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 A SJJ*-
 
 VIOLANTHE: 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS.
 
 VIOLANTHE: 
 
 A TALE OF THE TWELFTH CENTURY j 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 Can 
 
 ' Beauty blighted in an hour, 
 
 ' Find joy within her broken bower? 
 
 ' No! gayer insects flutt'ring by, 
 
 ' Ne'er droop the wing o'er those that die, 
 
 1 And lovelier things have mercy shewn 
 
 ' To every failing but their own, 
 
 4 And every woe a tear can claim 
 
 ' Except an erring sisler's shame.' 
 
 Giaour. 
 
 ||* 
 
 CALCUTTA. 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, AT THE MIRROR PRESS. 
 
 By P. CrichUm* 
 1818.
 
 /9f 
 
 Jff/ 
 
 TIOJLAiSfTHE % 
 
 A TALE OF THE TWELFTH CENTURY. 
 
 PARI' I. 
 
 ion air-wav'd plumes aud banners gleam 
 
 afar, 
 Bright in the pomp and pageantry of War ; 
 Shrill shouts of Victory peal along the plain, 
 And boist'rous Triumph swells its madd'ning 
 
 strain. 
 Steeds bound beneath their load of Warrior pride., 
 Rous'd by the joyous tumult at their side. 
 
 G
 
 6 
 
 Whilst sleepless echo hails the martial noise. 
 
 Till ev'ry haunt repeats the din of joys : 
 
 And hark! where thickest move yon gallant 
 
 throng, 
 The shouts of Battle won subside to song. 
 
 . 
 
 SONG. 
 
 I. 
 
 How vain are the wreaths, that o'er shadow the 
 brow 
 
 Of the minstrel, in laurels array'd; 
 And vain are the chaplets that Lovers bestow, 
 
 To twine o'er the form of fair maid. 
 But blest are the honors, that hallow the name 
 
 Of the Patriot, whose praises are rung, 
 And brighter far brighter the Victor's proud 
 fame, 
 
 When that Victor is Alfred the Young!
 
 9 
 
 2. 
 
 For (he brand of the Foeman is broken in twain, 
 
 And the day of his warring is past, 
 His eye-ball is fix'd in the death-stare of pain, 
 
 And his corse it lies bleach'd in the blast : 
 While the arm that hath levell'd the Recreant low, 
 
 And foul life from his bosom that wrung, 
 That hath battled 'mid vengeance, and slain the 
 fierce foe, 
 
 Is the arm of Sir Alfred the Young ! 
 
 And hears Sir Alfred not this song of joy, 
 And say can other thoughts his soul employ I 
 Beats not his breast in triumph, while the crowd, 
 Tell his proud deeds and hail his might aloud ; 
 Beams there no waken'd smile, no transient 
 
 glance, 
 To say his soul hath risen from its trance? 
 Lo ! from the band apart, in senseless gaze, 
 He eyes his Vassals, but nor hears their lays,
 
 m 
 
 Nor dreams of triumph, though his banners fly 
 Unfurl'd in all the pride of Victory. 
 His is no heart to feel that triumph now. 
 Nor wake, as once, to wild impassioifd glow; 
 He has no throbbing pulse to beat again 
 In thrill of pleasure, or in pang of pain ; 
 His stream of life for ever seems to hie 
 In break-less tenor of vitality ; 
 Dull as the waters of some darksome cave, 
 Where not a breath disturbs the blacken'd wave ; 
 Where all is noiseless, wrapt in stillest gloom, 
 Worse ev'n than Death, more fearful than the 
 Tomb I 
 
 Once and but once amid the late fierce 
 
 fight, 
 His eye flash'd forth in beaming blaze of light, 
 And then that look flung more than earthly 
 
 awe; 
 'Twas the fierce moment, when young Alfred 
 
 saw
 
 11 
 
 His hated Rival, and with sudden bound, 
 Headlong lie rush'd, and huiTd him to the 
 
 ground ! 
 That bold deed o'er, his dark and hagard eye 
 Sunk to its wonted night of apathy ; 
 Or like the evening gloom that seems more dull, 
 When vivid lightnings cease, and tempests lull ; 
 Then throbb'd his languid pulses still more slow, 
 More glassy grew his gaze, more wan his brow. 
 
 Say why shall no bright glance illume that 
 
 brow, 
 Save in the one dread hour, beneath his blow, 
 When sunk his Rival, welt'ring on the plain, 
 Trophy of vengeance, brightest of the slain ? 
 Among the faithful warriors of his band, 
 Late led to Battle-feud, at fierce command, 
 Some few there are, who can remember well, 
 When Alfred's heart throbb'd high in blissful 
 
 swell ; 
 When rapture glisten'd sparkling o'er his face, 
 And lent his youthful form a nobler grace :
 
 12 
 
 For Violanthe then his hour could bless. 
 And Life was Love,- that Love all happiness. 
 
 And scarce two years have fled since Alfred 
 shone 
 Blythe as the gayest, round his Sov'reign's throne, 
 Foremost in feat of arms, and tournament, 
 And eyes of praise upon the Youth were bent. 
 
 When haughty Anjou join'd the fed'rate 
 arms, 
 Hurling at Beauclerc Henry, wars alarms, 
 Then, brave as bravest knight, who fought to claim 
 So late in Palestine a deathless fame, 
 Young Alfred shone amid the storm of fight, 
 Emblem of prowess, meteor-star of might ! 
 Knighted by Anjou's Count, from war he came 
 So youthful, yet so brave ; that, at his name, 
 Beauty would turn to hide her blush of Love, 
 And Virgins fly unseen to bowery grove, 
 To trace in Fancy's Mirror, some such youth 
 Breathing the sacred vow of promis'd truth.
 
 13 
 
 There was a maiden, raid that virgin train, 
 Pure as the unsunn'd snow* that veils the plain ; 
 Pure as the morning dew, where wat'ry gem 
 Shiues o'er each blossom, sparkles on each stem : 
 She seem'd perfections self, so fair, so mild, 
 That Sternness paus'd to gaze, and gazing smil'd. 
 The gentle beaming of her soft blue eye, 
 Look'd promise but of Love, of constancy ; 
 And Alfred priz'd her, and their faith was given 
 And Earth seem'd bright for them, a scene of 
 
 Heaven ! 
 Who-who so fond as Violanthe then, 
 Or who so blest as Alfred among men ; 
 Where-where had Anjou seen so meet a pair, 
 So seeming good, so youthful and so fair ! 
 
 It was the first of woe to Alfred's fate, 
 When Anjou's Count, in vengeful pride elate, 
 Again call'd forth his bands of warrior-brave, 
 And bade his banners in defiance wave, 
 
 " Ai chaste as unsunn'd snow'" Shakespean
 
 14 
 
 Taunting the Norman : then to Alfred's heart, 
 'Twas death from Violanthe's love to part ; 
 Each dire foreboding, though he knew not why, 
 Fought at that heart, and forc'd a bitter sigh : 
 He left the weeping maiden, fond and fair, 
 He might not find her thus ; some youth might 
 
 share 
 The virgin<-glance,which late but fondness beam'd, 
 And in that parting hour ail tearful seem'd. 
 
 LoNG-long was A-LFred absent, and the maid 
 While yet in bower of Love she weeping stray VI 
 Was sought by one, who came with demon tread ; 
 No Warrior he who bands to battle lead ! 
 No bold supporter of his Sov'reign's Cause ! 
 No tierce avenger of insulted laws ! 
 Aubert possess'd that soul of dastard dye, 
 Kous'd but in passion's work of infamy ; 
 Bedeck'd in gloss of vice, which still deceives 
 The heedless heart, that prompt of faith believes, 
 His was a form that shrunk from scene of war, 
 And demon-like, but mov'd bright worth, to 
 mar.
 
 15 
 
 What tales of falsehood fram'd to tempt the fair) 
 To lure the spotless victim to his snare ; 
 What wiles of Hell he brought 'twere sad to say, 
 'Twcre misery to repeat, but woe the day, 
 The wary Villain plied those arts too well, 
 In hour of madness Vio:lanthe fell ! 
 
 The storms of Heav'n may blast a frighted 
 world, 
 And thunder bolts of wrath, in fury hurl'd, 
 May fling fierce ruin round ; 'till Nature lies 
 A prostrate wreck, beneath the low'ring skies ! 
 Such wreck may Nature be, but oh ! the heart, 
 That, dooinM from fairest hopes of life to part; 
 That sees lov'd woman, faithless and untrue, 
 Rise as some Fiend to blight the shrinking view : 
 That finds its day-dream vanish'd in despair, 
 Condemn'd to curse the form, it thought so fair; 
 Oli ! such a heart more fearful ruin knows, 
 More wild its wreck of joy, more deep its woes.
 
 16 
 
 There was no moan from Alfred's wid**od' 
 
 breast, 
 There was no sigh that agony express'd ; 
 There was no maniac raving, to declare, 
 That Alfred sunk in frenzy of despair ; 
 Yet, those who knew him once, had mark'd his 
 
 tread, 
 Light as some steed's careering o'er the mead ; 
 Had watcli'd the sparkling brightness of his eye, 
 Late lighted up to looks of extacy : 
 And saw him now, a wretched heartless thing, 
 The stricken prey of sorrow's sleepless sting; 
 Its wan, mute victim, nerveless and unmov' d ; 
 Ah ! these would whisp'ring say, ' in sooth he 
 
 lov'd': 
 
 He linger'd thus, and Aubert idly deem'd 
 His crime had heen forgotten, and he seem'd, 
 Reckless of anger from the injur'd knight, 
 Nor strove as wont, to fly avenging might. 
 Sudden around his Castle's moat appear'd, 
 Bands of brave foemen ; and, in air uprear'd,
 
 n 
 
 Floated Sir Alfred's crested Ensigns highy 
 And shouts of vengeance echoed to the sky. 
 Then fain had Aubert fled, but spies declar'd 
 That Alfred's friends alone the Feud had dar'd *. 
 That Alfred still insensible to all, 
 Unmov'd ev'n now at fierce resentment's call, 
 Led by his friends nor wish'd, nor sought the fight, 
 His bosom shrunk in hopelessless of night. 
 Encourag'd thus, the dastard Aubert sought 
 The coming fight, and half exulting thought 
 To trample on his fallen victim's form, 
 And crush, his Rival in the Battle's storm. 
 
 The fight began and tlio' the din of arms 
 Rang round Sir Alfred, loud in its alarms, 
 He heard it not ; but soon his glances caught 
 The recreant Aubert, as he taunting fought, 
 Then seem'd his soul to rouse again to life, 
 He felt the catching fervour of the strife y 
 An aweful waking ev'ry look confest, 
 Beat his wild heart, fresh vengeance fir'd his 
 breast; 
 
 B
 
 18 
 
 He rush'd to combat, and, with furious aim, 
 Cleft the seducers helm, and feil'd his frame ! 
 
 And now he turns again to cheerless hall, 
 The feeling past, that wrought his foeman's fall ; 
 His eye still fix'd in stupor of despair, 
 Victim 'mid youth of paralizing care. 
 So have we seen some War-horse in the fight, 
 Panting in youth, and consciousness of might, 
 He hears the troubled Breeze, as on its wings 
 The din of angry fray loud tumult flings : 
 Then warriors praise the beauty of its form, 
 And watch its rushing to the Danger's storm. 
 But there alas ! some dire, disabling wound 
 Fells that young war-horse to the slain-strew'd 
 
 ground ; 
 Writhing it lies, its nobleness of mien, 
 Its late proud bearing, now no longer seen : 
 Condemn'd to linger out life's future hours 
 In broken spirit, and 'mid wasted powers.
 
 VlOIiANTHE. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 JL said, the Maid was pure as unsunn'd snow, 
 Ah ine! that Woman is not ever so; 
 For sad the trac'd resemblance e'er appears, 
 When fiercer suns have thaw'd that snow to tears ! 
 
 Observe yon eminence, yon tow'ring height, 
 Wreath'd with a snowy Crown, all spotless bright, 
 Not yet the Day-Star rides upon the sky. 
 And oh ! that height beams fair in purity. 
 But now the Eastern gold illumes yon brow, 
 A thousand gems of fairy brightness glow ;
 
 20 
 
 Beauty more beauteous shows, more pleasing 
 
 seems, 
 And loveliness in softest radiance beams : 
 Now comes the blaze of day, the mid-hour speeds, 
 And in its train, meridian fervour leads ; 
 Ah ! see the weeping snow dissolves away ; 
 Its pureness fades beneath the sultry ray : 
 Till lost, all vanish'd in the mid-day glow, 
 Where is the morning scene of fairness now 1 
 
 'Tis thus some Maiden, in her peaceful bowcr a 
 Soft as the budding form of opening Flower, 
 Seems that ideal being Minstrels paint, 
 "When Fancy flies the trammels of restraint, 
 Bearing the rapturd child of song away, 
 Till earthless thoughts of feeling fire his lay ! 
 Ev'n such her charms, but soon as eastern blush, 
 The dawning sun of Love hath shed its flush; 
 Then, for a while, upon her beauteous cheek 
 There blooms a dye-of wanner, brighter streak, 
 
 How blest if always thus ! -but lawless Love, 
 
 In more than mid-day glow, may chance to rove,
 
 21 
 
 May break upon her bower of innocence, 
 And drive each thought of purer virtue thence. 
 Till fairness fades away, and beauty flics, 
 And peace with loveliness of woman dies ! 
 
 There rung a dire report of maniac seen, 
 The fearful wanderer of some distant scene ; 
 And many a Pilgrim of the Cross divine, 
 Late from the scene of far Judcea's shrine, 
 Returning homeward, gain'd an evening cheer, 
 By tale he pour'd upon the list'ning ear, 
 Of maiden he hadmark'd on Antioch's plain, 
 The fearful vassal of pale Frenzy's reign. 
 Children would trembling listen, till the hair 
 Bristled at mention of that maniac Fair; 
 And they would nightly fancy, in their dreams, 
 They saw the living spectre, heard the screams 
 Of frantic female, such as pilgrims told, 
 Wander'd the shrieking spirit of the wold. 
 
 'Twas Violanthe's form that wander'd then, 
 Far from the busy haunts and scoff of men ;
 
 'Twas Violanthe's scream that Pilgrim's 
 
 caught, 
 'Till came that cry with sound unearthly fraught ; 
 'Twas Violanthe, once the fairest flower 
 That bloom'd in Anjou's merry court or bower, 
 Now the pale image of that fate unblesr, 
 That men can more than pity, yet detest : 
 A being reasonless a hagard form 
 Writhing in worse than grief; expos'd to storm 
 Of inward Frenzy, 'till the mindless frame 
 Scoffs at the heav'n-huiTd bolt, and lightning's 
 
 flame; 
 Still striving to out-din, in shriek of pain, 
 r J?he thunder's echo pealing o'er the plain, 
 
 'Twas thus, when journeying, in Holy Land, 
 Where cross-sign'd warriors grasp'd the pious 
 
 brand ; 
 Where many a Knight, entomb'd in Palestine, 
 With blood-red Martyrs, gain'd the wreath divine- 
 A band of Pilgrims faint in lengthen'd toil, 
 Were, weary, pacing Syria's sainted soil : 
 Sudden, across their path, the Maniac bounds, 
 Her hair dishevell'd, and her feet in wounds, 
 Utt'ring her wonted shriek: the band pursue, 
 Till deep amid some dell she tied from view.
 
 23 
 
 Still, still they urge pursuit; beside a tree, 
 In swoon of pale insensibility, 
 They find her breathless form; but what a sight 
 Of wreck'd humanity, the eye to blight ; 
 They saw a female's bleeding-, grief-worn frame, 
 So wan, that man's perception scarce could name, 
 Or think that form of Earth ! no pleasing trace 
 Of once fair woman beam'd upon her face ; 
 Bin death, approaching, stampt his fearful sign, 
 And shed such ghastliness o'er each deep line 
 Of pallid features, that her livid- brow 
 SecmM but as image of some sprite below. 
 
 Aim) that Pilgrims band, one stood apart, 
 He wildly watch'd the maniac : and his heart 
 Beat as 'twould burst, as still his view he rais'd, 
 And o'er that maniac's form in terror gaz'd. 
 It might be her, how many a month had sped, 
 Since first to holy land in sorrow led, 
 
 Far from the scene of ill, lie dar'd to rove, 
 To sooth away the pang of ruiu'd love, 
 Tho' chang'd from cv'ry charm of loveliness, 
 Which once had shone his youthful heart to bless. 
 Yet still it might be her : he had not heard 
 Of Violanthe's fate one whispcr'd Avord,
 
 24 
 
 Save, that at first dark mention of her sin, 
 She fled from Anjou, teeming with the din 
 Of all her faithlessness, to hide her shame, 
 And 'tomb in eastern clime her blighted fame. 
 He mark'd her death-like cheek, sure nothing 
 
 there 
 Could waken mem'ry of each feature fair ; 
 And while in aweful doubt the form he ey'd, 
 The maniac woke, 'twas Alfked at her side ! 
 
 She shrunk in fear, as starting from a dream : 
 And aweful seem'd her eyeball's 'wilder'd gleam, 
 While slow she gaz'd around ; she fix'd her eye, 
 In ghastly stare of dread insanity, 
 Full upon Alfreds brow ; the first wild glance 
 Suftic'd to rouse her from her frenzied trance. 
 Years of fond care might yet have strove in vain, 
 To drive usurping madness from her brain ; 
 But that short glimpse of him, once lov'd so well, 
 Triumphant bade chain'd reason burst its cell. 
 
 She shriek'd, * and is it thou and art thou 
 come, 
 To mock my lortur'd passage to the tomb ;
 
 25 
 
 To watch my pangs, and triumph in mj 
 
 death, 
 And catch the murmuring parting of my breath? 
 Look on, exult, I have deserv'd it well, 
 Deserv'd it, aye, and yet I must not tell, 
 All that has past to blight my peace on earth 
 And mar my promis'd purity of worth. 
 But why that look ? Oh God ! avert that eye 
 Nay Alfred crush me, spurn me ere I 
 
 die ; 
 Swell my pangs tenfold, mock my ev'ry throe, 
 Curse me, in mercy curse but look not so. 
 Ah! start not; I'll be calm, be still again, 
 Smile at the torture of my whirling brain, 
 Stifle my shrieks to death, when thou art nigh, 
 Yet Alfred look not thus with pitying eye. 
 Thy scoff, thy curses, thy reproaches all 
 Would seem but mercy, would as manna fall, 
 But oh ! that glance of kind compassion, now, 
 Is worse than fearful pangs of Hell below ! 
 Yet, Alfred hear me, by thy cross I swear, 
 I still had been thy own, as fond as fair, 
 And pure as brighter lwaven ; not a spot 
 Of fouler sin hud dar'd my soul to blot,
 
 26 
 
 * Had not the demon of seduction come, 
 < With lure of hell itself, to work my doom. 
 1 Hush, hush, it were a tale of sin and shame, 
 ' To tell thee all the wrongs, that crush'd my 
 
 fame ; 
 c How many a hateful falsehood told of thee, 
 ' Lur'd me to mourn thy infidelity ; 
 ' How many a ling'ring month I still believ'd ; 
 e That thou Avert false tome, nor undeceiv'd, 
 c I wept in bitterness, and wept alone, 
 * Till the arch-villain feign'd my grief his own : 
 ' But why on sickly tale of horror dwell 
 c Alfred, for once attend me, ere I fell, 
 \ The wretch, still urg'd by foulness of his soul, 
 
 < Brought me a blacken'd tale in well-forg'd 
 
 scroll, 
 
 < That thou wert all another's, then oh heaven ! 
 i My brain to sickness of despair was driven; 
 
 6 And when he talk'd of vengeance, told me 
 
 how 
 1 To plot against thy breast some vengeful blow, 
 ' Scar'd reason falter'd totter'd on her throne, 
 c I haii'd the villain, rav'd and was undone ! 
 
 ' I will be calm, oh, mark this faded cheek, 
 4 This form of wasting sickness, does it speak
 
 27 
 
 f No tale of deep remorse, of inward pain, 
 
 ( More than my quiv'ring lip can half explain ? 
 
 * Are not these eyes, these shrivell'd, spectral 
 
 anus, 
 ( Tiie relics of thy Violanthe's charms? 
 4 And if so chang'd, reflect, what hours on 
 
 hours, 
 
 * I've sat and wept, amid my ruin'd bowers ; 
 < Wept, till my sullen tears refused to flow, 
 
 * Parch'd, in the fev'rish agony of woe, 
 
 * When the heart throbs to bursting-, but denies 
 i The wish'd sad solace of ev'n tears and sighs. 
 
 f How often have I rais'd my burning eye 
 
 * To Heav'n, and pray'd in bitterness to die, 
 
 ( And deem'd all future punishment but peace, 
 
 * Till black Eternity appear'd release. 
 
 " But worse than this, I have recall'd each 
 scene, 
 
 * Where once I wander'd pure, and might have 
 
 been 
 f Blest in thy Love for ever; Oh, how blest ! 
 i The stainless inmate of my Alfred's breast. 
 ' And there were hours, when racking me" 
 
 mory fled, 
 
 * And pale forgetfulness around me shed
 
 28 
 
 c A short liv'd ray of Joy, and I have dreanfd 
 
 * Of scenes of Love, where purer Blisses beam'd: 
 c I then forgot my shame, and, fool, have 
 
 thought, 
 
 < I met thy glance with wonted fondness fraught 5 
 c Have hung upon thy lip, where all was love, 
 
 < Pure as the angel breath of Heav'n above ! 
 c Then horror I horror ! I have wak'd again, 
 
 ' To rave in black reality of pain ! 
 4 To know myself a vile polluted thing, 
 
 * Victim of guilt, of shame's unpitying sting. 
 
 c There came a fearful night of darker hour 
 
 * When Reason fled me, Mem'ry lost her pow. 
 
 er : 
 
 * I sought the holy Tomb, with pious crowd, 
 
 e And from that moment, all appears a cloud ; 
 
 * A mingled chaos, of intense despair, 
 
 < Of dreadful wandering, I mark'd not where ! 
 
 < But I grow faint, nay Alfred, do not 
 
 weep, 
 c For death to me is but as wish'd for sleep, 
 
 < And Oh 'tis sweet to die, when thus I see, 
 
 * Forgiveness beaming in a glance from thee.
 
 29 
 
 1 I thought to meet thy curses, nay desir'd, 
 
 * To give thee vengeance, ere ray soul expir'd ; 
 1 I little dream'd to know thee blind, so blind 
 4 To guilt of one, the vilest of mankind. 
 
 6 Yon sob, ray Alfiied ; nay, approach me 
 
 not! 
 4 Come not too nigh this foul unhallow'd spot ; 
 t My touch is worse than death ! And can 
 
 you, then, 
 
 * Lean o'er my form,* nor fly pollution's den ; 
 
 < And do I lay my head upon thy breast, 
 
 To pillow softly, blest, Oh God ! how blest \ 
 
 < Look in thine eye, and read my pardon there, 
 
 ' And mingle sighs with thine, thy murmur* 
 share. 
 
 < Oh Alfred, 'tis too much : look down kind 
 
 Heaven, 
 
 < What bliss at last to die, to die forgiven !' 
 
 Mid Syria's wilds there is a Hermitage, 
 And deep within its gloom, there 'bides a Sage; 
 His brow not silver'd yet, but furrows there 
 Bespeak the busy hand of early care.
 
 30 
 
 Few seek that holy man, and none can tell 
 Why dwells the Hermit in that lonesome cell : 
 When solemn Night hath flung her veil around, 
 For hours he prays beside a neighbouring mound, 
 And weeps upon a tomb of lowly earth ; 
 'T 'would seem it held some form of breathless 
 
 wortli : 
 But Pilgrims who perchance have sought his 
 
 bower^ 
 And hear ; his wonted prayer at midnight hour, 
 In wonder listen ; for he prays for one, 
 Who late from Life of guilt and shame hath 
 
 gone; - 
 
 And still he wearies Heav'n, for peaceful rest 
 For her, who tore that blessing from his breast : 
 Still, still he asks for mercy for the crime, 
 That dooms his day to wither in that clime !
 
 MEBORA* 
 
 THE SUBJECT FROM LORD BYROtf. 
 
 Like ought, that for its grace may be 
 Dear and yet dearer fur its mystery.*
 
 N. B. The following as a companion for the preced- 
 ing, has a place given it here ; but the Author is fearful, 
 he may be deem'd presumptuous, in daring to introduce 
 in a little poem of his own, the personages and favorite 
 characters of the Noble and unrivalled Poet* Lord Byron: 
 he would willingly, however, be accused of want of in- 
 vention, of imitation, in fact of any thing rather than 
 presumption in the present instance. If he were to ob- 
 trude upon the Reader's patience, with the circumstan- 
 ces that led him to essay the accompanying trifle, he is 
 persuaded that the worst accusation against him, would 
 be, that he has made a very idle and ennuyant attempt 
 to while away some otherwise unemployed hours of mili- 
 tary ennui, and camp-idleness.
 
 MEBOIRA. 
 
 j^Lnd is she gone, and does no hope remain", 
 
 * No bright'htng solace, less'ner of our pain 2* 
 
 * And is she fled, from virtue and her home, 
 
 i Mid shameless, maze of heartless sin to roam? 
 1 For ever gone without one trace behind 
 1 To hail the memory of her once pure mind? 
 4 Oh Sex ! deceitful, as the changeful hue 
 
 * Of spring's bright sky, which glistens to the 
 
 view, 
 i And seems, a purer field of azure light, 
 
 * Till tempests, passion-driv'n, the picture blight; 
 
 * And then a clouded, faded scene is near, 
 
 * And Loveliness, is lost in gloom and fear! 
 
 * I late was blest, so blest ; but not to last; 
 
 1 Yet who could dream, that faithlessness should 
 
 blast 
 ' My promis'd scene of good, my budding joy ! 
 
 * Mid infancy of hope, that hope destroy. 
 
 C
 
 34 
 
 ( Mad that I was to woo, to force a heart, 
 ' Where 'Lonzo's hated image bore no parts 
 ' To wed a cold, a loveless, shrinking bride, 
 ' To drag unblest reluctance to my side ; 
 i Cold! she was cold to me, tho' not to one : 
 
 * Would that I knew, and oh ! he should atone, 
 ' Should writhe in turn for ev'ry pang I feel, 
 
 ' Or I would spurn the vengeance of my steel, 
 < I wildly lov'd her, what I lov'd was fair, 
 
 * Curse on my blindness ! mark'd I not the air 
 ' Qf sullen sadness ? Fool,thrice Fool to think, 
 
 ' That one at bridal hour who seem'd to shrink, 
 
 * Could ever, ever prize me : what tho' Love, 
 
 * Warm as the burning Sun of light above, 
 
 * Jjur'd her to love again ; the captive heart, 
 
 * Where willing passion can no charm import, 
 ' Force may constrain, and Tyranny reprove, 
 '. Coercion wring, but oh ! it will not loveJ 
 
 Sad wake the echoes of his. dreary hall, 
 Where 'Lonzo sighs, and weeps Medoiia's fall, : 
 And pale his brow, as wand'riiig there alone, 
 He still, and still repeats, 4 and is she gone !
 
 So 
 
 c Oh were she pure, as heav'nly fair she seem'd, 
 
 * And as I once could think her; but I dream'd 
 
 4 An idle dream of falsehood, and awake, 
 
 c To see my Vision burst, my heart's peace break.* 
 
 Thus thus would 'Lonzo mourn for her he lost, 
 
 For her his fair Medora, late his boast ; 
 
 For her who lov'd not him ; 'twere long to tell 
 
 Whom fair Medora lov'd, and loving fell: 
 
 Till, false to vows, till lost to dearer fame, 
 
 She fled with paramour, in hour of shame. 
 
 There was a breathing languor in her sigh, 
 A dewy softness in her dark blue eye ; 
 Her silken lash could chasten, not conceal 
 The trembling lustre, which it strove to veil : 
 The summer rose scarce bin sh'd upon her cheek, 
 It shed its faintest, softest, loveliest streak; 
 So pale that dye, 'twas as reflected hue, 
 Which scarcely meets the gazing wand'rer's 
 
 view, 
 Who eyes the Lilly, when in evening hour, 
 The crimson'd west just tiuts that fairer flower.
 
 36 
 
 Yet, if her heart but throbb'd in conscious 
 
 thought 
 Of Love, with fear, and maiden feeling fraught, 
 Then that soft Rose could bloom upon her 
 
 brow, 
 Till ev'n her snowy bosom caught the glow ; 
 And in such moment, as if words were weak, 
 Her very blush would seem to breathe, to speak! 
 Oh who that mark'd the softness of her mien, 
 Could think her one 'mid Earth's unhallow'd 
 
 scene ? 
 Who that had watch'd the stillness of her breast, 
 Ere Love and trembling wishes were confest, 
 When all was calmness, and no troubled sigh 
 Betray'd her bosom's feeling to the eye ? 
 Who that had seen her thus could daring think, 
 That, her's was soul from purer height to shrink; 
 Or who had dream'd such seraph form of worth, 
 Could fall from Peace and Heav'n, to Sin and 
 
 Earth ! 
 Once she was blest as fair, but Lara came 
 To seek in lordly sport the Sylvan game ; 
 With dames and nobles led, Medora fair
 
 37 
 
 Join'd the bright scene, and joy'd mid revelt 
 
 there. 
 When daring Gallants rushing o'er the plain, 
 lac'd the fierce Boar, and triumph'd o'er the 
 
 slain ; 
 She saw brave Lara, foremost of the crew, 
 With pleasure mantling gaily to his view, 
 Her virgin heart but deem'd him young and 
 
 brave, 
 And, ere she knew its worth, that heart she-gave. 
 Ah then, and there was scene of budding joy, 
 And waken'd love bloom'd fair, nor yet alloy 
 Lurk'd to deface the fairy hues of bliss. 
 Where where in Life's long year, is hour like 
 
 this? 
 How sweet the season when y6ung Lore ap- 
 pears, 
 And dawns in guileless heart, 'mid hope and 
 
 fears ; 
 When sighs and softer glances sweetly tell 
 The trembling fondness, they betray too well: 
 When childhood's wild caress is chang'd for 
 
 on
 
 38 
 
 That seems all fearful now, all timid grown ; 
 And yet in fearfulness disclosing still, 
 The impulse of young Passion's chastest thrill t 
 And must these hours all vanish, must they 
 
 As riper years, of Life and Love steal by ? 
 Must Life its youthful Bliss all folly deem, 
 And Love its fairer moments but a dream ? 
 Alas ! when Earth but seems as Heav'n above, 
 That such bright seeming can deceitful prove ; 
 That where illusive joys but bliss convey, 
 Illusion cannot last a longer day ! 
 
 Thus with Medora, for, mid joyous dream, 
 When secret hope had shed its brightest beam ; 
 There came a Suitor for Medora's hand ; 
 In vain her tears, at sterner Sire's command : 
 Bold 'Lonzo bore his beauteous Bride away, 
 A weeping victim, poor heart broken prey. 
 
 Was Lara one to see a Rival blest, 
 Another triumph, and abide in rest? 
 To ponder on his loss, to writhe and groan,
 
 s& 
 
 And, passive, breathe an unavenging moan ? 
 
 Was Lara, one so christian-meek no. no! 
 
 His was a hand t6 lavish blow for blow ; 
 
 A heart for rash designing : he could will 
 
 For hated object venom'd shaft of ill ; 
 
 Yet strike it boldly ; once in youth's gay prime, 
 
 Reckless of future, andunstaiu'd with crime, 
 
 He liv'd for pleasure only ; pleasure free, 
 
 Mid wild unshackl'd burst of liberty. 
 
 E'en then in breast unseen, lurk'd hidden geeds, 
 
 Of fouler passions, and of darker deeds; 
 
 And when quick pleasures pall'd upon the taste, 
 
 And e'en the world's gay scenes but seem'd a 
 
 waste, 
 Then sprung those seeds to blossom and to life, 
 They wreath'd around his heart the roots of strife; 
 While first came frowns upon his changeful brow, 
 And wily scorn lurk'd nigh, youth's deadliest 
 
 foe. 
 Soon caution bade him veil, with careless smile, 
 Each purpos'd work of ill, each thought of guile; 
 And once his heart look'd back, it thought of 
 
 day
 
 40 
 
 When moments fled beneath a brighter ray; 
 A tear had come unbidden, but he dash'd 
 Th' intruder off, and then his stern eye flash'd 
 Glances, that ^bot defiance at his Fate ; 
 The die was cast, and tearless, firm he sat. 
 His was no nerveless soul of meaner mould, 
 To dare the storm, then tremble as it roli'd : 
 He could have mark'd the lightening blast around 
 Splinter and strike the quiv'ring Oak to ground, 
 Yet brave its fury : ev'n as rugged height 
 Arrests the angry bolt in headlong flight, 
 And tho' the shock may scathe, may rend its 
 
 brow, 
 Still, still it tow'rs, unshrinking at the blow ! 
 
 There often bursts a splendidness from crime, 
 A false bright 'semblance of a fire sublime; 
 A meteor flame to seize the wond'ring breast, 
 Till men admire the deeds they yet detest. 
 That fearful admiration of the mind, 
 That lures the man, but leaves his reason blind j 
 Vnspeakable, inexplicable still,
 
 41 
 
 Knowing the good, 'mid vassalage of ill ! 
 'Tis thus the Poet's song of fearless Sin 
 The ear of listening Terror loves to win ; 
 'Tis thus Arch-Guilt, can glance a sov'reign 
 
 eye, 
 O'er hating realms of crouching Slavery ; 
 'Tis thu the one, with more than wizard sway, 
 Lords it o'er myriads, that in fear obey. 
 
 Ascendancy of ill ; how curst thy spell, 
 
 Be but thy working grand, tho' dread as hell, 
 Be but thy guilt, in boundless tow'ring, high, 
 Pale reason shrinks at thy sublimity ! 
 
 Yet this is for a while; where, where hath 
 Guilt 
 Once grasp'd, then thrown aside the daggers hilt? 
 Where hath proud villainy repos'd in peace, 
 And once been daring vicious, dar'd to cease ? 
 Inaction is its death, repose its hell : 
 It seeks a blacker deeper tide to swell, 
 Rolls on a torrent in unceasing toil; 
 Fortune may waver, reason can recoil,
 
 42 
 
 Bear back the fury of the rushing wave, 
 And triumph still, where Guilt hath wrought its 
 grave. 
 
 But Love and reason walk not hand in hand;, 
 Reason may burst each chain ; the Lover's band 
 Once firmly knit, oh knit as Love can be, 
 Links on unbroken as Eternity ! 
 Not that dull Love, the passion of the crowd, 
 The fleeting thought that breathes its pain aloud; 
 That sighs its hour, and, as that fleeting sigh, 
 Is but a murmuring breath in air to die. 
 Love, is the ever-ever changeless part 
 Of fond, impassion'd hearts : itself the heart, 
 Itself vitality ; aye, very life, 
 Breathing in weal or woe, in calm or strife ; 
 What tho' its joy, a dream ; its hopes, deceit, 
 Yet these all wither'd, it can wildly beat ; 
 Tho' stript of charm which once too brightly 
 
 blest, 
 It clasps, still clings to, Phantom of the breast !
 
 43 
 
 Medora lov'd : and to Medora's view, 
 Lara, once bright as Heav'n's unsullied hue, 
 When gloom'd his guilt, ah, tho' the man might 
 
 err, 
 Wretch to the world, yet he was true to her. 
 She wept his sin, his ev'ry deed deplor'd, 
 Shed tears of agony, but still ador'd. 
 She form'd that thought to love, to woman dear 
 To lure her lover from the haunts of fear ; 
 To check, to soften, to recal, reclaim, 
 To snatch the sinner from the hell oi shame ! 
 She called the thrilling magic of her tears, 
 And oh, to love all possible appears : 
 To save from ruin one, that dear-lov'd one, 
 Herself the ruin sought, unblest, undone I 
 
 Loos*d was the drawbridge o'er the deep wide 
 moat, 
 Gaily the banners seem'd in air to float; 
 Bold 'Lonzo to his hall, had led his bride, 
 'Mid wonder that the fair Medora sigh'd.
 
 44 
 
 But scarce one fleeting, joyless moon had sped, 
 Ere death to 'Lonzo's hopes, the bride had fled I 
 Yet how, with whom, or where, alas I none tell j 
 In vain the search, on shore, 'mid dale or delj. 
 No steeds were seen swift speeding o'er the 
 
 plain, 
 But there was mark'd a ship on distant main ; 
 And less, and less it seem'd ; conjecture tried 
 To ken its freight upon the glimm'ring tide, 
 But less'ning, less'ning e'er, a speck it grew, 
 And eyes half sightless turn'd, to weep anew. 
 
 On eve before that flight, when f LoNZo stray'd 
 To woo the solitude of neighb'ring glade, 
 He saw a Stranger's form ; it shrunk aside, 
 And deep in gloom of thicket seem'd to glide : 
 Starting, he challeng'd, and that form came near, 
 A dark disguise conceal'd, its shape of fear ; 
 It rush'd in ruffian speed to 'Lonzo's side, 
 ' Ha ! thus, but all unarm'd !' it shouting cried , 
 1 Tis hell to quit thee ; but not thus my blade 
 * Shall strike its vengeanee !" ev'n as phantom 
 shade,
 
 45 
 
 E'en as freed missive from the bow of dealb, 
 Is fled to darkness, swifter than the breath, 
 Of 'Lonza's angry call, and pealing sound, 
 That gather'd fearful slaves and menials round ; 
 They search'd each thicket, torches flung their 
 
 light, 
 But not a shadow mock'd the auxious sight ; 
 No sound they caught, save when same torches' 
 
 glare 
 Rous'd the wild howl of Beasts, in nightly lair : 
 And 'Lonzo mus'd in secret boding fear, 
 Still pond'ring on the shout, that dinn'd his ear : 
 Still wond'ring whose that ruffian form, that 
 
 dar'd 
 Such dread approach, that threatened, and yet 
 
 spar'd 1 
 
 Lips that had told of tais, were stillM by Time? 
 Gay youth had mellow'd now to manhood's 
 prime :
 
 46 
 
 And far upon the bosom of those seas, 
 
 Which, once -were peaceful as their fanning 
 
 breeze, 
 Now death and rapine rode ; and fierce alarm, 
 And fearful tale of pirate's murd'rous arm: 
 Report sped, busy of iEgean isle, 
 It rang of Corsair's deed, of deadly wile, 
 Of Islaam fleet late fir'd : and there was dread,. 
 And Mariners aghast to haven fled ! 
 One luckless vessel driving o'er the sea, 
 Saw the dread Island tow'ring at her lee ; 
 Saw its wild clift that dark'ning tose in air, 
 Landmark of Death and beacon of despair ! 
 Each Seaman cross'd him, and the quiv'ring oar 
 Was plied, in terror to escape that shore : 
 Swift glided then the vessel o'er the main 
 But plough'd the angry, foaming wave in vain ^ 
 The forceful current bore its course aside, 
 And heav'd its weight reluctant in the tide : 
 In vain the crew their ev'ry saint beseech, 
 The vessels prow lay buried in the beach*
 
 47 
 
 There was an awful lull, a silence dead, 
 A breathless pause of expectation dread . 
 That fearful hour of agony accurst, 
 When hateful certainty hath wrought its worst, 
 And hope, and wish'd escape, for ever gone, 
 Dreary despair and terror reign alone. 
 Each Seaman fixes on his mate his eye, 
 And waits to hear the coming pirates cry ; 
 His fancy sees their weapons gleam in air, 
 His pallid lips half breathe the cry oh spare ! 
 He sees (he daring Corsair, urging death, 
 He hears his shout in ev'ry breeze's breath : 
 Still seated pale in horror of suspense, 
 While racking fear had paraliz'd each sense. 
 
 But now a wond'ring glance they lift around, 
 They catch no coming shout, they hear no sound, 
 Save the wild murmur of the surges roar, 
 Or lonely sea-bird shrieking on the shore : 
 'Tis strange, nay more, they trembling watch 
 
 the strand, 
 But still as far as ear as eye command,
 
 48 
 
 All, all is dreary now, as death-like fate, 
 All cheerless, dull, deserted, desolate: 
 Ev'n as the silentgloom that shrouds each scene, 
 When that dread something marks where men 
 have been. 
 
 Where are the Pirates, is not this their den, 
 Was not this Isle, the haunt of fearful men ? 
 Truth comes benignant, flings her joyous ray; 
 The corsair gone 3 his pirate-horde away 1 
 
 They leave the vessel ; and as wand'ring still, 
 They climb the cliff, and wind along the hill : 
 They mark each scene, but ev'ry spot declares 
 Their late rude inmates, urg'd by fate or fears, 
 Have left the isle ; while scarce a wreck remains 
 To tell the haunt of plunder and fierce gains. 
 They reach a dell, o'erhung with saddest gloom, 
 And see beneath its shade a late-rais'd tomb : 
 No trophied honors bloom upon that grave, 
 No gaudy wreathes, in scorn of sadness, wave; 
 But flowrets there, that mourner's hand had 
 
 thrown. 
 Their leaves all wither'd, and their freshness gone;
 
 43 
 
 The last sad gifts of fond Affection's care, 
 Bestow 'd where smiling in their bloom, all fair, 
 But now that bloom departed and gone by, 
 E'en as the raould'ring corse, o'erwhieh they lie. 
 A fair hewn stone, its lowly head up rears, 
 In sculptural characters, a name appears, 
 
 That name ' Medora !' one among the crew 
 
 Started, for erst that gentle name he knew ; 
 And he was then a serf of 'Lonzo's pride, 
 When, 'Lonzo woo'd and won a lovely bride; 
 Yet won ber but to mourn, to weep her shame : 
 Medora ? was not this the false one's name ? 
 Something flashed sudden to that Seaman's breast, 
 Lara the bride the corsair all confest : 
 Each linkless myst'ry of that seeming dream, 
 Burst to conviction, clear as noontide beam ; 
 Each whisper'd rumour of that faithless fair, 
 Once, weeping led, brave 'Lonzo's hall to share; 
 Lara his hidden crimes, his love, his flight, 
 All wak'd from dullness of long secret night. 
 He shudder'd as his heart recall'd ihe tale, 
 Upon his time-worn cheek sat sorrow pale ; 
 
 D
 
 50 
 
 And almost wept be, that there could await, 
 For Heh so lovely, so unblest a fate.
 
 THE 
 
 CHRISTIAN'S BBIBE, 
 
 AN EASTERN TALE.
 
 THE 
 
 CHRISTIAN'S BRIDE.. 
 
 AN EASTERN TALE. 
 
 1* 
 
 The moon is high o'er Delhi's towers, 
 As Midnight leads its silent hours ; 
 
 The western breeze is gone : 
 There is no wind to wake the air, 
 No busy murmurs echoing there ; 
 The night how still! but brightly fair, 
 
 Like A l la's heavenly throne ! 
 Where gems are as those stars on high, 
 All glittering mildly 'mid the sky ; 
 Where splendour, as that lovely Moon, 
 Sheds light around, a chasten'd boon,
 
 5* 
 
 Serene, so clear, so softly bright, 
 It lures the hymning Peri s'sight, 
 And while it fastens still their gaze, 
 They learn from that attemper'd blaze, 
 To light young Houris eyes to Love, 
 And lure Believers s,auls above ! 
 
 ' Amid yon City, men may number, 
 Those who sleep in peaceful slumber ; 
 Men may reckon those who know, 
 The rest of peace, nor dream of woe : 
 Save that perchance their visions rove, 
 To paint a form they dearly love ; 
 And then some danger threat'ning nigh, 
 Shall wake, perhaps, a fearful sigh ; 
 These men may reckon, who shall count, 
 The dreary list, the black amount 
 Of those, who writhe in restless sleep, 
 Of those who wakeful vigils keep, 
 'Mid care, or pain, 'mid sickness, guilt ? 
 Count these ! essay it if thou wilt I
 
 55 
 
 ro, tell the sand on Jumna's shore, 
 Go, tell the leaves, that shade each bower; 
 Go, tempt the task that flies thee ever ! 
 Ah, thou shall count the wretched., never \ ! 
 
 3. 
 
 And who is She, o'er yonder wall, 
 
 Who marks the night from turret tall ? 
 
 Who casts round Delhi's scite her eye, 
 
 And wakes these thoughts 'mid gentlest sigh I 
 
 Who, who is SJie so young, and still 
 
 Can ponder thus, and muse on ill? 
 
 The moon that rides above on air, 
 
 Js not so soft, so pure, so fair : 
 
 The claudjess beauty of the skies, 
 
 Is not so bright, as Aiesha's eyes. 
 
 The breathless stillness of the scene, 
 
 Is not so blest as she hath, been, 
 
 Ere one wild feeling late contest, 
 
 First thrill'd first waken'd in her breast, 
 
 To teach her bosom aught of woe, 
 
 I,t had not learn'd, nor known till now.
 
 56 
 
 4> 
 
 That feeling say ! yes, yes 'twas Love J 
 And well its gentle dream could move 
 A heart so tremulously soft, 
 So like the Souls, that soar aloft 
 To breathe, where love alone is given, 
 That love, thepromis'd bliss of Heaven j 
 What other dream of earth could lure 
 A breast, so chastely fond, so pure ! 
 Where passion's bud of tenderness, 
 Lay hidden so, that nothiug less 
 Than Sun of gallant Lover's worth 
 Could ever bid it blossom forth! 
 
 5, 
 
 Tho' thrice five years, yon orb of night, 
 When glimmering into infant light 
 It tells to Alla's Sons on Earth 
 Of sad Mohorum's annual birth ; 
 Tho' thrice five times it had not seen 
 
 Her natal hour return again, 
 That maid was yet the haram Queen, 
 
 The loveliest fairest f its train,
 
 57 
 
 She was brave Baber's* dearest pride, 
 The daughter of his buried bride ; 
 And years of Song might fail I ween, 
 To tell her loveliness of mien. 
 There beam'd a lustre in her eye, 
 A lusciousness upon her lip, 
 To paint it, Love had seem'd to dip, 
 His brush in more than Rose's dye : 
 And then each tress that swept below, 
 Glist'ning in brightest raven's glow, 
 When her soft hand of whiteness stray'd 
 To wreath above that ebon braid, 
 'Twas like Thibet's far northern snow, 
 Stealing to sight from gloom below : 
 'Twas like the foam on Ocean playing, 
 Mid the dark waves its hues betraying : 
 Or as pale meteor, view'd between 
 Some opening clouds, in airy scene, 
 Those clouds of darkest, blackest hue, 
 A contrast strange, yet dear to view ! 
 
 Zehir ul Dicn Mahummud Baber, a powerful prince origi- 
 nally King of Cabul, he conquered Hindostau ip A D. 1525-6, 
 and established himself and family on the Throne of Delhi.
 
 ss 
 
 Her voice was gentle as tbe lay, 
 
 That oft is heard in ev'ning hour, 
 When Sojigsters trill wild notes, they say, 
 
 To woo the Rose in fragrant bower : 
 Hers was the form that Lovers deem, 
 
 'Mid sleep, they clasp in panting arras; 
 That form of Love that lives the theme 
 Of minstrels, till they wildly dream 
 Of earthless joys, and earthless charms ! 
 Yes. such was Delhi's flowret fair, 
 More than his Realm proud Baber's care I 
 Dearer than all the world beside, 
 That daughter of his buried Bride. 
 
 And why upon the Turret high, 
 Doth Aibsha sadly watch the sky ? 
 Why watch yon rising, gathering cloud, 
 And pray that gloom, yon orb may shroud : 
 Why doth she hate, the brightness now, 
 And sigh in restless, anxious woe ? 
 But see! that cloud is stretching wide, 
 It speeds athwart the airy tide ;
 
 59 
 
 And other, other clouds are seen, 
 
 Far gathering, 'mid the heav'nly scene ; 
 
 That darker one is nigh the moon, 
 
 'Twill shade, me-thinks, its brightness soou f 
 
 It veils it now. ' Oh Christian come ! 
 
 * Seize seize the hour of welcome gloom, 
 
 * No busy eye while darkness spreads, 
 
 * Shall mark the path my Lover treads; 
 
 * Speed, speed thee now, on wings of Love 
 6 Haste Nazarene !* thy faith to prove !' 
 
 7. 
 
 4 He comes, he comes, I hear a sound, 
 
 * I hear the Christian's agile bound, 
 i Already he hath scal'd yon wall, 
 
 1 Alia protect! what fears appal ! 
 6 In pity soothe my hearts alarm's, 
 ' And lead him safely to these arms 
 
 * Christian We do not know Who, or of what nation, is the 
 Christian hero of this little romance. It was nearly a century af- 
 ter this, that a regular Embassy appeared at Delhi from the Bri- 
 tish Court.
 
 60 
 
 * 'Tis he, 'tis he !' she saw him now, 
 Upon yon turret's airy brow ; 
 She saw him from that height descend, 
 And o'er the terrace footsteps bend. 
 Breathless and swift, the youth appears, 
 The trembling lovely maid he nears; 
 Till now in arms of fondness pressing, 
 In Lovers' meeting bliss caressing, . 
 Their murmurs mingling, lips so nigh 
 They breathe but breath of Rapture's sigh ! 
 Oh whither 'bide so blest a pair 
 As met on Delhi's turrets there ? 
 
 8. 
 
 Alia ! 'tis sweet, how dearly sweet, 
 Where chaste, yet tender Lovers meet; 
 Where murmurs, wordless sighs express 
 The thrill of human happiness ! 
 Where that wild pressure, that embrace, 
 When arms, heart, soul, all interlace, 
 When sigh to sigh responsive heaves, 
 And panting Love, a fetter weaves, 
 To bind two breasts as if for ever, 
 As if they might not, could not sever I
 
 61 
 
 * Nay, much I fear'd c young Aiesita sigh'd 
 i To-night such bliss had been denied ; 
 
 * I little dream'd to meet thee here, 
 
 6 When glow'd the night so bright and clear: 
 
 { I wander'd long, in grief, alone, 
 
 ' Each star above in sadness shone, 
 
 c I almost turn'd my steps again, 
 
 1 To seek my bower of lonely pain. 
 
 1 Christian, how strange, not far the time, 
 
 1 Since I was happiest of this clime ; 
 
 ' I had not seen thee, known thee then, 
 
 ' Nor haply dream'd of stranger men ; 
 
 * I had not yet too vent'rous stray 'd 
 ' Away from gloom of Haram shade, 
 ' To view from secret lattice nigh 
 
 * My Sire's Durbar in splendour high: 
 
 * Ah ! there thy form 1 first discern'd 
 
 * And first on Christian, glances turn'd ! 
 
 c I had seen eyes more dazzling dark, 
 
 * More brilliant looks been wont to mark ; 
 
 * Had seen my Father's glances roll, 
 
 ( la fondness oft in darksome scowl,
 
 63 
 
 * But never wa'tch'd an eye so soft, 
 
 4 As that, which, sweetly rais'd aloftj 
 
 * Threw toward the lattice looks of love, 
 4 And left me there too 'tranc'd to move ! 
 
 4 That look was thine, you mark'd me tooj 
 
 4 A Haram-maiden met thy view, 
 
 4 You wond'ring gaz'd, I strove to fly, 
 
 4 The wish how vain ! I watch'd thine eye ; 
 
 4 There was a tender softness beaming, 
 
 4 A something there so gentle seeming, 
 
 4 That when at length, I slow retir'd, 
 
 4 That took of thine my thoughts inspired : 
 
 4 When seated in deep Haram bowery 
 
 4 That look beguil'd my ev'ry hour ; 
 
 4 My fancy saw that glance again, 
 
 4 'Mid mingled thrill of joy and pain, 
 
 4 My waking hours, my dreams at night 
 
 4 Still gave thy glance to fev'rish sight : 
 
 4 My thoughts to thee, would ever rove, 
 
 4 I sigh'd, 1 wept, and found 'twas Love [' 
 
 9. 
 
 4 We met ! Oh thanks to venfrous soul, 
 4 That spurn'd all Danger, mock'd controul y
 
 63 
 
 We met ! yes thanks to power of gold, 
 Again thy glance I could behold. 
 How oft upon this turret high, 
 We've dai'd to pledge our constancy ! 
 And wilt thou promise ne'er to leave, 
 Thine Aiesha's love ? Oh ne'er bereave 
 Her heart of all it deems of worth, 
 Its only hope, its bliss on earth I' 
 
 * Leave thee, my Aiesha, leave thee then? 
 
 Yes ! when I number not with men! 
 
 When ev'ry sigh is hush'd away, 
 
 And I have breath'd my ling'ring day ! 
 
 By the wild rapture of this kiss, 
 
 By ev'ry dream of future bliss^ 
 
 By ev'ry joy I hope to have, 
 
 I leave thee, but, to seek the grave! 
 
 But say art thou prepaid?' i Nay 
 
 why,'?- 
 
 When rides that moon again on high; 
 
 Shall fearless Friends in waiting 'bide ; 
 
 The dear disguise thy charms to hide 
 
 All, all prepar'd, and wilt thou, Fair, 
 
 Iu distant clime my bosom share,
 
 64 
 
 4 Where milder suns of happy west, 
 c Shall smile to see thy Lover blest?' 
 
 10. 
 
 ' Say, Christian, is the hour so near ? 
 
 * Alia ! my bosom sinks in fear 
 
 ' And must I home and clime forego, 
 
 * Or cease thy fonder worth to know, 
 6 Quit ev'ry spot to childhood dear 1 
 
 * Ah ! cease to chide this falling tear 
 
 * My Parent too, desert him now V 
 
 ' Lov'd Aiesha, why these thoughts allow f 
 
 * Think of the marriage-couch of hate, 
 
 * Thy Parent bids for thee await; 
 
 ' Think of the promise pledg'd by him, 
 4 That dooms thy youth to sorrow dim ; 
 6 When thou must wed a Prince, whose arms 
 < Shall force thy weeping, loathing charms, 
 ' To linger in some haram-bower, 
 
 A prison'd bride, a slave of power !* 
 c But Ha ! yon opening day-beams break, 
 6 Aiesha, thy slumb'ring guards may wake ;
 
 65 
 
 * You promise then ?- let, let me sip, 
 
 ' The pledge of Rapture from thy lip J 
 
 * When next we meet, we Hkeei for bliss, 
 ' In other realms, far, far frorja this ! 
 
 11. 
 
 The Youth is gone ; the maiden sighs, 
 And trembling from that Terrace hies ; 
 She ponders on tiie promise given, 
 Of home, of early ties thus riven : 
 Sic seeks in fear the Haram walls, 
 Each breathing sound, her soul appals. 
 Why, why should she, the il.tiam Queen, 
 The loveliest gem that decks its scene, 
 Thus steal in trembling to her bower 
 And wait in dread the coming hour? 
 And why, when there, 'mid dull feigu'd sleep, 
 Press her sad couch ; in secret Weep', 
 And think of the approaching night, 
 In thrill oi" terror, pale affright ! 
 Why should she fly, her Father's voice, 
 Which once could Aiesha's ear rejoice; 
 E
 
 66 
 
 And still throughout that lengthsonie day, 
 Such guilty looks, such fear betray. 
 
 12 
 
 The Ev'ning came, but on the morrow, 
 
 The Haram rang with wail of dread j 
 Many a burning tear of sorrow, 
 
 Within that Haram wall was shed ; 
 And there was searching to and fro, 
 
 And horsemen speeding o'er the plain ; 
 There were loud pealing shrieks of woe, 
 Many a Sabre urg'd its blow. 
 
 To ease some guilty guardsman's pain, 
 Many a headless trunk lay there, 
 Many a cry was heard to spare ; 
 But wrath the Shaw, in dread divan, 
 He spared nor woman, child, nor man ! 
 Pale Eunuchs gasp'd beneath the stroke, 
 From women-slaves their last breath broke 
 Nor yet the monarch's fury spent, 
 He dealt around fierce punishment ; 
 For She his age's only pride, 
 Had broke the Haram; fled his side,
 
 67 
 
 Fled, none told how, her peaceful bower, 
 In league with secret paramour ! 
 
 Among yon row of ghastly heads, 
 Which o'er the haram, terror sheds, 
 Are shrivell'd tongues, all silent now, 
 
 But once perchance they might have told 
 The tale of mystry, where and how, 
 
 Young Aiesha fled with Gallant bold : 
 But blow of death, it sped so fast, 
 Their tale untold, they breath'd their last. 
 And none are living now to say, 
 Why Aiesha fled her sire away. 
 
 There came a scroll in arter years, 
 To wake old Baber's love and fears; 
 That scroll was from far distant land, 
 Its characters, from Aiesha's hand; 
 She was a bride of Christian vile, 
 Wo that such wretch should e'er beguile
 
 68 
 
 Or lure our Prophet's daughter forth, 
 
 To crush her faith, to blight her worth '. 
 
 And yet she wrote in -seeming joy, 
 
 And spoke of Bliss that spurn'd alloy ; 
 
 While, 'mid that scroll, were thanks to Heav'n, 
 
 In fervency of Rapture given ; 
 
 That she had left the Haram's side, 
 
 To wander far, a Christian's gride !
 
 OCCASIONAL POETRY,
 
 71 
 
 TO GRATITUDE, 
 
 1. 
 
 There is a feeling in the heart of man, 
 
 Pure as th' aetheriul source of vital heat, 
 Pare as the prayers which Angel's lips re- 
 peat ; 
 It cometh not like thoughts which lovers scan, 
 Nor like the glowing sighs that youthful passion 
 fan ; 
 
 But yet it fills and fires the breast, 
 With that, which proudly stands the test, 
 Of days, and months, and years. Its pleasing 
 sweet 
 
 Pails not on minds where once it dwelt, 
 Or where its charms are truly felt : 
 For where indeed that soul so rude 
 That could have known and spurn'd thee Gra- 
 titude !
 
 72 
 
 2. 
 
 Yes, Gratitude ! 'tis thou canst tench the child 
 Yet, wordless, on its patent's bosom lying, 
 To rear its little arms, fond love implying ; 
 
 Breathing its thankfulness in lispings wild ! 
 
 'Tis thou canst bid the man, 'mid worldly care 
 beguiL'd, 
 
 To cherish, honor, and revere, 
 The Guardians of each infant year, 
 
 Tho' other ties had fled, on Childhood's flying* 
 'Tis thou canst bind in flow'ry chain 
 The trembling wretch, awak'd from pain, 
 Who starts from fearful dream of grief, 
 
 And pants to bless the hand, that brought relief. 
 
 3. 
 
 Whai were the world without thee? a wide den 
 Of soul-less wretches scorning social tye, 
 A wilderness of hate, or apathy. 
 Hush'd, wrre tho Poet's song of feeling then, 
 Mute, were the piaiscs of beneficence in men :
 
 73 
 
 Remembrance would but fiercely aid, 
 The murd'rer's deed, and guide his blade; 
 To bosom of unpardon'd injury ; 
 
 While pale Oblivion's only charm, 
 That power to sooth the vengeful arm 
 .. . In sweet forgetfulness of ill, 
 Would cease; aud Sense of good alone be still. 
 i. 
 4. 
 
 Hark !r 'tis the Organ lifts its solemn swell, 
 
 Where meek Religion bows in holy love; 
 
 Now rising anthems hymn the God above, 
 And: ev'ry breath delights of Heav'n to tell. 
 Why seems the panting soul in extacy to dwell ? 
 
 "lis that thy voice Oh, Gratitude ! 
 
 Hailing the Pow'r, all-kind, all goocfy 
 Thus tells the soaring thoughts from earth to rove ; 
 
 Thou bidst the thahkful mind reflect 
 
 On Huf. the mighty Architect, 
 
 Who spake, and lo ! a world was seen, , 
 And light, and life, and joy, a glorious scene*
 
 74 
 
 5. 
 
 Oft have I sat me down, and wildly dream'd 
 Of bliss, my youth hath panted for in vain, 
 Till Fancy smiling led her fai&y train, 
 
 And rais'd a scene where seraph brightness 
 beam'd ! 
 
 Oh ! then, while visionary worlds, all rapture 
 seem'd, 
 How oft a cherish'd wish arose, 
 To share my dream, my joys with those, 
 
 Who once were kind to me in hours of pain, 
 And when, alas ! the vision fled, 
 And Fancy, with'ring, droop'd her head, 
 Hath not my saddest, bitterest sigh, 
 
 Been still, that Gratitude's warm hope should 
 ever die ? 
 
 6. 
 
 Memory of kindness past ! whene'er I fail 
 
 To keep thee in my heart, to prize thee there, 
 E'en as the breath I breathe, and life I share,
 
 To 
 
 May sorrow doom that life to trembling pale, 
 
 To dreary hours of care, that may not cease to 
 wail : 
 What tho' my loudly thanks can prove 
 My only gifts of grateful love, 
 
 What tho' my proudest recompence, a prayer ; 
 Yet in this breast there 'bides a thought, 
 With pure and blissful feeling fraught, 
 I would not change that thought's one thrill 
 
 For every joy, that crowns the worldling's will.
 
 76 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 I have learn'd that Affection,"too lavishly given, 
 
 Is fickle as Spring's sunny day ; 
 Like the bright beam of April, that, glancing 
 from Heaven, 
 
 But glistens to vanish away. 
 
 1 have learn'd, but how learn'd, that professions 
 as free 
 
 As the Breeze stealing over the heath, 
 That their meaning, alas ! can as heedlessly fiee> 
 
 Their sincerity die as its breath. 
 
 And who shall declare that the Mem'ry is sweet 
 When the day of our Fondness is past ; 
 
 When the hope that beguil'd us, hath long ceas'd 
 to beat, 
 And we blush that its moment could last ?
 
 7 J 
 
 FROM THE FRENCH. 
 
 I check the sigh, and hide the tear, 
 | bid no outward grief appear, 
 And still, with many a bitter wile, 
 I court some gay, deceitful smile : 
 But no : too dearly, dearly bought, 
 This semblance of escape from thought. 
 Alas ! a scorpion writhes 'mid pain, 
 Sleepless in heart that lovei in Yain ; 
 
 Sleepless for ever! 
 
 I dare not tell thee what I feel, 
 I dare not every pang reveaf, 
 And yet the secret gnaws away, 
 And hidden, doubly seems to prey ; 
 Idly my wishes pant, unblest, 
 For pulse-less, cold, oblivious rest : 
 Can worlds of wealth an opiate gain 
 To sooth a heart that loves in vain ! 
 
 Oh, never, never !
 
 7S 
 
 Once, once, but I was drunk in woe, 
 
 And Frenzy shed it fev'rish glow ; 
 
 I had a dream, all pleasure fraught, 
 
 Oli ! there was madness in each thought : 
 
 Thought, that if realii'd no, no, 
 
 It may not, cannot, now be so : 
 
 Hence Phantom bliss, why brightness feign 
 
 To wring a heart that loves in vain : 
 
 To wring forever ? 
 
 The arm may bend the stubborn bow, 
 The ax may lay the Forest low, 
 The weary Pilgrim gain the shrine, 
 Tho' rough his path, tho' ills combine ; 
 And mariner may reach the shore, 
 Tho' storms arise, fierce tempests low'r; 
 All this may be but sooth the pain, 
 Go, calm the heart that loves in vain : 
 
 Oil, never, never !
 
 79 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 Say who bath mark'd young Childhood's smile, 
 
 Where thoughtless pleasure glistens fair ; 
 Where joy can ev'ry look beguile, 
 
 Till burst of rapture brightens there ? 
 And who hath seen that smile depart, 
 
 Gone in a fleeting moment's space, 
 Till woe as causeless thrills the heart, 
 
 And sorrow dims that Childhood's face ! 
 
 Ah me ! the changeful, fitful hour, 
 
 The sigh of grief, the smile of glee; 
 The soul enliv'ning, sinking pow'r, 
 
 Is not alone of Infancy : 
 For there are moments, when the heart 
 
 Shall, causeless feel, and wonder why, 
 The thrill or pang, the joy or smart 
 
 Of bliss, of more than sorrow nigh !
 
 80 
 
 And there are seasons, when the soul 
 
 May know a pain, it can't express ; 
 Panting to fly the world's cohtroul, 
 
 And weep in grief's own wantonness. 
 It is some Power, that noiseless, mute, 
 
 Wanders to wake the feelings' glow: 
 Like gentler breath, that sweeps the lute, 
 
 And lures a strain, we mark not how.
 
 81 
 
 BALLAD. 
 
 * Go speed thee then, thou faithless knight, 
 
 i Go bend thy steps from me ; 
 
 * Yet, ah ! when gone, thou faithless knight, 
 1 No peace shall wead with thee. 
 
 ' For I have lov'd thee, lov'd how true ! 
 * No heart like mine thou'lt find, 
 
 * And faithless knight, thy sighs shall rue, 
 4 The maid thou leav'st behind. 
 
 * You call me cruel, cold, unkind, 
 i And mock my tender fears; 
 
 ( Intent 'mid heartless* passion blind, 
 i To doom my day to tears : 
 F
 
 83 
 
 ' But faithless knight, had I lov'd less, 
 
 * I might have lov'd less pure, 
 
 * I might have sunk in guilt's caress, 
 
 * Tiie victim of thy lure. 
 
 Ah ! Love when deeply, truly known, 
 
 ' Will shrink at guilty part ; 
 c Go, faithless then, but think when gone, 
 ' Of Emma's once fond heart. 
 
 The false Sir Harold crossed his steed, 
 
 And sung a bljtbe adieu : 
 Nor Car'd he tho' he doom'd to bleed! 
 
 A heart in fondness true. 
 
 ' Farewell sweet maid, I prize no Lovij 
 
 * But that which free as thought, 
 < Can ever kind and gentle prove; 
 
 * Cold Love I deem as nought.'
 
 83 
 
 Away he rode, and Emma turn'd 
 
 To seek her lonely bower; 
 To sigh for one, whose guilt she mourn'd, 
 
 And weep love's fickle hour. 
 
 Away he rode to Cities proud, 
 And sought fresh Emmas there : 
 
 But still he sigh'd, amid the crowd, 
 He met no maid so fair. 
 
 And oft he pin'd 'mid pleasure's arms, 
 And loath'd its cup to kiss ; 
 
 And wept for Emma's purer charms, 
 Where Love beam'd brighter bliss. 
 
 lie mounts his steed, again he flies, 
 
 To seek the gentle fair : 
 His bosom breathes repentant sighs, 
 
 His course is swift as air.
 
 84 
 
 He gains her home, but, hapless knight, 
 
 He finds a blighted bower, 
 The maiden, victim of his flight, 
 
 A drooping, with'ring flower ! 
 
 He sighs he sooths but all too late; 
 
 That tenderness is vain : 
 Say, where shall soothing, lure from fate, 
 
 A heart once broke in twain ? 
 
 And her's was broke, and ev'ry hour 
 That stole in sorrow now, 
 
 More wither'd left the fallen flower; 
 Still crush'd its head more low. 
 
 The maid is gone enlomb'd she lies 
 Where blooms the chaplet fair ; 
 
 And many a tear from mourner's eyes^ 
 Betrays fond anguish there.
 
 85 
 
 But Harold, far in holy war, 
 Hath sought its fearful strife : 
 
 What now to him is wound or scar. 
 Or what the wreck of life ? 
 
 Soon breathless in a stranger land, 
 
 Dread emblem of remorse, 
 XJnshriv'd unwept, on Pattle strand, 
 
 He sleeps a shroudless corse !
 
 86 
 
 TO A LADY, 
 
 ILaJj I rove in Fancy's scene 
 
 To pluck the Flowret fair, 
 And I have stray'd in meadows green, 
 
 To gather garlands there : 
 And I have sat in Fairy bower, 
 Where themes of Love have blest my hour, 
 I liv'd not then 
 Mid worlds of men, 
 My thoughts were far from earthly ken. 
 
 Ah ! there in -vision I have seen 
 
 Woman, in Houri's softness trembling, 
 
 Breathing her beauty o'er the scene, 
 In blush of Love, the Eve resembling!
 
 w 
 
 J've watcb'd her eye of heav'nly hue, 
 Her lovely cheek that bloom'd to view, 
 Her breast in sighs so softly swelling 
 The tale of angel fondness telling : 
 This have I seen, 'till swift as light, 
 Fled from mj view the Phantom bright ; 
 And ah ! it came not to my call, 
 1 sigh'd, and found 'twas Fancy all ! 
 
 Bat deep in Mem'ry lives the form, 
 
 I've seen in Fancy's hour ; 
 A. id could I dare, 'mid feelings warm, 
 
 Embody Fancy's flower : 
 Oh Lady now my lyre would swell 
 In rapturous thrill, a name to tell ; 
 But it is not the ringlet that wreathes o'er the 
 
 brow, 
 JJot the form of fair Sylph that can bid the 
 heart glow;
 
 83 
 
 Nor the eye that beams more than wild Rapture 
 
 around, 
 Nor the smile of soft pleasure with playfulness 
 crown'd : 
 
 But 'tis that all of Loveliness, 
 That lips may ne'er oh ne'er express; 
 It is that nameless all, in sooth, 
 That gives my wildest vision truth : 
 That brings each dream of brightness 
 
 nigh, 
 To lend those dreams reality.
 
 S9 
 
 EASTERN BALLAD, 
 
 Glistens above the Ev'ning star, 
 The Shaw hath left his throne; 
 
 His Amras quit the late Durbar, 
 The Courtier band are gone : 
 
 Around the palace, haram-wall, 
 
 Around the citadel, 
 The Night-guard's raeasur'd footsteps fall, 
 
 And shouts their waking tell. 
 
 Young Mhamood* seeks his wonted Bovver, 
 
 To sit and ponder there; 
 To dream of realm-extended power, 
 
 And rouse Ambition's care : 
 
 * Mhamood was Sultaun of Ghizni, the same Prince who af- 
 terward* made so many successful expeditions into Hindostan.
 
 90 
 
 * 
 
 To ponder upon deeds in figbt, 
 
 To pant for Warrior's meed ; 
 In Fancy's picture fierce of migbt ? 
 
 His gallant hot to lead J. 
 
 No Courtier with him save but one^ 
 
 A Youths his humble friend. 
 The Bearer of his Seal alone ; 
 
 None else the Prince attend, 
 
 That Youth observes, 'mid trembling fear, 
 
 Each feature of the Shaw, 
 And as the changeful hues appear, 
 
 He shrinks in secret awe. 
 
 H e sees a while bright hope inspire, 
 
 As thoughts of triumph plav ; 
 He sees an eye glance flash of fire, 
 
 In dreams of Battle-day. 
 
 + It was not an uncommon thing for youths of distinguished 
 Family to hold employments about the persons of Eastern Princes, 
 Moolah Daood Eiederee, a famous author ; when only t2 yean 
 Ad, was Seal-beaier to Sultaua Mahominud Bhaminee of the 
 DeKuau.
 
 91 
 
 4 Ho ! bring my tablets, 1 cried the Shaw, 
 
 ' My wishes are not vain, 
 < Soon shall proud Ghizni's throne give law, 
 
 * And lord o'er Hind's wide plain ! 
 
 * Go bring my tablets ! dost not hear ?' 
 He turn'd the Youth to mark- 
 
 He s*w a Form of shrinking fear, 
 That fled his glances dark. 
 
 c Approach me nay perhaps mine eye, 
 ' Late shone with heedless ire ; 
 
 ' I reck'd not Bpy,-but why that sigh, 
 ' And why in dread retire ?' 
 
 { 'Tis strange methinks' the Prince arose; 
 
 ' What ails the, foolish slave, 
 * Why hide that face, nor dare disclose 
 
 ' Thy looks mine eye to brave?'
 
 9% 
 
 The Prince half started, for he heard 
 
 A sob, a stifled sigh ; 
 And caught his ear % murmuring word 
 
 Of bursting agony z 
 
 That murmur'd voice, so faint in sooth, 
 
 He had not heard before, 
 It was not voice of him, that youth 
 
 Who late his signet bore. 
 
 The form of trembling fear he seiz'd, 
 
 And led it to the light ; 
 Its turban fell, and locks releas'd 
 
 Flung wild their tresses brig lit ; 
 
 He saw dark ringlets floating then, 
 He mark'd a tearful eye ; 
 
 Those beauteous ringlets not of men, 
 No youth could claim their dye.
 
 93 
 
 It was a Virgin's form he held, 
 Half shrieking now in dread 
 
 It was a maiden he beheld, 
 And terror bow'd her head. 
 
 Who art thou, fair one, wherefore here, 
 ' In myst'ry and disguise V 
 Explain nay cease thine idle fear, 
 And raise those bashful eyes. 
 
 She rais'd those ej'es, 'twas like a gleam 
 
 Of Day- Star from above ! 
 She gave one glance, 'twas bright as beam 
 
 Of Heav'n, and Houri love I 
 
 Beauteous her face while on it play'd 
 A more than earthly charm, 
 
 A more than Loveliness, betray'd 
 The panting soul to warm t
 
 And soft the fairness of her cheek, 
 Her budding lips how red ; 
 
 How brightly glow'd the vermil streak 
 That those young lips o'erspread. 
 
 Those lips some breathing words essay, 
 But shame hath check'd each sound ; 
 
 And still the maiden shrinks away, 
 And casts pale glances 'round. 
 
 6 Why ! would'st thou fly ?' the Monarch cried 
 
 ' Sweet tempter of my Bower !' 
 Ah. me !' the weeping maiden sigh'd 
 
 1 I rue my foolish hour : 
 
 * I rue my folly, that I pray'd 
 
 * From harara gloom to fly ; 
 
 < 'Mid wish, in Brother's robes array 'd 
 
 * To view my Sov'ieign nigh.
 
 05 
 
 *Nay Prince, now let thy slave depart, 
 
 ( Forgive my folly all : 
 * My idle daring wrings my heart; 
 
 * I turn to Haram-wall.' 
 
 * Leave me, what leave me, when thy charms 
 
 1 Have waken'd all my breast ; 
 1 What fly the fondness of these arms, 
 
 * That lure thee to be blest J 
 
 i Thou could'st not come, to fire my heart 
 
 * Then fly and mock its pain ; 
 
 ' No maiden no not thus we part/ 
 
 * If part we e'er again !' 
 
 Who hath not heard of Dilshaad fair 
 And Sultaun Mhamood's loves'? 
 
 'Twas thus they met, that youthful pair, 
 As many a legend proves ;
 
 95 
 
 'T was thus, by Alla's sacred doom, 
 
 They met in Ghiznis' bower; 
 But parted never, 'till the tomb 
 Closed on their vital hour ! 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 P. Cricliton, Printer, 
 No. 45, Cossitoilah. ^
 
 THE 
 
 GO.ORKAI 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 BY A YOUNG OFFICER. 
 
 PRINTED AT CALCUTTA, 
 1817.
 
 The Tale of " The Goorkha," is partly found- 
 ed on circumstances connected with the late ad- 
 vance of the Army under Major General Sir D. 
 Ochterlony into N^pajil.- A few of the move- 
 ments of the British Troops are here introduced 
 in a cu^ory manner, commencing from the ad- 
 vance of the Division under the personal command 
 of General Sir D. Ochterlony through the forest, 
 its encampment in the bed of the Bechyacho 
 River. The success of the manoeuvre to gain 
 the rear of Cheriah Pass, and finally the engage- 
 ment on the heights near Muckvvanpoor, on the 
 26th of February, 1816. 
 
 The many disadvantages that must ever attend 
 the efforts of a young Soldier in Literature and 
 Composition, who, from his early adoption of a 
 Military life, is necessarily precluded from the 
 benefits of prolonged education, will, it is hoped, 
 be considered in the perusal of the following 
 Pages, and shelter the Author from the severer 
 strictures of Criticism,
 
 THE 
 
 CANTO 1st. A SERAI. 
 
 ff HERE Ganges rolls its sacred cours^ 
 Far winding from its mountain source ; 
 Now gently glides 'mid cultur'd lands, 
 Now streams athwart its broad white sands, 
 Now bursting to the view is seen, 
 And bolder apes old ocean's scene : 
 'Till weary of its idle pride, 
 In curve abrupt, far winds the tide ; 
 And save where groups of swelling sails, 
 That lightly fill to sultry gales, 
 Uprear their masts o'er distant plain, 
 The eye might search its course in vain.
 
 C 4 ] 
 
 And where Behar's full harvests rise, 
 
 And scatter wide their glad supplies ; 
 Where sun-burnt labour sees around 
 Its task, with waving riches crown'd : t 
 A herdsman mark'd the setting sun 
 And hail'd his day's employment done : 
 Homeward he gladly wound his way, 
 Leaving the toil-worn task of day, < 
 The grazing cattle heard his call, 
 And slowly sought their ev'ning stall; 
 'Twas twilight ere they reach'd the shed ; 
 He saw their litter'd forage spread : 
 This done, his neighbours quickly sought, 
 To tell the tale, that day had brought. 
 He spoke of Trav'ller, sad and slow, 
 Whose care-mark'd looks proclaim'd his woe. 
 Whose feeble form the path had cross'd. 
 In pensive mood of sorrow lost 
 The neighbours round the herdsman press'd, 
 Who thus his lab'ring thoughts express'd ;
 
 [ 5 ? 
 
 <f Fatigue had worn his aged frame, 
 
 " As slowly o'er the path he came ; 
 
 rf Full well 1 mark'd his sunken eye, 
 
 " His bosom heaving oft a sigh, 
 
 " And feature bold, and swarthy face, 
 
 (c That spoke him of some mountain race. 
 
 " His looks, in which devotion burn'd, 
 
 <( T'ward holy Jaggernaut were turn'd. 
 
 " But still methinks his tott'ring age, 
 
 " Now verging quick to life's last stage ; 
 
 i( Such distant shrine can never gain, 
 
 " Nor bow before that hallow'd fane. 
 
 ?' I marvel why he quits his home, 
 
 " And wherefore doom'd thus 'fur to roam ; 
 
 " 'Twculd seem that none his steps attend, 
 
 " No kindred heart, nor cheering friend. 
 
 " I'll seek him straight in the serai, 
 
 " And learn why heaves his bosom's sigh."
 
 C 6 ] 
 
 Near yon large Tank whose margin wide 5 
 Proclaims its pious builder's pride ; 
 And where the Tope's majestic trees, 
 Wave slowly to the ev'ning breeze ; 
 There, greeting oft the Traveler's eye, 
 Stands, humbly thatch'd, the low serai. 
 "Within its mud-built walls I ween, 
 Oft-times a motley band is seen, - 
 The Pilgrim led by vain intent, 
 To seek at shrines for heart's content ; 
 Who crosses hill, and dale and ghaut, 
 To cleanse foul sin at Jaggernaut. 
 There too the wand'ring Trader stays, 
 With look absorb'd, in eager gaze ; 
 As silently he counts his gain, 
 And thinks what profits rise amain, 
 Whilst oft lurks there the fierce decoit, 
 Eyeing his prey with savage spite, 
 Who marks th' unwary Traveler's goods, 
 And plans attack 'mid neighb'ring woods
 
 [ * ] 
 
 And little then his victim heeds, 
 That ere to-morrow's sun he bleeds ! 
 
 Beneath this roof as ev'ning clos'd, 
 The stranger's weary limbs repos'd ; 
 But grief absorb'd the Mountaineer, 
 And stain'd his furrow'd cheek with tear, 
 When the serai he looked around, 
 And there no kindly feature found. 
 Lonely then seem'd his sad repast, 
 As care its gloom upon it cast. 
 Well he remember'd days far gone, 
 Days, joyous days too quickly flown ! 
 The future rose upon his view, 
 And sad the scene his fancy drew 
 In bitterness he groan'd aloud, 
 Nor heeded aught the list'ning crowd. 
 
 The herdsman sat in the serai, 
 And view'd the scene with wond'ring eye ;
 
 C 8 ] 
 
 He long'd such sorrow's cause to kno\Y* 
 
 And hear the stranger's tale of woe. 
 
 I say not, that he pity felt, 
 
 Or sympathy within him dwelt ; 
 
 Alas ! in this sad heartless land, 
 
 But rarely dwells the sister band 
 
 Of softer virtues, prompt to glow, 
 
 And sorrow at another's woe. 
 
 Well can an Eastern sun-beam breed 
 
 On burning plain, the rank foul weed ; 
 
 But flowrets sink beneath its fire, 
 
 And wither'd fall an4 parch'd expire 1 i 
 
 The n?7ds,2nan sought the stranger's side, 
 And there, with look that seem'd to chide, 
 Enquired, why the tearful eye, 
 And bosom rent with frequent sigh ? 
 ** Can sigh and tear assuage pale grief, 
 [' Or bring," he said, i( the heart relief ?"
 
 C 9 ] 
 " And, who art thou ?" the stranger cried, 
 <c Who thus would'st check my sorrow's tide? 
 " Unhurt, perhaps, 'midlife's sad storms, 
 " No lowering cloud thy day deforms ; 
 " And, in the colder pride of heart, 
 
 cc Stern lessons thou can'st well impart! i 
 
 " But, there are moments, when the soul, 
 
 " Sinking 'neath sorrow's wild controul, 
 
 " Spurns reason's cold, unkind behest, 
 
 " And scorns its influence o'er the breast. 
 
 " Then sighs succeed in rapid turn, 
 
 " Then scalding tears the eyelid burn ! 
 
 *' Ah ! so with me, but I am old, 
 
 " And many long, long years have told; 
 
 " My fortitude, for ajre, hath fled, 
 
 " And lowly falls my stricken head. 
 
 " But, yet the time I can recal, 
 
 " When I could smile on sorrows all ; 
 
 " Then manhood's firmness steel'd my heart, 
 
 " In vain affliction shed its smart : .
 
 [ Jo 3 
 
 ce Now age and care the soul unstring 1 , 
 y Tillev'ry passing- woe can wring." 
 
 The stranger paus'd his bosom heav'd, 
 At thoughts which pale reflection breath'd; 
 Reflection, eager to contrast, 
 The present ill, with pleasure past; 
 Making that ill more piercing keen, 
 From mem'ry of what joys have been. 
 Wistful he ey'd the gathering crew, 
 Who, crowding near, in silence drew ; 
 
 Then, seem'd as if he would reveal, 
 
 The cause, why o'er him sorrows steal. 
 
 Attention dwelt on ev'ry face, 
 
 And silence reign'd throughout the place ; 
 
 Scarce whisp'ring sounds the ear assail. 
 
 As eager for the stranger's tale, 
 
 Around the crowded, full serai, 
 
 Impatience brighten'd ev'ry eye.
 
 C " ] 
 
 The hookah now had Iull'd its sound, 
 Its embers scatter'd on the ground; 
 The village dog too ceas'd to growl, 
 And at the pale fac'd moon to howl,, 
 Obedient, to the door-way crept, 
 And crouching there, in stillness slept. 
 
 THE STRANGERS TALE. 
 
 Far in the land where mountains rise, 
 And wild rocks tow 'ring, seek the skies ; 
 Where nature's boldest works are seen, 
 The hanging cliff, and forest screen, 
 Torrents that rush o'er bed of stone, 
 And whirl, in rage, huge trees o'erthrown 
 And in the land, where wand'rers view 
 Far above clouds, the glist'ning hue 
 Of snow-clad heights, that brave the ray 
 Of scorching suns, and burning day ; 
 Snows, that for ever changeless last, 
 In wintry winds and sultry blast;
 
 r ] 
 
 Athwart whose bleak terrific head, 
 The vent'rous step may never tread ; 
 And gazers, trembling, deem that there 
 The world's wide pathless bounds appear. 
 
 Amid these scenes in deeper vale, 
 Close shelter'd from each passing gale, 
 Near proud Kathmanda's rising domes, 
 Her painted roofs and gilded tombs: 
 Beneath a rough impending height, 
 A Goorkah village met the sight. 
 There peace reclin'd, with smiling mien, 
 There pleasure shone and joy was seen, 
 And I, its chief, was blest to live, 
 'Mid ev'ry calm, this life can give ! 
 I had a daughter, would my speech 
 Some glowing theme could bolder reach ! 
 But lip of age can feebly tell, 
 The charms that o'er soft beauty dwell;
 
 c i ] 
 
 Shall I repeat her lovers lays, 
 As he was wont to sing her praise ; 
 And tell you of the jet-black eye, 
 Where, star-like thousand beauties lie ? 
 The glossy hair whose ringlets How'd, 
 And like the raven's plumage glow'd ; 
 The glance, where dwelt that varied charm, 
 To fire fierce love then sooth th' alarm ; 
 That glance which could inspire at will, 
 Love's wildest glow and softest thrill: 
 By Heav'n ! such praise, were coldly sung, 
 1 would ye heard her lover's tongue ! 
 
 Scarce youth's gay summer suns had shed 
 Their influence o'er my Zeila's head, 
 Ere, while I mark'd her budding charms, 
 That coyly sunk 'neath new alarms, 
 My watchful glance would oft descry, 
 Her tender bosom check its sigh,
 
 [ 1* ] 
 
 A id then remark the sudden blush, 
 Deep o'er her crimson'd features rush. 
 
 If aught, 'neath Heaven, can impart 
 An int'rest, that shall touch the heart; 
 A feeling- that can thoughts instil, 
 To make the trembling bosom thrill, 
 It is the sigh that beauty heaves, 
 When fancy first a love-tale weaves; 
 "When from the downcast dewy eya, 
 Love bids its tender glances fly, 
 And tells that blissful something glow, 
 That knows not why, nor whence, nor how ! 
 'Tis then that life appears a scene 
 Or roseate hue of rlow'ret green, 
 Of soul-felt sweets, that cannot cloy, 
 Of endless, never-fleeting joy 1 
 Youth little recks, that thorns are near, 
 Whose rankling wounds the bosom tear
 
 r 3 
 
 Aye ! tear it, 'till its peace be gone. 
 Its day dream past its vision flown. 
 
 Glad Zeilo's looks are glist'ning now, 
 Her cheek assumes a deeper glow ; 
 Methinks, that blush, and brighten'd eye, 
 Bespeak her lov'd Awarrah nigh : 
 Fond maid ! tis he ; his welcome arms, 
 Bend softly o'er thy greeting charms. 
 
 Among the many gallant swains, 
 Who grac'd our hills and Goorkah plains, 
 Awarrah ! 'twere but honest truth, 
 To hail thee as our brightest youth. 
 E'er first and foremost in the fight, 
 Thy foes have felt thy val'rous might: 
 I've seen thee fir'd with lion-rage, 
 Impetuous in the fight engage; 
 There, single out the bravest foe, 
 To lay the vaunting warrior low!
 
 C I* 3 
 
 But, when the shout of battle o'er, f. 
 
 And mingled corahs clash'd no more, 
 
 Then have I wafch'd thy chasten 'd gaze, 
 Which, whilom, shone in fierce bright blaze ; 
 Now wrapt in sudden softness beam, 
 As fancy rais'd a glowing dream 
 Of Zeila, flying forth to greet 
 Her lover home, from battles' heat.
 
 C n 3 
 
 CANTO 2d. Stranger's Tale Continued. 
 
 IJrULL was the dreary, cheerless day, 
 That tore the veil of peace away ; 
 That cast its hateful gloom around, 
 And lower'd dark, with terror crown'd! 
 
 And sad the task to paint that hour, 
 
 When, slowly seeking Zeila's bow'r, 
 
 Awarrah came, and o'er his tongue 
 
 A trembling tale of sorrow hung. 
 
 (e Say lov'd Awarrah ! why that sigh, 
 " Which seems to bode misfortune nigh ?". 
 His Zeila cried, while anxious dread 
 Its pale wan hue around her shed ; 
 " Oh ! tell me why that fearful change, 
 " What threat'ning ills thy thoughts derange ?
 
 [ '8 ] 
 ' No more the joy inspiring smile, 
 
 <c Which late could Zeila's heart beguile 
 
 " In pleasure beams; but o'er thy face 
 
 " Indignant frowns usurp its place. 
 
 " Say canst thou doubt thy Zeila's love ?. 
 
 " Such idle fears thou ne'er can'st prove ; 
 
 " Then, dearest youth, in pity tell, 
 
 " Why throbs that heart's unwonted swell ?" 
 
 f* Zeila, we soon shall part again, 
 (< And I must tempt the embattled plain ; 
 " But tho' the thought of leaving thee, 
 F Brings worse than woe or misery, 
 " Yet must I check my bosom's throe, 
 " And, fearless, fly to meet the foe ! 
 " Know, that from angry hostile land, 
 t( Where Gunga sacred laves the strand, 
 " Advancing, stranger hosts appear, 
 " And hurl proud vaunts afar and near;
 
 r 19 ] 
 
 "While in their train wide Hindostan, 
 
 t{ Has marshall'd round each warrior clan, 
 
 ec To wreak dire vengeance on our fields, 
 
 " And batter down our guardian shields! 
 
 " They say rash counsels are the cause 
 
 tf Of all these ills, and murd'rous wars; 
 
 " And, that our rulers led astray, 
 
 " By secret instigation's sway, 
 
 " Bring, reckless, on our country's head 
 
 " Invasion's haughty, hostile dread ! 
 
 " But shall a Goovkah bear the stain 
 
 " Of foreign yoke, of servile chain ? 
 
 ff Say shall he view his gods, his home, 
 
 " (Whate'er the cause,) by foe o'erthrovvn ? 
 
 " And feel not glowing patriot fire 
 
 " Rage in his soul and fierce inspire, 
 
 " To drive th' intruder far away, 
 
 " And proudly spurn his iron sway ?"
 
 C 20 ] 
 
 Awarrah's tongue had told too true, 
 And such the ills we had to rue ; 
 E'en then uncheck'd the British arms, 
 Around our frontier spread alarms; 
 And scouts proclaimed their mighty force, 
 As toward our hills they bent their course. 
 Some, who from distant height had view'd, 
 The tents along the wide plain strew'd, 
 Told many tales of marshall'd rank, 
 Which stretch'd, till lost to view, its flank; 
 And black artillery, whose train 
 Approaching countless o'er the plain, 
 Threaten'd in horrid din to pour 
 'Mid echoing hills its awful roar. 
 
 1 meGooikah's bosoms cannot fear, 
 Or shrink from death and danger near ; 
 Their deeds have told their lack of dread, 
 Their deeds on foes have terror shed,
 
 [ ] 
 
 And hr?c'd was ev'ry patriot arm, 
 
 To dash aside the threat'ning harm. 
 My hairs were grey,, my steps were slow, 
 And manhood's warmth had ceas'd to glow ; 
 Still there was something 1 in my heart, 
 Which, fire unwonted could impart; 
 Which bade me think of day's of yore, 
 When pleas'd I rush'd in battle's roar: 
 And mem'ry kindled strength anew, 
 While sanguine still my fancy grew. 
 My trembling hand essay'd to wield 
 The corah's weight, the round black shield ; 
 And tho' this arm weak, nerveless fell, 
 Oh ! yet those feelings can I tell, 
 When in my grasp I view'd a blade, 
 Uprear'd to lend its feeble aid, 
 Feeble indeed ! but rear'd to show, 
 One Goorkah more, to hated foe.
 
 C 22 ] 
 Meanwhile approach'd our parting scene, 
 And Zeila's heart was rent, I ween ; 
 Sadly she griev'd at hateful war 
 That scatter'd all her hopes afar, 
 That sent her aged parent forth, 
 To totter 'mid the fight's fierce wrath; 
 And drove the lov'd Awarrah's form 
 To scenes where rag'd the battle's storm. 
 Weeping around her lover's arm, 
 She bound a magic anrlet's charm, 
 And softly sigh'd to Hcav'n a prayer, 
 That hostile arm the youth might spare : 
 The spell was wrought in holy bower, 
 And teem'd with hidden magic power; 
 Thrice had an ancient hill Fuqueer 
 Blest it, and murmur 'd secret prayer? 
 And iTeila fondly hop'd such spell 
 Might haply shield where, dangers dwell.
 
 [ 23 ] 
 
 We ling'ring left her sad embrace, 
 And cJimb'd (he height with broken pace ; 
 Then down deep vales address'd our course 
 To Cheriah's pass, where watch'd our force. 
 The western sun's last sinking ray 
 Had, blushing, bade adieu to day, 
 And silver beam of moon at night 
 Glanc'd thro' the vale a doubtful light; 
 Whilst still along some mountain side, 
 On rugged path we onwards hied. 
 Oft times amid the dreary way, 
 A passing friend our steps would stay, 
 To speak of the advancing foe, 
 As nearer still their threat'nings grow, 
 And tell us, that emerg'd from shade, 
 Which dismal forest's scene display'd, 
 In low Bechy'cho's rocky bed, 
 Their camp accurs'd had rear'd its head.
 
 C 24 ] 
 
 But, rushing soon from Cheriah's height, 
 Oppress'd with worse than coward fright, 
 We met our shameless, trembling host, 
 Who fled, un fought, their barrier post, 
 Nor blush'd that British flag should wave ~\ 
 
 On spot, where had our bands been brave, }> 
 
 The foe had met a lowly grave ! J 
 
 They said, that circling o'er the brow 
 Of hills, whose haughty summits grow 
 Aloft in clouds, and where the rock 
 The giddy view appears to shock, - 
 There had invasion forc'd its way, 
 And dar'd our tow'ring cliffs to stray ; 
 Till gaining Chi riah's guardless rear, 
 Our Goorkahs fled such danger near. 
 
 Awarrah's eye shone bright in ire, 
 His glance betray'd his bosom's fire ;
 
 C 25 ] 
 
 Oh ! how he blam'd loves softer sway. 
 That kept him from the fight away; 
 That bound him to his Zeila's charms, 
 When war first rais'd its dire alarms. 
 But tho' his soul disdain'd excuse, 
 Can I a pleading voice refuse ? 
 No ! he had heard that smiling peace 
 Had bade war's clam'rous terrors cease ; 
 And that along richGunga's shore, 
 Assembling hosts were seen no more: 
 'Twas rumour'd that fair India's Lord 
 Had i>oued wide his mandate-word, 
 Assembling armies to recal, 
 And turn their course from wild Napaul. 
 Ah ! little then Awarrahkenn'd 
 Deceits that Goorkah court, attend ; 
 He little thought our Rajah's wile 
 Was plann'd the foemen to beguile,
 
 C 26 ] 
 And stay the dread approach of war, 
 'Till seasons should advance afar; 
 
 r 
 
 And British scheme and project mar.* J 
 
 Deceit and falsehood seldom blind, 
 The eagle eye, the watchful mind: 
 And soon our Foes the plot discern'd, 
 Again their hearts With fury biirn'd; 
 Quick gath'ring round each scatter'd band, 
 They rush'd in torrent to our land. 
 
 And now 'twas darkest midnight's tide> 
 When brave Awarrah left my side, 
 And climbing over height and hill, 
 He onwards push'd in silence still, 
 
 * Alluding to the expected ratification of the 
 Treaty of Peace, purposely delayed and withhold 
 by the Napaul Government, previous to the last 
 campaign.
 
 L 3?" J 
 
 And gain'd the pass unheard* unseen," 
 Wliere late our CSoorkah arms had been. 
 He long'd to gild his youthful name, 
 With honest meed and warrior's fame ; 
 And, viewing- nigh our adverse host, 
 There truly learn if all were lost: 
 Oft times he heard the sentinel, 
 With busy shout his vigil tell; 
 Andthen the watchful outpost's care, 
 Would warn him not to venture there, 
 As circling wide with footsteps slow, 
 He view'd the watchfire brightly glow ;^ 
 And mark'd full. well each guardedscite, 
 Where, arms lay prompt for instant fight. 
 High on an eminence he stood, 
 Conceal'd, amid the shady wood, 
 Beneath him watch'd a. wary band, 
 Accoutred all, and arms in hand ; 
 Around he saw their sentries spread, 
 While some the kindling watchfire fed;
 
 L ~ J 
 And soon triumphant from the crew, 
 
 A song his wrapt attention drew. 
 
 SEPOY'S SONG. 
 
 Salam to the Sahib! who from far distant clime, 
 Thro' forest terrific, o'er mountain sublime, 
 Can lead his brave bands, to where triumphs e'er 
 
 wave, 
 Salam to the Sahib, the belov'd of the brave! 
 
 Old Delhi can speak of his prowess and mii^ht, 
 And fallen Maloun tells his firmness in fight; 
 Whenever, in Gunga, the holy shall lave, 
 Salam to the Sahib, the belov'd of the brave ! 
 
 Vain, vain, oh Napaul! nre thy rocks and thy hills, 
 In vain nature's wildness its terror instils; 
 How idle thy efforts ! no power can save, 
 Thy realm from the Sahib, the belov'd of the brave !
 
 C 29 ] 
 
 One barrier has fallen, and soon shall the roar 
 
 Of cannon proclaim, that our deeds are not o'er : 
 On thy fir-crested hills our banners shall wave, 
 Salam to the Sahib, the belov'd of the brave ! 
 
 Awarrah heard their vaunting song, 
 And curs'd the proud triumphant throng; 
 Backward he sullen wound his way, 
 While hope denied one cheering ray, 
 And joined us, where high Mucwanpour, 
 In clouds erects its dizzy tower.
 
 L ou J 
 
 CANTO 3d Tale Continued. 
 
 MUCWANPOUR. 
 
 F. 
 
 OR seige repuls'd, for foe oft sham'd, 
 Were Mucwanpour's proud turrets fam'd !- 
 On lofty mountain high they stand, 
 As if to brave each hostile hand: 
 Beneath them yawn on ev'ry side 
 Dark glens, where rocks in rugged pride, 
 Scoff at the footstep's mad essay, 
 If (here 'twould tempt its daring way; 
 And wild along the giddy height, 
 The paths the travelers soul affright, 
 As dark W|low$, on either side, 
 A fearful gloomy gulf is cy'd ; 
 And terror tells that one false pace 
 May close in death, man's earthly race !
 
 C 31 ] 
 
 Few were the suns that o'er the world, 
 Their radiant robe of light unfnrl'd ; 
 Few were the moons, whose pensive ray 
 Stole paler gleam from parting- day, 
 Ere, from the hill-fort's haughty brow, 
 That looks upon the vale below, 
 And, whence the dwindled object seems 
 Like dwarf in sportive fancy's dreams; 
 We saw our foes in threatening train, 
 Appear along" th' astonish'd plain ! 
 Endless advance their lenjrth'ntnsr line, 
 And countless glitt'ring bayonets shine; 
 While soon beneath th' impending- height, 
 Their camp, uprearing, strikes the sight ; 
 And flag unfurl'd, and ensign gay, 
 Bright waving folds in air display. 
 
 Advanc'd along a neighb'ring hill, 
 A Goorkah band its summit fill ;
 
 C 32 J 
 
 Appointed they the path to guard, 
 And danger's first approach to ward : 
 Oh fools! the danger scarcely nigh, 
 Ere wrapt in fear, they trembling fly, 
 And bid our foes attain the height, 
 To triumph there o'er Goorkah flight.* 
 Full soon the news our chieftain reach'd, 
 And madding thought his features bleach'd; 
 It was not fear that made his blood 
 Rush from the brow in angry flood ? 
 
 * This alludes to the position at the village on 
 the heights of Mucwanpour, which was deserted 
 by the Goorkahs, and immediately taken possessi- 
 on of by our advanced Picpiels, on the morning 
 of the 28th February; which position, shortly af- 
 terwards on the same day, was the scene of con- 
 tention for so many hours, between the strong 
 force sent up from General SirD. Ochteklony'9 
 division, and the many numerous bodies of the 
 Goorkahs that kept pouring from Mucwanpour 
 to regain it.
 
 C 33 ] 
 
 No ! 'twas the pang of demon rage, 
 That some fierce souls can ne'er assuage, 
 When passion paints upon the view 
 A hell-stampt tinge and livid hue. 
 
 Shouted the chief, in accenthoar.se, 
 " Go, lead the flower of our force ! 
 " In blood, your summit post regain ; 
 " Or, lifeless, on the hill remain !" 
 
 Say, who hath mark'd a pitchy shroud 
 Of dark'ning air the Heaven's cloud, 
 Black gath'ring, where the deep red sun 
 Hath sullen sunk, its circuit done; 
 Stretching foul mists athwart the sky, 
 To point whence northern tempests fly ? 
 Frightful then seems the mingled gloom, 
 And storms rest lurking in its womb : 
 Sudden along the distant plain, 
 Far as the fearful eye can strain,
 
 [ 34 ] 
 
 Columns of whirling dust appear, 
 And hoarse high roarings strike the ear; 
 Nearer they come, and louder still, 
 While darker glooms the welkin fill. . 
 The fearrstruck cattle fly the plain, 
 And speed some sheltering spot to gain ;~*~ 
 'Wilder'd, the tiger looks around, 
 And shrinks him nearer to the ground ; 
 Crouches along in fearful gait, 
 And seems in dread some ill to wait. 
 Bursts now the storm, the boist'rous wind 
 Sweeps its dread havoc unconfin'd; 
 Prostrate the crashing forests bend, 
 Tall shatter'd trees on earth extend : 
 See! see! the flaming red bolt falls, 
 And fires the straw-clad hamlet walls ! 
 The burning roofs, upborne on high, 
 Brighten awhile the face of sky, 
 And shrieks of villagers around, 
 Swell thro' the blast a piteous sound !
 
 [ 35 ] 
 
 Dire (lie tulniun of eastern clime, 
 
 And awful thus its scene sublime! 
 
 But still more raging, fiercer far, 
 
 The bands that headlong rush to war ; 
 
 When from our high embattled tow'r, 
 
 A host of bravest Goorkahs pour, 
 i 
 
 And quickly winding seek the fight, 
 To hurl on foe their vengeful might! 
 Awarrah, foremost sped along, 
 The boldest of the warrior throng ; 
 And, if true valour can inspire, 
 Or glance from eye, with godlike fire,- 
 Such godlike fire in him I view'd, 
 As on he flew in dauntless mood, 
 Warm at the thought of gallant deed, 
 Nor heeded that himself might bleed. 
 
 But tew our foes upon the height, 
 Yet stand they firm amid the fight;
 
 C 36 3 
 
 Nor shrink a step, nor back one pace, 
 Tho' whelming hosts unnumber'd face! 
 Our Goorkah hearts were stung with rage, 
 "We fiercer still the battle wage, 
 And rushing fearless, dash aside 
 Their bay'nets point in crimson died. 
 Then wilder rag* d th' Unequal War, 
 And dealh came stalking from afar ; 
 The soul of one brave Sahib had fled, 
 And lifeless, lowly lay his head! 
 But still his fall was dearly bought, 
 And he had died as warrior ought. 
 Here let me pause, and drop a tear, 
 Bold Sahib ! upon thy hallow'd bier; - 
 Thy fight is o'er my gallant foe ! 
 A Goorkah sings thy death-song now.* 
 
 * Lieutenant Tyrell, 20th Regiment Native 
 Infantry.
 
 [ 37 ] 
 
 Meanwhi.e, ascending from the vale, 
 Fresh British hosts in turn assail; 
 And upward climbing- bend their course, 
 To wreak around their angry force* 
 How tierce they came, how well received, 
 What deed of valour then achiev'd ! 
 In torrents novv the bullets fly, 
 In crowds the stricken warriors die ; 
 Load thund'ring rage the cannons pour. 
 And hills re-echo back their roar, 
 Hisses the magic shell on high, 
 And bursting wide the dangers fly 
 Hurling 1 in circling heaps around, 
 Hosts of brave heroes to the ground. 
 Next clashing comes the mutual charge, 
 Where dire destruction deals at large 
 Its deadly thrust and furiate blow, 
 In combat close 'twixt angry foe.
 
 C 38 ] 
 
 The noon -day sun had seen our fight, 
 But shaded soon as dullest night, 
 JWform'd its course 'mid tempest's rage, 
 Which blacken'd o'er the Heaven's page. 
 Then horrors thicken 'd o'er the scene, 
 And many dismal sights were seen 
 By eannon's flash and lightning's glare, 
 Of wounded Gooikahs wild despair, 
 As struggling ghastly, mad with pain, 
 Their vital streams the red rocks stain ; 
 And life's last ebbing. torrents gush 
 From gaping wounds that crimson blush J 
 Around a gallant group lie dead, 
 Oh ! many daring souls are fled ; 
 Hopeless and wrapt in mute despair, 
 Our Goorkahs from the fight repair. 
 Yet some brave youths still ling'ring staid, 
 And viewing sad their corah's blade, 
 Accurs'd it, that it could not claim, 
 The victor's meed, to gild their name ;
 
 Then rushing 1 back amid the fight, 
 
 They sought, in .death, an endless night!- 
 
 The tempest si ill was gath'ring high, 
 And blackest clouds roll'd heavily ; 
 In thick full torrents fell the rain, 
 And streaming pour'd along the plain; 
 And bellow'd now the thunder's rage, 
 While angry elements engage 
 In strife terrific: bright above, 
 In livid streams, the lightnings rove; 
 Casting around their gleaming awe, .-> 
 Dreadful as late our earthly war ! 
 Amid such bitter raging storm, 
 Ah ! whither rests Awarrah's form ? 
 Retires he now to shelter near, 
 To seek repose from battle drear ? 
 No ! welt'ring on the rocky soil, 
 Oppressed with pain, and sunk in toil;
 
 L J 
 Heaving in blocd his last sad breath, 
 
 His eye firm fix'd in look of death, 
 
 He writhing, groans 'neath horrid wound, 
 
 And struggles on th' ensanguin'd ground ! 
 
 In vain I wander'd o'er the height, 
 Whilst hovvl'd the bleak tempestuous night; 
 In vaiu L sought with streaming eyea, 
 To catch his dying, parting sighs : 
 The blood-wet rocks his fate proclaim, 
 But ah ! not there, his wounded frame ; 
 And friends were doom'd to mourn his loss, 
 Unblest with hallow'd rite his corse ! 
 He left me at the battles' close, 
 Where Goorkah valour stood t'oppose, 
 In last attempt, its whelming foes ; 
 And then they say, his vengeful arm, 
 Rash in despair, dealt round alarm ; 
 Till bleeding fresh at ev'ry pore, 
 He reeling fell to rise no more ! 1 
 
 j
 
 [ 41 ] 
 
 They told me that our foes were gone', 
 They said that Peace now smiling shone ;- 
 I mark'd them hot, a tearless eye, 
 A vacant look, and deep-drawn sigh, 
 
 Gave token that the war might wage, 
 
 i 
 
 And hurl around its demon rage ; 
 Might point oh my defenceless frame. 
 Its force collected, fiercest aim ; 
 And yet the shaft urtfelt, Would fall, 
 Like arrow sleet, on fortress wall! 
 Oh ! sometimes bitter griefs can chill, 
 And arm the soul 'gainst other ill ; 
 Or else my aged heart had bursty 
 At fresh' n in g woes that came accurs'd ; 
 When led again to village home, 
 I saw pale Zeila frantic roanf, 
 With scatter'd hair, and gleaming eye, 
 In hopeless, wild insanity !
 
 [ ** 3 
 
 Too soon report had reach'd our vale, 
 And spread around the dismal tale ; 
 And Zeila's senses trembling fled, 
 And frantic wept Awarrah dead ! 
 Amid dark glens she wand'ring stray'd, 
 In frenzy's wildest form array'd. 
 But, if perchance, her bosom's woe, 
 E'er beat with Iessen'd, milder throe, 
 Oh! then, how plaintive seem'd her sigh 4 . 
 How softly sad her tear-dimm'd eye ! > 
 And then she'd eing a mournful strain, 
 Till echo breathed her lay again, 
 And gently murmuring whisper'd round, 
 In hollow tones as sad a sound. 
 
 Could eye of Parent view such scene, 
 Unblinded mid emotion keen ? 
 No ! hell itself were realm of bliss, 
 Compar'd to earthly woe like this l*
 
 L 4S J 
 
 1 groan 9 d aloud a holy vow 
 
 At shrine of Jaggernaut to bow, 
 In hope that toil of pilgrimage, 
 Might soften Brahma's kindled rage." 
 And now along the rugged way, 
 I've wander'd each long dreary day ; 
 While care and faint disease assail, 
 And wan fatigue and languor pale ; 
 Till passing traveler's looks bespeak 
 Dread horror at my death-stampt cheek !- 
 
 The Goorkah ceas'd, and ruddy day 
 Appear'd abroad in eastern ray; 
 Sleepless he left his night's abode 
 To tread again the length'ning road : 
 Nor paus'd to mark each humid eye, 
 Unwontto weep, of list'ner'aby.
 
 CAJNTO 4th. Conclusion. 
 
 CD- 
 
 'OME, Fancy, come! in minstrel dream, 
 And breathe some gayer happier theme ; 
 Oh! turn aside from sorrow's tale, 
 And rend afflictions care-wove veil; 
 Bid pleasure beam like brighter sun, 
 When gloomy season's storms are done \ 
 
 I 
 The pilgrim bow'd at holy shrine, 
 
 And homeward now his steps incline ; 
 
 The pious art perform'd, his breast 
 
 With cheering hope, seems newly blest; 
 
 While health again inspires his soul, 
 
 With firmer step to seek the goal 
 
 Ofdearlov'dhome and native vale, 
 
 Where haply Zeila's tears bewail
 
 C 45 ] 
 
 Her absent sire. Then fonder hope, 
 That builds so gay mid airy scope, 
 Would tell him that his Zeila's tears, 
 No more th' effect of frantic fears, 
 Were chasten'd now by reason's sway, 
 While frenzied gloom had fled away. 
 
 Dear to the heart the thought of home, 
 When doom'd from native scenes to roam ; 
 When we are far oh ! far remov'd, 
 And driven from the friends we lov'd, - 
 And hateful distance rolls between, 
 The objects that we once have seen I 
 Then ev'ry sigh that paints again, 
 A well known spot or cherish'd plain ; 
 Then each idea that pourtrays 
 The semblance of some happier days, 
 Warms the sad heart. Now pleas'd it dwells 
 (Till the rapt bosom wildly swells !)
 
 On gladsome hope of quick return 
 To scenes for which we hourly burn ! 
 Oh ! who could absence e'er endure 
 Or who one moment could ensure 
 Of short relief, from aching care, 
 From pining thought and dull despair ? 
 If hope would never deign to cheer, 
 With promise of glad pleasure near ; 
 Promise of that blest happy day, 
 When we may meet those far away ! 
 
 Brightly the sun had ting'd the brow 
 Of Goorkah hills with ev'ning glow, 
 When distant still they struck the view 
 Of pilgrim as he homeward drew] 
 His throbbing bosom hail'd the sight, 
 And thus aloud he spoke delight : 
 " Dear native woods, that gladsome rise, 
 " And cheer an aged wanderer's eyes
 
 C 47 ] 
 ' fe Dear low'ring heights and greeting hills, 
 u At which my soul returning thrills 
 " How pure, how great, my heartfelt joy, 
 " How free from ev'ry sad alloy ! 
 " If, 'mid thy scenes, Leila's charms, 
 * ( In blooming health, shall seek my arms ! 
 " And, oh ! if brave Awarrah here 
 *' Restored again, my age could cheer [*' 
 
 Who, who, the youth that wildly prest, 
 The pilgrim to his panting breast ? 
 "Whose were the accents loud and high, 
 In sudden burst of eitacy, 
 Thatjoyous cried <e Awarrah lives ? \ 
 " And Heav'n again in mercy gives 
 " His life to cheer thy helpless years, 
 " And chase afar thy sadden 'd fears ?" 
 
 Oh yes 'twas he ! no phantom dream 
 Now mark'd the brain with meteor gleam ;
 
 t *8 ] 
 
 In blest reality of truth, 
 
 The pilgrim vievv'd the living youth ( 
 
 He saw (but shock of sudden joys, 
 
 Like grief, the stricken sense destroys ;) 
 
 Sinking beneath such glad alarm, 
 
 He breathless grasp'd Awarrah's arm ! 
 
 But soon the youth's lov'd accents stole, 
 
 And wak'd again tojoy his soul ; 
 
 And soon he heard Awarrah's tale, 
 
 While wond'ring doubts of bliss assaiL 
 
 '* Father ! remember-st thou the night, 
 " When bleeding, wounded in the fight, 
 * I senseless fell ? then mem'ry fled, 
 f( And deathlike stupor o'er me spread. 
 " A Goorkah had observ'd me fall, 
 (t And touch'd with kindly pity's call, 
 " He bore me to his hut afar, 
 
 sc Unknowing whom he snatch'd from war
 
 [ ] 
 
 tl There batb'd my wounds and sooth 'd mv pain* 
 
 ',' Till health and mem'ry cheer'd again. 
 
 " Yet, long; his task, for many a sun, 
 
 " U nnmrk'd; its daily course had run, 
 
 " While faint, insensate, mute, I lay, 
 
 " No*' kenn'd the darker night from day," 
 
 " Oh father ! many ills I wot 9 
 
 cc Have fallen to thy hapless lot ; 
 <: For- thou wert forc'd in helpless age, 
 " To wander far on pilgrimage : 
 " Deep in thy heart an offspring's woe 
 " Fester'd, and left its anguish'd throe ! 
 " Yet pilgrim I by the shrine I swear, 
 " Which witness' d late thy load of care; 
 " I swear by Gunga's holy tide, 
 f< Where thou wert doom'd thy steps to guide ; v 
 " That ev'ry ill that counter'd thee, 
 (S Were pangless,, stript of misery,
 
 [ 50 ] 
 
 jf* Compar'd to those afflictions keen 
 
 * f That waited me in native scene. 
 
 te My Zeila there, a maniac sad, 
 
 " In guise uncouth of frenzy clad ; 
 
 " Wan as the shade that flits the plain, 
 
 f< When night usurps her darksome reign, 
 
 " Her eyes how sunk ! but not their fire, 
 
 '* Nor glances, that could still inspire : 
 
 ** Yet the soft look of heav'nly hue, 
 
 " Which once the soul to rapture drew, 
 
 " Was fled ! a quick phrenetic gaze, 
 
 ." Kindled to bright and sudden blaze> 
 
 " Now shot around its wilder'd glare, 
 
 '* In sad unmeaning heartless stare, 
 
 " Roving in madness unconfin'd, 
 
 *" Nor gave one object to the mind ! 
 
 ," I prest her feeble, woe-worn frame, 
 
 u And softly sigh'd my Zeila's name. 
 
 " She heard me, but the glance quick shot 
 
 t( Betoken'd that she knew me not.
 
 C 51 ] 
 
 91 Her's was the state of mental woe; 
 
 u When the torn feelings sink so low, 
 
 " That thought seems fled., and yet the breasC 
 
 ,r Depriv'd of thought, can gain no rest; 
 
 " For grief's impression left behind, 
 
 rc Still wreaks its torture o'er the mind, 
 
 tr Like quiv'ring bowstrings seem to start, 
 
 l f And vibrate still, tho' fled the dart.". 
 
 ,f The rill that gently winds its course/ 
 ?' Where the hard rock protrudes its force, 1 
 "In time may wear that rocks rough side, 
 *' Smooth as the waves that near it glide ; 
 f And so shall sweetly- soothing care 
 f f The poignancy of sorrow wear, 
 " And soften pain, until the heart 
 " Loses apace its keener smart, > 
 *' Waking again to peaceful thought, 
 l[ Mid smiling calm with pleasure fraught !-^
 
 C M 3 
 
 P Father ! thouknow'st I lov'd full well, 
 * f To tbee 'twere idly vain to tell 
 " My thrill of bliss, when Zeila's soul, 
 " Shrinking from frenzy's dark controul, 
 " First knew me ; and a joyous tear 
 
 ?' Proclaim'd the approach of reason near ! 
 " From that blest day, that happy hour, 
 (C No longer storms appear'd to lovv'r ; 
 tl And save when duller thoughts arose, 
 " And pictur'd thee mid pilgrim-wOes, 
 ft Our moments calmly seem'd to move, 
 " Bright with the dawn of peace and love ! 
 " Now thanks blest Brahma ! thy return 
 " Can bid our joys unclouded burn ; 
 "And Zeila's heart shall gladsome hail 
 " Her sire's return to native vale l"
 
 C 53 ] 
 
 Say! who can please and paint a scene, 
 Of bright, unvaried, endless green ? 
 And where the eye unmov'd to view 
 One changeless shade of dazzling hue? 
 Then Fancy tell thy labour rest, 
 Nor sing the hours supremely blest, 
 That gaily fly o'er Goorkah dale, 
 Where scenes of Lover's bliss prevail ; 
 And where old age, secure in calms, 
 Now smiles at sorrow's past alarms.; 
 
 FINIS.
 
 C 55 3 
 
 THE 
 
 DEVOTEE. 
 
 Close to the City of Benares, at a place called 
 Doorgakoond, strangers are frequently taken 
 to see a Native, who in consequence of some 
 pious vow, is said never to speak. He was des- 
 cribed to have been a Rajah of some Northern 
 Province, which he left for the purpose of re- 
 maining in a state of devout meditation and si- 
 lence at Benares. Whatever may be the truth> 
 the Writer of the following, struck with the 
 singularity of the circumstance, has endeavour- 
 ed to put together a short train of supposed 
 events, with the intention of apparently ac- 
 counting for the adoption of so strange a Pe" 
 nance. 
 
 T, 
 
 HE hours of rain were spent and gone! 
 And cloudless skies of azure shone;
 
 [ 55 ] 
 
 Each river sought once more its bed, 
 
 Nor thro' the plain o'er whelming spread. 
 
 Slow stream 'd the rippling' can cut's course; 
 
 Torrents, late foaming still'd their force,- 
 
 Now sands o'ertopt the sunken wave, 
 
 And island broad to vision gave; 
 
 While from each northern snow-erown'd hill] 
 
 The wintry wind blew cold and chill, 
 
 Hailing" that season come again, 
 
 When marshall'd hosts might seek the plain. 
 
 And who the youth who bares his brand, 
 And heads in pride a rebel band ? 
 Emerging* from his hiding-den, 
 To muster round his matchlock men, 
 Who spurs his host to seek the fight, 
 Where guerdon of their fiercer mighty 
 Sees promise of rich booty nigh, 
 Should battle bless with victory ?
 
 t 57 ] 
 
 But, 'tis not booty fires the breast, 
 Of Aruft* young, to stand the test 
 Of bloody scenes, nor steels his heart, 
 To act 'gainst nature's better part ;-~> 
 It was not booty bade him roam 
 A rebel from his house and home : 
 But the foul stain of lawless love 
 Made him a guilty wand'rer rove, 
 Cursing, in blacken'd hapless hour, 
 A parent's wrath, a parent's power ! 
 
 For 'neath that parent's roof, 'twas said, 
 
 
 There dwelt a slave, a beauteous maid; 
 Blest with each soft attractive charm, 
 To win the heart to feelings warm ; 
 And it was told, that ArutF lov'd, 
 For her the pangs of passion prov'd; 
 That he had sought in louely hour, 
 The deep Zenanah's secret bower,
 
 C 58 ] 
 There sigh'd liis soul on maiden breast, 
 And ev'ry thrilling thought express'd : 
 He triumph'd, if, indeed, the word 
 Of triumph, can true sense afford 
 Of lover's act, who dares to streak 
 Athwart fond beauty'9 burning cheek, 
 A deepen'd, redder blush of shame, 
 That mourns for age its wither'd fame 1 
 
 And Aruff fled to 'scape the fire, 
 And dread effect of parent's ire ; 
 Long had he wander'd to and fro, 
 Mid all the keener pangs of woe 
 That youth can feel, when o'er the breast 
 The reign of conscience comes confest. 
 Oft would his tortur'd fancy swell, 
 At thought of her, who lov'd too well, 
 Of her, whose soft unguarded soul, 
 Sinking beneath fond love's coutroul,
 
 [ 59 ] 
 
 Lost, in one moment., lost for e*er, 
 The brightest gem that maid can wear \ 
 
 Fled he alone ? No in his train, 
 Souls like his own had sought the plain, 
 Many a restless, villain hand, 
 S well'd the black list of Aruff's band ; 
 And they had made a dark resolve, 
 Ere sultry months should quick revolve, 
 To level in their daring rage 
 The fort where Byram dwelt in age,' 
 By ram was Aruff's ancient sire, 
 And one, whose age could well inspire^ 
 To all, hut. rebel, harden'd hearts, 
 Respect, that virtue e'er imparts s 
 far in a province of the north, 
 A Rajah, blest in princely worthy' 
 He rul'd a people brave and free 4 
 As sun could in its circuit see.
 
 f 60 ] 
 
 Mourn'd he full deep his Arilff's vice, 
 Mourn'd he the crime that c^uld entice 
 A dear lov'd son from home away, 
 Regardless of his parent's sway :- 
 But mourn'd he deeper when he learnf* 
 That that lov'd son in fury burnt, 
 To bring upon his ag'ed head 
 Vengeance and ev'ry hostile dread. 
 Within a fortress wall secur'd, 
 With host of valiant friends iumiur'd, 
 He waited sad to brave the pride 
 Of impious son and parricide. 
 
 The circling moon rode pale and high, 
 Majestic in the starry sky ; 
 Along the wide and Iengthen'd plain, 
 Scarce aught disturb'd night's stilly reign, 
 Save when among the shadowy trees 
 Whisper'd the bleak and northern breeze ;
 
 [ 61 ] 
 
 Save when the hungry Jackali's yell, 
 In waning howl, would sudden swell, 
 And heard by straggling mates around, 
 Was echo'd far in varied sound ; 
 While the wak!d village dog would raise, 
 His lank thin form tolist;and gaze 
 Upon the gleaming orb of night, 
 Mid whining cry of cold affright. 
 'Twas midnight! but to AriuT's soul, 
 No pleasing calm of slumber stole; 
 And as his weary comrades slept. 
 Among their ranks he slowly crept, 
 Then wrapt liis shelfrin^g mantle tight, 
 Counting the ling'ring hours of night. 
 His band that eve had neai'd the wall 
 Of Byram's fort, now doom'd to fall S 
 For ere another sun should stain 
 With ruddy tint the western plain, 
 'Twas purpos'd bravely to assail, 
 And fierce the rampart's height to scale,
 
 C 62 3 
 
 Then seize the lov'd, fond-loving maicj, 
 
 for whom such dangers were essay 'd. 
 
 Along the rampart's crested height, 
 The moon hath cast its silver light. 
 And Aruff's looks are firmly bent 
 Upon the fortress battlement ; 
 He sees above a shrouded form, 
 Whose image fires his bosom's storm ; 
 Like sentinel it doth not seem, 
 For where the spear or tulwar's gleam?* . 
 Sure 'tis a phantom mocks the eye, 
 See, with its hand, it beckons nigh ; 
 And hark) along the midnight gale. 
 Soft female sounds the ear assail ; 
 'Tis Aruff's name ? hark ! Hark I that call 
 Implores him to approach the wall;, 
 By Heav'n 'tis she ! the beauteous slave, 
 Daring the midnight hour to brave,
 
 [ 63 ] 
 
 While in the bleak and chilly air 
 Wantons her long dishevell'd hair. 
 
 Oh ! Aruff, blind to aught but love, 
 Why onward to the rampart move ? 
 Away ! th^ father's bands are nigh; 
 Hence, speed thee! to thy comrades fly : . 
 Hence, hence, amid the moat's deep shade, 
 Secret, a wily host are laid ; 
 They have thee ! Fool! could maiden wile, 
 Thus easily thy breast beguile ? 
 Well, may thou threat of vengeance vow, 
 Thy curses sound but idly now, 
 Soon in a darksome dungeon thrown, 
 At wayward fate thou sad mayst moan. 
 
 Loudly for rescue peal his cries, 
 But in the cell secure he lies, 
 And struggles for 'scape in vain, 
 And clanks his circling fetter-chain ;
 
 [ n 3 
 
 His fever'd pulses wildly beat 
 In rage 'gainst her, whose dark deceit 
 Could lure him to approach the wall, 
 And hasten thus her Aruff's fall. 
 But there he wrong'it her for her heart 
 Disdain'd the viler, meaner part; 
 And she had sought the battlement, 
 Mid thought of love mid fond intent; 
 While Byram promis'd that his son, 
 By her allur'd, and haply won, 
 Should meet forgiveness ; and if e'er, 
 His future conduct boded fair, 
 Then Aruff should, forgiven, have 
 In blest reward, his beauteous slave. 
 
 Now Byram's steps approach the cell 
 His sadden'd looks no auger tell, 
 He comes to still fierce Aruff's breast, 
 And calm the thoughts that there infest ;
 
 [ 65 ] 
 
 Cut Arnff will not ear Afford, 
 
 And proudly scoffs his parent's word ; 
 
 He spurns alike the promise kind, 
 
 Or threat to awe the rebel mind, 
 
 And views uiiuiov'd his angiiish'd sire, 
 
 In sorrow from the cell retire. 
 
 Once more comes By ram on his arm, 
 
 Trembling 'neath ev'ry soft alarm. 
 
 Leans the fond slave : " Oh ! surely love> 
 
 " To lender calm the heart can move ; 
 
 " Caress from thee shall soon assuage, 
 
 " And banish Aruff's wildest rage V 
 
 Thus said the sire, approached the maid, 
 
 Loosely her ebon tresses play'd ; 
 
 Pallid her check in sadness seem'd, 
 
 And tears adown her features stream'd. 
 
 " Arnff !" she feebly, softly sigh'd, 
 
 " Artiff, oh hear !" she louder cried. 
 
 He heard, and started from the ground, 
 
 His limbs were chained, his arms Were bound ;
 
 [ 66 ] 
 
 Yet with the strength of maniac rage 
 
 He strove his hands to disengage, 
 
 And loos'd them ; with savage howl, 
 
 Like tiger in its midnight prow], 
 
 The shrieking maiden's throat he grasp'd. 
 
 Vain was her cry, she struggled gasp'd; 
 
 Till with a deep convulsive groan, 
 
 She quiv'ring fell, her soul had flown ! 
 
 Seem'd as a second's fleeting breath, 
 
 The scene of horror work of death. 
 
 Old Byram's senses stricken fled, 
 
 In paralyzing pause of dread ; 
 
 Not long that pause : a well-ainVd bloTf 
 
 Levell'd the dastard murd'rer low ; 
 
 His life's blood issued from the wound, 
 
 And stain'd the moisten'd soil around ; 
 
 Yet in his eye seem'd no remorse 
 
 He view'd the maiden's blacken'd corse, 
 
 And died while o'er his features play'd 
 
 A ghastly smile in guilt array 'd !
 
 C 67 ] 
 
 Woe, By ram 1 that thy parent hand 
 Should strike ^he fierce avenging brand 
 On impious son, whose foul misdeed 
 Doom'd him by father's steel to bleed. 
 But tho' stern justice bade the blow, 
 And struck the cruel A ruff- low ; 
 Yet, yet, thy riven heart could weep 
 For him, thus laid in ceaseless sleep ; . 
 And in the first wild hours of grief, 
 Thou mad'st a vow in sorrow brief, 
 Never to speak to mortal man, 
 While toil'd below thy earthly span!* 
 
 Byram has left his wide domain, 
 And lonely sought the southern plain, 
 Where rich Benares lifts her walls, 
 And min'ret's height the view appals, 
 Where Hindoo shrine and moslem dome. 
 Rise close on Ganges' watry womb,
 
 U C8 ] 
 
 There sits he ; but no utter' d word 
 From Byram's lip is ever heard j 
 Fix'd are his looks, across his brow 
 The smile ne'er lends its hurried glow ; 
 And holy Bramins see his form. 
 Unshrinking meet the pelting storm, - 
 And deem him here, a Saint on earth, 
 Emblem of Brahma's heav'nly worth.* 
 
 * Since writing the above the Author has been 
 informed, that the Native of Benares described in 
 the note preceding this, made a Vow of Silence 
 only for a limited number of years, which have 
 expired. He now, it is said, speaks occasionally. 
 The Author, however, knows nothing farther 
 relative to him, and has merely taken the liberty 
 with him of introducing him here, in as much 
 as it has been thought tit to make his state of Pe* 
 nance connected with the little tale of iC The 
 Devotee."
 
 I 63 3 
 
 A SUTTEE 
 
 i. 
 
 JLT was a Suttee's pomp they saw, '* 
 In all its fearful barb'rous awe, 
 Where widow 'd youth in funeral blaze, 
 JEnds with her lord her hopeless days ! 
 The ready pile was tow' rip g high, 
 The lighted torch was flaming 1 nigh, 
 Slowly the throng'd procession fil'd, 
 The trumpet's sound was harsh and wild,- 
 
 * This is an extract from a longer Poem, but 
 as with some trifling alteration it forms of itself 
 a little tale, it has a place given it here.
 
 I to ] 
 
 While cruel Hindoos deem'd that hour 
 A triumph of their Brahma's pow'r ; 
 And blind in superstition thought 
 That natures laws, with terror fraught, 
 Could sanction, nay approve the pyre, 
 Where perish'd in the murd'rous fire, 
 A victim lovely, soft and young, 
 As ever raptur'd Poet sung ! 
 
 2. 
 
 And heaves that victim breast no sigh, 
 As stalks the fell procession by ? 
 And o'er her pale, yet beauteous face, 
 No signs of sorrow can they trace? 
 No fond regret, nor trembling fear, 
 Doth naught of terror, dread appear ? 
 The Bramin's hopes would answer nay, 
 But pity weeps and fa u Iters yea. 
 Oh ! who could read that woman's heart, 
 Nor own its bitter anguish'd smart;
 
 C * .1 
 
 She dies with him she never lov'd 
 She bursts the ties her heart approv'd- 
 She leaves ah ! leaves the chosen youth, 
 Whose vows she heard believ'd his truth;- 
 She dies ! too conscious that the death 
 That steals in flames her latest breath, 
 Shall sting- the hopeless lover's breast 
 With throe unceasing spurning rest,- 
 Far worse than e'en the fiery flame 
 Which soon shall sieze her gasping- frame; 
 For this may shortly bring relief, 
 But when shall cease her lover's grief? * 
 
 3. 
 Hard is his heart who can relate, 
 Nor sigh at hapless Malm's fate : 
 Her parent held the post divine, 
 To minister at sainted shrine ; 
 And blythe in gentle spring of years, 
 Blushing in loveliest maiden fears,
 
 t 3 
 
 His daughter offering-flowrets brought . 
 To such as e'er the temple sought ; 
 And scarcely srgh'd her bosoms swell. 
 The ripen* hour of love to tell, 
 Ere own'd that breast an inmate dear, 
 And she had lent affection's ear 
 To softest, sweetest tales from one, 
 In whom fond youthful passion shone. 
 But fled this dream of brighter ray, 
 And dark was soon sad Maha's day ; 
 For haply to the temple came 
 An aged Prince, whose withei'd frame, 
 Whose votive boundless gifts of wealtlu 
 Proclaim'd his sigh for peace and health:' 
 He Maha saw, as from her bowt 
 She coyly gave each proffer "d flow'r ; 
 And fir'd was then his fev'rish breast. 
 Nor knew the hoary lover rest, 
 Till from her cruel parent gain'd 
 The maid ill loatli'd embrace he strain' d 1
 
 [ J 
 
 4. 
 
 Not long the heartless chief could prove 
 How vain the hour of dotard love, 
 For rank'd among his sov'reign's foes, 
 The rajah dftrithis liege oppose, 
 And left his lovely weeping bride 
 And sought the trait'rous battle's tide : 
 Amid the fight, a vengeful hand, 
 Struck to the bridegroom's heart a brand, 
 And hurl'd him bleeding to the earth! 
 
 But as he fell, loud, horrid mirth r 
 
 A savagcjoyr-betok'ning laugh, 
 
 Peal'd on his ear in bitter scoff I 
 
 It told him 'twas no battle-foe 
 
 That gave the wound the assassin blow! 
 
 He shudder'd at a murd'rer's yell, 
 
 And knew his youthful rival well !. 
 
 Some followers rais'd their dying lord 
 
 And bore him home; he breath'd no word*
 
 C m 3 
 
 And moan'd not; o'er his livid cheek 
 Came d*ath in cold and ghastly streak. 
 Yet, ere had ceas'd the vital tide, 
 He motion'd that his beauteous bride 
 With him should seek the funeral pyre 
 And on his murder 'd core expire. 
 
 5. 
 
 She learnt her doom, her lover came 
 In deep disguise, in guilt and shame ; 
 He told her, it was his the blow 
 That bade the rajah's life-blood flow- 
 But shrunk she from his red embrace, 
 And hid from murd'rer's view her face ; 
 And spurn'd aye, spurn'd the thought of flight, 
 Tho* lone the hour and dark the night ! 
 Yet when her fancy drew his heart 
 Pining in grief and writhing smart, 
 And when she sigh'd, and sighing thought, 
 For her the daring crime was wrought,
 
 That love had bade the rajah bleed, 
 Love for herself had caus'd the deed, 
 Oh ! then she softcn'd, sobb'd and wept, 
 And stubborn unforgiveness slept i 
 She sunk into her lover's arms, 
 She felt him wildly clasp her charms $ 
 And ev'ry other feeling dead, 
 That moment had she with him fled ! 
 But by the lamp's dull fearful light, 
 His blood stain'd scarf just gleam'd to sight- 
 She saw it! and loud swell'd her shriek, 
 Her women rush'd the couch to seek, 
 And holy Eramins waiting there, 
 To sooth her last sad hours in prayer- 
 All speeding came; the frenzied youth 
 Fled in despair his Maha's roof 
 Fled to bewail in distant clime, 
 His blasted love, hi guilt, his crime ; 
 And rankling in his bosom bear 
 The hell of ever-stinging care!
 
 [ ] 
 
 6. 
 
 Now are the final rites begun, 
 Far mounts on high the morning sun ; 
 The singha's sounds are now more loud, 
 More wild the shout of frantic crowd ! 
 Pale Malia from her bosom draws 
 Her richer veil of silver'd gauze, 
 And gives to lov'd companions near, 
 Each ornament she held most dear : 
 She mounts the tott'ring aweful pile, 
 And strives to wake a mournful smile, 
 To breathe one fond endearing sound, 
 To weeping relatives around, 
 She cannot on her trembling knee 
 They place a load she durst not see 
 It is her murder' d husband's head ! 
 Pale, ghastly, wan all colour fled: 
 And see the friends the priests retire, 
 They raise the torch the pile they fire!
 
 [ *t ] 
 
 Desist desist such harrowing scene 
 Thrills to the heart in horror keen ; 
 Description fails rack'd vision flies,- 
 Oh God ! the victim shrieks she dies !- 
 
 Something 1 not nnsimilnr to part of the cir- 
 cumstances mentioned in this, occurred not ma- 
 ny years ago in the Mahratta States; it is spok- 
 en of in Major Broughten's letters. The late 
 Madogee Scyndeaii going to offer up Vows at a 
 
 calibrated Temple at Toolyapour, saw an inter- 
 esting Girl, who supported herself andtwoUncles, 
 by selling flowers for the offerings in the Tem- 
 ple. He was so much struck with her beauty thathe 
 sent an offer to make her his Wife ; and after 
 a short delay the ceremony of Marriage was 
 magnificently performed. Madogee Scyndeah 
 did not survive it above two years. "But the 
 " fate of his interesting young Widow is afflict- 
 " ing; she died shortly after at Dutteah, of poi- 
 " son, administered by herself, to conceal the 
 " too apparent effects of an illicit attachment"
 
 Lieutenant E. W. H ~^-TE, 
 
 ARTILLERY, 
 
 THE BECOIT 
 
 18 INSCRIBED, 
 IN TOKEN OF REGARD, 
 BY HIS SINCERE FRIEXD, 
 
 %\)Z &Utf)0t\ 
 
 October 1st, 1814.
 
 The following short production was written al~ 
 most immediately after perusing Lord By- 
 mon's Giaour ; The Reader, therefore, will 
 not be surprised to observe the faint and hum- 
 ble attempts, here made, to imitate the style 
 
 of that pleasing Writer.
 
 C 81 J 
 
 THE BECOIX 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 jtJLOW wrapt in gloom the darksome night, 
 
 Uncheer'd by star, or moon's pale light : 
 
 The clouds their angry torrents pour, 
 
 And hark ! the distant thunder's roar ; 
 
 And save where faintly lightnings gleam, 
 
 Or lamp 1 * from yonder village beam, 
 
 All all is black, ani full as dark 
 
 As deeds that Omeer's footsteps mark ! ' 
 
 But brighter now the lightning's flash. 
 And louder still the thunder's crash ; 
 
 * The Decoit was principally written in Uiq 
 middle of the year 1814.
 
 t S3 ] 
 Quick advance a desp'rate band, 
 Bent on bloody deeds of death : 
 Fierce in heart, and bold in hand, i 
 Proud to wear the murd'rer's wreath ! 
 And ah ! 'tis he, the flash reveal'd 
 His turban red, and bright black shield ; 
 J Tis Omeer ! blood-stain'd, bold decoit, 
 Whose name strikes terror aud affright : 
 He foremost heads the plund'ring crew, 
 And leads them on to dangers new. 
 
 They pass again the deed is done, 
 The prize is gain'd the booty won \ 
 But was it won or gain'd unfought ? 
 Ah, no ! right dearly was it bought: 
 Four fallen robbers rise no more, 
 They welter deep 'mid crimson gore ; 
 But Omeer's safe his tulwar's blade 
 The zumeendar low, gasping, laid !
 
 [ 83 ] 
 
 Pull long and fearful was the fight, 
 And thick the blows from left to right; 
 But >vho could Omeer's arm withstand ? 
 Or who repulse his daring band ? 
 The plunder'd village fought in vain > 
 They fought, and saw their leader slain J 
 Then trembling fled, and left the field 
 To him who bore the bright black shield ! 
 
 jfc. sit. Alt ik. Jk. jIl fc ale jIl. alt. * 
 
 ************ 
 
 ************ 
 
 Yes! Yes! in all the bloom of youth, 
 I've seen her oft, and swear, 'tis truth I 
 HeF eyes ! not e'en the diamond's ray 
 Shone half so dazzling bright as they ! 
 Nor yet the serpent's piercing glance, 
 When shot its victim to entrance,
 
 C 84 ] 
 
 Enchanting glows, nor could inspire 
 Like proud Ahmeera's orbs of fire : 
 Yet when love's pow'r would e'er controul 
 The haughty feelings of her soul, 
 Then could a long and silken lash 
 Conceal the eye's impetuous flash ; 
 Then then would sighs her bosom tear, 
 And tell that Omeer lorded there. 
 
 Title! Omeer lorded there, but he 
 Lov'd her again to agony; 
 For where that soul of callous pride, 
 That beauty's influence can deride; 
 And can heartless, icy prove, 
 Unconscious of the pow'r of love ? - 
 
 Oh ! there are ties that some can weave, 
 
 And rivet round the stubborn heart, 
 That it were vain the charm to leave, 
 Or strive the circling bonds to part.
 
 C 85 ] 
 
 The harden'd villain black in crimen 
 The traitor to his native clime ; 
 The murd'rer deaf to brother's cry, 
 Can list to heav'nly beauty's sigh ; 
 And often lose foul thought of ill 
 When woman wakes the bosom's thrill* 
 Woman ! thou source of ev'ry sweet, 
 That man's best, fondest hopes may greet, 
 Whether in youth's wild glowing' dream, 
 When raptur'd fires of fancy gleam, 
 When passion e'en to madness warm, 
 Paints thee in ev'ry witching charm : 
 Whether, as friend, as mistress, wife, 
 Man hails thee solace of his life, 
 And pillows on thy angel breast, 
 Wjien cares and harrowing ills infest: 
 Or when in sickness' dreary hour, 
 While pale disease and sorrow lour, 
 He fondly flies to thee alone, 
 To pour upon thine ear his moan;
 
 [ 86 ] 
 Still art thou source of cv'ry joy, 
 Thy pitying tears his pain destroy;^ 
 Still, Woman, doth thy fond caress, 
 'Mid hours of halcyon rapture, bless ! 
 
 But Omeer was not ever wOnt 
 To rear a bold, unblushing front 
 In face of guilt ; for some could say, 
 They kenn'd him once in happier day, 
 Spotless as sun that gilds the morn, 
 When cloudless tints of grandeur dawn, 
 Ere yet the fouler mists arise, 
 And mid-day storms deface the skies: 
 Then was the germe of guilt coneeal'd, 
 Then Omeer's soul slept unreveal'd. 
 Yet, how he chang'd but few will tell, 
 For in the tale such horrors dwell ; 
 Rumour of kindred brother slain, 
 In hour of wrath and passion's reign ;
 
 [ 87 ] 
 Rumour of murder'd friend who died, 
 Because he curs'd the fratricide ! 
 Hush ! it were impious more to tell 
 He once seem'd good, but Omeer fell!- 
 
 Long must the heart to vice inure 
 And many a cloud of guilt obscure. 
 Ere those who virtue's sway despise, 
 Can boldly quit her fairer guise ; 
 And villains (tho' in inward soul 
 Black troubled tides of mischief roll) 
 Still to the world would fain appear, 
 In virtue and proud honour clear. 
 Thus Omeer in a distant clime, 
 Conceal'd his deeds and veil'd his crime; 
 'Twas then he saw Ahmeera's form, 
 And strove her haughty soul to warm ; 
 Lur'd her from country, friends and home, 
 With him in sin and love to roam.
 
 C 88 ] 
 
 Love ! it would sully o'er thy name, 
 To say that thou stampt Omeer's flame- 
 He lov'd^ but with the frenzied glow, 
 That passion can but feel and know ; 
 Stript of the tender, thrilling charm, 
 The soften'd warmth and pleasing- calm, 
 That steals o'er hearts of gentler mould, 
 When blissful thoughts of love unfold. 
 His was a flame like lightning's glare, 
 Streaming along the midniglrt air, 
 Which while it flashes 'mid the gloom, 
 And glistens from the tempest's womb, 
 Reveals to trembling gazer's eye, 
 The blacker storms that gath'ring lie. 
 Fierce Omeer's stubborn thoughts once fir'd, 
 His passions once by love inspir'd, 
 Ahmeera gain'd his wish possess'd ; 
 Farewell the guise that veil'd his breast \ 
 Lawless, uncheck'd, without controul, 
 Rag'd ev'ry feeling of his soul,
 
 C 89 ] 
 
 Till dreadful in his villain might 
 Stood Omeer forth the fierce decoit* 
 Then as he deeds of horror plann'd, 
 While thoughts of plunder fir'dhis band, 
 He only deem'd the prize of worth, 
 Or led his hold banditti forth 
 To lavish boundless on the maid 
 The booty gained in robber's trade. 
 Woe ! that the flame that thus could burn, 
 Should e'er be blest with fond return ! 
 Wonder ! that haughty maid could prove 
 The victim of such demon-love ! 
 Yet few that maiden's joys, I ween, 
 Many her hours of anguish keen ; 
 For Omeer's fondest, tenderest mood, 
 Was, like his nature, fierce and rude ; 
 And when his eye would tell a thought, 
 Warm, or with glowing image fraught, 
 Bright in the glance shone meteor fire, 
 His blood beat wild in tumult dire,-
 
 C 90 ] 
 
 Till e'en Ahmeera shrunk away 
 
 From look that gleam'd such aweful ray." 
 
 Why on Ahmeera's brow that frown ? 
 Her looks her spirits why cast down ? 
 And why so sadly brace the d'hol, 
 And softly thus breathe forth her soul ? 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Hence, ye hated moments fly, 
 Here, nor slowly ling' ring stay : 
 Hence, ah ! hence, in pity hie, 
 Leave me ; for I pine and sigh, 
 l^ow my wand'rer's far away !
 
 C 91 1 
 
 Dark the night and drear his rout, 
 
 Frightful harms his steps belay ; 
 Tho' his lion heart is stout, 
 Mine so weak, and fraught with doubt, 
 
 Fears for him, far' away ! 
 
 No fond step nor wish'd for tread, 
 
 Come my sorrow to allay ; 
 Oft I raise my aching head, 
 Oft I list; but silence dread 
 
 Proves my Omeer far away ! 
 
 She trimm'd the lamp's dull twinkling flame * 
 'Twas late, and yet no Omeer came ; 
 Then on her brow sat heaviest gloom 
 As silently she pac'd the room, 
 And oft she stopt to ponder long, 
 As if to find some fancied wrong: 
 It seem'd, that sudden thoughts arose, 
 To fill her breast with keenest woes;
 
 [ 02 ] 
 
 Suspicion came to rack her heart, 
 And jealousy its pang impart:- 
 
 /' Tis so, these facts too plainly prove 
 " That Omeer hath abused my love ; 
 ** I know it well, he slights my charms 
 " And sighs for bliss in other arms! 
 " But shall I tamely bear the wrong, 
 " And weep unnoticed 'midst the throng 
 " Of passive fools, who bear a part 
 " And paltry share of Omeer's heart? 
 " No ! undivided is my flame, 
 (i And such must ever his remain ; 
 " Or all the powers of Hell serve 
 " To aid my soul and brace each nerve, 
 " 'Till he beneath my rage expire, 
 " And dread an rnjur'd woman's ire [" 
 
 ************ 
 
 ************ 
 ************
 
 [ 93 ] 
 
 The sun has set o'er yonder hill, 
 
 And ruddy looks the landscape still; 
 And 'mid yon tented field, I ween, 
 A marshall'd band of troops are seen; 
 Their arms are IHght their pouches full, 
 Their looks proclaim their courage cool : 
 The signal's made they march amain, 
 And cheerly wind along the plain. 
 
 Now have they gone full many a coss, 
 With turban'd pyke and burkundoss; 
 And whisp'ring low,, some seapoys say, 
 To distant hill they bend their way, 
 Where lives in strong mud-fort conceaFd, 
 The fierce decoit, with bright black shield. 
 Some too affirm that he's betray *d 
 By secret wile of slighted maid, 
 Who sought their sahib, and told him where, 
 In hidden haunt, lurk'd bold Omeer.
 
 C J 
 
 Others relate that rich reward 
 Was pioffer'd those, whose gallant sword 
 Should bring the ruthless robber's head 
 And rid the couutry of its dread : 
 That tempting sums were e'en propos'd 
 To such who e'er his haunts disclos'd. 
 Yet the proud girl all proffers scorn'd, 
 Against her Omeer self-suborn'd, 
 Right haughtily she spurn'd the fee, 
 Proclaim'd her due by high decree. 
 
 No clanking now of arms is heard 
 No converse low nor whisper'd wordy 
 The winding path they slowly trace 
 Which joins the den of robber race : 
 And scarce the rampart wall they gain, 
 And counsel how it may be ta'en, 
 Ere from the fort, in angry show'r, 
 The matchlock's whistling bullets pour;
 
 [ 95 ] 
 
 Unfear'd they fly, tho' thick as hail, 
 For soon the dauntless seapoys scale, 
 And mount the walls, (hen fierce the fight 
 'Twixt soldier brave and hold decoit ; 
 Bright flashes fire from ev'ry eye, 
 No more the vengeful bullets fly, 
 But near they close and hand to hand, 
 And foot to foot the foernen stand. 
 Oft and again the robbers reel 
 And fall beneath the bay 'net's steel ; 
 While many a seapoy bites the plain, 
 By robber's spear and tulwar slain. 
 
 Loud the decoits on Alia call ! 
 But cry unheard, and bleeding fall! 
 Oft Omeer cheer'd his drooping band, 
 And bade them bravely fight and stand ; 
 And oft reveng'd the daring deed, 
 That made his dying comrade bleed.
 
 C 96 J 
 
 But Alia will'd not that success 
 His murd'rous arms this day should bless 
 The tiger driven from his prey, 
 Or urg'd from secret den away, 
 Feels not the rage that Omeer fir'd, 
 Nor hellish fury that inspir'd, 
 When forc'd to shun and fly the fight, 
 And urge his steps to shameful flight, 
 He hied him thro' a secret path, 
 
 And mutt'ring ran and curs'd in wrath ! 
 
 Onwards he prest, nor stopt to hear 
 The shouts of bold pursuers near ; 
 Once they were close upon his heel- 
 Uplifted gleam'd their vengeful steel ; 
 And then he turn'd he scowl'd a look ! 
 That glance his foemen's purpose shook ; 
 For on his cheek the moonbeam play'd, 
 And there a hideous tint betray'd
 
 C 97 ] 
 
 Of pallid, cruel, fiend-lik ire- 
 It made his bravest foes retire. 
 
 Short is man's rage vf hen o'er the brovf 
 Proud mantling tints of anger flow ; 
 When passion swells in sudden blush, 
 And gen'rous hues indignant rush ; 
 Quick as the ruddy glow retires, 
 So quickly die such short-Iivd ires; 
 And tho' while warm the feelings flash, 
 The soul may reck on action rash. 
 Yet when the troubled thoughts subside, 
 And calmer rolls the bosom's tide, 
 And when reflection comes again, 
 To sooth and still the heated brain, 
 Quick hies repentance; nor alone, 
 For then the heart would fain atone, 
 And prove its sorrow for the deed, 
 And mischief done 'neath passion's lead.
 
 [ 98 j 
 
 Not so foul wrath, when pallid streak 
 Of dastard white steals o'er the cheek, 
 When from the features seems to start 
 The blood, and curdle round the heart, 
 When quiv'ring lip and curling brow, 
 Tell the black thoughts that lurk below, 
 Then haply comes a bitter laugh, 
 A crime engender'd smile of scoff; 
 And oh ! what deeds such smile foretells, 
 What blacken'd vengeance lurking dwells, 
 'Tis then the ready hand can do, 
 Each villain act of murd'rous hue; 
 J Tis then the eye can gloat agarh 
 On bloody scene of victim slain. 
 
 ************ 
 
 At midnight hour a wretch appear'd 
 His looks the shrieking woman scar'd 
 He seized her as she weeping lay, 
 And hid her face in dread dismay ;
 
 E *> 3 
 
 Then thrice he plung'd his tulwar deep, 
 
 And bade her rest in endless sleep ! 
 Oh ! plaintive was the anguish'd moan, 
 Yet pleas'd he counted ev'ry groan; 
 Exulting view'd his reeking blade, 
 And scoff'd and mock'd th' expiring maid V 
 
 He gather'd round his blood-stain'd garb 
 And shouted," Now I'll to the Sahib!" 
 Yet ere he went he look' d around-, 
 And view'd the deeply crimson'd ground 
 The bleeding female caught his eye, 
 And scarce he heard hersmother'd sigh ; 
 Her struggles now were faint and slow, 
 And life's last stream appear'd to flow : 
 It ceas'd, but she had breath'd a prayer,' 
 
 And Omeer's name was murmur'd there. 
 
 ************ 
 
 v y(t nt 'F v ^^> v )(& Tfi 1r i^ *
 
 t 100 ] 
 
 Ho ! who comes there ?" a sentry cries, 
 " A Friend 1" some stranger voice replies 
 " Observe me well : what dost not know ? 
 << I'm Omeer ! but no more thy foe. 
 " Here take my arms my shield and spear, 
 " And tell thy Sahib that Omeer's here." 
 Quick all around the seapoys throng, 
 And bear the bold decoit along ; 
 He onwards to their Captain prest, 
 And thus the wretch the Sahib addrest; 
 
 '< I, who have made each village dread, 
 " And o'er the plain dark terror shed : 
 I Omeer I ! the bold decoit, 
 "Whom fate itself could ne'er affright ; 
 " Whom your arm'd numbers could not shake, 
 " Nor all your marshall'd forces take, 
 "Fearless, unforc'd, myself have come 
 To ask for death and meet my doom I 
 
 -
 
 C 101 ] 
 
 " Yes place me fast in dungeon wall-- 
 
 te Can threat like this my soul appal ? 
 
 tc Weak angry Saiiib ! all threaty are vain, 
 
 " And such your fetter such your chain. 
 
 " Hear me ! amidst those bloody deeds 
 
 " At which your gentle bosom bleeds, 
 
 " I'll tell of one that more I prize, 
 
 " And looks. far dearer in my eyes 
 
 " Than all the rest. Know then that I 
 
 " Saw proud Ahmeera gasp and die i 
 
 " I saw her, aye, and blest the view, 
 
 " For 'twas this hand her heart's blood drew ! * 
 
 t& Nay, start not ! she was rightly serv'd 
 
 (t And death too well from medeserv'd.- 
 
 * This is the second instance where atrocity 
 of the same nature has been mentioned in these 
 pages. The effect, however, of uncontroverted 
 passions in the one, and villainy so evinced in 
 the other, may perhaps account for the commissi- 
 on of a crime, happily but little heard of.
 
 [ 102 T > 
 
 " Did not the jealous fool betray 
 
 u The spot where my concealment lay ? 
 
 " She did, the accurs'd false one told, 
 
 " To you reveal'd my secret hold. 
 
 " But I'm reveng'd 1 Oh, amply so ! 
 
 <f Thrice, thrice, \ struck the mortal blow, 
 
 (l E'en in that breast, where dwelt a heart, 
 
 " Once all my own !" ; ;> 
 
 ************ 
 * * * * ******** 
 
 Chained heavily, the robber lies, 
 But not a moan his grief implies ;~ 
 Stern, sullen looks evince his soul, 
 And speak his mind in savage scowl. 
 Anon he tries the fetter's weight, 
 Then smiles contemptuous at his fate : 
 Then rising moves his chain's short length, 
 And marks in scorn its useless strength :
 
 [ 103 ] 
 
 Fools ! Fools I he cried, and o'er his brow, 
 
 There kindling shone a fierce bright glow ; 
 
 And wild his glaring eye-balls roll'd, 
 
 As from within his turban's fold ; 
 
 He snatch'd a drug, then fiercely laugh'd, 
 
 And quick the deadly poison quaff d ! 
 
 A step hath sought the prison door, 
 Ere yet the deed was scarcely o'er; 
 "While slow the pond'rous bolts withdraw, 
 And creak and fill the soul with awe. 
 But Omeer no attention lent. 
 He seem'd on suhject dire intent; 
 Nor heeded that a friend and b'hae 
 Wept at his fate, andgriev'd stood by. 
 
 In sterner minds some charm there dwells, 
 That oft may blunt the pangs of woe ! 
 Of apathy, some secret spells 
 
 That deaden sorrow's keenest throe !
 
 [ 104 ] 
 Still, there are strings in ev'ry heart, 
 Which touch'd, such agony impart, 
 That boasted callous pride gives way, 
 And woe and grief uphold their sway : 
 And then, alas! what deep despair, 
 Such sterner minds are doom'd to bear ! 
 The mountain torrent's angry force 
 Is oft times bridled in its course, 
 And beats, in vain, upon the mound, 
 While from the bank the waves rebound; 
 But if, perchanee, that fall, then rush, 
 And with redoubled fury gush 
 The foaming streams along the plains, 
 And nought their 'whelming pow'r restrains. 
 
 Lost in a senseless, vacant stare, 
 The robber's eyes unmeaning glare; 
 Itseem'd that reason fled his brain. 
 And madness had usurp'd its reign ;
 
 C 105 3 
 
 Nor did he haply start nor move, 
 
 'Till his friend cried,- f< Did Omeerlove!" 
 
 " Thou ask'd me, brother, if 1 lov'd 
 tf I did and such my passion proved : 
 " Ilov'd her once, and this proud heart 
 " For her felt ev'ry burning smart 
 ec Curse on the fiend I lov'd too well> 
 tc How much, these lips would scorn to tell ^ 
 " Yet paint her charms, and thought is weak < 
 fe The damask rose blush'd o'er her cheek ; 
 tc And hast thou ne'er from wild Napaul, 
 ft Where giddy heights the mind appal, 
 tc Gaz'd on the mountain caps of snow, 
 * f As in the sun they brightly glow ? 
 " Then think her fairer far than these, 
 <( And tell me, was she form'd to please? 
 " Aye, e'en my shield so black and bright 
 ( J Is dull as dreary starless night, 
 
 o
 
 [ 106 ] 
 
 '* If fools its polish'd hue compare 
 
 " With proud Ahmeera's ebon hair. 
 
 " Yet, mark me ! I, these ringlets seiz'd, 
 
 " And stabbed her, b'hae ! nor then appeas J d 
 
 " I struck her thrice, and hail'd the flood 
 
 " As streaming ran her hated blood ! 
 
 * ' Hated ? my passion raves, ah ! no 
 
 *' I cannot, dare not call it so. 
 
 ' ' But, why this pang ? cease beating heart, 
 
 " Nor bid me act a coward's part ! 
 
 <( Oh ! down rebellious thoughts, I say 
 
 " Ye darken o'er my setting day ! 
 
 " Methinks, again I see her die, 
 
 " I hear the groan the quiv'ring sigh 
 
 t( The parting last expiring breath, 
 
 " That blest the wretch who caus'd her death ! 
 
 " Alia! ihe frantic vision brings 
 
 * A thousand pangs a thousand stings ! 
 
 " I cannot bear it ; help oh ! b'hae 
 
 Jf I rave, and shadows mock my eye !"
 
 C 107 ] 
 
 The tears fell fast, he dashed them off, 
 And smil'd,- but 'twas a ghastly laugh; 
 Then turn'd aside to hide his eye, 
 And struggle to repel a sigh. 
 Vain struggle ! for the deep sigh came, 
 And seem'd to rend his very frame ; 
 Nor did it come like that of love, 
 Which, to the soul, relief can prove : 
 Not like the sighs which lover's breathe, 
 When two foud hearts responsive heave ; 
 His was a bitter, deep-fetch'd moan, 
 More like the agonizing groan 
 Of dark despair, and rankling grief, 
 Which racks the heart nor yields relief. 
 Then too appear'd the bosom's throb 
 The fearful start and broken sob 
 And last, guilt's wild and horrid yell, 
 Which echoed round the dungeon cell.
 
 [ 108 ] 
 Throughout each vault, each prison wall, 
 The direful sounds the soul appal : 
 They strike the watchful sentry's ear, 
 Who looks around in solemn fear, 
 Nor weeng, that mortal lungs could swell, 
 And utter such terrific yell. 
 
 Hush'd on a sudden is each moan 
 Hark ! 'tis a softer, fainter tone r 
 The robber's last sad dying* word, 
 Scarce by the list'ning friend is heard. 
 
 " I told the Sahib, his threats were vain, 
 " E'en now the poison fires my hrain ; 
 cr I drank as from a madding bowl, 
 <f And ah ! it parches up my soul : 
 " Tott'ring I stand o'er Hell's wide brink, 
 " No hand to save I plunge ! I sink ! .
 
 [ 109 J 
 ec Hold, Hold!" The murd'rer spake not more- 
 He paus'd; for now the drug's fell pow'r, 
 In fierce convulsions tore his frame, 
 Tfll death in guilty horror came. 
 
 FINIS.
 
 C no ] 
 
 ALTERED PROM A PASSAGE IN THE 
 
 GOORKAH, AND ADDRESSED TO A 
 
 LADY. 
 
 If aught 'neath Heaven can impart 
 An int'rest that shall touch the heart, 
 A feeling that can thought instil 
 To make the trembling bosom thrill - 
 It is the praise that Beauty breathes, 
 It is the wreath that Beauty weaves, 
 To deck the humble Poets' brow. 
 And bid his soul in rapture glow I 
 
 Oh ! I could gaily, gladsome toil 
 By noon-tide sun, by midnight oil, 
 To catch one lay-approving sigh, 
 One beam of praise from Lady's eye.
 
 Crrata* 
 
 Pagz 1, For " 20th February," read 28th February." 
 Ditto 9, Line 15, For " for age," read " for aye." 
 Ditto 30, Ditto 11, For " billows," read " below," 
 Ditto 45, Ditto 17, For { * now," read " how." 
 Ditto 47, Ditto 18, For mark'd," read " mock'd." 
 Ditto 5S, Ditto 8, For for ag*," read " for aye." 
 Ditto 61, Ditto 6, After the word " list" iusert the semi- 
 colon ( ; ) 
 Ditto 63, Ditto 17, For " *scape," read escape." 
 Ditto 66, Ditto 3, After " loos'd them ;" iusert " then." 
 Ditto 72, Ditto 4, For " ripen," read " riper." 
 Ditto 73, Ditto 11, Read " sarage, joy.betok'uiog" 
 Ditto 84, Ditto 13, For " can," read " ever."
 
 SATIRES 
 
 INDIA.
 
 SATIRES 
 
 IN 
 
 INDIA/ 
 
 OMNES HI METUUNT VERSUS 6DERE POETAS. 
 
 llOR.Sat.l. 
 
 ALL DREAD THE SATIRE AND DETEST THE BARD. 
 
 ,' 
 
 CALCUTTA. 
 
 PRINTED FOB THE JUT1I0U, 
 
 By P. Crichton. 
 1819.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 jTz/e follozcing have already been defers 
 the Public in Periodical Papers; the princi- 
 pal part appeared during the middle cf 1817 
 in the Asiatic Mirror: the Fourth Satire, 
 however, zcas written separately, but as it is 
 by the same hand, with the exception of a few 
 Couplets kindly added by a Friend, it is now 
 printed xcith the others. 
 
 The Author of " Satires in India" is said 
 to be a Subaltern of Native Infantry ; any 
 thing further relating to him can scarcely le 
 deemed necessary here, but to his fczo F?iends 
 and Acquaintances, it is certain, that he never 
 attempted to conceal the heinous indiscretion 
 of his having employed some of his frequent 
 leisure hours in such Composition,
 
 INTItODCTION. 
 
 When these first appeared, it is mentioned 
 that several Individuals applied some of the 
 more satirical delineations of Character to 
 themselves, and were even silly enough tj 
 evince their sense of such application. Whether 
 they had any just cause of offence might now 
 be difficult to determine, but on one point there 
 is little doubt, which is, that although the 
 young Author, from his situation in life and 
 other circumstances, must have been aicare 
 that he had small reason to avow the indul- 
 gence of Pride, yet lie has been known to con- 
 fess, that his Vanity teas not a little mortified 
 by the supposition entertained by these people, 
 that he had devoted to them a portion of his 
 consideration, or a single sentence of his Sa- 
 tires.
 
 SATIRES IN INDIA. 
 
 SATIRE I. 
 
 Si quis erat dignus describi, quod malus, aut fur, 
 
 i 
 
 Quod maechus foret, aut sicarius, aut alioqui 
 
 Famosus 
 
 IIOR. 
 
 Shoot Folly as it flies.* 
 
 c Woe to theYouth -who lur'd by meteor gleam 
 'Of Fancy darting mid some idle dream, 
 * Who slave to hour of boyish hope and love> 
 In fields of Poesy may dare to rove ;
 
 S SATIRE I. 
 
 i Bleak dies his day, for tho' its brightsome mom 
 ' In blush of infant feeling may be born, 
 Soon some dark clouds shall hover o'er the sky, 
 f And mid-day tempests fling their gloom ou high, 
 ' While the chill damp shall settle on his lyre, 
 Break the stretch'd chords,' and bid each note 
 
 expire. 
 ' Or if at eve, when storms and gloom are gone, 
 ' He eyes the sadness of the setting Sun, 
 And strings his lute anew, ah then each strain 
 
 * Shall breathe but memory of his mid-day pain, 
 ' And like the Sun's last sinking, waning ray, 
 
 ' Give but one gleam of Song, and die away. 
 
 * Fool that I was! to wake to sordid crew 
 
 ' A lay of feeling* which their hearts ne'er knevr, 
 
 It may not be unnecessary to mention here tint 
 the following Letter was sent to the Editor of the Mir-
 
 SATIRE I. 
 
 f To men a* dull and soul-less as the rock, 
 * Who love to cavil, or hut list to mock; 
 
 ror and appeared with the Satires on their first 
 
 publication. 
 
 To the Editor of the Mirror. 
 Sir, 
 I have lately received the melancholy intelligence of the 
 death of a Friend of mine, who went some time ago to 
 England, on account of sickness contracted in this conn' 
 try. Previous to his departure, he gave me a large bun- 
 dlc of Papers, and informed me they teere MSS. of Poe- 
 try, and that, tehen he was ' dead and gone, J (which poor 
 fellow! on leaving this Country, he seemed convinced 
 must shortly take place,) I might find a melancholy 
 amusement in looking over some of his past productions. 
 He teas much given to despondency probably the effect 
 of disappointment and disease, and I was not much sur- 
 prised to find a number of papers headed ' Satires in
 
 1* 
 
 9ATIRE I. 
 
 * Fool that I rras ! to breathe my lowly lays 
 
 * Mid hope to please, such hope ray only 
 praise, 
 
 India' J have selected several of these, and ij you thitik 
 them worthy a place in your Weekly Minor, I shall not 
 regret the trouble I have taken in deciphering and re- 
 copying them. J was not aware, that my Friend hid 
 wooed the Muse, so much as his numerous MSS. led me 
 to conclude, but I cannot possibly guess to what unlieed* 
 ed or unnoticed - ' J. ay of Feeling' he alludes in the first 
 Satire. I do, indeed, htwe some faint recollection of 
 seeing or hearing a Monody, that he wrote on the death 
 of a little crook-legg'd one-ear'd Terrier, which teas 
 once a constant attendant at the side of his sick Couch : 
 and on one occasion he employed himself in uniting for 
 many days, contrary to the wishes of his Medical 
 Friends, in consequence of a small box, containing a 
 lock of hair, having been lost through the carelessness 
 of a Servant. I have not however been able to desert*
 
 SATIRE ti IT 
 
 * To sing to Envy, withering at my SongV 
 
 * Or Malice, lowering as the notes prolong, 
 
 ' While lips of dolts have idly griiui'd in guile, 
 ' Or shed dull censure in a seuseless smile 1 
 
 ' Had I a Son, who breathed on youthful 
 
 sigh 
 
 * In throb of heartfelt sensibility,' 
 
 tier any thing written on either of these subjects, among his 
 papers nor do 1 think he gave the publicity to them % 
 that could have warranted the expectation of general 
 tympalhy. My poor Friend, though a sorry Compani- 
 on, was nevertheless much liked by those who knew him 
 intimately, and I hope you may think these reliques of his 
 Muse not unworthy a weekly publicationin your paper m 
 
 I am, Sir, 
 Your most Obedient Servant.
 
 XI SATIUE I. 
 
 I'd crush the feeling, as I would a thought 
 
 With foulest treason, death, and murder fraught; 
 
 * For what has Youth with feeling f can his heart' 
 
 * To others a responsive thrill impart ; 
 
 ' Say if his soul is warm in Friendship, Truth, 
 
 * Shall sweets of Friendship bless his hour of 
 
 Youth? 
 'Bless it they may, aye, bless it for the bouty 
 Then fly like sun-beam, mid the spriug-tid* 
 
 shower, 
 
 And leave behind a bitter, madd'ning boon, 
 
 The darkling hopelessness of clouded noon. 
 'But should the youth in solace of his time, 
 Woo the soft seraph witchery of 11 by me, 
 
 'I'd drive him from me, bid him seek the woldj 
 Where blows the North breeze piercing in the 
 
 cold, 
 Tell him to pour his descants to the wind, 
 ' Free as the gale, unshackled, uucoafiued,
 
 SATIRE M 13 
 
 * And, if his lay can Sooth mid wintry blast, 
 
 ' There let him bide, nor ponder on the past, 
 
 * His Song may lull the wild-beast in his den, 
 ' But fall unheeded and unfclt by me a.' 
 
 Such were my thoughts; my once prized dap* 
 ling lute, 
 Its strings all slackened, and its numbers n ui \ 
 Bung tuneless and untouched; the wild wind* 
 
 swept, 
 But waked no sweetness every murmur slept 
 The scene was aweful all, my very breath 
 Disturbed the seeming dreariness of death, 
 No step appeared to break upon my mood, 
 To scare the deadening sense of solitude ; 
 JVIy heart too seem'd alone, each blissful tye 
 That link*d it once to Love's idolatry, 
 Each flowery chain, that Youth so pants to weave 
 JEncircling wishes that it dreads to leave,
 
 14 SATIRE t. J 
 
 These these were broken, fallen to decay, 
 Or what they fondly clasp'd, fled far away. 
 
 There are some strings that tremble in th? 
 heart, 
 And vibrate ever from the rest apart, 
 Shrinking from ruder feelings they remain, 
 So soft, that even vicinage were pain; : 
 So tremulously tender every thrill, 
 So sweetly wild the rapture they instil, 
 That like the Air-harp's chords which sometimes 
 
 sigh, 
 And breathe a charm like their own harmony, 
 Thfey wake around a nameless wordless spell, 
 Too blest to bear too pleasing to dispel, 
 
 And oh! these once were mine, but I had tried 
 And woo'd their magic, till the witchery died, 
 Wrung each to dissolution, or far worse, 
 Strain' d them, till every thrilling was a curse.
 
 SATIRE I. 15 
 
 "While yet a boy I tore me from the crowd, 
 
 And sought some haunt where solitude might 
 
 shroud, 
 There lost in lonely isolated spot, 
 Ev'n as a Youth, Youth's pleasures I forgot, 
 And rapt in wizard feeling of the mind, 
 Mid worlds of visionary hopes reclined. 
 These hopcB beat wildly then, for with them 
 
 came 
 Young boyhood's pictured lore, andfancied fame, 
 And wauderitig and war,--afar to roam, 
 Then last and best, the dream of blissful home. 
 Yet all these dreams have vanish'd, and my sigh 
 Breathes now but hopelessness, or agony, 
 While feelings wasted, withered to despair, 
 Eeem but the death-like tomb of what they were 1 
 
 While thus I lay, and ponder'd on my .pain, 
 And wept the joys too fleet iug to regain,
 
 16 SATIRE I. 
 
 Sudden a Phantom burst upon my view, 
 
 It's cheeks were sallow, and the form I knew, 
 
 I knew it 'by it's dark and piercing eye, 
 
 When keen reproof and withering glance couli} 
 
 fly; 
 
 * What would'st thou Satire ? hence !' I fear- 
 
 ful cried ; 
 
 * Silence, ar.d list my words,' the sprite replied. 
 
 * I come thy Friend, obey a Friend's behest, 
 
 * Drive senseless idle sorrow from thy breast, 
 
 * Bid thine eye brighten, cast thy look around, 
 And mark where Fools and Folly may abound, 
 
 * Then take this scourge. nor spare its wiry 
 
 lash, 
 Chasten the foolish, and the vain aba ,'.i, 
 Speed thy keeu Satires o'er this feverish clime? 
 
 * Till men who scoffed, may tremble at thy 
 
 lhy me.'
 
 PATIRE I* 17 
 
 I seized the scourge, full many a thong wai 
 there, 
 Of every form and size, to wound severe, 
 Or, driving dull malignancy aloof, 
 To teaze its object, playful in reprooft 
 One lash seemed heavy, that its angry weight 
 Might bruise its victim in relentless hate, 
 Another less, yet barbed, and poisoned o'er, 
 To wake the festering wound the ceaseless sore, 
 Slender a third as if its gentler stroke 
 Might warn the dreamer, though it scarce awoke; 
 Ev'n as the laughing lip of her we love 
 That chiding, pleasesfondly can reprove: 
 A fourth half hidden, pointed, and tho' small, 
 Surcharged with venom, and replete with gall. 
 Satire's worst, basest scourge, by demons owned, 
 Designed for secret and unmanly wound: 
 This I plucked forth fierce kindling at the sight, 
 And flung it from me with indignant might, 
 C
 
 IS SATIRE I. 
 
 When sudden from beneath its site there sprung 
 A blood-stained dagger that in secret hung; 
 I guessed its fearful purpose, 'twas the brand 
 That lurks too oft concealed in Satire's hand, 
 And as she wanders on, in coward spite, 
 Stabs friend and foe amid the gloom of night! 
 I started and away the scourge I threw, 
 But first the slender lash I slyly drew, 
 That one light lash which guileless of all harm, 
 Can gently strike too stingless to alarm, 
 Then bade the sprite begone she shrunk away, 
 And fled like shadow at the approach of day. 
 
 Armed with my Theft, how often have I whiled 
 My sullen hours away, my cares beguiled, 
 Now glancing round where clustered folly sat, 
 And bloated pride in nothingness elate; 
 Now turning where the dotard scarce in health, 
 Of brains bereft, yet boastful of his wealth,
 
 SATIRE I 19 
 
 Sat proud, imbecile, in his pictured hall, 
 And forced from Juniors the exacted " call;" 
 There slavering forth his worse than senseless joke, 
 Beneath the very scythe's impending* stroke. 
 I've seen Commanders, blundering on Parade, 
 Swearing at others for the faults they made, 
 I've seen the Subaltern, raancevre-lored, 
 Thunder his little learning at the board, 
 While Youngsters i in the service 1 cast an eye 
 Of cold contempt on strangers sitting nigh ; 
 These have I seen nor lashed them in my rhyme, 
 For deeming personality a crime, 
 Still as I mark'd, I turned in scorn away, 
 Nor stoop'd to single folly for my Lay.
 
 SATIRE It 
 
 Non unquam gravis acre domum mihi dextra redibat. 
 
 Vikg. 
 
 Nor e'er return* d to home with hoarded wealth. 
 
 What is the impulse of our Indian throng, 
 And what the hope that guides our crowd along? 
 Is it not wish of competency free 
 And with that competency blest, to flee
 
 SATIRE ft. 21 
 
 tYom India's sun, and hail in bliss again, 
 The sweeter scenes that de<k our native plain ? 
 Who, mid the swarms that Ind-impeopling pour, 
 And leave in sorrow Albion's cliff-crowned shore* 
 Who of all theseif ask'd his wish t'impart, 
 Swears not that home lies dearest at his heart? 
 Is it not strange lhat with this hope confest. 
 This sigh for Britain, breathing from the breast,- 
 Amid our pining, panting, exiled train, 
 Not one in twenty sees his home again! 
 
 Say not, that sickness wanders o'er the land* 
 To thin our numbers and decrease our band : 
 Disease, 'tis true, in varied shape appears, 
 And crops full oft the promise of our years, 
 While fever steals with trembling, aguish tread, 
 And swells our scattered mansions of the dead. 
 But search these mansions mark the sculptured 
 
 age 
 Of death* reposed beneath the Tombstone's pagej
 
 22 SATIRE II. 
 
 And there thou'lt read the tale of lengthened lif#, 
 That long escaped the toils of sultry strife, 
 And only sunk at last to tardy tomb, 
 When age, and not disease, had sought its gloom. 
 
 See yon poor Soldier sink beneath the sun, 
 Mid sighs for rest, the hour of duty done, 
 Bis sun burnt cheek, and dun and swarthy hands. 
 Brown as the grassless sod, o'er which he stands j 
 Go bid him tell his tale of long-left home, 
 And hear him curse the cause, that made hiro 
 
 roam, 
 Then watch hi? hour of revelry and jy, 
 In barrack, 'noisy ts the thoughtless boy ; 
 Bow loud and boisterous peals his song of mirth, 
 But hark! 'tis song of land that gave him birth. 
 Such as in native field, with blythesome heart. 
 Be carolled gaily by the harvest cart 
 Lo! when his corps disbanded, homeward goes, 
 Bis wish for England to the wind he throws ,
 
 SATIRE II. 23 
 
 Spurns the late-hoped return, enlists agtin, 
 To bed his corse beneath the sultry plain. I 
 
 But turn to source of ruin and of debt, 
 Prelude to ling'ring sorrow and regret, 
 See the rash Youth, mid orgies of expence, 
 Scoff at each precept of his home-taught sense; 
 See him in gaming or in drinking lost, 
 While bonds of interest gladden at the cost: 
 See the keen native's bill ' in Master's name? 
 While twelve per cent a dear-bought respite 
 
 claim ; 
 See him with Arabs, buggies, dogs, engrost t 
 His sporting bets at billiard's rubber lost ; 
 Till ere one whelming, fleeting year be past, 
 The doom of exile for his life, is cast! 
 
 When Miles first a home of Fondness left, 
 With beating breast of^very joy bereft,
 
 24 SATIRE II. 
 
 His Parents' last advice then touched his heart, 
 He vowed from Prudence never to depart, 
 The only balm to sooth his present pain, 
 Was hope to greet his dear-loved home again $ 
 
 * But ten short, fleeting years they'll pass- 
 
 how soon ! 
 
 * And then the Furlough, hail thrice happy boon, 
 
 * Pleas'd will I speed me to my native shore, 
 
 * And blest with this, nor seek, nor covet more, 
 These dreams amused on shipboard; when ar 
 
 rived, 
 Seized by a thoughtless set, he copied, thrived, 
 Sported his ponies, hunted in a Frock, 
 Shot with a Jfanton, or a favorite JVock, 
 Built a prime Kennel, kept a terrier crew, 
 And Mii.es' Buggy dazzled ev'ry view! 
 Debts throng'd in fast, no matter, let them stay, 
 They'll all be paid in time, some future day : 
 
 Without, 'twas smiling but within, ah there! 
 
 These debts waked many a sigh of bitter care.
 
 SATIRE Hi 25 
 
 Ten years hare aigh elapsed, and will he sse 
 II is home again, as once he dreamed in glee ? 
 
 Se it! a burning sod shall clothe his tomb, 
 
 Withered as are his hopes in self-wrought gloom; 
 A Sun shall glow upon his grave of rest, 
 But not that milder Suu of Native West! 
 
 Flavius is prudent, he escapes the ill, 
 Clear of each debt, and reckless of each bill; 
 He seeks his Station lives within his means, 
 Nay, monthly savings for his agent gleans. 
 Surely at home he'll close a happy life : 
 No Fjlavius falls in love must have a wife! 
 
 Must have a Wife!' I hear some reader say, 
 Casting in frowns the Satire's page away; 
 i A Wife!' and are our years but care and toil, 
 Cheered by no solace, seasoned by no smile, 
 Are hoarded lacs sole objects of our aim, 
 Nor other comforts can our wishes claim ? 
 D
 
 25 SATIUE It. 
 
 Ceaie, kindly reader, from my theme to roam* 
 I sing but cause of exile from our home; 
 True, Tlxyivs may be blest with rapture here, 
 Be rich in happiness from year to yer.r, 
 May see bright pledges of affection rise, 
 And hail those pledges with paternal eyes, 
 Calm in content, of other views bereft, 
 May wake no Wishes for the land he left: 
 But this is foreign to my subjtect still, 
 I tell the cause, nor deem tins cause an ill j 
 For happy he, who mid his exiled doom, 
 like FtAvius builds in banishment a home J 
 
 But Calidus all prudent, raves at wives 
 And boldly 'gainst the lure of marriage strivesv 
 Swears that to India's ills the firmest tye, 
 Is matrimonial clog of family ! 
 Married, or not, 'tis passing strange I ween 
 Five thumping children af his houste are seen V
 
 SATIRE JJ. 27 
 
 ho}, sallow Cupex breaks yon gloomy seal 
 With eye prepared to weep, and heart to feel; 
 Why- glistens pleasure sudden o'er his eyes, 
 Why swells his bosom itiifiuch glad surprise? 
 ' A distant relative is dead, I hear, 
 
 And left him full five hundred pounds a year? 
 '* How happy he ! he had a lac before, 
 
 ' And hastes he not to seek his native shore i' 
 
 No ! sick as pallid death, he hugs this spot, 
 
 But two years more a pension is his lot.' 
 Fool that he is ! ere two short years are fled, 
 Cupkx alas ! lies number' d with the dead! 
 
 Mercator came to rear a splendid hoard. 
 Then fly Calcutta's scene with Coffers stor'd; 
 Keen as industrious, stoutly scribed away, 
 And conned his Ledger's lore from day to day. 
 
 He soon grew wealthy, he'll retire, no doubt? 
 
 fn'ever as wealth appears, it rushes out;
 
 28 Si/l'IRE II. 
 
 His gorgeous palace, splendid parties there, 
 Exceed a lac s dread cost each passing year : 
 How many a cotton-bale and box of blue 
 Must seil to btiy th;it stud rthose chariots new, 
 How many a one-per-cenf, all duly charged, 
 Must range their items, 'till in sum enlarged, 
 They swell an aweful aggregate, to pny 
 For Cl.iret and Champaign of one short day. 
 Thus, thus he gains to lavish but the page 
 Of endless Ledger shall amuse his age, 
 While cares and ruined health shall wake his sigh, 
 And once-fair hopes of home all fading die, 
 
 One man is married, and his income grand, 
 And yet he squanders with a reckless hand, 
 Decks his young wife in jewelled blaze of dress, 
 Dies, a Subscription lingers on distress. 
 A second, eager liberal name to gain, 
 Hushes in damning debt, to entertain,
 
 ATIRE IT, 29 
 
 Forfeits his hope of home to please each FriencF, 
 His Friends deride him nor his cheer commend. 
 A third, who boasts of Albion's sporting lawns, 
 Where health and \igour hail the day that dawns,. 
 , Talks in fond extacy of horn and hounds, 
 Where sport is pleasure, and where game abounds ? 
 Here pants in labour o'er the boiling fields, 
 Where toil a snipe to weary sportsmen yields* 
 And cursing sweating in meridian ray, 
 He quaffs his brandy till he ends his day / 
 
 Yes ! thus it is, beneath this sultry sun, 
 Where life in sorrow and in care is run, 
 Where every hour is weariness and pain, 
 Where Friendship thrives not arid love throb* 
 
 in vain; 
 Where hearts are barren as the plain we tread,. 
 And feelings wither, till their charm is fled 1 
 Where merit pines, effrontery lifts its claim, 
 And hospitality is but a name:
 
 30 8ATIRE II. 
 
 Yesy-thus it is, that fools in sadness sigh, 
 .Aad breathe for home iu hat^d .clime to die \
 
 SATIRE III. 
 
 Talia eonnubia, et tales celebrent hymenaeos. 
 
 Virg. iENEip. 
 
 $uch is their wed ock such their nuptial tye. 
 
 Marriage thou blessing, or thou purchased 
 
 bane, 
 Thou tie of pleasure, or thou bond of paiu ! 
 Is it for me, to sing thy bliss or ill, 
 For me, who know thee not and never will ! 
 Far hence the task ! but list a lowly tale, 
 Of fancy call it tho' its end may fail,
 
 32 SATIUE III. 
 
 Yet well its purport shall declare iu rhyme, 
 How love promotes the marriage of this clime. 
 
 Florio was rich in fairer hopes of youth, 
 Warm o'er his features blushed the tint of truth,' 
 "When lured by boyhood's dream of Eastern fame, 
 Far from his native West, to Ind he came : 
 And he was one, who cherished in his breast, 
 The wayward glimmering of each vision blest; 
 Could fondly raise a prospect ever green, 
 Till fairy gladness glistened o'er the scene, 
 While in that scene, stood form of gentle maid, 
 Breathing her angel beauty in the glade, 
 Fair, as the heated Fancy could pourtray, 
 With blushes beauteous as the parting day ! 
 He'd gaze for hours, on eye of seraph blue, 
 Where tears could glisten, trembling as the dew, 
 And watch bright tresses, waving in the wind, 
 itfid sighs, that spoke the feeling of the mind ;'
 
 IATIKK III. 
 
 u 
 
 But yet I'wai all a dream and he would tart, 
 
 To wail the fleeting Phantom of his heart! 
 
 Yes! he was ' Fancy's child 1 and every thought 
 Was still a vision, and with fondness fraught; 
 And thus his moments fled, hut ah 'twould seem, 
 His heart must wake from fairy hour of dream; 
 He saw Aiexa, and he thought her fair 
 As her who late his vision's scene could share, 
 He saw the Maiden and he loved but how? 
 With maddening warmth that hearts iike his but 
 
 know ! 
 His was a feeling fervent as the beam, 
 And warm as Sun in bright meridian gleam : 
 He could have prized her tho' her bloom might 
 
 ccass, 
 Nor know its flight but in his love's increase, 
 He could have prized her till in Evening gloom, 
 They sought the sleep of undividing tomb ; 
 E
 
 34 JATIItK III. 
 
 Till death could lay them, partners of oe bed, 
 In last, cold grasp of love, embraced and dead! 
 
 I may not say she tared him, where in sooth, 
 Shall eastern maiden love the wealthless youth? 
 I may not say she loved him, yet her eye 
 Could brighten sweetly, when the youth was by j 
 And oh! how free how lightsome would she 
 
 bound, 
 When led by him the dance's fairy round. 
 I may not say she loved him, yet her hand, 
 Unconscious, guileless of the soul's command, 
 Could tremble oft in his, and then her sigh 
 Would breathe so softly ! Why was this oh why 
 For soon a grander, prouder Suitor came, 
 Withered alike in feeling as ia frame: 
 And boasted he of Salary Settlement, 
 The last, I ween, but begg'd at twelve per cent;
 
 tATIRE III. 35 
 
 .And Salary, wasted at keen Hazard-bets, 
 Tho' large, 3 drop, compared with whelming debt*! 
 And this the n an who gained Alexa's Sire, 
 "Won the lost maid, and saw the Youth retire! 
 
 ^ ho now so 1c ad as Florio at the board, 
 Or who so boisterous, or in song or word ? 
 Who, while the frenzied glass flew wildly round, 
 Like him, could seek oblivion for each wound; 
 Or who, til whirl of loathed debauchery's hour, 
 Like him, intent to fly thought's maddening pow- 
 er? 
 And could he fly it ? Aye, like wretch unblest, 
 Who flies the cancer, gnawing in his breast; 
 Or like some flame-scorched victim, plunged in 
 
 wave, 
 To sooth the tortures, that he dare not brave, 
 Who seeks, in struggling agony, a death, 
 To rob his deep-rcathM bosom of its breath!
 
 30 SATIUJG III. 
 
 Oh! I bare heard his laugh like frenxy peal, 
 
 Till even Bacchants stayed their song to feel ; 
 
 AvA there were, moments, when his bleeding heart 
 
 Could paint the picture of its fallen part; 
 
 For when his Friends would mark his sunken eye, 
 
 His hqgard look of wasting agony, 
 
 Oh! then he'd turn, and with a smile of woe, 
 
 Would mutter wildly ' tu:as not always to V 
 
 But be is gone :--no matter how or when, 
 For now he sleeps amid the tombs of men ! 
 Not haply in the spot, as wont at home, 
 Where Travellers see the pathways meeting come. 
 And shudder, as they think beneath such sod, 
 Ijes one who died defying e'en his God! 
 When last his Friends saw Fi.omo, 'twas in scene, 
 Where wander'd he, half-shorn of feelings keen; 
 While many said, his bosom waked to pride, 
 Had iworn to chase each torment from hi* side.
 
 SATIRE III. 37 
 
 But ah! he met Alexa she was sad, 
 Her looks were lustreless ia sorrow clad; 
 And Flo n jo's scorn lay powerless and weak, 
 'Their trembling glances met, they did not speak; 
 But; that one look told Flokio's bosom more, 
 Than years of tale could tell, or life deplore: 
 He fled biro homeward, frenzy in his eye, 
 He fled him homeward hut to sin, to die! 
 
 ****** 
 Had lost Alexa's Parent halved the sum, 
 That decked in bridal pomp her cheerless home; 
 That saved her Lord from jail, and splendour 
 . hought 
 
 For her, who now but deemed its glare as nought; 
 Had he done this, and with it Florio blest, 
 With means to joy the partner of his breast; 
 Half half that waste had stayed a damning fate 
 $>or doomed a daughter to a bed of halt I
 
 SATIRE IV. 
 
 * Nothing so true as what you once let fall 
 Most Women have no characters at all.' 
 
 JPcvs. 
 
 WhatI i Women hare no characters" away; 
 Plead not the sanction of a Poet's lay. 
 Can rash assertion dare the test of time, 
 Because it boast the harmony of rhyme? 
 Shall raptured listners still as truth receive, 
 What the fond heart delighi3 to disbelieve?
 
 SATIRE IV. 39 
 
 Kot all the pleasing witchery of song 
 Shall e'er enslave, or lead the soul along. 
 Tiiuth claims her brighter sway her powers ap- 
 pear, 
 Burst the Eard's spells, and disenchant the ear ! 
 
 Is there not feeling in the Woman's heart- 
 Claims not affection there its purer part? 
 Is there not Mildness, Life's sad path to smoth, 
 And Love's endearments, still each care to sooth? 
 Tis Woman ! this thy character, indeed! 
 These are thy charms, that willing captives lead, 
 And tho' awhile the memory of deceit 
 May bid some once fond heart hi rancour beat, 
 May waken cold misanthropy and spleen, 
 Tiil man ungrateful fly from Beauty's scene; 
 Ah '. yet again one dear alluring smile, 
 One glance of beaming love shall stiil beguile > 
 While the dark joyless frown shall cease to lower, 
 Aud throbbing feelings own again thy power.
 
 40 tATIRE IV. 
 
 In every fancied bliss, that Vouth can rear, 
 In every hope of Joy for future year, 
 Al'id hours of expectation, when the breast 
 Pants for some moment, dearer than the rest, 
 Then, then, it is, that Woman seems alone, 
 The fair possessor of our Fancy's throne ; 
 Then, then, it is, we breathe the anxious sigh, 
 We think of some fond glance from duw_v eye; 
 We dream of soft caresses fondly given, 
 Of Beauly Tenderness best beoos of Heaven i 
 And still the dear, the cherished dream to crown, 
 We hope ah! pant to cxli these charms 
 
 cur own! 
 
 In genial clime like this, where' every ray, 
 Th:it bursts unceasing from the orb of day, 
 Gives the fond heart to all the fire of love, 
 And all the passion's fierceness bids it prove, 
 Hear yonder Lover to the winds complain, 
 Though warm his vows, those vows are all in fain*,
 
 &TIRE IV. 41 
 
 Proud Beauty scorns his true, though humble 
 
 prayers, 
 Aijd only smiles, when Wealth or Grandeur glares. 
 
 But oft complaint is rash, and wide from truth; 
 Observe yon amorous boy yon beardless youth, 
 He singles out an object of desire, 
 Burns with a thoughtless flame, or feigns the fire; 
 Then stung, at last, with well-deserved neglect, 
 He rails to find, that Prudence can reject. 
 
 Yet other ills alas our Youth assert, 
 (And grant Oh Heaven! their tales the truth 
 
 pervert) 
 Tint there are Fair, who pant to try their power," 
 And playful. search for sweets, from flower to flow* 
 
 er; , 
 Who strive to wake th' impassioned Lover's sigh; 
 And catch the thrilling languor of his eye;
 
 42 SATIRE IT. 
 
 Who listen smiling to his tale of pain, 
 Till melting looks half tell that Tale again. 
 Or when his hard, in trembling touch of Love, 
 With timid pressure would their kindness rnoTC, 
 Then that dear kindness fearful to deny, 
 Bids a soft hand, in gentler squeeze reply. 
 Thus have we heard the glowing farce is play'd, 
 Till some fond fool, enamoured of a maid, 
 Half urged to Frenzy, ventures to propose, 
 And paints some dismal picture of his woes, 
 
 Kepulse appals him ! the loved fair explains; 
 
 The fool's refused and laughed at for his pains I 
 
 Selina boasts each charm, that Poets seek, 
 The softest dye of Love illumes her cheek ; 
 The milder graces on her steps await, 
 Lurk in her form, and ambush in her gaitj 
 There is that angel something in her eye, 
 That men adore, nor can its magic fly, 

 
 SATIRE If. 43 
 
 That soft retiring look that timid glance, 
 Which more than every lure bids Love advance 
 The sweet, half-childish semblance of alarm, 
 Which sij,lis to cling to fond Protection's arm: 
 That ever seeming wakefulness of heart, 
 When tears of teuderness, too prompt to start) 
 Flow at a word from glistening orbs of light, 
 Till Beauty, gemmed with feeling, beams more 
 
 bright ! 
 Oh! who would think, beneath a guise so soft, 
 Beats a proud heart, that pants to soar aloft, 
 That ever pines for conquest, and for power, 
 And like some haughty hermit in his bower, 
 Mid well-feigned lowliness, allures a name, 
 Sad seeming still to shun it sighs for fame! 
 
 But let us turn from this the Lover's gaze, 
 Nor judge our Fair ones, by a Lover's praise, 
 Seek we the walks of calm domestic life, 
 And view awhile the Mother, and the Wife 5
 
 41 
 
 SATIRE IV. 
 
 And here are they, whom Eulogy may claim, 
 Bright, as her favoring hymus e'er voiced to Fame? 
 Per chance there be, that Satire best may suit, 
 And Satire sings, when Eulogy is mute. 
 
 Ere blooming Mira left her humble home, 
 Or ever dreamed from native bower to roam, 
 Then every Sunday decked in best array, 
 Prayer-book in hand, to Church she tripped a- 
 
 way; 
 Smiled, as she caught each young admirer's stare, 
 And read their eyes more deeply than the prayer. 
 Pull many a dashing clerk had sighed his pain, 
 Full many a spruce apprentice owned her reign: 
 At home her samplers ranged in order fair, 
 And counterpanes of patch-work, proved her 
 
 cafe ; 
 Her younger brother's shirts, so neatly made, 
 So neatly marked, her industry betrayed ;
 
 SATIRE IV. 45 
 
 While smiling Guests declared her tarts and pies. 
 Confessed her skill, and claimed the housewife's 
 
 prize. 
 Such was fair Mira when an Uncle came, 
 Rich as a Nabob fraught with wealth and fame, 
 Fresh from the East ; and then her heart was 
 
 fired, 
 The dream of Indian pomp her soul inspired: 
 Xor long her wishes vain her Uncle's care 
 Bade his loved niece some masters' lessons sharos 
 Till soon, how changed in every art to please ! 
 She painted skies all blue, and bright green trees; 
 Could rattle, ' Ah vous dirai-je' with an air, 
 And dressed in newest, gayest ' style of Hair ? 
 
 Thus all accomplished, next o'er seas conveyed, 
 Mid gay Calcutta's scenes, appeared the maid, 
 Where, first attacks of fierce Musquitos o'er, 
 The damsel learned to prize her Besuty r s power;
 
 45 SATIRE IT 
 
 And ere one year could steal upon her ensuing, 
 A wealthy suilor gained her to lri arms ! 
 
 Now see glad Mir a blest in wish of pride, 
 The fair one's envy -and a Judge's bride ! 
 She, who once passed each hackney-coaches' stand, 
 And sighed iu vain, hath chariots at command ; 
 She, to whom frock of chintz gave happiness, 
 Now shines in lace, and scorns a humbler dress; 
 \\i!h crowds of vain admirers at her sway, 
 Mid listless elegance consumes the day; 
 To think of once-dear Friends can never deign. 
 And lives the gayest of Calcutta's train. 
 
 But mark fair Stella ornament of worth 1 
 0. r milder manners tho' of prouder biftb ; 
 In her the Lady Sister Friend combine, 
 In her the Wife's more moral virtues shine; 
 How bright the welcome of her spark ling- e\r, 
 How kind her jrreetinsr in Society !
 
 satiu'.: it. 47 
 
 And (blest the truth!) that where a Mika's seen, 
 A Stella yet can deck our Indian scene. 
 
 Virginia see9 a spark in every swain, 
 Sighs oft for Marriage, and may sigh in vain, 
 The hated name of Miss would still remi 
 And throws dear looks in ianguislunent of !ote! 
 And yet when first the Maiden's cbartus appeal- 
 ed, 
 To what a height her Marri:)ge-v;cws were i 
 Twas then, indeed 'the wonder of her life, 
 4 How paltry Subalterns could keep a wife ! 
 
 It seemed quite strange, that foolish girls could 
 
 bend 
 Their thoughts so vilely low, and condescend 
 To marry, where perhaps a Palankeen, 
 
 * Or Buggy at the best, might chance be seen.' 
 
 These thoughts of Grandeur lasted for a year, 
 No suitor came 110 husband would appear ;
 
 45 SATIRE IV. 
 
 And now alas ! when year on year creeps by, 
 And still Virginia breathes th' uuechoed sigb, 
 Fain would the Fair, her former views forget, 
 And condescend to catch at a Cadet .' 
 
 Precedence is Superba' s dear delight, 
 Her busy thought by day her dream b) night ; 
 But see Superba plunged in saddest tears ! 
 Is fair Superba ill ? nay cease your fears ; 
 The Lady only weeps, and sobs to see 
 IIonoria married to a rich C. B. ; 
 And. death to think dire incident of woe! 
 * That thing Honor ia ! takes precedence now !' 
 
 Senessa still as blooming damsel gay, 
 Intent to catch each Fashion of the day, 
 Hath scarce a thought, beyond some newer dress, 
 Or varied robe, her dear loved form to bless: 
 How happy fly her busy morning-hours, 
 At Smith's Balmanno's millinery bowers,
 
 *ATIB^ it. 49 
 
 Bach Europe-letter that arrives, display? 
 Some novel Fashion's pattern, aud its praise: 
 No matter l!:2n the season, be it hot, 
 The mode, misuiting to our sultry spot, 
 Still in that dress she decks her fainting frame ! 
 French hats aud bonnets now her fancy claim, 
 Aud now younj* Beauty's style attracts her care, 
 Its sylphid dress, that floats upon the air, 
 Its arms of snowy white, to view displayed, 
 Its shape in nouns' loveliness betrayed : 
 Senessa sees and thiuks her form might prov* 
 Alike the semblance of aerial love ! 
 She g'ues to view her long and shrivelled arms, 
 Her shortened robe each gazer's eye alarmi; 
 Till all be-uizened forth, to woo the sight, 
 What is Sesessa then? a worse than fright! 
 
 Olivia is so delicate, her sigh 
 Betrays the helplessness of infancy; 
 
 9
 
 6$ SATIRE IT. 
 
 So lifeless, and alas! her nerves so weak, 
 She scarcely can respire! to hear her speak, 
 You think it is the whisper of some breeze 
 Wooing the trembling foliage of the trees; 
 f The punkah is too much, then heat o'erpow* 
 
 ers * 
 * Oh vile, vile hookah ! pest of social hours l* 
 How languishing she looks; can such a form 
 Withstand the least approach of earthly storm? 
 And yet Olivia hath a babe each year, 
 Each day unseen a bottle of strong leer! 
 
 Metissa too is mild j mid circling friends, 
 The softest languor every look attends; 
 iNo angry glance e'er glistens from her eye, 
 No inward passion can her words imply. 
 One fatal day, she dreamed no step was nearv 
 No guest at hand, to lend a listening ear. 
 Ah me! she gave a loose to angcy tongue 
 A wild alarum in her chamber rung!
 
 fATIUK IT. 51 
 
 Her Ayah she chided, scolded, beat, abused, 
 And frantic ire her angel-face suffused. 
 Good heav'ns what language ! if Metissa guessed 
 One half the meaning, her abuse expressed, 
 She'd shrink in shame, and inly conscious pain, 
 And never dare an Eastern term again. 
 
 Laura is lovely as the breathing morn, 
 While yet the sun's young tints the East adorn, 
 Image of sweetest delicacy's flower, 
 At every period save the Tiffeu-hour; 
 And why not then 2 nay prithee, cease to ask, 
 For how unplcasing is the poet's task* 
 To paint at such an hour a pouting lip, 
 Where late the fancy seemed but Love to sip, 
 JNow all besmeared with Curry hideous fright! 
 We turn in terror from the fearful sight 
 
 Where is the eye, so blind to every charm, 
 That hath not gazed on Aramantha's arm?
 
 fc SXTIRE I*. 
 
 Who hath not said May such an arm as this 
 1 Wreathe round my form, in some lone hour of 
 
 bliss!' 
 And yet that arm can lose its power to please, 
 lis fairness vanish, and its beauty cease, 
 When, half-dismay'd, within her grasp we see 
 The Hookah's monstrous snake held fearlessly: 
 That ty'pexrf eastern Luxury's exces-, 
 Emblem of aHghr, but female Loveliness. 
 
 When proud Cecilia condescends to play, 
 What seraph sounds allure the *oul away-; 
 How sweet, to catch tire magic of her song 1 , 
 While o'er her seat, the breathless listeners throng! 
 But then alas! how sad to view the maid, 
 In all the consciousness of Pride arrayed 
 Which, 'mid its affectation, seems to say, 
 'Thus for applause, my sanctioned due, I play.' 
 Unwise Cecilia learn the better part- 
 To please the Ear, and yet secure the Heari*
 
 SATIRE IT. 53 
 
 Would you for ever charm the fleeting hour, 
 Pnrve but the wish to please, nor boaslthe power. 
 
 Ah me! if women knew their faultless worth, 
 When modest grace can draw each beauty forth ; 
 When unaffected softness seems to bless, 
 And brightens still the charm of loveliness: 
 When Pride repels not, and no lure betrays, 
 But unreserve to all its ease convejs : 
 Silenced were then the Satirist's complaint, 
 Fled were the faults, that social pleasure taint 
 The heartless Poet, deaf to Beauty's sigh, 
 Durst not to Woman Character deny; 
 And Bards, too full of heart in every theme, 
 In every Fair would realise their dream I
 
 
 y *>r>!W 
 
 SATIRE V. 
 
 Vox, et prseterea nihil 
 
 
 And what is Friendship but a name, 
 
 A charm that lulls to sleep ; 
 A shade that follows Wealth or Fame 
 
 And leaves the wretch to weep. dtOLDiHiTH. 
 
 Lati sung my Muse the Fair, but now it turn* 
 To Fane, where Fire of Fbiemdshij dimly burns*
 
 Where relive wreathes of Fondness withering die, 
 And Bards, unfit to sing, are taught to sigh; 
 Where Suns exhale the feelings from the hreast, 
 And leave a barren void,-a desart waste. 
 
 m-st this, my Muse, be now thy thankless lav, 
 To wail at Feeling blighted, or away ? 
 Once thou couldst sing of Friendship, could.Uo- 
 
 light 
 To swell thy gayer strains in carol light: 
 
 That hour is past like fleeting ray of Ev'a 
 
 Casting its fading blushes o'er the scene, 
 
 Chaced by the darkling night, that moves behind, 
 la dearth of joy^iu dreariness of mind. 
 
 y ET Suns may set, and daAne lower onhigh, 
 A d gloomy shadows mantle o'er the shy: 
 But this, the solace of the traveller's pain,- 
 The Sun but sinks, to rise in might again.
 
 5ft WW* *> 
 
 When nature gladdens and the morning breaks 
 Roused by ber gentle hand, the Pilgrim 'wakes, 
 Surveys the opening landscape with a smile, 
 And speeds him onward* braced for every toil. 
 
 Not so Affection: when its sun is set? 
 'Tis gone for ever. We may still regret, 
 And weep as Youth shall weep its faded hour} 
 Alas! we weep in vain it comes 110 more. 
 
 Say wbat is Friendship with our Indian tribe 
 Is it the ' Your's sincerely'' we subscribe? 
 Is it the call reciprocal, and feast. 
 Can link our crowd so closely in the Has;; 
 Is it the nod of languor, or the bow, 
 That listless Ladies, on tbe course, bestow; 
 Is it th' enquiring Note, in prettiest fold, 
 That- -weeps a hcad-ach and deplores a cold; 
 Or other Tonus, that in observance vain, 
 Yet unobserved bid worse than warfare reign?
 
 iuiow then that farce of Friendship with our 
 Great* 
 Is mutual visits or dissembled hate; 
 While with our Little with our Junior train, 
 Too free for Form, and too sincere to feign, 
 Tis joke and jibe and laughter manual wit, 
 The tongue to quiz the ready hand to hitj 
 The careless liberty and frolic glee, 
 > T ot Fijeudship, but Familiarity! 
 
 I've seen a man, without one slight regret, 
 Laugh ut his neighbour, when he's seized for debt: 
 
 * For the benefit of some Readers it may be neces- 
 sary to say, that in our Indian phraseology the defini- 
 tion! of Great and Little are generally understood to 
 be thus: 
 
 Great, people who entertain and give CJaret 
 Little, people who are ente. tuuied and drink it. 
 H
 
 5 SATIUE V. 
 
 Reach forth his hand, at sight of Friendship's face, 
 Absent, declare it void of every grace; 
 The first to greet a step with welcome ray, 
 The first to slanderwhen H turn away. 
 
 Celsus is blest with just enough of brains, 
 To shield his day from blunder and its pains; 
 To hustle thro' his wonted Office-hours, 
 And sigu his name, in self-sufficient powers: 
 With share of vanity, that lacks e'en rule, 
 And falls to lot of many as great a fool ; 
 Compound of folly flattery prompt to lie, 
 Of adulation, aud frivolity : 
 To equals insincere, superiors mean, 
 To juniors courteous with a Syreu-mienj 
 Tickle as falsehood ever wont to vow 
 To stranger-faces, more thau frieudly glow; 
 Skilled but to fleece the younger baud at play, 
 Aud mar the promise of jvva.2 brighter iaj ;
 
 sauki: v. 950 
 
 Sage but in wiles, to lure the heedless hear!, 
 .Ere waked suspicion can detect his part, 
 And when detected, shameless as the face 
 Of proud, unpunished villany in place! 
 Yet Cclsus speaks of Friendship's cheering glow! 
 And, cold as clime, where Arctic breezes blow, 
 To sweeter passions would his title prove, 
 And talks, and sighs, and talks again of Love! 
 
 Oh! who but turns him trembling from the 
 
 brake, 
 Whence peals the rattle of Columbia's Snake: 
 Or who, save madmen hearken to its sound. 
 When lurks the venoined fang, intent to wound. 
 
 Poklus is curst with sullcnncss of heart 
 And lives sequcster'd, from his Friends apart? 
 Hails no companion, sees his moments pass, 
 His meals uubrightened with the social glass. 
 Then growling, snarling, like the beast in deu, 
 He scoffs at dull society in men,
 
 60 SATrRE T. 
 
 And chide* the dullness, that this eFime attends; 
 Where all are friendless,and where none are friend* 
 What right has sullen Pcelus to complain, 
 For loss of that, he will not stoop to gain, 
 And why should others lure him from his roof, 
 Where Pcelus sternly holds his hour aloof? 
 
 Fall as ;ig:un is ever at command, 
 With heart as ready as his proffer* d hand, 
 Go where you will, and Fallax still is there* 
 With smile to please, and compliments of air; 
 Each man his dear, dear friend, not one his foe, 
 Free in professions, frequent as his bowt 
 All this may please the crowd: why not in sooth 
 For who gives Fallax, credit for his truth ? 
 Where is the fool, to deem his Friendship hue, 
 Or who his broken promises shall rue? 
 The sailor slumbers on th' un fat homed deep, 
 Where breakers roar not, and the surges sleep}
 
 BATltttr T. 61 
 
 But where the foam and froth arff ever high, 
 He dreads that shallows and Hie lock are nigh! 
 
 Aitgus was touchy with his dearest friend; 
 Quarrelled then wondered ihaHheir Lore should 
 
 end!' 
 Beat his chutns servants, hroke his- Bearer's'] 
 
 head, 
 Argued from dawn of day 'till evening's red, j 
 Then, solitary, asks why Friends arc lieu? J 
 
 Volasthtjs seeks companions half a score, 
 Then fluttering hastes to seek as many more; 
 Fondest of strangers, ever flies from home, 
 Leaves his own Mess, wish other Friends to roam. 
 But, if percharc , his regiment move to scene, 
 Where all is dull, and not a stranger seen; 
 Fain would he court again his comrades there, 
 AiFeels to wom'.et, that they coldly stare,
 
 62 SATIRE V. 
 
 Or spurn with chilling frown his prompt embrace, 
 Which tells but of convenience, and place. 
 
 Philo and Laurus are two bosom friends* 
 Where one is seen, the gentle mate attends, 
 They seem as brothers surnames scarce in use, 
 But Jack and Tom, in such fond terms profuse : 
 'Tis strange; it chanced I met lliem each alone. 
 Each told the other's faults, and hushed his own : 
 Each called the other, Knave i they met ouce 
 
 more, 
 The Damon and the Phythias of yore I 
 
 Thus far of Friendship: yet may some de- 
 clare, 
 That, 'tis the same sad picture every ^here ! 
 But I deny it; turn to scene of Youth, 
 Can we remember there, no bonds of truth i 
 Have we not seen our Friends, in home of peace, 
 Where Friendships blossomed not to fade and 
 cease?
 
 satire v. 63 
 
 Have we not heard of those, who loved as hoys, 
 Yet felt iu age that Love, no age destroys ? 
 Have we not mark'd the partners of one home, 
 Blest with the kindness, whiph could never roam: 
 
 Love is not ever weighed by Interest there, 
 And some can many, whom affections pair, 
 And some are true, in pleasure or iu pain, 
 Nor deem it Friendships all to entertain ; 
 Yes, some can sigh and sorrow for the good, 
 And weep their loss tho' unallied by blood: 
 Eut who will say, that in this sultry spot, 
 Our Feeling's page is ever pure from blot ? 
 Who will declare, that after exil'd years, 
 The same fond sensibility appears ? 
 
 We tear the seal, we find some heart is fled, 
 gome once loved Parent, Brother, Sister, dead, 
 <3ne sigh we breathe, in pity for the gone, 
 A ml brighter thoughts obtrudethe sigh is flown 1
 
 64 SATIRE V. 
 
 The widowed mourner scorns a gloomy life, 
 His love scarce buried, seeks another wife ; 
 The late sad widow, smiling in her weeds, 
 In open chariot on the course proceeds; 
 And sire-less Orphans, decked in Sorrow's show, 
 Revel at fiulls, aud dauce aaiij vhd r wy ei
 
 p 
 
 SATIRE VI. 
 
 'Ayhgw/pi cv zvuyjgc rXibtil tiaiv 
 
 * Pride shrinks to Folly at the festive Board. 
 
 I've heard it said, that Fame's proud notes 
 
 were high, 
 In praise of Eastern Hospitality; 
 ' I
 
 '4) SATIRE YI. 
 
 It may be so ; but Fame hath rung as loud, 
 
 To hail some falser notion of the crowd, 
 
 And oft is loudest, when ils sickly blast, 
 
 Stills at th' approach of Truth, its clamour past. 
 
 Teil me, shall Hospitality survive, 
 Where cordial friendliness can never thrive ? 
 Where pale dissension lifts its sullen reign, 
 Nor greets the lowly wanderer cf the plain : 
 Where proud Distinction, draws a barrier line 
 And says ' such path is out's and such is thine?* 
 No no the social virtue flies in shame, 
 To leave behiud a shadow and a name! 
 
 When Hospitality first dawned on Earth, 
 Blest were the joyous moments of her birth ; 
 She came to cheer the lonely and forloru, 
 To joy the hamlet, and the Court adorn; 
 Shamed at her smiles, Formality had fled, 
 And cold Hauteur concealed its gorgon head ;
 
 SATIRE VI. 07 
 
 Freedom and honest Mirth were then adored, 
 And jovial plenty smiled upon the board. 
 Dissension saw, and cankered at the scene, 
 And frowned at pleasure with its careless rnienj 
 
 It called Politeness, bade it take its seat, 
 
 fOf Hospitality, the feint and cheat,) 
 
 Taught it to measure out its senseless bow, 
 
 Here 4 slight nod, and there a reverence low, < 
 
 To seat its guests in order and in rank, 
 
 And check the rustic warmth of Candour frank f 
 
 Till Hospitality abused, unknown, 
 
 Fled and Dissension revelled on her throne. 
 
 I oft have wondered, seated like a fool, 
 At end of Table, where no Punkahs cool; 
 I oft have wondered, why such crowds should meet, 
 To spend their heartless hours in pain and heat, 
 To pant in dull formality, and soon 
 Retire, as if the parting were a boon J
 
 68 $4hub Yl 
 
 Gods! what a picture does a Dinner give," 
 Of Indian habits, and the wa y we live : 
 (And here, a dinner is the only tie 
 That links our boast to Hospitality, ) 
 The day is set, the evening hour is come, 
 Bright gleam the wall-shades in thp festive room 
 The mistress of the mansion, gaily drest, 
 Lolls on some couch, to wait each coining ^uest ; 
 Thxv come; the wheels of carriages resound, 
 In silence dull the guests are seated round, 
 ]\Jid scrutiny of muslins, robes, and lace, 
 Of sattins, silks, and rouge on healthless face. 
 Late epines the dinner: now the beaux repair 
 To table, while perhaps on anxious chair, 
 Sits some lorn damsel, unregarded, left, 
 Her charms neglected, and of beau bereft ; 
 Till, haply waked to pity at her fears, 
 Poster age to hand the fair appears.
 
 SATIUE 11. (69 
 
 Simteo at table, sighing at the heat, 
 Where all is warmth, qave where required in meat; 
 Where all is silence, save in tones divine, 
 Some Puppy craves, the pleasure to take ivhoine V 
 t.;ve when in murmuring sighs, some amorous 
 
 pair 
 Their whimpered passion Lo the world declare, 
 While glancing looks with maiden pleasure 
 
 fra '. ; 
 Tell triumph to some Friend, for Suitor caught. 
 
 Tcs, Till the cloth removed, wkeu hookahs 
 round, 
 Give puffier puff, and bubbling sound for sound. 
 The Ladies rise; each smoke-encircled beau, 
 Would fain talk politics, but kens not how; 
 While new Collectors with their imposts bore, 
 And Voting Judges rant Culcherrv-Iorc !
 
 70 SATIRE VI. 
 
 Of all the ills that make this hour accurst, 
 The dearth of conversation is the worst. 
 Not but our talkers babble by the night, 
 Willi grinning glee, and unconcealed delight ; 
 E:it lure each sneaker from his one-lov'u theme, 
 The man's bewilder'd, worse than in a dream; 
 This one in rapture boasts his 'MantoaY gan 
 Eets it against a ' Mortimer' while 'don 
 Peals o'er the table, and a noisy few 
 Descant on ' double-barrels', ' breech' and 
 And * patent elevations,' 'till the ear 
 Thrills with the senseless din it shrinks to h 
 Another of his horses prates for hoars, 
 To shew his farrier-skill, and stable powers; 
 Stands forth for Taplin, or his rival White, 
 As first of learned Characters that write: 
 Boasts recipes for gripes for splints and sprung, 
 To prove himself a hurtlcr for his pains. 
 Here sit some Subalterns to railing given, 
 Hurling Commanding Officers to heaven'
 
 na: vi. 1 1 
 
 While there a Few absorbed in stupid nir, 
 Dull ;is the meaning of Ihoir senseless stare, 
 Bid not their heavy features brighten up, 
 Till mention hies of bitch, or favorite pup, 
 And then, what busy tongues the ear assail, 
 In prosing how to ml. sonic Terriers tail I 
 What with all this, each expletive and oath 
 Which throng our Conversations hour to clothe, 
 The betting bantering attempts at jest, 
 Which make that edifying hour so blest, 
 Tis passing well the native tribe who wait, 
 ui i'-\ not the language that their masters prate} 
 Or, thanks to tales the babbling knaves would 
 
 spread, 
 Of India's lords, dire objects of its dread, 
 Soon Britain might bewail her wrested power, 
 Her 'Empire of Opinion' cease to lower 1 
 
 Now hail the next bright pleasures of the Eve, 
 When loath and lingering men their claret leave?
 
 72 SATIRE YI. 
 
 Some listless seek th' untuned piano's side, 
 Wherq shrieks a damsel, sliril! in songstress-pride; 
 Others affect to puzzle and to fret 
 O'er misspelt words of Ivory Alphabet i 
 A few in hopelessness of power to spell, 
 Seek Trou- Madame, or fFlrist, or Bagatelle; 
 And Tactics Riddles Puzzles of each kind, 
 Prove the resources of the Indian mind ! 
 
 Tis time to part, and now tome Matron's eye 
 Throws glances to her Lord, at whist hud by; 
 But he raid Honours, Trumps, and Tricks re- 
 clined} 
 To every look and speaking- glance is blind. 
 How dread the pause, guests wishing to be gone, 
 The host as anxious to he left alone; . 
 The hostess striving, but alas, in vain, 
 A truant yawn's appearance to restrain; 
 Then murmuring softly ' Nay, 'lis not so late, 
 'Tis only one!' again a pause, they wait,
 
 SATIRE VI. 73 
 
 Till xrnnV a wall-shade, dim around the room, 
 
 It's oil expended, hissss into gloom. 
 
 Now Beaux steal off, half siieakiag to the door, 
 
 Blessing their stars the hour of pain is o'er; 
 
 While others, in politeness doom'd to stay, 
 Envy the lot of such as steal away. 
 
 ,JU length the Cards are o'ar; all instant rise, 
 And look their dull adieux from sleepy eyes: 
 The doorway thronged with coach or palankeen, 
 Gives a last, hustle to the parting scene? 
 Each vehicle moves off, the Feast is done, 
 Hostess and Host retire) ' thank God, all gone!* 
 
 c 
 
 On! for the pen of Horace, to describe J 
 The passing Folly of our festive tribe! 
 Here self-styled Greatness simpers to a guest, 
 .And dreams an Invitation makes him blest; 
 Regards such dinner, at a joyless hall, 
 Too cheaply purcuas'd by a ' morning sail ." 
 K
 
 74 SATIRE tl. 
 
 Bet, eonld my Mass recalling former days, 
 Here turn to theme it loves* fit theme of praise! 
 'TVould cease to dwell on picture, dull as night, 
 And hail a spot in social pleasure bright; 
 There elegance and wit, and beauty reign, 
 There dullness enters, but to lose its pain, 
 There Woman lures, and charms the fleeting hour, 
 And softest witchery asserts its power; 
 Would that I dare in trembling lay proclaim, 
 And bless one prouder couplet With a namet 
 For ah ! tho* sad to point at cheerless cloud, 
 That flings along our path its lengtkVmg shroud, 
 'Tis sadder still, when brightness meets the eye, 
 To turn unheeding, and to pass it by 1
 
 SATIRE TIL 
 
 |i mala conilidcrit in quem quia carmina; jus est 
 JuuiciuMiquc. Ksta : si quis mala : scd bna si quis 
 J.sdiee condiderit laudatur Cesare ; si q i is 
 Qpprobriis digimm laccraverit, integer ipse. 
 Solventui risu tabula ; ta missus abibis. Hob. 
 
 Jf scribbling bard- oflend the good in rhyme, 
 Ce^inre their folly and rebuke the criuiej 
 But if at. vice they point their honest lays, 
 Biil them depart with honor and with praise. 
 
 X his man is mad for Huntin.gi, that for Wine, 
 Oae swears that ' Glasse' ami k Farley' are diviwe ! 
 Another boasts of temperance prefei red, 
 Starves for two days, to surfeit on the third*
 
 ' l> BXttME VII. 
 
 Araocrs have ruined this, and that a wife, 
 Both doomed to debt, and penury for life ; 
 Fully is varied still, all disagree, 
 Yet all are like, in inconsistency ! 
 
 See yon old sinaer, scarce a tooth in head, 
 To mumhle sustenance from daily bread : 
 Tho' years have checked his power of seeking sin, 
 Yet still his tongue delights in hourly din 
 Of that, which should he nameless : Dotard, 
 
 laence ! . 
 Know, ' want of decency, is want of sense ? 
 And learn, if shameless youth disgusts the eye, 
 That shamdessness in age, is infamy! 
 
 Pale Sordidus is blest with lacs of wealth, 
 Hoarded in secret villain - , and steal Ih; 
 Result of peculation, meanly skilled 
 In dexterous plunder from each post lie filled. 
 Who now so loud as he, to chide, deplore 
 la others. (Lit rrhich rafctd hjs villain-it ore!
 
 s.TinE vii. 77 
 
 'Tis thus the robber, chief in murder, rapes, 
 Tur&i Liatk informer, and the halter 'scapes! 
 
 SvTnAX is quite a gentleman, I wot, 
 Ami stands the foremost, in each social spot, 
 Talks -well on every subject, quite aufait 
 At each new passing; topic of the day ; 
 Flattered with mute attention from the crowd, 
 His thoughts seem wondrous, as his words are 
 
 loud 
 How free, our politics he seems to scan, 
 
 lor Sjshux is a mililarT/ num : 
 
 Lut mark this Soldier, sheepish on parade., 
 BlundYins at every step, otutfgi afraid! 
 Where is his confidence, his knowledge tow, 
 And where the learning that he boasts to knew? 
 Poor SypbaX only reads to shine, alas ! 
 At social meeting; and is no ' Duudas.' 
 
 Doctcs agai.i is learned in the lore, 
 That stamps aiid decks Ike classic page of jorci
 
 71 SATIRE VII, 
 
 Fresh from a College, honored as M D, 
 
 Skilled in each science of Humanity, 
 
 How is it Doctus, silent as the tomb, 
 
 Mid Friends, seems buried in pedantic glGouc? 
 
 How is it, wisdom never deigns a word, 
 
 One hint of all its learning to afford? 
 
 Who would believe it? Doctus is too proud 
 
 Considers all he meets, a witless crowd ; 
 
 Thinks it would derogate from pride or* lore, 
 
 To prove to fools, how fathomless his. store ! 
 
 Payi'3 among Companions at the Board, 
 With every grape of wit and worth is stoi vd 
 Sought by each circle, cherished by his friends, 
 Society for him but pleasure blends: 
 No wonder Pavus seems so pleased to roam, 
 T<> fly the misery of his cheerless home ; 
 For learn the reason, Pavus, he the pride 
 Of all around him, he to wit allied,
 
 79 
 
 To seeming manliness, and WIMrtt of heart, 
 Acts at that home a worse than dastard part. 
 Thero humble poppct,-Ueartless slave of MM, 
 Who leaves nor poorest W lsh,-nor purse his ovnr. 
 Ruled by a wretch,-without a trait to seize 
 The Youthful eye-without one charm to ple^ , 
 , Tis rtrange; -the veriest trull that shameless stalks 
 i;IidDrury's P urlieus,-or Saint Giless^ks, 
 Is not so loathsome as the thing that s.uys 
 O'er Pants, dooming to self-scorn his days; 
 Till, as his heart's reproof beats fierce .vith F in, 
 He dreads--desp.ise S ~hates ( -yethugshis chain! * 
 
 .This may, perhaps, require an apology to see 
 
 reider s_th e re is however much truih in ***** 
 ^afait^por.aUure.fafr^ent.e.riptiono. 
 
 Zenanah controul: 
 
 nAit sacer hhcus ad ft-araw. Vine- 
 Et ductus eornti stabit sacer
 
 80 gATIUL VII. 
 
 Nasq in debt, dill loves his jokes to crae-k; 
 Swears he has ' turned the corner,' owes a laej 
 Revives each day, of duns full half a score, 
 .And daily wonders, he receives no more; 
 Culls thi 'Calcutta Correspondence,'' smiled i 
 Jays, that receipt of Rills his hour beguiles, 
 lie knows each Bailiff of the Court by name, 
 And tells long tales of 'Nosey, 1 first ID fame: 
 Who would regret one moment or bewail, 
 If Xaso diedj and rotted in n jail? 
 
 Poon Tnnrirs shudders at the east wind's chill, 
 And dreads in every breeze a blast of ill : 
 Slave to \\% fears, he deems his day is dona, 
 If even glanced upon, by beam of sin. 
 See! medicine ranged in store, on every shelf, 
 Enough to drain a sturdy nation's health; 
 With calemel. chalybeate, jn'cp, pills. 
 While daily physic with its poison fdls:
 
 sAtire vii. 81 
 
 i) :! for one bitter hour of racking pains, 
 To make him know the ill he fancies feigns! 
 
 Setius is constant in his slanderous blame, 
 And loudly cri#s upon his brethren shame! 
 Who ever beard him breathe one word of praise, 
 To crown deserving merit, with its bays? 
 Thou foul-mouthed slanderer, deign to look at 
 
 home, 
 Weigh thine ownfaults, thy tongue could little roam* 
 
 Gat.lus regrets, that he is doomed to dine 
 Away from home; and damns his neighbour's wine 
 See his own dinner, where the wretch is filled; 
 With fowl, part curried, the remainder grilled, 
 His Auction purchased wine, and sugared beer, 
 to ! this the man, who rails at others cheer ? 
 
 Havb I o'erdrawn the picture? Search around, 
 
 And say where pure consistency is found: 
 L
 
 82 SATIKE VII. 
 
 In some few instances, perhaps, there may, 
 But scarce as pleasure in our Indian day : 
 And e'en the poet, fond of hymning love, 
 Whose song delights in gentler themes to rove, 
 Now wrapt in sudden gloom, to Satire turns, 
 And flies the lay, for which his fancy b;irns; 
 Detesting still the task, indignant dwells 
 On theme of censure, where he ne'er excels ! 
 
 . giTiRE farewell '.no more thy scourge I wield. 
 No more I war upon th' envenomed field ; 
 No more I lash the follies of the few, 
 Satire, I hate thy sullen task! Adieu? 
 How sweeter 'tis, to wake some f.iblc-d tal$ 
 Of love, and maiden, geutle as the gale, 
 That breathes in Alla's heav'u, whero Iuaris rove, 
 And fan the air with ceaseless sighs of love! 
 Mid song like this, the Muse in rapture dwells, 
 And gazes fondly on the charm it tells j
 
 SATIRE VJT, 83 
 
 But thoughts of Satire stay its better flight, 
 And crush each feeling, ev'ry fancy blight! 
 
 Oh! who that wanders in the meads of rhyme, 
 Wherebloom the blushing rose, and flowery thyme, 
 Where virgin lilies smile in spotless hue, 
 Ad every bud of spring allures the view! 
 Say, who would turn from these, and stoop to 
 
 greet 
 The weed of poison, rankling at his feet? 
 What tho' the rose hath thorns, and lilies die, 
 And blossoms, with'i itig, soon neglected lie , 
 Yet these, while fresh are fair; and lie who wrings 
 The rose's stem, may fear the thorn that stings; 
 But slight indeed the wound, where sweets remain, 
 To blush, and breathe a solace for its pain! 
 
 JIMS.
 
 P, Crichton, Printer, 
 No 45, Cossitollah.
 
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