first" again. 
 As on the dawn of every moon, 
 'T was known who'd honours lost or won ? 
 'T is then, as in their after life, 
 That boys or men are e'er at strife : 
 For youth is jealous of his brother, 
 Man bears hatred to another ; 
 And thus they pass their toilsome life, 
 Constant never, but in strife. 
 
 And when I left the College HaU, 
 As freed from magisterial thrall. 
 The dazzling world's deceptive beauty. 
 Caused me to forget my duty. 
 I ne'er forgot my parents' love. 
 As all her acts now frequent prove ; 
 And charity I ne'er forgot, 
 Although 't has happened to my lot 
 To be forgotten e'en by those 
 Who, through my means, enjoy repose. 
 
 How oft did beauty 'tempt me then. 
 And often after, and again. 
 To pass my youthful days and nights 
 In actions term'd by youth delights ; 
 Tes ! though disgusted oft ia turn. 
 My heart for pleasure still would burn :
 
 108 RETROSPECTION. 
 
 And 'thougla 't was anguish to this heart, 
 It yet from pleasure would not part ; 
 And though that pleasure left but pain, 
 Still, still it would revert again 
 And seek the sorrow it entail' d, 
 By which the heartstrings were assail' d. 
 And could I pass life's path again, 
 I'd dare the pleasure 'spite the pain. 
 
 And now came the time I so often had sought. 
 That pleasure and pain both too frequently brought ; 
 And thus did the hour come in which I aspired, 
 To dare the ambition that all my breast fired. 
 I sail'd for the East to encounter that clime ; 
 And long I endured it in prosperous time, 
 When honors and prospects so brighten'd the hour. 
 And frequent, too frequently, 'gan they to pour 
 Their influence over a generous breast. 
 That often desired to relieve the distress'd. 
 I ne'er foiuid response in my frequent attempt 
 To produce that sure friendship of which I had dream't 
 And thus was my heart in its e'er fertile dream, 
 Left hopeless for ever on life's fleeting stream. 
 
 And as for love, it ends in lust. 
 To please at first, and then disgust. 
 It does not everlasting cloy, 
 But leaves some trace to check its joy ! — 
 Some proof that ever will display, 
 The fairest creatures are but clay : 
 And though our hours with pleasure teem. 
 They soon display 'tis but a dream.
 
 RETROSPECTION. 109 
 
 In bright career I pass'd my time, 
 Though hating aye the noxious clime ; 
 And when two lustres swift had fled 
 I left that region of the dead, 
 Dear England once to clasp again, 
 As free from trammels, as from pain ; 
 And when sweet Albion's shore I view'd, 
 No longer felt I sohtude. 
 There is a freedom in the land. 
 There is a frankness of the hand ; 
 The hand is proffer' d with the heart 
 Of kindness, that will never part 
 A friend from, when 'tis freely given, 
 And aU is pleasure without leaven. 
 
 Tet, restlessness would on me force 
 Its way, for better or for worse ! 
 And 'tiU I'd seen the Gallic shore. 
 My heart would never cease to soar ; 
 And thus I view'd in foreign scene, 
 "What else woidd never supervene. 
 
 In France I saw that warlike band, 
 That ever will be hand to hand : 
 In Spain I noticed blackeyed dames, 
 "Whose glances set one's heart in flames ! 
 And Portugal had pleasures too, 
 Whose maids were blithe and fair to view. 
 I cannot say in Italy 
 That I've beheld their ardent eye ; 
 Yet elsewhere have I briefly seen 
 A few, in meetings far between.
 
 110 RETROSPECTION. 
 
 In Egypt, at a later time, 
 I found the effect of sunny clime ; 
 And Cleopatra's eyes are now 
 As bright upon another's brow 
 As Cleopatra ever own'd. 
 When queen majestic she was crown' d — 
 When Antony had lost a world 
 And from his kingdom swift was hurl'd. 
 But why bears beauty's brow a scowl, 
 As, cover' d with a monkish cowl, 
 Misshaping and misshaped it seems 
 To frighten us, as 't were in dreams ? 
 The lordly master of that soil 
 Compels his mate to do the toil ; 
 And as the master of the task. 
 He makes his fair one wear a mask. 
 'T is hideous and charnel-like. 
 Our senses on to instant strike ; 
 No eyes are seen — or, if so, dull : 
 The head appears a living skull. 
 
 Bright Malta is another place. 
 Which seen but once will leave its trace ; 
 The mind reverts to pleasure's scene, 
 WTiich oft there chanced to intervene ; 
 And still I hope, or ere I die. 
 More days to pass beneath its sky. 
 
 Dark Saint Helena ! where a king 
 Was treated as an empty thing ! 
 Bleak Saint Helena ! e'en I durst 
 Toretell thou'lt ever be accurst ! ',
 
 RETROSPECTION. Ill 
 
 A prisoner o'er thou held'st a chain, 
 
 So grand — we'll ne'er his like again. 
 
 Oh England ! if thou deem' at thou can 
 
 Excuse thy usage of that man, 
 
 Inspire the poet in his lays. 
 
 To offer thee the faintest praise. 
 
 Too well thou know'st thou hast no power ; 
 
 Thy conduct cursed thee every hour ; 
 
 It proved thee fearful of a name. 
 
 That even thou had'st raised to fame. 
 
 Napoleon in his bitterness 
 
 Of sorrow — in his last distress — 
 
 Appear'd the nobler in his chains. 
 
 Though England sore enhanced his pains. 
 
 Hot Sio Janeiro ! With thy rascally race, 
 When once thou art seen, what can e'er thee efface ; 
 A land where the negro is doom'd to the soil. 
 To work and be beaten — to suffer and toil. 
 And should he, defensive, once dare to return 
 The blow that has caused his best heart-blood to burn, 
 To death he is borne without hope of escape, 
 And he cruelly suffers in horrible shape. 
 
 (unfinished.) 
 
 ^0 a jFriruti, 
 
 Behold the man with cares opprest, 
 Dispel them from his noble breast !
 
 112 TO A PEIEND. 
 
 Behold him closed in prison-boud 
 Attended by a daughter fond, 
 To ease his care and soothe his mind, 
 And love him while he's thus confined ! 
 
 To be opprest, as he has been, 
 Would cowards drive to end the scene ; 
 But, fortitude he so displays, 
 'T will surely bring him length of days. 
 And nought his enemies can do, 
 "Will ever show him else than true — 
 True to himself, and to his race. 
 True to the last, without disgrace ; 
 Truth he loves, and truth displays, 
 In all his actions — all his ways. 
 
 Eevenge he bears not, e'en to those 
 Who've added to his present woes ; 
 Eevenge he owns not — nor will e'er 
 Permit his friends revenge to bear. 
 He bravely suiFers — as all should 
 Who feel a pride in fortitude ; 
 And those who know what he has been. 
 Now love him more the more he 's seen. 
 
 On tfje Ci}ristcning of an InidxiL 
 
 The anxious mother brought her infant child, 
 As with its cherub face it blandly smiled ;
 
 ON THE CHRISTENING OF AN INFANT. 113 
 
 And fearless cried within the sacred fane, 
 Where it was destined to be born again. 
 
 Its family and friends were gathered there 
 To hear the form of due appointed prayer, 
 That surely with the Christian's holy sign. 
 Should ever make it sinners' ways resign. 
 
 The village pastor in the marble font, 
 
 Slow plunged his dexter hand, as he was wont, 
 
 And then upon the infant's shining brow, 
 
 The cross impress'd that henceforth claims it now. 
 
 The little creature turn'd its ruby face, 
 
 Tet not a transient smile you there might trace ; 
 
 The holy water instant made it start, 
 
 As t'were a pang had pierced its tiny heart. 
 
 But, when its parents' face again it viewed. 
 It reassumed its sweet angelic mood ; 
 Whilst not a sound, save sighs the infant drew. 
 Was heard to pass the vaulted cloisters through. 
 
 Impromptu* 
 
 TO A LADY " SAILING TO-MORROW." 
 
 Dear lady fair ! and must we part, 
 And wilt thou stUl retain our heart ? 
 And wUt thou surely " sail to-morrow," 
 To leave us all absorb' d in sorrow ?
 
 114 IMPROMPTU. 
 
 Oh ! could' st thou know what scenes may yet 
 Thy woman's heart and heart-strings fret — 
 And could' st thou tell what scenes of woe 
 May come before thee as thy foe — 
 Thou wouldst not part so suddenly, 
 Aiid leave thy friends for thee to sigh. 
 
 Thy little child thou bearest away, 
 That scarce has seen the light of day. 
 Will fret the more that thou dost fret 
 Por those we think thou' It ne'er forget. 
 
 We will not show our present grief, 
 Although to do so were relief 
 To those whose hearts, though often torn, 
 Have ne'er till now felt quite forlorn. 
 Our thoughts will in recesses pent 
 Eemain, until the time be spent 
 When thou wUt come to us again, 
 To ease our sorrow, soothe our pain. 
 
 Eo tje iHcmorg of a lister, 
 
 WBITTEN MANY XEAES SINCE. 
 
 Beloted Sister ! sad, that in thy bloom, 
 Thou 'rt torn from us to decorate the tomb ! 
 Oh ! peace be to thee ! — well thou did'st prepare 
 Thy spotless soul in angel-joys to share. 
 Awhile ere death removed thee from our care. 
 
 Beloved Mary ! Truth and Virtue stood 
 Joiu'd hand-in-hand with thee and Eectitude ;
 
 TO THE MEMOHY OF A SISTER. 115 
 
 So chaste thy mind, thy heart so kind confest, 
 That Pity's child found pity at thy breast. 
 
 Beloved maid! Ah! wherefore art thou gone ? 
 And I left here thy dreadful loss to moan ! 
 Unkind was fate, for weeping must I tell. 
 That distance cruel to both denied one death farewel 
 
 ^fjc ©rltgfjts of Cntita, 
 
 India's pleasures consist of — the bat, 
 Hyaena, the tiger, the wolf, and wild cat ; 
 The Brahminee bull, and the jackal, and dog, 
 Tclept Pariah — with the musk rat, and hog ; 
 
 Musquito, the spider, the fly, and the rat, 
 The red, black and white ant, the sweet civet cat, 
 The hornet, the wasp, and the dark centipede, 
 The flying fox, owl, and the locust at feed ; 
 
 The scorpion, cricket, the cobra eapell, 
 And six other kinds of snakes bite ye as well ; 
 The hawk and the sparrow, the mouse and the crow, 
 AH serve to prevent you from " cutting a show :" 
 
 The sand fly, the cloth worm, that eats through the cloth. 
 The grasshopper, woodworm, and innocent moth, 
 The frog, flying bug, and the cockroach and flea. 
 The beetle and buffalo, viJture and bee. 
 
 All the above I'm prepared to declare, 
 Few moments of ease leave you whilst in your chair ; 
 
 I 2
 
 116 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 And e'en whilst I pen this, the cricket and ant, 
 Are, with the musquito, now acting as wont. 
 
 The Chokeydar, beggar, box walla, and cart, 
 And those who e'er hold so important a part — 
 The servants, the sheep flocks, the Calcutta drains, 
 "Which cannot be cleansed, whatsoever your pains : 
 
 The hot winds and festivals, thieves and tyfoons. 
 That, added to India's delights, are great boons ; 
 The workpeople, donkies, and Catholics' bell, 
 Which sounds at the midnight, and gun-fire as well : 
 
 The monkey, the fox, and the musk-scented fish, 
 Will often defy you to escape, if you wish; 
 The earthquake and sandstorm, and whirl of the wind. 
 And waterspout, cyclone, tornado you '11 find. 
 
 Alligators, or crocodiles, long-nosed and snubb'd. 
 Are found in the Ganges, and " gharials" dubb'd. 
 Now all the above we 'U detail if you please. 
 With two or three more that are found you with ease. 
 
 And there are the rains and the Bengal night dew. 
 The heat of the sun, and the circumscribed view ; 
 The palanquin bearers, and dust of the street, 
 The marriage processions, and tambours they beat. 
 
 THE HOT WIXDS. 
 
 The hot wind, Sirocco, that pestilent breath, 
 An atmosphere bearing that hastens man's death, 
 In all the Mufassil so rages with force. 
 That flesh cannot bear it, of man or of horse. 
 
 I scarcely consider I make a mistake, 
 In saying the hot wind would cook a beefsteak — 
 If laid on the roof or a sun-exposed stone. 
 For soon 't would be found to be pretty weU done.
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 1 1 7 
 
 SAND STORM. 
 
 The hot wind 's attended, anterior to rain, 
 The sand storm by, raging all over the plain ; 
 Its coming is ominous, fearful to view, 
 Quick changing dark red to, the sky, from soft blue. 
 
 And woe to the owner of hovel or hut, 
 Who now has forgotten its doorway to shut ; 
 For in bursts the storm, so terrific in force. 
 It sweeps the roof off from the walls in its course. 
 
 The day is as night when this fearful north wind 
 Controls for an hour, wdth the west one combined ; 
 And after 't has pass'd, it but serves to display 
 The desolate path it has left on its way. 
 
 The heat is excessive, but now follows rain. 
 And pleasure and happiness come in its train ; 
 Yet, brief are those feelings, for next day again, 
 A similar sandstorm sweeps over the plain. 
 
 EARTHQUAKE. 
 
 An earthquake in Ind, on the whole, is not bad, 
 Yet when it has ceased, we are aU very glad ; 
 I 'U try and " get up" a description of one, 
 'T is not very easy — I wish it were done. 
 
 AVell ! first comes the rising and rolling of earth. 
 Like waves on the ocean, gigantic of birth ; 
 And next foUow^s creaking and shaking of doors, 
 With cracking repeated of rotten old floors. 
 
 And then a sensation of sickness you feel, 
 That causes you sudden your couch from to reel : 
 You caU for your valet ; You ask what 's the cause. 
 Which has brought a bouleversement of nature's strict 
 laws.
 
 118 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 And during vibrations which end all your joys, 
 "VVliilst praying to heaven to cease the dread noise, 
 You rush out of doors, and but then feel secure, 
 For nought but a chasm your clay can immure. 
 
 The rolling and heaving continue to rage. 
 Some seconds, nay, minutes — it seems, for an age : 
 But when all has pass'd, straight you look to your God, 
 And thank him for ceasing the use of his rod. 
 
 But should you reside where the strength of its force 
 The earthquake terrific has spent in its course, 
 A sad desolation you notice around. 
 In portions of buUdings all strewn on the ground. 
 
 And those who inhabited thick stony waUs, 
 Are found dead in numbers, in fragment-fiU'd halls ; 
 And some of the cities that proud were before, 
 Now hold not one being the loss to deplore. 
 
 How sad to reflect that of all a fine race. 
 There barely exists of its renmant a trace ; 
 Nor youth of, nor manhood, nor those who have err'd, 
 Eemains there a portion — for, all are interr'd. 
 
 WATEESPOUT. 
 
 And sometimes with earthquakes the waterspout comes. 
 Still further to frighten men out of their homes ; 
 And though it is mainly confined to the sea, 
 Yet, over vast rivers, 't will hovering be. 
 
 The water is drawn by a violent cyclone 
 From the bed of the river until it is gone ; 
 And soon as the base of it reaches the shore. 
 It ceases its progress, and falls with loud roar. 
 
 The power of the atmosphere whirling around, 
 The water upraises from rest it had found ;
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 119 
 
 And aided by magnet electric it draws, 
 A fluid that's subject to gravity's laws. 
 
 When the water arises, 'tis patent to view, 
 While endless ascending, its revolute screw ; 
 And when 't has attain' d to its ultimate summit. 
 There's nought but its downfall as rain to succumb it. 
 
 It is said that a shot fired direct at its base, 
 Will force it to leave of itself not a trace ; 
 As oft has been proved by the sailor at sea, 
 Who swift its approaches endeavours to flee. 
 
 Nor, should the doom'd ship in its forward career. 
 Neglect in its course the vast column to clear ; 
 For, soon as the waterspout strikes on its side, 
 The ship ceases thence on the ocean to ride. 
 
 WniELWIND. 
 
 And now comes the whirlwind, late term'd a cyclone, 
 That leaves in its pathway a nought — 't is alone ! 
 And skilful the mariner, if he may steer, 
 His beautiful boat from the tempest full clear. 
 
 He has nought to distract him, but woe to the few 
 Who shall dare to commit to the whirlwind their crew. 
 The elements fearful forth burst on the bark, 
 And soon all has ceased to be — soon all is dark. 
 
 The cyclone, tornado, and whirlwind you'll find, 
 Axe aU with the waterspout closely combined ; 
 Know, when you behold those " round puff's of the air," 
 To predicate whirlwinds they circulate there. 
 
 EAINS. 
 
 AU ye who reside on a tropical soil, 
 Where the sun and the sand heat the blood 'till it boil,
 
 120 THE DELIGHTS OP INDIA. 
 
 Can scarcely imagine the bappy relief 
 
 At the prospect of rain to the siccated leaf 
 
 And when the rains fall, they are grateful at first, 
 But soon in vast torrents around us they burst ; 
 And those who inhabit a slender built house, 
 Oft find that the walls and the rafters are loose. 
 
 And sometimes at night there's a terrible fall. 
 
 In your bed room, perhaps, of an undermined wall ; 
 
 Tou start up alarm'd, and straight onward you hie, 
 
 But the threshold's your " ne plus" — you're ruled by the 
 sky. 
 
 The " clerk of the weather" 's the power they invoke, 
 To cease for a season the down coming stroke ; 
 But not until bridges are carried away, 
 Do you find a cessation of rain night or day. 
 
 The indigo planter at one time so proud, 
 Of the plentiful season he vaunts of so loud, 
 No sooner beholds thirteen inches of rain, 
 Than he prays for the sun and the hot wiud again. 
 
 Tet when these return, as they frequently do. 
 He very soon finds there 's a stop to his " blue ;'^ 
 And so he invokes the Creator again, 
 To scatter his showers all over the plain. 
 
 It is aU very pleasant, whilst yet " on the march," 
 To find that the moisture has soften'd your starch ; 
 It is aU very fine with no bridges in view, 
 To find your used nullah* now flooded anew, — 
 
 The stream running fast — say at ten knots an hour, 
 AVith nought but the stump of a tree for your " bower" f 
 For attaching a rope, the which you may hold. 
 To swim through the nullah, if you are so bold. 
 
 * A small river's bed. f Anchor. 
 
 \
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 121 
 
 DEW. 
 
 Besides these mishaps, is the Bengal night dew, 
 Which added to heat, puts you quite in a stew ; 
 But winter is dreadful — December the most, 
 And we scarcely can say that we have any frost. 
 
 The atmosphere yet is so terribly chill, 
 Tou feel a raw coldness that renders you ill ; 
 And he that's so lucTcy as to have a bad cough, 
 May bless himself asthma don't carry him off. 
 
 HEAT. 
 
 How different in England's the heat of the sun ! 
 For here it is awfid when day has begun ; 
 Umbrellas are used — not as shelter from rain. 
 But to ward off the heat, lest it enter the brain. 
 
 The warmth is oppressive by night and by day. 
 And luxury 's tax'd e'en to drive it away ; 
 The punkah, the ice, and the tattie and fan. 
 Will scarcely relieve you, e'en do what you can. 
 
 Imprison' d by day, and quite sleepless at night, 
 If you gain some relief it is term'd a delight ; 
 Monsieur Chabert himself could have found no repose, 
 Although in an oven he half baked his nose. 
 
 Tou cannot walk out in the heat of the day, 
 But drink your iced water in lieu of hot tea ; 
 I'd rather at home own a third storied garret, 
 Than Governor General in India star it. 
 
 BAT. 
 
 The bat has a liking — if you have no fear — 
 Of sitting by moonlight at rest on your ear. 
 And, having the head and the teeth of the mice, 
 To give you a nip he'll be not very nice.
 
 122 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 The next thing he's fond of s a fresh clean' d fanoos,* 
 That only was recently lighted for use ; 
 He enters the same, and bespatters the oil 
 All over the glass, which he fails not to spoil. 
 
 BRAIIMINEE BULL. 
 
 The Brahminee bull is left full at his ease 
 To wander through compounds,! and streets, lanes and 
 
 trees; 
 And woe to the person who says to him no ; 
 He'U rapidly give him his finishing blow. 
 
 JACKAL. 
 
 The jackal's the beauty, and as for his voice, 
 It is just like the squalling of very young boys : 
 At dead of the night, too, he likes to display 
 He is proximate to you, just over the way. 
 
 PAEIAH DOG. 
 
 The pariah dog is the next for our list, 
 His tail is reno^vn'd for its classical twist, 
 And his main, if not reaEy his greatest delight, 
 Is to bark at the English, eve, morning, and night. 
 
 So good a watch dog is he all the night round. 
 Men scarce get a wink of sleep through his vile sound ; 
 And should you be late in your visits abroad. 
 He wiU scarcely allow you to pass by the road. 
 
 MUSK EAT. 
 
 The musk rat, choochoonder, pestiferous rat, 
 That enters your room through a hole near the mat, 
 Soon shows by his squealing he 's passing along, 
 And next by his odour, disgustingly strong. 
 * A glass wall shade. f Enclosures.
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 123 
 
 This nature has given him as his defence 
 ' Gainst foes who in strength have much greater pretence ; 
 And rare is the dog, and more rare is the cat, 
 That will venture to tackle the musk-scented rat. 
 
 'T is said that no wine over which he may pass, 
 Is afterwards fit to be poured in the glass ; 
 And as for the beer, though well cover'd with straw, 
 Tou had better destroy it — 't is spoilt by his paw. 
 
 HOG. 
 
 In treating the hog of, I'll try to be brief, 
 Tor the sight of one oft brings the stomach relief. 
 No wonder that Mahomet went " the whole hog," 
 By striking his name from the food catalogue. 
 
 It is very well known that he is not " fit to eat," 
 Or, rather, be eaten : for oris are his meat : 
 I'm speaking of India only — not home. 
 Where aU of us know that he is not used to roam. 
 
 Here they are ' Villagers,' ' Scavengers,' called, 
 If out in the morning, by them you 're appall' d ; 
 And those whose necessity bids them to stay, 
 Will not find it easy to drive them away. 
 
 The pig-sticking huntsman oft mark them for sport, 
 But find it not easy to cut their day short ; 
 For somehow or other, whilst cantering fast. 
 They will dodge round a village, and bolt in at last. 
 
 MUSQUITO. 
 
 I '11 back a musquito 'gainst even a gad, 
 For he '11 persevere, ay, until you are mad. 
 He will bite and probosce ye, through treble your suit ; 
 And I've JieardtMi^ he does through the heel of your boot .'
 
 i 
 
 124- THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 But he can't do mucli more, iu the best biting weather — 
 The rains — than to bite througli the upper vamp leather ; 
 As to flannel and cotton, and thick woollen hose, 
 They are nothing to him — for he pops through his nose. 
 
 In nice thin gauze curtains, on purpose prepared. 
 To shut out these insects — unless you have cared 
 To exclude them yourself ere you lie down to sleep, 
 The servant will always give tJiem room to peep. 
 
 So take my advice, and leave nothing to chance, 
 If you do they will lead you a terrible dance ; 
 And see that your servant proceeds well to close 
 The curtains before you can hope for repose. 
 
 SPIDER. 
 
 The spider's the chap when you 're taking a doze, 
 And the lids of your eyes you are wishing to close ; 
 Por, sure, on the ceiling he has seized a large fly, 
 Whose buzzing wiU make you half open one eye. 
 
 And when that is open'd, the other will ope, 
 To line of your vision to give greater scope ; 
 And all you can do — for they are out of your reach, — 
 Is a servant to send them, a lesson to teach. 
 
 EAT. 
 
 But, what can e'er equal the beautiful rat, 
 When knowing he's safe from the wandering cat ? 
 He enters your bedroom through hole in the wall, 
 And ' divil a bit' will he mind if you call. 
 
 As soon as you 're sure he has made his escape, 
 And turn round and close your eyes — Jie 'gins to scrape ; 
 And this he continues for half of the night, 
 Until you 're exhausted and call for a light.
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 125 
 
 " Bring a manilla and bottle of -wine, 
 For here I 've been groaning since ' half after nine,' 
 That thrice cursed rat, well may it be shot, 
 No sleep will allow in this horrible spot," 
 
 " Khudawund ! (Sir !) push him de stick in de hole, 
 And you '11 soon find de way where de rat hab him stole." 
 Thus passes the night, and it is not until morn. 
 You obtain any sleep — be you never so worn. 
 
 EED ANT. 
 
 The red ant 's a teazer — " a good un to go," 
 Especially if he but get to your toe ; 
 The moisture of which he is anxious to sip, 
 Soon after he gives you a terrible nip. 
 
 Or, if at the eve, you want oil for the hair. 
 You will find the phial cover' d with ants at their fare ; 
 Who soon your intrusion resist tooth and nail. 
 And merciless bite you and make you turn pale. 
 
 BLACK ANT. 
 
 The black ones are beauties — for, whilst at your tea. 
 You open the sugar cup^^where they make free, 
 And thickly by myriads spread over the sweet, 
 As ants in the anthill you find at your feet. 
 
 WHITE ANT. 
 
 But, as for the white ant — 't is dreadfully fierce, 
 It devastates treasures you've hoarded for years. 
 Your books and your papers, your linen and hose, 
 Destroy'd are for ever, as well as your clothes. 
 
 A box full of linen, if carelessly left. 
 Of all its contents is most frequently reft, 
 By this little intruder, who works in the dark, 
 O'er cover'd with mud more than any mud lark.
 
 126 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 He eats through the wood work, and next through the 
 clothes, 
 Unnoticed by all men — nor would you suppose 
 An insect so tender and fragile to sight 
 Could ravage so wofully during one night. 
 
 The firmest of timbers are tender to him, 
 And nought saving metal and stone 'scape his whim ; 
 For, wails he wades through, and attains to the roof. 
 To prove in the rains they are not waterproof. 
 
 And should there, by chance, be no structure at hand, 
 He lays the soil waste, and he barrens the land ; 
 The trees in their pride, and the plants cease to shoot, 
 As soon as the white ants commence at their root. 
 
 And when, ere the rains, they betake them to earth, 
 'T is 1)ut for a season — to have a new birth ; 
 For, up they arise at the first fall of rain, 
 Their ravage renewing, renewing your pain. 
 
 But not in the form that they foremost display' d, 
 For now in light gossamer wings they 're array'd ; 
 They enter the mess room, o'erspreading the cloth. 
 In mj^riads — now, an ephemeral moth. 
 
 They fly and they crawl 'mongst the dishes and knives, 
 And try to the utmost to shorten their lives : 
 They play and curvet, and soon lose their light wings, 
 Until they appear as inanimate things. 
 
 TIGEE. 
 
 Tou must not imagine that I 've set my face 
 The tiger against, since he is not in his place : 
 A line I pass'd over in running the list, 
 But now we will treat of his beautiful twist.
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 127 
 
 The Sunderbund tiger 's amazingly fond, 
 Of the flesh of a native just caught near a pond ; 
 But with afresh Scotsman, who 's taken his ale, 
 He will doubly endeavour himself to regale. 
 
 HTiENA. 
 
 The hyaena's another which haunts near the camp, 
 Quite ready to seize any wandering scamp ; 
 And as for a pony of moderate size, 
 He will slay him — but not quite in front of your eyes. 
 
 WOLF. 
 
 The wolf bears the name of the cunningest beast 
 That prowls round the village in hopes of a feast ; 
 And when he finds sleeping a child with [its mother, 
 He bears it away — and — returns for another. 
 
 And laim, in the night, if he chance not to find. 
 The mother he'll seize by the neck from behind ! 
 And though he may fad thence to take lier away. 
 The wound she receives puts an end to her day. 
 
 The wolf is at other times terribly bold, 
 And will carry off sheep, even tied to the fold ; 
 And though they be guarded by warders (asleep). 
 The rope he first gnaws, and then seizes the sheep. 
 
 WILD CATS. 
 
 The wild cats are dreadahle only to fowls, 
 Their period of foraging same as the owls' ; 
 The semi-domestic, half junglified cat. 
 Tour house will frequent just to search for a rat. 
 
 TAME CAT. 
 
 The tame cat 's not worse than are cats of our own, 
 Nor for meum or tuum he cares — but the bone ;
 
 128 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 "WTien there 's no one to watch him, he '11 lap up the milk, 
 And like English tabbies, will rustle in silk. 
 
 CIVET CAT. 
 
 Thou beautiful civet, the framer of musk, 
 "Whose stench is the stronger at morning and dusk, 
 Come forth from thy hiding place — give me a shot, 
 To prove if thy fur have that fragrance or not. 
 
 Ah ! there he has jump'd from the wall to the tree, 
 And now he imagines he '11 get off " scot-free ;" 
 Slap bang goes the charge, full direct to his breast, 
 Poor creature ! his skin shall be put to the test. 
 
 HOENET. 
 
 The hornets, whose bite is as bad as the asp's, 
 Belong to a genus the same as the wasps ; 
 And 't is said that three stings driven well home and clear, 
 Will stop you for ever from taking your cheer. 
 
 They sometimes attack you if sitting alone. 
 And nought but tlieir deaths can such insult atone ; 
 They build on the terrace, defending with ire 
 Their houses, which nought can remove but a fire. 
 
 And woe to the wight who shall venture to harm 
 Their strange habitation — for, instant a swarm 
 Forth issues the cells from, intent to destroy 
 The fool who has troubled their cellular joy. 
 
 And if he escape by good chance with his life. 
 He never will dare to repeat such a strife ; 
 But, straw let him gather, approaching at eve. 
 And burn all their cabins — his mind to relieve. 
 
 CENTIPEDE. 
 
 The bite of the centipede takes away breath, 
 And once, 't has been noticed, it caused a man's death ;
 
 THE DELIGHTS OP INDIA. 129 
 
 So, leave him alone — or attack him but once, 
 To do so more frequent would prove you a dunce. 
 
 SCOBPION. 
 
 The scorpion's sting that 's attach'd to his tail, 
 WiU cause you to faint, or, at least, to turn pale ; 
 The pain will increase, and fast "run up your arm," 
 You well may be pleased if it cause you no harm. 
 
 CBICKET. 
 
 The cricket's cry 's charming — the sound is so clear 
 And thrills so delightfully shrill on the ear ; 
 It lasts all the night just in spite of your will, 
 And long ere you sleep it will make you feel ill. 
 
 But those in the room you are hunting about, 
 Are not half so loud as the others who 're out ; 
 Por, with question outside, and with answer within, 
 It is chirrup repeated 'till morning begin. 
 
 Moreover, they 're like to the cloth eating moth. 
 Nor your books, nor your clothes to destroy are they loth ; 
 And 'though, at home, moths 't is unlucky to kill, 
 Defer not a moment their base blood to spill. 
 
 COBEA DI CAPELLA. 
 
 The cobra capell, with the head of a kid, 
 With a hood at its pole, and an eye — scarce a lid. 
 Erects its slight frame at approach of a foe. 
 Its fangs are ' aye ready' to deal the death blow. 
 
 And woe to the wi-etch who shall give him the chance. 
 Any part of his frame in to probe with his lance ; 
 His lancet is sure, and his fangs carry death. 
 To the poor helpless being who feels but his breath
 
 130 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 How pleasant to find in the morn when you wake, 
 Tou have had. in your room, for companion, a snake ; 
 Tour blood will not soon be desirous to boil, 
 When a six footed snake you behold in a coil 
 
 Right under your bed — then you call for your gun 
 And load half a charge — and the snake's day is done. 
 Now, bearer ! where is he ? and then you let fly, 
 And forthwith have taught him the lesson to die. 
 
 I saw a poor child who was bitten at noon, 
 He was brought to my camp — but, alas ! not full soon ; 
 His life was fast ebbing — his sad fate was seal'd, 
 A scarcely seen puncture the snake-bite reveal' d. 
 
 "We tried with restoratives life to restore. 
 But quickly 't was seen we'd his death to deplore ; 
 So slow life departed, that none saw the sign, 
 "When its place in the body the soul would resign. 
 
 HAWK. 
 
 The hawk is an animal given to prowl 
 On birds of all kinds, and on tender young fowl ; 
 And when these are cook'd just according to wish. 
 As the servant conveys them they 're whipp'd off the dish. 
 
 His maw is voracious — his claw is most sure. 
 And aU you can do, is your meats to secure. 
 The poor little sqidrrel and weU fatten' d rat, 
 Are often abstracted — but not by the cat ! 
 
 And when on the water you 've wounded a duck. 
 He is seized by the hawk — who thus shows you his pluck ; 
 And bears him aloft with comparative ease. 
 His fat breast to feed on in one of the trees.
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 131 
 
 MOUSE. 
 
 The mouse is destructively fond of a muffin, 
 And at loaves of new bread he will ever be stuffing ; 
 And when the rafs absent he 's always at play, 
 A-mining the walls and a-scraping away. 
 
 SPAEEOW. 
 
 The sparrow is troublesome, spoiling the roof, 
 Which seldom or never is found waterproof; 
 And oft in the morning he chirrups you up, 
 No matter the hour — or how late you may sup. 
 
 The more you endeavour to drive him away, 
 The more he 's determined the longer to stay ; 
 And sometimes all night in the room he 's so bold 
 As to roost, during frost, in the punkah-fringe-fold, 
 
 CEOW. 
 
 The crow you will find a most impudent chap. 
 Tour rooms he will enter to pick up a scrap ; 
 And if he obtain not the wish of his heart, 
 He will turn and abuse you, or ere he '11 depart. 
 
 OWL. 
 
 A bird the most treacherous sure is the owl, 
 So cunning at dusk and at midnight to prowl. 
 The branches among of a tree full of linnets, 
 Which, save the bird seized, will be clear' d in two minutes. 
 
 It is said that to kill them is deem'd most unlucky ; 
 I scarce can believe this — but, has it not struck ye, 
 If e'er you destroy'd one, an elderly chap. 
 You are sure not long after to meet with mishap. 
 
 I once in my garden by chance shot an owl. 
 Who dying, cast on me an ominous scowl ; 
 
 k2
 
 132 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 At the time I tliouglit little of imminent harm, 
 But soon my horse fell and I near broke my arm. 
 Before that, I wounded one, breaking its ydng ; 
 And, Avishing to notice its iris's ring 
 Contracting, expanding, — when close to my nose 
 It stuck in its claws, and brought blood with its blows. 
 
 FLTING FOX. 
 
 The flying fox seen is at eve in the sky, 
 Proceeding to lodge on a tree upon high, 
 The Indian guava, which soon will be found. 
 Bereft of its fruit scatter' d half on the grovmd. 
 
 HAWK. 
 
 'T is said that the hawk is its terrible foe, 
 "Who, when he can meet it, deals forth the death blow ; 
 And hence it appears not till dusk of the eve. 
 When hawks the locality hasten to leave. 
 
 LOCUST. 
 
 The locust at feed, or the locust on wing. 
 Appears in this clime a most ominous thing ; 
 They come in vast clouds which oft darken the sun, 
 "Wherever they pitch the green leaf is soon done. , 
 
 And like as the rain show'r advances in line. 
 So glide on the locusts, and -^vither the vine. 
 The first with its blessings progresses in joy. 
 The others all fragrance and verdure destroy. 
 
 SAND TLT. 
 
 The nice little sand fly 's a beautiful thing, 
 In form so minute, with its gossamer wing ; 
 But its bite is tremendous — quite out of proportion, 
 Por insect so small — it is quite an abortion.
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 133 
 
 In camp or in quarters, 't is even the same, 
 Its sharp driven nips oft your anger inflame ; 
 And thougli you may wince at its presence minute, 
 'Tis so small you can scarcely discover the brute. 
 
 CLOTH WOEM. 
 
 The cloth worm 's more lazy by far than the sloth, 
 Tet much more destructive than even the moth ; 
 It is roll'd up in cotton, and forth thrusts its nose. 
 To bore immense holes in your best suits of clotlies. 
 
 It is always so cmniing, and chooses the best 
 Of your kerseymere waistcoats to put to the test. 
 In semblance inanimate — lifeless in form. 
 It is far more rapacious, ten times, than the worm. 
 
 GRASSHOPPER. 
 
 The grasshopper comes at the hour of the eve, 
 In a manner so strange you would scarcely believe. 
 Though the doors be aU. closed, and Venetians shut, 
 He makes his appearance before you " full but." 
 
 And then he commences a-hopping about. 
 And the lights on the table oft strives to put out ; 
 But very soon after he is seen to begin, 
 The light " has the best of it," so he falls iii. 
 
 "WOOD WORM. 
 
 "WTien, wishing to sleep, you 're disturb' d by a noise. 
 The wood worm of, who the woodwork enjoys ; 
 He bores and progresses in manner vermicular. 
 His axis of progress is thus perpendicular. 
 
 Ton get up and strike the plank, does it avail ? 
 He works by the aid of his mouth and his tail ; 
 And when you have tired yourself thumping away, 
 Quite hopeless you quit him, — he works on till day.
 
 134 THE DELIGHTS OE INDIA. 
 
 MOTH. 
 
 Sometimes of an eve when you feel very loth 
 To leave off your reading, then in flies the moth, 
 Not singly, but numerous half of the night, 
 And the first thing he does, is to dart at the light. 
 
 And on eve of the rains he will never be shy, 
 But fly round the candle, and then at your eye : 
 And well for the man who is able to say. 
 His home is quite free from the moth, night and day. 
 
 ELY. 
 
 At aU the large stations where Cavalry stay, 
 Or Camels, or Elephants, flies have their sway ; 
 Por, scarcely a dish is brought — stew of, or soup, — 
 But you find " a blue bottle" in every stoup. 
 
 And as for the wine, and the spirits, and beer, 
 Ten chances to one flies are mixed with the cheer ; 
 And hence the gilt cover that 's laid on the glass, 
 To shut in the claret, that nothing may pass. 
 
 The shops of the chemists we meet with at home. 
 Display honied dishes for flies in the room ; 
 But here you may find them in every dish, 
 Opposed to your palate — opposed to your wish. 
 
 EEOG. 
 
 How cheerful to hear in the cool month of June, 
 The buU-beUied frog, with the young ones in tune, 
 The treble and bass, and more often the tenor, 
 Are good as a band to attend you at dinner. 
 
 On the first fall of rain they are scattered about, 
 So thick in your compound you can't venture out, 
 Save in fear of destroying the nice little fry. 
 Who grow, like the grass, unperceived of the eye.
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 135 
 
 They, like tlie barometer, indicate rain. 
 And previous to showers are croaking again. 
 The French would much prize them for stews, or for 
 
 curries, 
 Far better than those at Meurice's, at Paris. 
 
 FLYING BUG. 
 
 The flying bug's presence is certainly known, 
 For, its atmospJiere has a peculiar tone 
 Of odour so grateful and rich (at the dusk) 
 Cologne it beats hollow — and high-scented musk. 
 
 I am not very sure if he does n't dispute 
 The prize of our soy with the cockroach — the brute i 
 But Soyer can tell you much better than I, 
 Who mixes it often with fish in a pie. 
 
 But this I assert — what you'd scarcely suppose — 
 That all at the table must stop up their nose 
 Whenever he comes to partake of the meal ; 
 For until he 's removed, quite nauseous you feel. 
 
 There ia something so rich, inexpressibly sweet. 
 In the scents which your senses so pungently greet ; 
 That some of the delicate ladies turn pale, 
 Whilst the male sex consoles them by drinking their ale. 
 
 COCKEOACH. 
 
 The cockroach approaches and shows by his looks, 
 The depth of his wisdom in choice of your books ; 
 For those which are gilded, and brightest to view, 
 He fixes his teeth in, and knows they are new. 
 
 Tour boots or your shoes, or your aught else of leather, 
 His ravage display, when exposed to the weather ; 
 For, a whole winter's wear with its beatings and knocks, 
 Won't harm half so much as the roach in the box.
 
 136 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 He pecks and he bites at the point of the shoe, 
 Till, putting your toe in, it passes quite through ; 
 And the collar, when once he attacks, of your coat, 
 You may cast it aside — it is not worth a groat. 
 
 He is useful for nought but for mixing in soy, 
 "With which we our dishes and palates destroy ; 
 And woe to the huntsman who leaves him his saddle, 
 No longer he'll find it fit for him, to straddle. 
 
 TLEA. 
 
 If you enter a house in which dogs have been kept, 
 Tou 're attack' d by the fleas, such as never have slept ; 
 And when, at the morn, you cross over the floor, 
 Tour trowsers are cover'd with fleas by the score. 
 
 'T is not very easy to drive them away, 
 They, do what you will, pertinaciously stay ; 
 And, saving you whitewash the walls and the floor. 
 You seldom get rid of this troublesome bore. 
 
 BEETLE. 
 
 The loud buzzing beetle — the deep sounding di'one, 
 "Will, in the hot season, not leave you alone ; 
 His sting is most venemous when he 's irate, 
 Expel him forthwith, or you may be too late. 
 
 BUFFALO. 
 
 The horrible buffalo, truculent brute. 
 That never will quit you if anger take root ; 
 And though he be driven as quiet as lamb. 
 His attack you must dread — for it proves not a sham. 
 
 His power is immense, and of fear he has none ; 
 He runs at the tiger — and ne'er will have done, 
 Until he has punch' d the feUne in the side. 
 Who now is hard driven, and bites through his hide.
 
 THE DELIGHTS OP INDIA. 137 
 
 At night they '11 attack you, by light of the moon, 
 And, saving you fly, you '11 be quick overthro'wn ; 
 O'moonlight they 're taken to graze on the plain, 
 So you know where to meet and avoid them again. 
 
 YTTLTURE. 
 
 The vultures, who with the wild dog oft dispute 
 Possession of carcases of the dead brute ; 
 At wonderful distance discover the track 
 Of camels who fall, or the faltering hack. 
 
 And though they will never approach you alone, 
 Their sight is disgusting, 'mid flesh, blood and bone. 
 The dogs and the kites, and the vultures and crows. 
 Whilst gorging on carcases oft are at blows. 
 
 BEE. 
 
 And now we have come to the best on the roll, 
 The bee who sweet honey prepares for the bowl ; 
 Tet he is most spiteful without any cause, 
 And stings you sometimes when you are taking a doze. 
 
 SHEEP, 
 
 The servants, which here are the pest of the age, 
 "We will leave to our antepenultimate page ; 
 And pass to the item next borne on our list, 
 The sheep flocks, and others, which may not be miss'd. 
 
 Ail those in Calcutta who constant reside, 
 A nuisance of all kinds wiU frequent betide ; 
 But few of them serve more to bring on disgust. 
 Than sheep flocks which kick up so awful a dust. 
 
 The roads are some water' d, whilst others are hot, 
 And thus they are subject to changeable rot ; 
 And morning and eve, when sheep pass and retxirn. 
 Their dust fills your eyes, which most painfully burn.
 
 138 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 And sit where you list, and secure all the doors, 
 The dust is forced in, thick bespreading the floors ; 
 For, do what you will, uutil long the flock's past, 
 "With dust you are cover'd — thanks ! " there goes the last." 
 
 ALLIGATOR. 
 
 There is something superb in a saurian face, 
 And when the jaws open, what teeth you may trace ! 
 If you bathe in the Ganges, be somewhat alert, 
 Por fear, his embrace in, you find you 're inert. 
 
 He likes a young ensign as well as a black. 
 And in making approaches he never is slack ; 
 Beware in your swimming he 's not in your track, 
 For then it is certain you 'U never get back. 
 
 I saw at Peernuggur* or Muggerpeer, feed 
 Some crocodiles on the dead carcase of kid, , . • ■ 
 Which holy Hindoos in their saintly vocation, 
 Their saw-like jaws offer' d to, as an oblation. 
 
 And Hindoos who offer the most to their " god," 
 Obtain from the others an approbate nod ; 
 And so for this purpose vast kid flocks are kept, 
 To be thrown to these vampires just after they 've slept. 
 
 The place is so holy ! — they have some hot wells, 
 For the bubbling fluid from pervious cells : 
 Its heat would not suit you for dipping your leg 
 The water in — as it would parboil an egg. 
 
 DONKEY. 
 
 The bray of the donkey, e'en should he be close, 
 Is frequently spoilt — for they slit up his nose, 
 
 * In Scinde.
 
 THE DELIGHTS OP INDIA. 139 
 
 And give him a freedom in exhaling air 
 And inhaKng also, to save wear and tear. 
 
 The donkies in England possess a clear bray, 
 But that of the Indians dies sweetly away ; 
 So when the poor creature is trying to speak 
 Like donkey of Balaam — he only can squeak. 
 
 MONKEY. 
 
 If peregrinating in palkee alone, 
 Ton sit a tree under, to pick at a bone, 
 A monkey will sometimes descend from the tree. 
 To seize on the viand you have on your knee. 
 
 And though you may out with your pistol in hasti 
 Declaring of bullets you '11 give him a taste, 
 And though you may shoot and expend your last firt 
 The tree on the monkey climbs higher and higher. 
 
 FOX. 
 
 En route^^ your poultry be not in a box, 
 Tou '11 find them walk'd in to at night by a fox ; 
 For all that it does, is to seize by the neck 
 Dame'Bartlett, whose " cooping" receives a last check. 
 
 riSH. 
 
 Though fish may be stinking 't is carried for sale, 
 And sought for by natives at whole and retaU ; 
 And though the fish women fast bear it along, 
 Tou are almost struck down by the stench — 't is so strong, 
 
 It sometimes is carried on carts by the way. 
 Whereby there 's of course a much greater delay ; 
 And when that may hap — what I tell you is true — 
 If you don't use the rue case, the case you will rue.
 
 140 THE DELIGHTS OP INDIA. 
 
 SERVANTS. 
 
 And now on the servants we '11 pen a few lines, 
 And treat of the keepers of viands and wines ; 
 But long is the list, and perhaps I am wrong, 
 In adding them now to this part of my song. 
 
 KHANSAMAH. 
 
 We '11 commence with the khansamah, " head of that 
 ilk," who 
 Of large sums of money will frequently bilk you ; 
 And when you are giving a party at home, 
 'T is wondrous how far the decanters will roam, 
 
 Kyou wish him to charge you just give him carte hlanclie, 
 And see what a charge he wUl make for a haunch ! 
 And unless your pay 's suited to turtle and ven'son, 
 The chances are great that your fortune will end soon. 
 
 KHIDMUTGAR. 
 
 The second attendant is khidmutgar named, 
 Who, if making some money, don't care to be blamed ; 
 He carries a chowrie to whip oif the flies. 
 The horse-hair of which he oft flips in your eyes. 
 
 Instead of the soup and its sequent the fish. 
 Of the rest of the dinner they first bring a dish 
 Or dishes — and when they are cold and you 're choop,* 
 The Khidmutgars bring in the fish and the soup. 
 
 Although he dislikes much to serve flesh of hog, 
 Yet this he will carry — though last of the prog ; 
 And should you have left, of your wine, half a glass, 
 He whips it away — though 't were nectar, alas ! 
 
 * Choop — silent. Hindust'hanee.
 
 THE DELIGHTS OP INDIA. 141 
 
 COOK. 
 
 The cooh cooks a curry much better for self, 
 Than that which for master is placed on the shelf ; 
 As to cooking potatoes, there 's not one in ten 
 Can roast them, or boil them, or fry them again. 
 
 The soup is at times made as if with a flint, 
 And little, save water, you '11 often find in 't ; 
 The huge joints of meat he sends up are quite cold, 
 And as well a stone wall at, as him, you may scold. 
 
 MUSALCHEE. 
 
 The plate cleaner — -otherwise cleaner of plates. 
 Who close on the cook and the khidmutgar waits, 
 Don 't deem it worth while with hot water to wash, 
 But by aid of a cloth clears your plate of the hash. 
 
 SUEDAE BEAEEB. 
 
 Now this is the man who prepares your lone bed, 
 And instead of a chambermaid " turns down the head ;" 
 Were there nothing but this to disgust one with Ind, 
 'T would suffice — I look homeward for sweet Jenny Lind. 
 
 He is all very honest for twenty full years. 
 But ere you start homeward he fast disappears — 
 Extracting some hundred rupees from your chest, 
 By means of your keys which he wears at his waist. 
 
 MATE BEAEEE. 
 
 He keeps an assistant, or, rather, do you, 
 Who helps clean the wall shade and brushes the shoe ; 
 Save smoking all day, and of snoring all night, 
 He does very little — these, form his delight.
 
 142 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 BHEESTIE. 
 
 The blieestie's the best of the servants to work, 
 He carries ye water from morning till dark ; 
 And all the annoyance he leaves in his train, 
 Is the dusting the rooms as he waters the plain. 
 
 SWEEPERS. 
 
 The " knight of the broom" is too useful a cit 
 In the list of the servants his name to omit ; 
 But, if he reside not within your estate, 
 You frequently find " on his ground he is late." 
 
 COACHMAN. 
 
 The coachmen of India seldom incline, 
 While driving their carriage to stick to the line ; 
 The centre 's the path that they hold in the way. 
 And wo to the horseman who is riding astray. 
 
 SYCE. 
 
 The groom who attends with your horse at his side, 
 Before you or after you runs as you ride ; 
 And when in the buggy you drive to the course, 
 Tou will find the black brute always flapping the horse. 
 
 When you 've quitted the vehicle left in his charge, 
 He wDl oft take " the ribbons" and set off at large ; 
 And sometimes he '11 sleep, letting go of the reins, 
 When off goes the horse, perhaps smashing his brains. 
 
 So when in the stables, a horse not well tied 
 Will burst through the doorway with ropes at his side ; 
 And all in the compound* have every chance, 
 Of getting well kick'd by the horse in his prance. 
 
 * Enclosure of the estate.
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 143 
 
 GEASSCUTTER. 
 
 The "graascut," perhaps, is the greatest of men, 
 Amongst the vile herd that employs my steel pen ; 
 He works all the day, and returns at the night, 
 With the grass on his head, and himself in delight. 
 
 GABDENEE. 
 
 The gardener brings you a nosegay by day, 
 With all kinds of evergreens heap'd on his tray ; 
 But oranges, lemons, and beautiful grape. 
 He sells off at night — though a few may escape. 
 
 He has an assistant to aid him in theft. 
 By means of whose labour the garden 's bereft 
 Of its fruit and its flowers, its shrubs and small trees, 
 Its cauliflowers, cabbages, onions and peas. 
 
 PUNKAH COOLT. 
 
 There 's not in this whole categorical list, 
 A nigger whose absence is half so much miss'd 
 As he of the punkah, amidst of the night. 
 While you are perspiring until " it is light." 
 
 TATTIE COOLT. 
 
 O, ho ! for the tattie ! the cooly 's the man, 
 Who moistens the khuskhus* by aid of his can 
 Well fiU'd with fresh water, and drawn from the well. 
 To keep the house cool — and now I may tell 
 
 How you lay yourself down in the cool of the breeze, 
 The tattie behind, and you sleep by degrees ; 
 And when for refreshment sake this you have done, 
 The cooly determines to have his " shake down." 
 
 * Eoot of a fragrant grass.
 
 144 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 And thus from Mount Hecla in Iceland you 're ta'en, 
 To swelter sometime on " Sahara's hot plain," 
 You rise up quite languid, in rife perspiration, 
 An d swear at the cooly in high indignation. 
 
 THEEMANTIDOTE COOLT. 
 
 And when the wind ceases to act with some force, 
 The tattie is fix'd in a wooden framed horse, 
 "With a revolute fan work, which drives in the breeze 
 So strongly at times, it insures you a sneeze. 
 
 The misery's doubled— for, here are two men, 
 The one is to moisten, the other to fan : 
 When one is fatigued — then the other is lazy. 
 And so 'twixt the twain you will almost be crazy. 
 
 COOLT POETER. 
 
 The coolies who bring you your dozens of beer, 
 Don't seem much as if they 'd partaken the cheer ; 
 Poor devils, they're weak and remarkably quiet, 
 The sun heat's the beer — and there 's no one to try it. 
 
 DUBWAN. 
 
 Durwan is the servant in cliarge of your house, 
 Who during your absence will often let loose ; 
 And no one requires to be so overlook' d 
 As he, whose misconduct can scarcely be brook'd. 
 
 Eelying on him to have closed all the doors. 
 The master his couch to retires, and soon snores ; 
 And when he arises betimes in the morning. 
 He finds this good servant has given him warning. 
 
 Your boxes lie open — the knives and forks gone, 
 Of spoons and of candlesticks signs there are none ;
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 145 
 
 Aud act as you like — though you offer reward, 
 To recover an item you '11 find very hard. 
 
 You have no redress, and you turn him away, 
 And thirty hours after he comes for his pay ; 
 You give him a thrashing — he lays a complaint. 
 And if you don 't pay him, beware of restraint. 
 
 CHAPRASSIE. 
 
 Chaprassies are those who your letters convey, 
 And carry your orders throughout the hot day ; 
 But when the eve comes they retire to their homes. 
 And were your house burning, not one of them comes. 
 
 DHOBEE. 
 
 The dhobee 's a menial we cannot spare : 
 In this list of the servants he must have a share ; 
 And though I have placed him the last on the list, 
 At washing your linen he cannot be miss'd. 
 
 The cambric plaits on the front of your shirt. 
 He will equally injiire as well as the skirt ; 
 And as for the buttons they last not a week, 
 He annoys you so much that with rage you can't speak. 
 
 He irons pantaloons with the front to the rear, 
 And beats them in holes 'till you see through 'em clear ; 
 And tears all your towels and sheets from the line, 
 When forcing them on it their place to resign. 
 
 It is useless to show him the way he should fold. 
 For ever he fails — and for ever you scold ; 
 And for Europe-made linen he has such disUke, 
 He twists it to rags on the slab stone to strike. 
 
 BOATMEN. 
 
 The mangie and dandies, who ply the boat through 
 The surf of the stream, are a rascally crew ;
 
 146 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 And if you offend them, at dead of the night 
 
 They may overboard cast you — to make the boat light. 
 
 PALKEE BEAEEES. 
 
 Your palanquin bearers and dust of the street, 
 That they kick up so well by the splay of their feet, 
 Are enough to distract you — and blind you for ever, 
 And add to the chances of rotting your liver. 
 
 If anxious to move at accelerate pace, 
 The bearers move slowly — or fast with bad grace ; 
 And should you wish purified streets to pass through. 
 They take you by those most repugnant to view. 
 
 WOEK PEOPLE, 
 
 The government works those who superintend 
 Will frequently find the workpeople offend, 
 By coming at work hours so late in the day ; 
 And should you their pay cut, they all cut away. 
 
 And when they commence, their whole labour is slow, 
 "Which often may tempt you to give them a blow ; 
 If your lungs you expend or destroy in abuse. 
 Toil find after all it has been of no use. 
 
 CHOKETDAB. 
 
 The call of " the tchocadar" (Byron) at night, 
 To those uninitiate, causes affright ; 
 He is kept to exclude the bold thief at vocation. 
 But gives him full warning, by vociferation. 
 
 One thing be assured of, wherever they are. 
 Whenever you 're robbed they are not very far ; 
 And thus on the principle (French) of Vidocq, 
 You 're obliged to pay " custom" to keep up the joke.
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 147 
 
 Their chief use is not only going their round, 
 But whenever wanted they are not to be found ; 
 And should you reside close outside of the town, 
 In vain you may call for them, — none will come down. 
 
 BEGGAB. 
 
 Pakeers ia the provinces wander about, 
 With cudgel thick ferruled and frame strong and stout ; j 
 And though the Frank's courage they fear, and his bone 
 You had better avoid them if roaming alone. 
 
 At period of warfare the spy they enact, 
 On both sides, and quit both as often intact ; 
 Their thrice sacred calling and Brahminee fame. 
 Protects them on all sides from vengeance or blame. 
 
 BOXWALA. 
 
 The boxwala comes and displays his clieap ware, 
 And begs for quadruple of that he will share ; 
 And though you need nought, yet, you frequent lay out 
 Some half a month's pay ere you send him about. 
 
 CAETS. 
 
 The kranchees that carry the live and the dead, 
 In the heat of the sun, with the driver a-head, 
 Disturb you by night time, as well as by day 
 With their loud creaking wheels that are ever at play. 
 
 At four ia the morning they come into town, 
 At noon they return other loads to take down : 
 At night they proceed to the gareewan's* house, 
 At four they revert with the wheels again loose. 
 
 At eight, post merid. they have all left the^town, 
 At midnight or later perhaps you lie down ; 
 
 * Driver. 
 l2
 
 148 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 So wlien you have slept for some three hours or four, 
 The garees come round with their horrible roar. 
 
 CALCUTTA DRAINS. 
 
 The drains of Calcutta are dreadful to scent, 
 Though money by thousands has on them been spent ; 
 'T an't easy the nuisance to soon overcome, 
 Por the vast means to cleanse them are not as fl,t home. 
 
 They cholera cause, with much other disease, 
 And long as Calcutta lasts never will please ; 
 And therefore an item perforce they consist, 
 In forming, — and one of the best on my list. 
 
 MAEEIAQE PEOCESSIOKS. 
 
 The marriage procession contains a brass band — 
 Such instruments using as come to the hand ; 
 Their brazen-faced noise and the brazen-nosed car, 
 Oft leave you to wonder " the deuce where you are." 
 
 The sounds cacophonious strike on the ear. 
 As it moves to the front or it follows in rear ; 
 Whilst dancing and jumping and playing with rods, 
 They carry the car on, except when it nods. 
 
 These marriage processions occur not by day, 
 But at night, when you wish them much further away ; 
 And hence the disgust that you feel as they pass 
 Tour windows before, with the glare on the glass. 
 
 There are other processions — but this, as a test, 
 Is a pretty good sample of most of the rest ; 
 The cause of their custom of roaming at night, 
 Is the sun to avoid and to show oif their light. 
 
 TOM-TOMS. 
 
 Kettledrumle 's the man who the tambour should beat, 
 Besoimding so loud as it does in the street ;
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 149 
 
 And yet kettledrumle would not like it mucli, — 
 The kettles of India require such a touch. 
 
 CATHOLIC BELLS. 
 
 The bell of the Catholics sounding at night, 
 So loudly, so frequent, the weak to affright, 
 Disturbs the whole neighbourhood where the church 
 
 stands : 
 'Twould be much more discreet if 't were built on the 
 sands. — 
 
 At guu-fire, o' mornings, at mid-night, ere mass, 
 The ding-dong commences — continues — alas ! 
 At first it sounds " ding," and not long after " dong," 
 Then " ding-dong," and " ding-dong," to end of the song. 
 
 The measure at first is so terribly slow, 
 It leaves you a-gasping to hear the next blow ; 
 And then it increases, with gradual haste. 
 Until the bell striker 's exhausted his taste. 
 
 There is something disgusting to hear the finale. 
 Excelling by far native's nautch in Intally ;* 
 Where the sound of the drum, I am sorry to tell, 
 Is throTvn in the shade by the Catholic bell. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 I close my account of dear India's delight, 
 Although 't would be easy much more to indite ; 
 But if I have managed the reader to please, 
 'T is all that I care for — I'm now at my ease. 
 
 Koi Hai. 
 
 * A district in Calcutta. 
 
 Jints.
 
 l-RINTED BT HATMAN BBOTHEBS, 
 
 5, WHITEFBIAHS STHEET, FLEET STBEET, 
 
 LONDON.
 
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA.' 
 A foem:, by eoi hal. 
 
 People in England talk of the advantages of pro- 
 ceeding to, and residing some years in, India. This is true 
 in a pecuniary point of view — inasmuch as the receipts are 
 good, but the outlay being proportionate, leaves a man at 
 the end of his career saving his pension in the same con- 
 dition as when he commenced it. In addition to which he 
 has the pleasure of having added some twenty, thirty, or 
 forty years to his age, gray hair most likely to his " golden 
 bowl," or a bald head, a sallow or curry-coloured hue to his 
 skin, and of having substituted a debilitated constitution 
 for a hale one, and this be it observed from the effects of 
 the climate alone — but if he be fond of his glass of beer, 
 brandy and water or wine, as also of cigars, not a little ad- 
 ditional enervation will have been added to this ill-effect. 
 However " to give the devil his due," I will not allow that 
 the said effects are solely attributable to the said causes, 
 but in a great degree to the constant annoyances of one 
 kind or another that exist in all parts of India, each oper- 
 ating to disturb the calm serenity of the European fire-side 
 roast beef-Englishman. I will take the liberty of enum- 
 erating a list which will I think rather "astonish the 
 natives," that is of England. Now in order to shew that 
 these annoyances are not at all imaginary, I shall proceed 
 to state, with respect to each item contained in the accom- 
 panying list, the grievances referred to (if I may not be 
 considered profane in using such a term), grievances, how-
 
 152 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 ever, no doubt produced for some grand purposes, such as 
 the removal of indolence, apathy, ennui, or such other cause, 
 which might otherwise prostrate the human system much 
 more than the annoyances themselves do, and which " I, by 
 myself I," have witnessed or experienced in propria per- 
 sona. 
 
 1. MUSQUITOES. 
 
 First on the list, then, I will take the musquitoes, because 
 they should form the most prominent part in this detail, 
 as being the most persevering, pertinacious and constant 
 nuisance, every where to be met with during the warm 
 season in the upper Provinces of India, and during both 
 summer and winter (especially winter) at the Presidencies 
 of Calcutta and Bombay ; of Madras I know not, for obvious 
 reasons. But Calcutta and Bombay are really delightful 
 places of residence all the year round in consequence of the 
 interest and consanguinity the musquitoes evince for us. 
 It does not matter what thickness of clothes you may have 
 upon you by day, if you have fresh blood, in consequence 
 of having just come from England, the long proboscis of 
 the musquito puts them as a guard entirely at defiance. 
 It does not matter whether you put your feet on the table, 
 a luxury a good deal indulged in by bachelors in the East, 
 it does not matter whether you put them on a second chair, 
 nor does it matter whether you keep them under the table — 
 in each and every situation the phlebotomising is the same — 
 one unmitigated process of torture — unmitigated, inasmuch 
 as the pain or itching caused by every bite does not cease 
 for some time after it has been inflicted. You may drive 
 the intruders away by aid of your handkerchief, you may 
 cover up yo\xr logs by the same means — but all to little 
 or no purpose — they will return instanter or they wiU 
 «' establish a fresh raw" somewhere else. Their eyes are of 
 the best, and I will defy any one by any means, in the three 
 situations I have before named to prevent these troublesome 
 insects from giving you a nip, that will sometimes make 
 vou start.
 
 I 
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 158 
 
 The only thing that suggests itself then, is a remedy. 
 Vinegar and water applied to the places of irritation will 
 generally soon cause the removal of the latter — lime juice 
 being a cooler, will have a similar effect. The [above re- 
 marks refer to the acts of these gentry by day or at evening 
 time. But at night — when you have, after the fatigues of 
 a sultry day, resigned yourself to the comforts of, as you 
 suppose, sleep, " balmy sleep nature's sweet restorer," you 
 find yourself very soon attacked by the same individuals — 
 not individually however, but two or three atonce, keeping 
 time with their wonderfully melodious voices, which have 
 a peculiarly sour sound, if I may be allowed to make use 
 of so unusual an expression. Your only hope is in covering 
 up your hands and arms, neck and face with the sheet, and 
 you know how comfortable that must be with the thermo- 
 meter at 99 degrees 59 minutes, 59 seconds, or say in round 
 numbers one hundi'ed, Fahrenheit (fair in height indeed !). 
 Mind, all this time you have a set of musquito curtains, 
 but the servant has forgotten to drive the Musquitoes out 
 when making the bed. If you have a set oiJioly ones, there 
 is no hope for you, and you must in either case jump up, 
 open the curtains yourself — ^whether " dying with fatigue'' 
 or not, at whatever hour, and brush the intruders away 
 with towel, pocket-handkex'chief, waistcoat, jacket or any 
 thing you can lay hands on. I have seen some persons 
 much distorted in countenance, and really rendered ill 
 in consequence of the serious effects of musquito bites on 
 a new importation. 
 
 2. FLIES. 
 
 The next in order of sequence and most agreeable con- 
 comitant of our Eastern pleasures are the flies. 
 
 Any person who has had the felicity of sojourning at 
 those stations in the Mofussil or Upper Country, which 
 are occupied by Corps of Cavalry, cannot but have been 
 gratified to their hearts content in respect of the daily visits 
 these gentry are accustomed to pay them, the more es- 
 pecially and particularly at the hours of breakfast, luncheon
 
 154 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 or dinner, at which time they do not hesitate to shew that 
 they have as potent a right to the same as the individuals 
 ■who pay or do not pay for them. A dish of curry is fre- 
 quently beset with them, should it be left uncovered for a 
 moment — a nice rooe fish requires not the aid of cock- 
 roach-sauce — the India-soy, said to be prepared of that rich 
 tasted insect — for, the flies will attack it so vigorously — • 
 more particularly in the hot weather — that they become 
 imbedded in its juice, and it requires no little difficulty to 
 dispossess them of the pertinacious position (Shere Sing's in 
 the Bala Hissar, near Cabul, was nothing to it) which they 
 may have taken up, or rather down, in it. 
 
 The milk bowl in the morning is beset with them, and 
 so is the sugar bowl — the butter does not escape their in- 
 sidious attacks, but this is not all, for, if all the bowls and 
 dishes be covered, the flies will to a dead certainty attack 
 yourself, especially if you have a good appetite and are 
 doing justice to your breakfast in the destruction of savoury 
 viands. They appear to have an instinctive Jealousy of 
 your gratified and gratifying occupation. As also to 
 notice the direction of your eyes and the working of your 
 jaws, and will frequently make a rush at one or the other 
 or both — whether to participate in the dainty luxury or 
 to prevent your doing so yourself I am unable to give a 
 decided opinion — but that they are most disagreeable in 
 their conduct few persons will, I think, who know their 
 pranks, be inclined for a moment to dispute. 
 
 ^\Tien an opportunity is not offered them of joining in 
 your meals they will make zigzag approaches to your 
 face or hands by pitching, in the first instance, on some 
 portions of yom- dress distant from their projected scene 
 of operations, after which they will, as regular Engineers, 
 proceed to make demonstrations in the direction of your 
 proboscis, and if it be not a particularly red one they will 
 succeed without your notice, in attaining the object of their 
 ambition and approach. The "West Indian black who was 
 " damned glad to see him burn him foot" on his master's
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 155 
 
 red nose would not have so favorable an opportunity in the 
 East Indies, of editing his wit, for, the animal is not so 
 much inclined to give up the hold he has taken when he 
 OHce fixes himself on the upper or lower extremity of the 
 " qualis naso ait tibicina," that Lawrence Sterne speaks of 
 in I think his Tristram Shandy, but the fly will most 
 adheringly adhere to one part or other of the same pro- 
 montory, but should he, (your hands being engaged) by 
 means of certain muscular contortions and jerks of that 
 member be dislodged from the same two or three times in 
 succession, and, mind you, not till then, he will pitch upon 
 the eyebrow, antecedent to commencing an attack on the 
 cornea, or, at any rate, the corner of the eye itself. The 
 ear is not always free from the Indian fly, and I have 
 heard of partial deafness having been caused by the 
 intrusion of a fly into the cavities of that organ — aye, 
 working himself even up to the tympanum, for the sake, 
 perhaps of a good locality for " fly blowing." 
 
 The only remedy for these animals is to have close chicks 
 or blinds attached to the door-ways and window- ways of 
 the house and to have the rooms well darkened. You may 
 keep a saucer full of molasses, if you like, as the druggists 
 shops in England here and there display — and if you are 
 a second Zeluco you may amuse yourself by killing them 
 by aid of a fly flapper, a piece of bamboo, a few inches, 
 less than a foot, in length, with a circular piece of leather 
 some three inches in diameter attached to one end. A rod 
 of whalebone is not a bad spring with wliich to destroy 
 them individually or by wholesale. 
 
 I should state that Kurnaul was a cantonment celebrated 
 for flies when a couple of cavalry corps were there located, 
 European and Native. Cawnpore was " not wanting in 
 them." Delhi although not a Cavalry station was dreadful 
 at the residences adjacent to the river — where in some 
 houses it was absolutely necessary to h.a,\G Jixed blinds put 
 up, and it was amusing to see the difierence quoad flies 
 between the exterior and interior of these blinds. They
 
 15G THB DELIGHTi OF INDIA. 
 
 •were made of bamboo split into filaments, and placed 
 neatly in rows in parallel order the breadth of a fly or less 
 apart, and bound together by means of cotton rope or 
 thread, colored blue. 
 
 3. CROWS. 
 
 I don't know that I have according to the most erudite 
 
 authorities given these animals the proper name, "which 
 
 should I believe be " rooks," and yet neither the rook nor 
 
 crow in England has a lawyer-like looking courtier's 
 
 wig, as these gents have in the shape and colour of the 
 
 bar-wigs, or big-wigs at home — however they are 
 
 universally known by the name of crows, in India, and it 
 
 would be going out of the limits of this work to seek for 
 
 quotations as to their classification either by Linnceus or 
 
 Cuvier, if they notice them at all, as it is to be hoped they 
 
 do. I do not hesitate to say that these crows are the most 
 
 extraordinaiy animals for sagacity, excepting perhaps the 
 
 Spider, (which I have now thought of adding to my list) 
 
 to be met with any where — they are at this moment of 
 
 writing disturbing me with their cawing. I may stop 
 
 to remark upon the similarity of the Indian word * kawa' 
 
 (a crow) and our word caw, cawing, representing the noise 
 
 they make. I do not know how many notes the crow is 
 
 known to have, but it will be found, if they are noticed 
 
 much, that they have a great number, " high, low, jack 
 
 (or jim crow) and game," Their first plan in the morning, 
 
 immediately the gun fires, at day break (and they generally 
 
 as a body await that sound, although a few early risers as 
 
 well as " chanticleer proclaim the dawn") is to endeavour 
 
 and awaken the inhabitants in their vicinity, and their 
 
 pertinacity in this respect is as opposite to the chime of 
 
 the musquitoes as black is to white. They will not be 
 
 content with a few rough notes but they will give you 
 
 some of determination, a case of "ex faucibus hsesit," exit(?) 
 
 Bo stentoriously and continuously that you must have bad 
 
 hearing or, a helpless lethargy on you, to avoid awaking. 
 
 They will begin at a little distance at first, and afterwards
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 157 
 
 approximate, bellowing out so as to make you, " absolutely- 
 savage." If you keep a meatsafe in an open verandah near 
 you, and it happen that that safe be unsafely open, having 
 been left so overnight, the "lo poeans," they each -will 
 sing will be splendid. They could not wish or hope for 
 a more splendid opportunity of regaling, if the safe 
 afford means for the purpose — but it is strange enough 
 that in this particular they appear to show a want of that 
 sagacity which I have before stated them to possess in an 
 eminent degree. They will continue one or another to 
 make a desperate noise all the while they are walking off 
 with (" walking into" is a term considered more to the 
 purpose,) the butter, cheese, bread, or meat, with which 
 the receptacle may have been stored. This noise is what I 
 complain of, for it forces one to get up forthwith, so as to 
 remedy the inconvenience. 
 
 At breakfast time they would, if well di-illed, as I have 
 actually proved them to be, by with-holding their meal 
 should they prove obstreperous, sit quite quietly on the 
 outer balustrade wall, one of them the spokesman, 
 enlightening me occasionally as to their whereabouts, for 
 fear I should not have anything for them, until breakfast 
 was finished, when they would vociferate again and again 
 in every kind of note " from alt to treble, from treble to 
 base," and they have, like our friends the musquitoes, a 
 splendid sour note at times — it really was refreshing after 
 their rough ones. The natives say, there are three things 
 very useless indeed: amongst men, the nawa (barber,) 
 amongst trees, the jawa (fir?) amongst birds, the kawa 
 (crow) — and I dont " really after considering all things" 
 believe that, as respects the lastmentioned, they are very 
 far in the wrong. Crows will not allow themselves to be 
 slighted. I, as a Bachelor, (what bachelor with a house of 
 his own has not) have a cat — if I have my cat fed upon 
 meat in their presence and the crows be offered only stale 
 bread, they will not at times touch it— and I have seen 
 them more than once refuse the meal and fly away every
 
 158 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 crow jack, whilst at other times when the cat has not been 
 previously fed upon meat they will take and eat stale bread, 
 such as they refused before. They are very knowing — they 
 will congregate in large numbers, apparently waiting for 
 their meal — but without any apparent cause. Some one 
 or other of them resident most near to the house will get 
 up a noise and cause the whole to fly off, the knowing ones 
 returning to their former locality — this I have noticed 
 several times in an afternoon. Crows are very fond of 
 bathing — a nice tank of water affords them plentiful 
 opportunities for the purpose, and they seem much to enjoy 
 the refreshment, and very many times in the day too. 
 They do not quarrel much, but appear to get on as well 
 together as they possibly can. Indeed I suspect they will 
 not allow quarrels inter se, but punish most severely the 
 individual they cannot succeed in quieting otherwise by a 
 regular court of trial, where their actions are really most 
 extraordinary, and must be witnessed, in order to have a 
 clear idea of them conveyed to you. 
 
 The story of the " Maid and the Magpie" I believe to be 
 true, as I have had a teaspoon taken away by a crow — and 
 the two birds are of somewhat the same nature. I did not 
 however see the theft- 
 Crows do not keep company wdth the Raven, and when 
 the latter bird joins them at the bath, they do not seem 
 to like his appearance there — yet they do not offer to 
 molest him — he is too powerful a bii'd for them and is 
 evidently aware of his superiority. 
 
 4. SPIDERS. 
 Having in the last article made allusion to the spider, 
 I may as well get him off the list at once, and briefly. 
 Shakspere, says " the poor spider in corporeal substance 
 feels a pang as great as when a giant dies," or words to 
 that effect. Spiders are not very troublesome. They by 
 day or night however disturb one by the noise they cause
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 159 
 
 flies beetles or other insects caught in their meshes to 
 make, and as these are generally situated out of reach, on 
 the ceiling or elsewhere, it is difficult to effect a cessation 
 to the disagreeable buzzing. 
 
 In a choppered tent I have had a tremendously big 
 spider drop along his thick thread upon the table close 
 before me whilst writing at a late hour of the evening, 
 causing au awful start on my part, although I am not 
 generally inclined to start particularly much. In my 
 present house I have found at night an immense spider on 
 my shoulder, whilst engaged in writing. I suppose he 
 wanted to know what subject I was engaged iipon. At 
 Nussecrabad the ' Tarantula' spiders, as they are there I 
 suspect erroneously called, used to ascend the steps of my 
 chabootra or raised platform of masonry constructed in the 
 garden as a place for sitting on in the evening, and they 
 are the largest species I have ever met with. I should 
 guess the general length of them to be equal to that of 
 one's thumb— their breadth to be about half that or more 
 whilst in the act of running, and this they perform in an 
 exceedingly rapid manner, so much so that it is veiy 
 difficult to kill them, even if almost close to you. Not 
 long since I was one evening killing musquitoes with my 
 night cap ! when an immense spider darted out of my 
 musquito curtains, and as I am rather fearful of the juice of 
 these insects I made a bolt of it fast, and called for the 
 servant to come and kill him. 
 
 It is considered very dangerous to be bitten or even 
 touched by Spiders, all being more or less venemous in their 
 nature, and very bad sores have I understand been caused 
 by simple contact with them — the eye if touched by them 
 might perhaps become entirely lost. I think therefore I may 
 justly enter the Spider into this List of " the Miseries," or 
 by Antithesis, " Delights of human life in India." 
 
 Some years since I had bound up with my "Miscellaneous
 
 160 THE DELIGHTS OF IXDIA. 
 
 Papers on Scientific Subjects," a paper noticing the cunning 
 way in which they seize their prey — that is to say the 
 Spiders which have or keep no web. 
 
 5. WHITE ANTS. 
 
 This most destructive insect the white Ant forms the 
 greatest annoyance to you in India in respect of your 
 property of all sorts and kinds. During any season of the 
 year, nearly at every station, and in any habitation, saving 
 of stone itself, you cannot without the greatest care, con- 
 tinually applied, prevent your clothes, books, &c. things 
 you can so ill replace up the Country, being utterly des- 
 troyed or indeed so much injured as to be of use only to 
 burn — for — I have had new linen as well as old so com- 
 pletely destroyed, nearly a boxful in course of perhaps a 
 fortnight — during which of course the box had not been 
 opened — as to be only fit to be thrown away, it being eaten 
 into most picturesque shapes and figured holes, lliey 
 exist either in thousands, or a very few — and always work 
 under cover, a covering being formed by themselves from 
 earth and moisture, but Avhere they obtain these ingredients 
 I am at a loss to say^during the hot season, and at the 
 height from the ground, their operations being to be met 
 with in the upper stories and beams of flat roofed rooms 
 equally as vigorously as at the basement of the house. 
 Even the books before you on the side table ax'e not exempt 
 from their ravages — and I have now nicely bound books 
 which have been thus injured in the course of a few days 
 only, merely because the servant had omitted to remove 
 them daily, to be dusted. 
 
 In grass roofed buildings they soon effect a lodgement. 
 In tiled ones the same, but this is the fault of the native 
 masons, who place mud, in some of which the ova of white 
 ants abundantly exist, underneath the tiles. There is no 
 remedy for them against all their advances. You cannot 
 use 'Kyan's patent' for books — nor can you use 'lime water' 
 for your cloth clothes, so that I do not know what to
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 161 
 
 recommend further than, in the case of your clothes or 
 books, to cause constant and vigilant observation to be 
 employed, "with a view to the prevention of their advent, 
 " prevention being better than cure." I think the white 
 ant may fairly be classed as one of the greatest and real 
 annoyances in all India. The most valuable property 
 stands the same chance as that of lesser cost, and it is really 
 vexatious to find that when you have succeeded in expelling 
 the pests from one box, you have only left a mart for them 
 or their descendants to emigrate into another. Where they 
 have nothing else to lay hold of they will, like a di'owning 
 man, grasp at a straw, they will entirely cover it with a 
 shell of earth and watered paste, and then will destroy 
 every atom of it, so as not to leave the husk even remain- 
 ing — the same with the grass, as it becomes dry in the hot 
 season. The ground is at some stations literally covered 
 ■with white ants, their ramifications extending horizontally 
 to an interminable extent. In the floors of houses I have 
 also seen them spring up like the stem of a sapling almost 
 perpendicularly a foot in height, the diameter of their hollow 
 column being about the size of a crow-quill or more. They 
 revel most during the rainy season of the year. 
 
 6. MOTHS (Clothes). 
 The moths I propose to speak of here are not the pretty 
 moths which flutter about and fly into your candle, or put 
 out your night-lamp, but a far more disagreeable sort of 
 personage. The moth in question, is, by some, called the 
 cotton insect, because it has an appearance similar to a 
 small and brownish coloured piece of cotton, as if rolled up 
 between your finger and thumb. They appear to the 
 naked eye to have no life — no motion, and it is difficult to 
 believe, unless the state of your warm cloth clothes be 
 shewn to you, after being shut up with this moth for a 
 month, or so, that they are, or that they can possibly be 
 the cause of such dreadful destruction. I was detached 
 from the cold weather portion of my wardrobe for about 
 six or seven months; it had been placed in a boat, locked
 
 162 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 up, and not been opened, until it reached me. I found 
 amongst articles more or less injured, three valuable 
 coats completely destroyed by this awful intruder. Now, 
 was not that enough to make one annoyed ? 
 
 7. KATS. 
 Kats are a very pertinacious vermin indeed, as well as 
 destructive. They are very fond of bad country — leather 
 with which books are bound in the upper Country of 
 India — and should your book shelf, shelves, or library, 
 whichever you may please to term them, be left undisturbed, 
 by yourself or other person, for a week or so, the rats, you 
 will find, will have discovered your absence and will have 
 "improved the occasion," so that the books you would 
 scarcely know again — nay — moreover — I have known rats 
 on my return to the Station of Cawnpore carry on theii' 
 gambols at a late hour of the night in my very bedroom, 
 in which I had a nice little library, and the rats were so 
 delighted, I suppose, at not being disturbed, that they 
 were kicking up the devil's delight, and running about from 
 shelf to shelf, from book to book, with the greatest alacrity, 
 and enjoyment. If I had not been awoken by them when 
 requiring plenty of sleep, I should have been disposed to 
 have almost envied them their felicity — instead of the Jlies 
 envying us ours, as noticed in a former paper — but it was 
 rather too much of a good thing, as they did not at all 
 seem inclined to cease their caramboles — "they made an 
 awful noise," and it was without cessation — I waxed 
 wroth — savage — determined — destructive. I jumped up and 
 quietly shut the doors in the dark, and when they were so 
 shut I called loudly for the Sirdar (a servant) and for lights, 
 aid and assistance in killing the said rats. I got hold 
 of a horse whip, and made the Sirdar hold a light in one 
 hand and place another on the ground, in the opposite 
 focus of the room, and did'nt I commence operations on the 
 now silent and concealed foe ! Suffice it to say, that I 
 thrashed them with the horse whip to their hearts content, 
 and at last killed both rats, after a desperate, and to me at
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 163 
 
 that late hour of the night most fatiguing, struggle and 
 prolonged engagement. Reader, for I have got to a length 
 in ^ this Essay, and suppose I may address a reader, if I 
 should not for the reason of that length obtain one. Reader 
 is not, or was not that disturbance a reason sufficiently 
 strong to cause me to insert the Rat in this narrative — I have 
 not however yet done with them. "Whilst at Nusserabad 
 I was accustomed to be disturbed, not at nights much, but 
 in the early part of the mornings by rats — The cause was 
 this, I always took a cup or two of tea at about gunfire or 
 day-break, with some bread also — and my cup being left 
 on the chair alongside my bed, attracted the notice of a 
 most intelligent rat, who, whenever he found me dozing 
 again invariably made a point of attacking the said tea — 
 and once, twice or thrice he had the impudence actually 
 to come into my bed, to gather up the crumbs which fell 
 from my hands. I found him one morning close to my 
 nose, and I was most likely more frightened than he — 
 However thought I this wont do — so after in vain seeking 
 for his place of escape for several to me most annoying 
 morning's, I at last discovered that he had hidden himself 
 under a large box so little raised from the ground that I 
 thought only a mouse could have got under it. An end was 
 soon put to him now — but the piteous cry he uttered on. 
 receiving his death stroke I shall never forget! I had some 
 relief after this, and was no more distui-bed at gunfire — 
 and really the annoyance had been so great that I was very 
 glad of that relief. 
 
 At Allahabad my Cookhouse being infested with this 
 vermin, the cook after a short residence at night in the 
 cookroom became more like the poor apothecary in Romeo 
 and Juliet than " Richard himself," not that Richard was 
 very fat either. He could get no sleep— so he set traps and 
 brought me a plateful one morning — I told him not to 
 cook them for me, and to avoid using the plate again for 
 such a purpose. 
 
 The rats being driven from their strong hold now
 
 164 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 "tried it on" upon me in the mansion and disturbed me to 
 such an extent that I really felt ill at their constant 
 nightly annoyance, which nothing would check, until I 
 found that they gained entrance by means of the drains 
 leading into the bathing rooms, at the corners of the house. 
 Traps were also set and at times they were secured, but if 
 a rat get into a trap and out of it again, he will warn the 
 rest, and they will not be caught — no " dilly dilly come 
 and be cooked" with them. If you get an out of the way 
 shaped rat trap, you may succeed, and a piece of toasted 
 English cheese will effect wonders. At Kurnaul my cook 
 shewed me a wire cage full of rats which he had caught 
 the night before ; and how did he kill them ? By pouring 
 boiling water upon the mass ! At this place, as well as at 
 Allahabad, finding they had the worst of it, the rats 
 suddenly decamped, and I was not again annoyed. 
 
 I have seen a rat at Cawnpore, and another at Allahabad, 
 after being thrashed by me with a whip approach me in 
 the most supplicating manner, as if to ask for pardon — 
 Reader ! I shall be guided by your feelings, after reading 
 the foregoing details, in observing whether I granted it 
 or not. Rats are very determined creatures — in digging 
 their way through a brick wall into places where meat is 
 kept. The holes refilled with glass bottles, and the aid of 
 cats consitute the best preventives. 
 
 8. MICE. 
 
 Mice must likewise be enumerated — for although their 
 annoyances are not so great as those of the vermin before 
 mentioned yet they undoubtedly claim a quiet place in this 
 narrative. The chief cause of their annoyance is when a 
 musk-rat enters the room at night where they are present, 
 for the rat tries to drive them out, or at any rate to "disturb 
 their economy," at which time they make a peculiar, 
 hissing noise, quite sufficient to keep you awake, if not to 
 awaken you — and this is almost their only fault, a fault not 
 caused by themselves — yet forming [such as to claim for
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 165 
 
 them a place here. Otherwise, I have found them so far 
 of use, that when my tent, as will hereafter he shewn, has 
 b^en frequented by snakes, they, inhabitants of it before 
 the latter, have significantly acquainted me, by their 
 absence, which takes place immediately the other intruders 
 make their appearance. Mice become so domesticated 
 after being in your house sometime that I have had them 
 run upon the "snake," or tube of my hookah, and even get 
 on my knee. I conclude this had been caused by the 
 agreeably soothing burr the smoking of the hookah causes, 
 in a manner similar to the snake charmers' music attracting 
 snakes from their holes, to be captured by these people. 
 
 9. SNAKES. 
 One morning in passing from one of my tents to another, 
 I noticed the tail of some animal to glide rapidly under 
 the grass-covered cloth wall of my large tent, from outside 
 to within; from the powerful sunshine to shade. It struck 
 me, by the mode of vibration of its tail |that the animal 
 was not the ichneumon, or flycatcher, a reptile which 
 generally is very familiar with the interior of habitations ; 
 so I determined to ascertain what it was, having a slight 
 suspicion that it was a snake. I instigated a search forth- 
 with, and the result was the discovery of a snake of size 
 coiled up underneath the foot of my bedstead. This was 
 as you may guess, a very agreeable discovery — so, I called 
 for the servant to bring me one of my guns, loaded it with 
 a half charge of powder, and a half charge of quail or 
 snipe shot, determining to have a ' snipe' at it. The bearer 
 a servant pointed out its whereabouts, and I cut it in two by 
 the discharge. It was measured by me and found to be 
 six feet in length. I immediately had the grass outer walls 
 of the tent removed — (they had been fixed for a period of 
 some months on the banks of the River Jumna)— in order 
 to discover any other snakes— without efiect in my sleeping 
 apartment— but, when after removing the grass walls of
 
 166 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 the passage connecting the larger with the smaller tent, 
 we came to remove those of the latter, we found another 
 snake of the same family, which I also despatched in a 
 similar manner, and this one measured five feet nine inches 
 in length. The colour of both was white below, and some- 
 what of a skyish blue above — the diameter not less than 
 that of half my wrist in appearance. A further search 
 was instituted, and a third one discovered, but of quite a 
 different species, the last mentioned being a blackish 
 coloured snake not more than two feet in length, and 
 proportionately thinner in diameter. He having been 
 despatched was found to be of a deadly character — such 
 that his bite would have proved mortal in less than half 
 an hour — so the Natives said. The others were not con- 
 sidered so venemous — but I was not a little agitated at 
 finding that snakes had been in my tent, most probably for 
 some time without my previously knowing any thing about 
 the circumstance. The mice, I have before spoken of, had 
 deserted my tent for many days previously, and this fact 
 caused me to notice the occurrence of their absence as 
 singular, particularly as they subsequently returned. 
 
 One evening a poor lad was brought to my camp, from 
 a neighbouring village, he having whilst asleep been bitten 
 by a snake at about noon of that day ; (as his friends who 
 carried him stated.) He appeared to be in a state of the 
 deepest lethargy, and it was clear, that, in consequence of 
 the delay which had taken place in conveying him to 
 my camp, where I had a good hospital, with a European 
 assistant Surgeon, there was no chance of saving his life. 
 Such restoratives or stimulants as were at hand, were ad- 
 ministered to the boy — but finding all profiered aid to be of 
 no avail, he was taken back to his home, in such a state 
 that he was believed to be dead, when removed. 
 
 At Agra a servant one morning brought me a fowl which 
 he said had been killed by a snake — and that for several
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 167 
 
 mornings previously he had found a fresh one dead, appar- 
 ently from a similar cause. Fear had hitherto prevented 
 him from acquainting me with the circumstance. Next 
 morning I went into the fowl house, where the fowls were, 
 strange to say, not roosting on their perch, but crouched 
 up in corners, half dead in appearance, from the effects of 
 fear — another of them had been bitten, and after sitting list- 
 lessly for sometime, died. I had the fowl house examined, 
 and a number of snake holes being discovered in the walls, 
 they were filled up, and no further loss of fowls occurred. 
 I know not whether the simple destruction of animals by 
 injection of the poison is the object of the snake, or whether 
 he sucks the life blood also; most probably the foi'mer. 
 
 At the same station, I saw a crow hopping round and 
 round some object on the slo^jing ground of my estate at 
 some little distance from me. On approach I found a 
 cobra-di-capella with his head and neck, and mane, erected 
 in defence against the attacks of the crow. The cobra kept 
 his face to his enemy wherever he went, and hissed slightly, 
 on each attack, drawing back his head, ready to strike on 
 an apportunity offering. I soon called for a servant to 
 despatch the reptile, which was done. 
 
 At Kurnaul, on getting up one morning and on opening 
 the venetian-blind-door leading into the verandah, a snake, 
 about a foot and half in length, dropped from the upper 
 part of the door, close to my feet, and glided into some 
 straw belonging to a tattie, placed for cooling the house 
 during the day time. He was also of course soon put out 
 of the way. 
 
 Whilst travelling in a palanquin, and having to quit it 
 for a short time, in the jungles, I was once wofuUy frigh- 
 tened, after quitting my retreat, at finding an immense 
 black snake gliding away, at a few yards distance only 
 from me: his length must have been eight or nine feet,' 
 and his size that of my wrist, his colour almost deep black. 
 His bite would perhaps have caused death in twenty
 
 168 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 minutes — I felt somewhat sick at discovering so deadly a 
 brute thus near to me, and was glad to make my retreat, 
 and allow liim to make his. Snakes were at times seen 
 by my servants in or near the walls of my house. Cats are 
 not afraid to approach, but will scarcely attack the snake, 
 nor will I believe the latter assail the former animal. 
 
 10. MUSK RATS. 
 
 These gentry should Yiove followed the rats, but I may as 
 well tell of them now they occur to me. There is one 
 thing I am sure of, that neither the rats nor mice would 
 follow them, for their odour is so abominable, that no 
 animal could stand it long — and this especially when 
 they are pursued — nature having provided them with 
 such a defence as may be termed impervious— in their 
 scent. Is it not the civet cat that supplies the odour of 
 musk, if not the musk rat should be employed for the 
 purpose. It would require an " acquired taste" and smell 
 to admire it — but time effects wonders in the affections of 
 the olfactory nerves. 
 
 It is s<«<e6? that if a musk rat run over a bottle of beer 
 or a bottle of wine, albeit the first be covered with a coating 
 of straw, the beer will become strongly impregnated with 
 the real and desirable true musk-rat flavour. How 
 penetrating it must be to get through the pores of the 
 English glass bottle! They disturb you at night by the 
 disagreeable and clinking noise they invariably make when 
 moving about — and if pursued the noise becomes the more 
 shrill anddisagreeable — and in addition the fine odoriferous 
 musk scent is emitted. There are very few dogs indeed, 
 and those only real bred English ones that will touch them 
 at all, and that perhaps only once for ever. Cats will not 
 touch them, and as these rats are most particularly knowing, 
 you will find it very difficult, if there be cover of boxes, 
 to get them out of the room, and oftentimes, to find them, 
 although they are in it — all the while, too, emitting the 
 most intolerably sickening stench.
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 169 
 
 If you catch them in a trap — unless it be most par- 
 ticularly well made, or prepared especially for them — they 
 ■will most likely get out of it, for their noses are so sharp 
 pointed that they find little difficulty in squeezing through 
 a place where a mouse would get. I wish to ask the 
 learned a question— merely because it occurs to me at the 
 moment I am describing only one end of the link. Are 
 musk rats, pigs, and elephants — not from their f cent or 
 sizes, but shapes— at all to be considered as s?m7ar animals, 
 I mean to say of the same genus ? 
 
 11. SCORPIONS. 
 This nice innocent little animal formed one of the first 
 amusements I met with in India. They are generally 
 found in small tents, and they will not always wait for 
 you to attack them — but will, like the Sikhs atta k you; 
 and woe betide you if they once get a blow at you with 
 their tail, which they throw over their head, and inflict a 
 dangerous and most painful wound. The sight of the 
 blackish green iwison situated in their transparent tail is 
 sufficient to convince you of the venemous nature of the 
 same. I have never had the felicity of imbibing any of it, 
 but I am told it causes the part stung to swell up to a 
 hideous size, accompanied with excruciating pain. You 
 should look out for them in the hot weather, particularl y 
 in any places where you have most cause to dread their 
 presence. I have placed the end of an umbrella stick 
 before me, and it has attacked it, and struck the stick with 
 its tail, in the most spiteful, angry and violent manner. 
 
 12. CENTIPEDES. 
 Tlie Centipede follows as a reptile inclined to the same 
 wholesome practices. It is called centipede, because it 
 has t^nut) one hundred legs or feet — on the " lucus a non" 
 principle I conclude — how many legs it actually has I 
 know not, but perhaps some twenty or more — and it's 
 vermicularly directed motion is agreeable to the notice — 
 but bcAvare you don't get a bite from it, the effects of which
 
 170 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 are I am given to understand nearly as violent as those 
 caused by the sting of the scorpion. Did I not read in an 
 old newspaper of the death of an Officer from the effects of 
 a bite by a centipede, or was it of the sting of a scorpion? 
 It was certainly of one or the other — but I believe the 
 former, and until lately understood to be, innocuous 
 animal. These " sesquipedalian" creatures are very fond 
 of ensconcing themselves exactly where they should not 
 ensconce themselves, and hence caution is recommended, as 
 in the case of avoiding the scorpion. 
 
 13. JACKALS. 
 
 What can be more delightful than the beautiful howling, 
 squeaking, crying, straining, of this animal at night 
 time ? all over the country ! I do not believe there is one 
 station exempt from their presence. Their sounds are so 
 melodious that the natives even copy them — especially 
 thieves, for the practice of their vocation, as thus; the natives, 
 I was told, call out to one another at night time to ascertain 
 the whereabouts of their respectable confederates— as thus, 
 (imitating the sounds of the Jackal) "oh! where? oh! 
 where? oh! where?" reply "oh! here! oh! here! oh! here;' 
 thus you see conveying a knowledge of their exact situation. 
 The first thing to attract the notice at night of a " new 
 arrival," as persons just newly arrived from England are 
 called, is the noise of the Jackals. It very nearly resembles 
 the cries of an infant, or rather of an infant cutting its teeth 
 or of one about to go into convulsions. It is said that the 
 Jackal is the lion's provider — but as there are few lions 
 in the cantonment parts of India, he has only to provide for 
 himself — and this, judging from the howling he makes, 
 seems to shew that in doing so he finds for himself no 
 light a task. Jackals are very shy of coming too near 
 you at any time of light, as, when they venture to do so, 
 they generally get the worst of it. I recoUect one morning 
 at Agra seeing a Jackal on the further side of a ravine 
 which intersected part of my compound, or field attached
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 171 
 
 to the house, (a word derived from the Portuguese cam- 
 ^agna,) taking it very coolly at a distance of more thau 
 eiglity yards. I sent for my gun, charged it with ball, and 
 hit tiie chap right across the spine, which was broken. 
 I sent people to despatch him, which was done, but not 
 without his shewing a good deal of ferocious fighting, as 
 well as sagacity. 
 
 The Jackal is hunted by European sportsmen in India, 
 instead of the fox at home, and it affords a good sport — 
 evincing nearly as much cunning in securing a shelter for 
 itself as Reynard — and at times a good fight, especially 
 when the odds are not very great. His bite is said to be 
 venemous to a human being, — and no doubt that hydro- 
 phobia would be as likely to ensue from the bite of a jackal 
 as from a mad dog, (indeed death has occurred from their 
 bite) because the former no doubt becomes, when hunted, 
 as savage and rabid as the latter animal. 
 
 They are accustomed to take to drains for cover, when 
 hard pressed — and dogs endeavouring to follow them, 
 have, in consequence of the narrowness of the drain, been 
 stifled, being unable to withdraw from it. 
 
 The only annoyance that I can call to mind is that of their 
 howling, which to a woman in " the way that ladies wish 
 to be who love their lords," must at times prove most dis- 
 tressing, as well as perhaps dangerous. House dogs form 
 no means of silpncing them, as they prefer a good bark at 
 a distance — and this has but little effect. 
 14. WOLVES. 
 
 Regarding the distress, danger and inconvenience caused 
 by this animal I can only refer the reader to the des- 
 cription of his terrible and horrific nature, contained in my 
 work before referred to, "Miscellaneous Papers on Scientific 
 Subjects." 
 
 15. DOGS. 
 
 I have endeavoured in the foregoing pages to impress 
 upon the reader the annoyances experienced by every Euro- 
 pean gentleman who has travelled much; as what Military
 
 172 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 Officer of some standing in the Indian army has not, in 
 various parts of this vast continent. But I do not really 
 think there is one animal amongst them aU that causes 
 more disturbance or more inconvenience than the good! 
 pariah house (or street) dog, of villages, towns, or citits in 
 Hindustan. As soon as the inhabitants are asleep and 
 the streets otherwise silent, the pariah commences his 
 delightful howling. He does not give you the best of it 
 all at once — he prefers waiting till he thinks you are nearly 
 asleep — and when he is of opinion there is no one to guard 
 the vicinity of his residence but himself, he gives full 
 tongue to his bent. These pariah dogs (the word pariah 
 means anything vile, low, disgusting,) at certain periods 
 of the year (I suppose in the dog-days,) become so dangerous, 
 and so numerous, that it is customary at all ]Military (if 
 not so at all Civil) stations to issue orders for the destruc- 
 tion of all dogs that may chance to be found untied. Dome 
 is the designation of the poor people employed in this dirty 
 work. They use a spear and a club — the first to pin the dog 
 — the last to despatch him — they obtain one or two annas 
 a head, or rather ears, for each, and the Executive Engineer 
 or his people have generally the pleasure of paying for 
 the slaughter on the part of Government. 
 
 Indian dogs appear to hate the sight of Europeans, man 
 or woman, and they will, if not rush out at you, (though 
 certainly not when you have a stick in your hand,) wait 
 till you pass on to a little distance, and will then commence 
 an hideous howl. It is amusing to notice the sagacity the 
 pariah displays when the dome is on the look out to kill. 
 The dog will not leave the station entirely — but he will 
 give these people a great deal of trouble to get at him — 
 nevertheless they persevere until they have earned their 
 reward. 
 
 The pariah is a very cowardly dog. When I was at 
 Lucknow, dming the period of Lord Combermere being 
 there, and witnessing Asiatic sports, I had an opportunity
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 173 
 
 of noticing their extreme want of courage. A bear tied to 
 a stake in the ground was baited by this species of dog — 
 but bruin cared very little for them. All they did was 
 to bark and growl and run round the bear, who sat on his 
 stern, keeping his head erect and paws ready to touch any 
 dog up that ventured within his reach — not one dog 
 appeared to me (and I was near enough to observe) to have 
 touched the bear. The bite of the pariah is vei'y dangerous 
 to man, and on this subject the reader is agaiu referred to 
 my "Miscellaneous Papers." 
 
 16. FROGS. 
 There are more kinds than one kind of frog. The bull 
 frog is the fiuest, and his croak is really splendid ! Some 
 time before the rainy season of the year the frogs commence 
 in real delight their nocturnal concerts, in which the base 
 of the bull frog beats the lowest note of the violoncello 
 hollow. I thought it really fine! but the worst of it is you 
 get a second struck up, and they go on from one side of a 
 tank to another, a case of ditto rcjjeated, so disagreeably, 
 that perhajis the " ding dong bell" of the Koman Catholic 
 Church at the Island of Malta, especially referred to in my 
 "Narrative of a steam voyage from England to India via the 
 Mediterranean," was only huperior to it! 
 
 The smaller fry of frogs keep up the chime so vocifer- 
 ously also, that at times you may find it inconvenient to 
 make youself distinctly understood by a person at the other 
 side of the table. 
 
 It is really a most extraordinary circumstance, that, at 
 the commencement of the rains, when the ground has 
 become almost white, and the grass destroyed, through the 
 effects of the previous intense heat, and a fall of rain takes 
 place, myriads of very minute frogs start into existence 
 and are seen hopping about inside the enclosure of your 
 , estate as well as outside of it — in fact every where. Their 
 appearance is instantaneous after a good shower, and no
 
 174 , THE delights Ol INDIA. 
 
 doubt eggs, or larv£e, or some other ineaus of reproductiod 
 by this animal, are called ou to perform their share in the 
 same. I have been almost inclined to think the frog is 
 showered down upon us — and why not a shower of frogs? 
 Fish are stated, see Royal Engineer Professional Papers^ 
 to have fallen in India on more than one occasion. Then 
 if this be the case, why not frogs ? If the spawn of fish can 
 impregnate the atmosphere, wdiy cannot that of frogs do the 
 same? the small size of the animal proves the egg to 
 be most minute. I have not however noticed any fall of 
 them. When the rains have pretty well advanced, and 
 rendered the air extremely damp and cold, a solitary frog 
 or so will frequently be found esconced in a corner of your 
 room, quietly awaiting the termination of the rain. He 
 will, however, previously to the coming on of other showers 
 give you the benefit of a pleasant croak or two, which is an 
 invariable indication of the approach of the cloud. This 
 occurs the more significantly, in the open, where the Avhole 
 band strike up their accustomed intimation that " the rain 
 is coming." 
 
 "With exception to the night disturbance before adverted 
 to, I do not consider frogs to form much of a plague to one. 
 But they must be borne in this account of " the Plagues of 
 India," a name I intended at first to give to this my 
 pi'oduction. 
 
 17. BATS. 
 
 Bats are a' disgusting nightbird mouse, a winged mouse 
 in fact. They frequently enter your open windowed rooms 
 attracted by the lights. In mess rooms in the hot weather 
 they have been seen to enjoy a good oil bath (after "putting 
 out the light,") then to emerge, and in endeavouring to 
 crawl up the glass shade or cover, to bespatter the whole 
 receptacle with oil, to the disturbance of the party. They 
 will likewise enter the rooms and verandah of your abode, 
 and should one unfortunately have been shut up inside of 
 it. he will be a cause all night of disturbance to your rest>
 
 tHli DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 1*5 
 
 not only by impinging against any projection he comes foul 
 of, but by the disagreeably squeaking noise he makes. 
 
 "It is moreover staled that bats are particularly fond of 
 "gaining your ear," most insinuating indeed in that respect, 
 but why they should attempt a lodgment in or on it I am, 
 I must confess, at a loss to say. Their bite is said to be 
 severe, and judging from the appearance of their teeth it is 
 reasonable to suppose the remark to be true. Their 
 appearance is sufficiently disgusting, were there no other 
 cause of annoyance. They rest themselves by hanging by 
 their claws to the branches of trees, or within doors, to any 
 projection suitable, aye, even to the overhead surface of the 
 cross beams of the ceiling or roof. 
 
 18. CATS. 
 Poor Captain Llewellyn Smith, of the Regiment of 
 Bengal Artillery, since deceased, was the most splendid 
 imitator, at a mess party generally, of the caterwauling 
 of these brutes, and should any friend of his ever see this 
 page it will recall to his mind the paroxysms of laughter 
 caused by him when relating his " I'm on the tiles ! 
 I'm on the leads," a duet by cats, one in high, the other 
 in low voice. His exact imitations of their voice was quite 
 as good as the original itself. Cats frequently awake one 
 at night with the howling they make. They by day or 
 night purloin whatever meat chances to be left uncovered 
 — they don't mind walking off with a whole roasted fowl, 
 and worse than this, after having gorged their fill they 
 will sometimes get under your bed or couch, for the pur- 
 pose of ejecting the meat again. IMany of them are jungle 
 (for wild) cats partly tamed — sufl&cicntly so to enter your 
 house, verandah, or perhaps rooms ; but if you attempt to 
 touch them then beware of a severe bite, or blow with the 
 paw. Even the kittens have an intinctive dread of a white 
 face— the brutes ! and you may nurse and treat them as 
 ■well as you like, without producing a kind return — bite 
 they will at any time you touch them. Thev are useful
 
 176 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 only in killing- rats, or keeping your house free of them to 
 a certain extent. The bite of the cat appears at times to 
 have produced hydrophobia. 
 
 19. SAND FLIES. 
 
 I have only to remark, with respect to this minute 
 animal — called sandfly, because it is I believe generally to 
 be found where sand abt)unds— that whilst in tents on the 
 banks of the Jumna, as before observed, the raised floor of 
 my tent for the sake of dryness being well sanded, I can 
 call to recollection no instances elsewhere of distui-bance 
 by this pretty little insect so frequent as I met with there. 
 Perhaps their name may have been applied in consequence 
 of their diminutive bulk. 
 
 Sand flies disturb you day or evening by attacking the 
 cornea of your eyes, and by nipping you otherwise quite 
 as badly and painfully as the musquito will. They are 
 very pertinacious in their attacks. 
 
 20. FLYING BUGS. 
 Perpaps nothing is more agreeable to the olfactory nerves 
 than the scent produced by a good full grown, well fed 
 flying bug — one that is not content with confining himself 
 to his own particular vicinity, but that will au contraire 
 make a point of visiting such domiciles as may attract 
 him by the agreeable odours from the dinner table, 
 especially Kegimental Messes, a resort peculiarly sought 
 by the insect in question. He flies in, thumping hard 
 against the glass shade of a candle — and perhaps the hard 
 thump causes him to add somewhat to his sweet odour. 
 Be that as it may, you are not able to continue your meal, 
 until the intruder has been removed. The odour is redolent 
 of all pleasant scents, civet, nux vomica, " ram and goat," 
 (vide Ovid's art of love, Dryden's translation) — stinking 
 fish, rotten vegetables, Calcutta drains, et hoc genus omne 
 Perhaps you best plan is to endeavour and obtain a 
 pinch of snuff, which however you will not always be able 
 to do. Your mnsk — scented handkerchief will scarcely siiffice
 
 THE DELIGHTS OK INDIA. 17T 
 
 to relieve the disgusting sensation — and all you have to da 
 is to wait until the stench have ceased. 
 
 21. COCKROACHES. 
 
 The cockroach is an exceedingly destructive animal 
 where books are exposed to his attacks. Clothes also seem 
 to be much prized by them. They frequently disturb one 
 whilst sitting at night time by suddenly flying on or near 
 the table — as well as settling upon yourself — sometimes on 
 your face. They likewise rush across the floor of the room 
 with considerable rapidity — and the buzzing noise, on their 
 striking any object is by no means agreeable. All persons 
 who have made a voyage to India must have noticed the 
 swarms of cockroaches which infest a ship. They come 
 out of chinks in the wood joinings; run over you, if asleep, 
 and commence making a meal perhaps on your great toe. 
 They are not so bold that I am aware of upon shore — but the 
 loss they cause by the destruction above referred to is really 
 considerable at times. Boxes should be frequently opened 
 in order to prevent this animal from increasing, for it will 
 otherwise multiply exceedingly therein. 
 
 22. SCREECH OWLS. 
 
 The screech owls at Allahabad were to me very annoying. 
 They occupied holes made by themselves in the thatched 
 roof of my house, and I was frequently awoken and kept 
 awake at night by their shrill clattering discordant shriek- 
 ing. They were not a few in number, and my chokeydars 
 (or watchmen,) were obliged to be very alert in obedience 
 to my orders, in keeping the owls at a distance by use of a 
 sling, or bow, and pellets of hard dried clay. This small 
 kind of screech owl is very common in India — where it 
 does not produce the same kind of romantic dread as in 
 England, where it is considered by the superstitious as the 
 harbinger of evil or of death. It is simply a nuisance, to 
 be considered in the light above described. The way I 
 got rid of them eventually was to send for the bird catchers 
 who by the aid of their bird lime on the top of their
 
 178 TilK I)i;]-1UUTS OL' INDIA. 
 
 (forked) sticks of bamboo, very soon got hold of the gents in 
 their holes, and removed them to thi ir own houses in order 
 to be caged. 
 
 23. THE HOOTING OWLS. 
 
 The 'shrill, melancholy, monotonous, dreary, ghostlike 
 sound or cry of this bird is really most disagreeable. In 
 the middle of the night, should you be awake you will 
 hear the "bird of ill omen" give his solemn notes to the 
 wind, and although I am far from superstitious, yet I 
 can so far say that whilst'at Nusseerabad and shortly after 
 I had entered a new abode, I heard the owl's hooting noise 
 at the midnight hour, a circumstance which had not taken 
 place for a long period before, and upon the arrival of 
 the overland mail, shortly afterwards I was made ac- 
 quainted with the decease of a very near relative of mine, 
 who died the very day I had entered that house. Should 
 you have the bird driven away, he will pitch on the plain 
 again not much further off and repeat his solemn sounds. 
 I would wager a trifle the grave diggers in Hamlet even 
 would have been disturbed by so melancholy a "visitant," 
 jovial though they be whilst digging the grave before 
 occupied by Yorick the jester. The visits of this owl are 
 however "few and far between"— and so we will dismiss 
 liim, with one half page for his history. 
 
 24. HORNETS. 
 "Those horrid hornets" is an expression frequently 
 uttered in some parts of India, at the commencement of 
 the warm season as well as during its continuance. Ver- 
 andahs are the chief places where they manage to obtain 
 shelter and "board and lodging"— and it really is dangerous 
 to walk in them should the hornets have taken a fancy to 
 "swarm" there, or rather to construct their several cells— 
 for they do not always, like bees, build their one vast comb. 
 Your only plan is to leave one glass-door of your room 
 adjoining the verandah half open. The hornets will one 
 hy -one enter the apartment to seek for better cover, or to
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF IN'DIA. 119 
 
 « 
 
 cool themselves. They will, if pursued, fly against the 
 other glazed doors or windows, trying to escape, and you 
 can very easily despatch them by means of your hand- 
 kerchief and foot. A few days labour at this will relieve 
 you entirely of their presence — which is much to be dreaded. 
 I have seen persons "turn quite white" on seeing them 
 enter a room, which these insects endeavour by their 
 attacks to render exclusively their o.wn. 
 
 I have fortunately escaped personal injury from them, 
 although they have frequently flown at my dress — my cap 
 — or covered neck — but not at my face. They appear to 
 know when they are noticed instanter, and Avill then fly 
 higher than before. They are fully as dangerous as, if not 
 more so than, bees, after they have constructed their comb, 
 which it is to be observed never contains any honey or 
 other similar substance to that collected by the latter in- 
 dustrious insect. It is a work of no slight danger to 
 destroy these nests or combs, and the only way is to use 
 fire as they do or did in England. Steam in the latter 
 country should if practicable be substituted for fire in 
 taking honey. 
 
 25. WASPS. 
 
 Wasps are equally as disagreeable and dangerous as 
 hornets and only difier from the latter in colour and size, 
 the yellow coloured insect, the wasp, being of less size than 
 the brown hued one the hornet. They have similar noxious 
 propensities, and the effects of the sting of either kind are 
 very serious — the hornet claiming the virus of greater 
 power, and consequent efiect. 
 
 26. FLEAS. 
 
 Fleas are brought into houses generally by cats or dogs, 
 to the skin of which animals they pertinaciously adhere. 
 Where dogs are allowed to be kept in the rooms of the 
 main building, fleas will be found in them as well as in all 
 the other rooms. To describe their annoyances would be a 
 work of supererogation, which I shall therefore avoid ; it is
 
 180 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 not however an easy matter to get rid of fleas after they 
 have once intruded. Continual sweeping of the corners of 
 rooms, under the beds and boxes &c., will however soon 
 effect their removal — and whitewashing the walls and 
 floors will invariably be found an efi'ectual cure. 
 
 27. FLYING WHITE ANTS. 
 
 This though an ephemeral animal should have followed or 
 perhaps have been attached to the description of the 
 white ant itself — although one is a kind of grub — the other 
 an insect in full wing. These ants during the hot seasons 
 of the year take their residence below ground, at a depth 
 of some six or eight or even twelve feet, in a receptacle of 
 a globular shape — determined however, I suppose, by the 
 nature of the soil below being hard or soft. They live 
 there until the rains commence, at which period they 
 emerge in countless myriads in light flimsy wings, which 
 ■drop off after a few quivering motions of the ant. They 
 manage nothwithstanding to reach the open mess, or any 
 other dinner table, and, soon after you have sat down and 
 the lights have been placed on the table an inroad of this 
 insect takes place. They crawl, after flrst flying against 
 the glass shades of the candlesticks, indiscriminately all 
 over the table, and enter such dishes as may happen to be 
 left uncovered. Their sauce thus given is as remarkable 
 as their sauciness — and perhaps it would not be a bad plan 
 to have a nice chutnee prepared of them. (Chutnee is a 
 kind of sweet pickle.) As soon as they have been cleared 
 away by^ the servants a fresh batch makes its appearance 
 and it is not for some time that it is possible to render the 
 party exempt from their presence. Towards the evening 
 bats, and crows, on discovery of a fresh importation of these 
 insects, commence a most determined attack upon them — 
 and it is amusing to notice the dexterity Avith which the 
 former seize then during their flight. The shades of 
 •evening only put a stop to the carnage or rather devastation. 
 O'morning time the same sort of thing frequently hap- 
 pens, as far as the crows 'are concerned.
 
 THE DKLIGHTS OF INDIA. 181 
 
 28. BEES IN FLIGHT. 
 
 At Kurnaul I have of an evening, whilst quietly sitting 
 outside the verandah of my house, smoking my cigar — 
 been attacked by a bee on its route homeward or outward, 
 and stung on the hand most severely, The pain was great, 
 but in order to prevent the wounded part from swelling, 
 I applied Queen Eleanor's plan for removing the poison, 
 sucking it out of the wound. I don't know whether any 
 history shews the King's wife to have suffered in health in 
 consequence of the attachment she thus displayed for her 
 husband Edward, but the bee's sting had no ill effect upon 
 me, as the part so relieved did not swell at all. It would 
 no doubt be a very good plan to adopt this ancient mode 
 of "curing the bite" of perhaps any animal, excepting of 
 a mad dog, or of a snake. Bees are, otherwise, as well 
 employed in making honey as in England. And here it 
 is not infrequent to find nice combs full of honey con- 
 structed upon or under the branches of your grape vines ; 
 aye, and of jungle trees. 
 
 29. CORKSCREW WORMS. 
 
 I have given this name to the worm which screws itself 
 into the woodwork of the door and window sills, beams of 
 the roof, or other quiet places for its operations. The noise 
 it makes all night is of a most disagreeable and disturbing 
 nature, and the worst of it is that you cannot find out its 
 locality — and sometimes the sound made by it in boring 
 appears to come from a different direction than the real 
 one. What are you to do? you have no remedy but 
 resignation, for that night at least, and if you are fortunate 
 enough to discover the exact abode of the grub you may 
 manage to dispossess him of his fortification — but only at a 
 loss to yourself in your own property, which you must 
 have perforated in perhaps sevei'al places before you can 
 manage to discover the animal. 
 
 Reader ! do not be frightened when I inform you that 
 I have only now in completing the l^th. article of my list 
 of the " Delights of human life in India," attained to one
 
 182 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 half — perhaps less than one half of them; your patience 
 therefore is requested for the remainder. 
 
 30. BLUE BOTTLE FLIES. 
 These should have come next to the common fly, but 
 were forgotten. Blue bottle flies will I undertake to say 
 enter a bottle of sugar quicker than the sand or common fly. 
 It is difiicult to dislodge them through the neck. They are 
 very fond of a svreet cup of good tea, and milk is not rejected 
 by them — no beverage becomes improved by their pro- 
 longed immersion in it. The remedies for this nuisance 
 are the same as for the common fly. 
 
 31. HOUSE SPARROW. 
 
 Whilst at Kurnaul being a good deal annoyed by the 
 noise of these insignificant little birds, and having dis- 
 covered that a couple of them had taken possession of the 
 punkah* fringe in which they had constructed a dormitory, 
 at evening time I made a capture of the male bird — which 
 was " in an awful stew," but a cold one, he being reduced by 
 fear to a state of almost ice. The female on the contrary, was 
 as courageous and fierce as possible in attacking me and 
 endeavouring to relieve her rnate, and when I got hold of 
 her too, she bit, kicked and struggled most desperately 
 until I freed them both. It is very diffiourt also to drive 
 them out of the room, they will keep on flying from one 
 corner of the cornice to another, notwithstanding your 
 throwing at them any thing within your reach. I could 
 only ensure their departure by the use of a bamboo suffi- 
 ciently long to reach to the ceiling, after which, the 
 bamboo being kept in the room, they seldom returned to 
 invade it again. I experienced this in Calcutta. 
 
 Sparrows are very destructive to grass roofed buildings 
 and they seem to delight in doing as much mischief as lies 
 in their power. A couple of these birds had built their nests 
 
 * Punkah, a parallelogram of woodwork frame, panelled with cloth, white- 
 washed or painted, suspended over the table, and pulled to cool the apartment.
 
 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 183 
 
 in a corner of the cornice of my sitting room — a young one 
 nearly fledged fell Avith so hard a thump on the floor one 
 day .that I thought he was " used up," hut after a few 
 minutes he hegan to revive and I had him taken care of 
 until he was large enough to " malce his own way in the 
 world." The noise the parent birds made until they saw 
 I offered their offspring food was far from agreeable, and if I 
 ^ove out the " little cock sparrow" at one door, in he came 
 at another, lustily, and I may say most ludicrously 
 vociferating his fears. 
 
 Sparrow pie is considered very heating, and Aristotle in 
 one of his Lyrics hints at its being so. I suppose the cold 
 pie or pudding is included as well as the hot. The nicest 
 way of dressing the sparrow for eating is " with the string," 
 as taught in our juvenile days, but I must not interfere 
 with Mrs. Glass, or Dr. Kitchener, in their interesting 
 vocations. 
 
 Batches of sparrows are frequently in the habit of quar- 
 relling, and then they become a perfect nuisance, and must 
 be dealt with summarily and by wholesale. 
 
 32. BEETLES. 
 Beetles fly into your apartments day or night, nocte 
 dieqne, or (as some of the wi'iters have it, noctu diuque, imtil 
 they have knock'd you (noctu) up, after which it is a case 
 of course of die you (diu). 
 
 Their buzzing is peculiarly base and disagreeable : they 
 as a ruse dont seem to know what they are looking for, or 
 to shew what is their object in visiting you ; and if you 
 should not heed them at first they will take care to let you 
 know they are present. Their bite, which however is 
 seldom inflicted, is I understand most inflammatory in its 
 effects, and painful in its fii-st infliction as well as subsequent 
 operation. It is yet a pity to kUl some of these beautiful 
 coleopteras. 
 
 f
 
 184 THE DELIGHTS OF INDIA. 
 
 33. RED ANTS. 
 
 The red ant dilFers from the white ant in shape, colotu- 
 habits, food, resources, means and every thing else. This 
 v^ry intelligent class of insect, as all these annoying classes 
 seem to fte, is found in great numbers in cold meat dishes, 
 shut up in confined boxes, mcatsafes, or any how in some 
 localities — and as a proof — I had a meatsafe suspended by 
 a rope from a verandah roof. The red ants (a miiiut^^ 
 insect, I should have stated) first ascended the verandah 
 pillars and then descended along the rope to the safe, but 
 with a stronger incentive perhaps than the rat elsewhere 
 spoken of.* People talk about instinct in animals being the 
 same as sense in man. In some things they prove them- 
 selves superior — and frequently you exclaim. " Who 
 would have thought it possible"? 
 
 Eed Ants are found numerously on sugar, bread, cold 
 meats, sweet fruits, &c., and they will sometimes "venture 
 ini a glass of wine." They are also peradventure to be 
 found in your bed at night, and on one occasion I found 
 my hair covered witli them, for they had been attracted by 
 the odour of fresh pomade which had been opened and used 
 during the day. They bite sometimes, but not frequently. 
 
 KOI HAI. 
 
 (unfinished). 
 
 ('ktk, March 1849.^ 
 
 Hevised 2nd, May 1857, 
 
 * " There wsis a rac for want of stairs 
 Gaajc down a rope to go to prayers."
 
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