>>« THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES y LEGENDS, BALLADS, &c. CALCUTTA: PRINTED BY SANDERS, CONES AND CO., No. 65, COSSITOLLAH. 1854. H-OOO DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. Scene, London. Enter Ned, and the Ghost of Bill. Bill. — What ! Ned ! already back ! so soon hast fouad Hesperian fruits on arid orient ground ? At my own science, lad, thou'st beat me hollow, (And yet methinks I've got a splendid swallow.) For tho' I bolted things more crude than iron, Sold mane, tail, whiskers of the British Lion, Distrain'd poor Ensign's hard-earn'd daily rations, Made Britain kiss the breech of black-skinn'd nations, Yet full six years I plied each pliant thumb, Scrap'd, cabbag'd, claw'd, before I made a plumb. And thou — in half that space fly -flush and mellow ! In very truth, Ned, you're a splendid fellow ! What left I thee unclipt to meet the charge ? I sold the Agra-gun — did'st sell the Taj ?* * There are some who, will think the followiug an over-estimate of Splendid Ned. The Author believes it to be a just statement of his genius and his faults. From the latter, he suffered too deeply to be prejudiced in favour of the worthy under consideration. These lines appeared in the Delhi Gazette in 18i7. Taj.— Although our English rendering of this name softens it into Taz, deriv- able from moomtaz'h, yet I think the native opinion is in favour of thej.. — Taj Muhftl, the Crown Palace, from its supposed resemblance to a Crown. B 8221 78 2 DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. I did my best ; but not a knave would buy it ; They talk'd of risings of Pathan and Ryutt, A slight phlebotomy had laid them quiet, Whilst a cool million to account, had met My zeal, with pension fat and coronet. Aye ! let men sneer, but groping in the gutter Is process neat t' anoint your bread with butter ; For all, there ta'en, be there but little of it, Is downright gain, and cent per cent of profit. But you, I hear, Ned, made expose ugly On those old lumbering gates, you dragg'd from Ghuznce^ Why ! what the deuce, man, did you lack for fuel, Or old deal planks mistake for crown and jewel ? Is't true, as say the prints, in cuerpo stark, You danc'd and caper'd, Ned, before your ark ? iVec?.— Peace Babbler ! peace !— what manly foot would wind The tortuous slimy trail thou'st left behind, You see me here, not infamously rich With foul, fat, loathsome rakings of the ditch ; But, poor and honest, able with a frown To brow-beat bullies, look a lion down. Brief was my reign, but brilliant to the last ! I found an Empire tottering — fix'd it fast, DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. Broke with my legions Scind's deep-serried spears, The Indus freed, and prison'd th' Emirs, The Gwalior leopard's fangs and claws did lop. And veteran sepoys bless'd with — lollipop ; Macassar'd well the lion's mane and chin. And made him roar, to keep his windpipe in : Drill'd the Police, a predatory band ; Of gaunt, fell wolves made watch-dogs for the land. And best and brightest ! crowning act of all, Snubb'd the Greengrocers in their leaden hall, And therefore am I here. Bill. — Fie on thee, Ned ! 'Twas like a naughty boy, to quarrel with your bread ! Learn from my case, a truth, too lightly heard, Benignant vix-tue works her oion reward. But thou art here, for thine unjust decree, 'Gainst Scind. Fate turns the tables round on thee ; For, mark me, Ned, if there's injustice flagrant, It is to flay a flint or rob a vagrant. When jour fat mmi is eas'd of hide and tallow, 'Tis for his health and leaner mortals' swallow, But when your grasp at Donald's breeks you dart, Sir, Justice feels pinch'd, and you but catch a Tartar. And what the fruits your outrag'd treaties bear ? A drowthy quicksand — hungry sepulchre ! 4 DIALOGUES OP THE DEPARTED. None in my justice can such flaw discover : The vassal States liv'd out my reign in clover, Cut throats, burn'd towns, and plundered fields at will I What matter, so they paid their tribute still ? The plunder'd, murder'd Ryutt's widow came. The orphan wept, the army hiss'd for shame ; Orphan and widow sent I to the devil. The Treaty binds us not to intermeddle. And if, like fools we've whilome brook'd the expence. There's one among ye now can chink the pence ! For I came, not to spend, but as ye ken all. To rake each filthy drain and sink and kennel. Ned. — And that was treachery of the basest brand. Ceasing to guard, we're robbers of the land, Arm'd by the Eyutt's gold, ye'd no more right To stand inert, and witness lawless might, Thau hath your Watchman idly to await. Whilst thieves creep in, or burglars force your gate. That dastard course of thine more shame hath cost, To British faith than twenty battles lost. A word had charm'd, disarm'd each robber horde, Sav'd, blest : — You knew, yet would not speak that word. The British flag by thee was taught to wave O'er outrag'd faith, and honor's gory grave. DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED, Bill. — Oh ! yes ! you're lean and fierce, a dangerous man ; I'm sleek and meek, digesting all I can. Yet, tho' 'twas pleasant, gazing round my board, To think, how hungry Ensigns would have roar'd O'er one least morsel of the hundred there ; Each dish bore label of the curse " Forbear," In that atrocious climate, where a cat Turns pale at cream and faints at collop'd rat, For, if above a score I gulp'd, poor sinner, I felt quite pufi'd, and went mad after dinner. But you, Ned, took a course to sense repugnant. Kept lean yourself, and made the army rampant, Were hand and glove with each hard-pated rattle, That lov'd to give and take good blows in battle. And 'stead of starving them, and growing fatter, Condemn'd, as base, my master-piece Half-Batta. Short-sighted Ned, Heretic in creed ! What ivas a soldier made for, but to bleed ? They still could sweat. — 'Tis true as it is shocking, I saw, one morn, an Ensign — with, — a stocking. And thus it fell, that rising somewhat early, And prowling round, without your hurly, burly, Of guards, tin-kettles, aides-de-camp and scarlet, I caught, fly-fresh from sleep, the rosy varlet, b DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. One leg beneath his bed-clothes, one extended, Whilst o'er him, sock in hand, his bearer bended. Oh ! ho ! quoth I, the invisible see sights ! A sub with sheets and curtains — two oil-lio-hts ! Eaves-dropping pays, tho' we be sometimes dirtied ! An Ensign socked !— I shouldn't wonder,— s/^V^et/ ! Luxurious dog ! the first to make a clatter. And prate of dirty jobs and curse Half-Batta ! So still, you see, they've feathers left to pluck, And they're too loyal, yet, " to run a muck." Ned.—'' To run a muck ?"— Oh sordid and unjust, To pay with wanton wrong their generous trust ! Vain your vile arts their loyal faith to move ; But when you sold their cause, you kill'd their love. See how, when treated as becomes the brave. Their warm heart's confidence they freely gave. Rush'd with bare breasts to meet the firebolt's mieht. And one kind word call'd heroes into light. Ah ! gallant friends ! hearts trusted, spirits tried : My sole regret still chains me to your side ! Cool, stern and keen, I've seen you wield the sword, Gay in the camp, and cheerful at the board : Severe in discipline, yet free of thought, With minds self-form'd, and judgment never bought ; DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. And hearts, like concave mirrors rendering back Your leader's love in bright and burning track ; Might I still marshall you to just renown, No conqueror's meed I'd ask, no monarch's throne. My name with your's the spacious world should fill, And I for you would half forego my lordly will. Bill. — Ah ! soft to think ! and green the thought to mention ! What can the army give ? Ned ! not a pension ! Their love ! Ah me ! warm cloak for wintry weather ! Renown ! — I'd cheaper buy a peacock's feather ! Such trash, with pinafores and A. B. C. Throw off, and con the statesman's craft with me ; All men be fools — our fair ones, now and then, The greatest folly rules the greatest men. The knave rules all ; for he is folly's mate, And holds the pass-key to each neighbour's gate. The hard, the sordid, selfish and severe, Whose love is gall, whose very mirth a sneer, , Who deem themselves the only wise, to trust Their heart's whole wealth to perishable dust, These, by the coarseness of their folly rule. As race- stones master e'en the toughest tool ; And who can wield them grinds all others down. The great Tom Fool who calls this world his own. 8 DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. The fools of sentiment be weak and few ; The fools of honor, impotent as true ; The fools of virtue, sleeker fools evite, Their leanness dreading, shrinking from their light. But all have noses, ye may hook at will ! The sordid bend to one more sordid still ! The knave submits, a master knave in sight, And virtue's sceptics bow to baser might. Each with, his cudgel ye must soundly tan. They credit none, until they've met their man, These make your slaves ! and flourish^ here and there, A little virtue (much, the world wo'nt bear) A few fine sentiments, a few wise saws. The noble snatch, as drowners catch at straws. For still the guileless loathe the censor's part, And long to think all like themselves in heart. But there's one fact in which we both agree, 'Tis that the eye can hear, the nose can see ; * That he who neatest tips your Thug the Darbies, Shall best brew laws, and humbug skittish Ranees. * This hit, however, has proved fairer than might have been pre-argued from the analogy between strangling and preserving. The Sheeva proves a first rate Vyshnoo. The gallows, no longer rampant, forms a gallow's good plough, and the dignitary is as much loved and respected, as formerly he was feared. DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. 9 * And iron skull, stout heart, and mutton fist Suit less the soldier than diplomatist. > And so I sought through our Indian State, And caught our best and fattest Magistrate ; • Made him gyves, writs renounce, the pen-case carry, And straight installed him Private Secretary, Ned. — Well ! and the project answered to a Tee ? Bill. — Not so, alas ! my Sec. went all agee. Slept at his desk, dyspeptic turn'd and moody Over green toads, and thirsted for the Woodie. Th' exception argues not the laws' excision ; So next I took a General of Division, A first-rate man, created for command, I wrenched the truncheon from his veteran hand. And since he sway'd so well a leading fiddle, .7 Bade him as second twang high diddle diddle, Kow tow and smirk with darken'd disk or bright, Phas'd at command, a first-class Satellite. j^gd. — Well ! did it answer ? Bill. — Can't exactly say. The army deem'd their General thrown away, Sigh'd to behold the truncheon in his hand, And dream'd o'er happy days of his command. ♦ Experiment No, 2 had well nigh lost us India. C 10 DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. I spare to tell you how by strange disaster I spoil'd a Brigadier and Quarter Master, And made High SheriflP, mid the general laugh, A pretty boy who pleas'd my better half, Exceptions, merely, as had prov'd th' event, But I, too soon eschew'd experiment. I only wish I'd tried my K. C. B. * Before I left the land as C.-in-C. For who the besom sways the Staff can wield, And he who sweeps the floor can surely sweep the field. ^ed. — You're right for once. But were you quite a fool, Or urg'd by some mad demon of misrule, T' exempt the sipahi ranks from cat-o'-nine, And cut the reins of martial discipline ? Since then, a yearly mutiny we see. Foretold, foreseen of each dull dolt but thee, And troops, that honor whom they fear alone, I That fear remov'd. Praetorian Bands are grown ; March only to the posts which please them well, And find it golden glory to rebel. * The Knight Companion of the Broom is an order we believe peculiar to India. + Other causes have co-operated. The almost total annihilation of the power and patronage of commandiug Officers in their corps, and of Captaius in their troops and companies. Thia was Qrst published in 1847. DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. 11 Where is your patch, this ugly breach to clout ? Bill. — My worthy Ned, that's your, not my look-out, Many have call'd, xvill call me knave and tool ; But none e'er deem'd me, honestly, a fool. Gaze round the land, this island of the main, Where be its males ? Starv'd, exil'd, prison'd, slain ; With them expir'd our ancient hardihood ; John Bull hath vapors, faints at sight of blood, Sips scalding tea, John barley-corn renounces. Deals puling sentiment, by pounds and ounces. Where his broad foot, like Hercules of old. Shook the deep strata round earth's nucleus roll'd ; Who glide and trip, a fragile, fairy band ? The vestal choir, sole guardians of our land. These be the nation — number, voice and charms Are theirs, and all succumb to Aiuazonian arms. They, soft of heart and innocent of guile, Slay with a fi'owu or vanquish with a smile. No squalling brat the birch hath taught them bend ; Their lore was grafted at the upper end ; The very thought of flogging gives them twitches, ' Tis so improper to drag down men's — stitches ; Great hairy knaves, they vow, should love, not fear you, And when I burn'd the cat, they dubb'd me hero. 12 DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. And so my course I finished with eclat, The risk not mine, the very proof afar, The hiss, the sneer, were lost amid the splutter Of shouting mouths, chock-full of bread and butter ; My statue rose o'er green Calcutta grass, There grin my virtues, all summ'd up in — brass ; There crows and kites their Arch-Apostle see. Fleece all the World but blessings shower on me. Enter Ghost of Wellesley in robe de chamhre, tablets and pencil in hand. Ghost loquitur. Three stanzas ! by the pokers ! fruitful muse ! But tell me, now, what word chimes best with shoes ; An even toss between the Jews and Blues, Six ! — seven ! — eight ! — Yes ! by Pluto, it is nine, And I can't find a nearer word than " rhyme." And breakfast stares me in the face — oh, bright ! I'll bolt my toilet, shave and wash at night ! Hah ! gallant Ned ! well met ! — A happy thought, Cans't give us, now, the small-change for " Somnath ?" The rhyme, I mean ; for I've well-plenished grates, And make no inroads on my neighbour's gates ! Ned. — Confound all grates and gates and babbling prate ! DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. 13 Can this be he who rul'd a mighty state, With easeful majesty and will so vast ; Whose name burns on, a beacon of the past. The man whose glance laid bare the mind and heart. Whose genius prompt combin'd each scatter'd part ? Who, e'en in embryo read the hero's fame, And, whom he breath'd on, kindled into flame. That mind so masterly, his brother's might Hath less o'er-shadow'd than fiU'd up with light. Is this indeed the mighty ? — fallen how far ! The burnt out cinder of a fiery star. Which fumes in grub-street smoke, and doggrel jeers, And sells for ding-dong rhymes, the music of the spheres. Wellesley. — Thou'rt vicious, Ned ! and did'st thou then admire The once-bright comet and his track of fire ? Methought 'twas out of memory, long ago. Because it brought man weal, instead of woe ; For fear, not love, the human spirit sways, And plagues have annals, bai'r'd to sunny rays. How few in after-days will dwell upon My Arthur's praise, or stainless Washington ; Whilst earth's dire pest, Napoleon, ne'er shall want, T' adore or praise him, slave or sycophant. 14 DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. But how, Ned, hast thou squander'd such a hest, To paths, where thou hadst rivall'd e'en the best ? O ! rash and headstrong ! genius masters' pride, With nature wox'ks, not struggles 'gainst the tide. That baton, past from thy strong hand away, No Monarch owns the like, how great soe'er his sway. An Empire vast, a potence scarce controll'd, An army matchless, sinew'd well with gold, Space for a genius, towering as thine own, To deal forth blessings, gather in renown. Think not, I'll herd with little minds, to vex Thy spirit, now, when varying moods perplex ; Yet I, thy senior, thine admirer, may, VYithout oflending, say an old man's say. Thy mind, for mastery made, flash'd keen and bright. Thro' Indian skies, 'mid gloom of blackest night. Too early call'd to act, ere thou hadst scann'd The system vast committed to thy hand ; Thy bolts flew right and left, to mar or mend, And now a monster slew, and 7iow, a friend. Sagacious, vigorous, brilliant ; with a mind Eularg'd, a heart beneficent and kind, DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. 15 How didst thou eacli tlirice-temper'd weapon tlirow Aside, and make each generous heart thy foe. There stood beside thee, when thou took'st the helm, Men old in council, sages of the realm ; Chiefs of a corps, accomplished, liberal, wise. The Empire's guardians and the ruler's eyes, All these, ungracious speech or careless slight, Drove from thy side, or made thy foes outright. See, o'er the bier of him, who fell so young,* Victim of dastard deed and slanderous tongue, And thy fell haste, stern justice threats from far, And points at England's shame in England's Star. Where is the youth, at whose heroic call, Rush'd the wild tribes to man thef Macedonian wall, Thro' ten long months of famine, toil and blood ! He shar'd their woes, sustain'd their hearts with food. Breasted the breach, by Persian firebolts rent. And hurl'd the stormers from the battlement. Where is our hero ? Where Athena's doom Consign'd her bravest — exil'd — in the tomb ! * Hammersley. See the Blue Book, 1841. t Herat was fortified, says tradition, by one of Alexander's General", left Viceroy of the Kiugdom. 16 DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. His manly heart from Cheen's unmanly war, Turn'd in disgust to memory's clouded star : He sicken'd o'er a task, wliich cliarm'd our fell-ones,- To slice fat Chinamen, like water-melons, Catch flying pigtails streaming on the wind, . „ And garters win, for bra wn- shields progg'd behind ; The sense of service slighted, worth belied, >y Pierc'd his bold heart ; he languished, sicken'd, died. The man whose fame thro' every clime had flown, Ere thou wert ris'n, thy heedless hand cut down. Was he a weed ? Oh ! could our Empire boast Such forest worthies to o'ershade her coast. For coast defences we no more should croak, But, trust as whilom, to the heart of oak. Pass we McGregor and thy harsh award. To him of stainless fame and spotless sword ; Because aghast each lesser echo died. In that deep groan indignant shame supplied, . O'er Outram's fate — Whose name our clarion tone. Is honor's breath and passport to renown. That was the bolt, thy vigorous hand requir'd, The heart all-daring, name that all inspir'd, The eye whose steady glow our soul inflam'd, The boiling ardor, genius never tam'd ; DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. 17 ' Twas certain fame, bold Outram's stride to span, And doubt took fligbt, when Outram took tlie van. And when for service in an Eastern land, The old Horse Guards sent forth her chosen hand, A hopeful youth, refresh'd for toil and quarrel By thirty years' sound sleep beneath his laurel, Rubbing his eyes grim, bearded forms among Whose manners strange, whose speech an unknown tongue. And when the wide-awake Afghan let fly And smash'd chief, army, in one vast cock-shy : And British honor bleeding, trampled lay. And thou, unequal to that stormy day, Issued the mandate base to leave it so : Who dar'd, in honor's cause, make thee his foe ? In the dire gap, undaunted, take his post And save the Realm thou'd'st given o'er, as lost ? 'Twas he, whom shame ne'er ventur'd to approach, The Knight sans peicr, the Statesman sans reproche ; The man, whose virtues chang'd, wherever shown The base to pure, like fam'd alchemic stone : Or as some crystal, dropp'd amid the flood, Where shapeless elements chaotic brood, D 18 DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. Converts, by sympathy's* resistless might, Th' unshap'd, to forms of symmetry and light ; So 'mid the robber tribes his spirit fell O'eraw'd, inspir'd them, with resistless spell, Till from the flood of murders, rapines, woes, Round one bright type a host of virtues rose. These all were men, whom had'st thou haply known, Thou'dst lov'd and honor "d, made, heart, hand, thine own, And guarded each as consecrated gem, Starring thy rich, vice-regal diadem ! Hast ne'er divin'd what made my rule renown'd ! ' Twas that I purchas'd power, wherever found ? Whether in beardless youth, or hoary age, Whether in sparkling life, or speculation sage. No power could hide from mine all-watchful eye, No ray of wit, unheeded pass'd me by, Tried or untried, disus'd or choak'd with rust, I traced each weapon's water through its dust. * This power is well known to chemists. When a solution of any crystalline substance has attained a certain degree of density, a crystal of that substance dropt into the liquid causes the sudden crystallization of the whole mass. DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. 19 Ground, burnisli'd, rang'd them by tlieir several worth, And on occasion drew my blue keen Levin forth. Ned. — Aye ! In those days dwelt giants in the land ! WeUesleij. — Their sons remain, as great of heart and hand, Who, 'neath young Malcolm's showy mien could ken, The Captain's sway, th' historian's graceful pen ? An Adam's, Metcalfe's, Bayley's promise know, And all the worth of thy great heart Monro. And thou, the greatest in thy stilly power, First of thine age, of thy pure race the flower, The Statesman, sage, the Ruler, lov'd and fear'd, Companion brilliant, citizen rever'd, Truth's own historian, classic, chaste, severe, And less in word than life, Philosopher : All differing creeds, all factions meet as one, To honor thee, Mount- Stuart Elphinstone ! All passion calms as we behold thee stand. Like Grecian temple in some barbarous land, Pentelic marble, wrought by Phidias' hand ; Sublime, severe, yet finish'd and ornate, And not to pride, but virtue consecrate. Who in our youthful scholar skill'd to find, The vigorous embryo of that Grecian mind ? 3fine eye discern'd it ? Gaze thou also round, The gems are plenteous ; need but to be found, l's skies, ^ ' . [ -defying eyes, J 20 DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED-. Here Wroughton burns his fiery genius out, In mending angles, fools have left in doubt, Or more ignoble, more mechanic toil, Repairing instruments for dolts to spoil. There, * like Lot's wife, with salt be crystall'd o'er. Till, not a plume can stretch, a pinion soar, I mark a falcon of the strongest winj;, A bird to grace the gauntlet of a King. Parnassian bred and train'd in Mantua's skies. Neglected, lost, our captive Falcon lies. And droops in rage and shame, his sun-c There at the Board's dull desk of drudgery, see, A mind had pi'ov'd a mine of wealth to thee. Cool, clear, sagacious, vigorous, with store Of facts and practice, sound, historic lore, A man the Council Chamber f orm'd to grace, And in the Senate hold no second place. These be a few of many that abound, A host resistless, when they once are found. * Since the first publication of this, death has deprived us of two of our most accomplished minds. The Translation of the Arabian Nights, so far as carried on by Henry Torrens, is one of the works of the age ; wholly unrivalled by any thing of the same kind ever attempted. The author was disheartened by the neglect it experienced, and never completed it. The author of the Historians of India was actually employed when the lines where written, and there was no plea for refer- ring to him. In his case our loss is not confined to the world of letters, for none ever gave greater promise of high capacity as a statesman. Few have ever been more honored and loved by those servhig under him. DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. 21 But some are lost from my age -stricken sight, And some, I love too well, to praise aright ; A few, thine eye, chance guided, hath divin'd, Our Northern circle rules no common mind, And Heaven, in wroth to Scind and India gave, The War-king Napier, idol of the brave. Had'st thou been cast, with more of earth's alloy, My briefer speech had cost thee less annoy ; But spite of error, passion, pride, I find In thy sane acts the stamp of power and mind. Yet, not a Cy clop's arm, a Vulcan's art, Can the tough steel, with leaden wedge dispart, Nor, can the Engine's fiery spirit move, If one least wheel, inapt or faithless prove. Mindful of this, the sldlful Ruler stands. And wields, not two, but twice an hundred hands, He knows to choose, refuse, adapt, combine, And thousand, thousand differing wills work out his vast design. Then, cheer thee Ned ! the mighty fall to rise, Strong in experience, fitter for the skies. Thy part is yet to play when Tempests lour, And men throng trembling round the voice of power, For haste and pride, which thy past rule profane, Thoul't shake like Night-dews from the lion's mane. 22 DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. Bill. — Hall ! lioh ! No Lion ! but a Samson's mate, Not to be trusted with the Parish gate, I'll give old Cerberus' vigilance a wipe. Sir, For if he bone Dis' gates, toe pay the piper. Ghost of ?F.— What dirty dog is this ? Bill. — Oh don't you see ? Your friend and great admirer, William B. Hight " dirty Bill," for making somewhat free, With those possessive " Urns," the " me and te." Ghost of IV. — Avoid my sight ! My friend, indeed, I trust, My pride will ne'er so stoop to lick the dust, I never saw thy face. Bill. — That well may be, Yet I've been long, a sort of friend to thee ; For sauntering, pensive, down the Ilooghlee strand, I saw one morn, your toe-print in the sand, And straight began on great designs to dream, Wife curfew 'd Suttees, and /set up steam. Ghost of W. — A vaunt ! Aroint ye I — Ned ; was that the Cock ? I feel quite blue, should like a glass of Hock, We Ghosts don't stomach much the morning air. For, sooth to say, old Dis gives scanty fare ; A cup of Nectar, in a pail of dew, His neatest tipple ; infamous sky blue I DIALOGUES OF THE DEPARTED. 23 Yet I've a snuggish berth : my faults confest, They say I strove to do, and did my best. An honest peasant is my chum and brother ; / bless'd my country, and lie bless'd his mother, Mine was the skill man's latent powers to find, He knew a turnip's flavor by its rind. The troubled atmosphere of strife /guag'd, He frosts and blights infallibly presag'd : / planted laws, uprooted feuds and strife. He grubb'd up weeds and set the Staff of life ; / sent my brother Europe to redeem. His dog kill'd cats and sav'd the Parish cream. So equal were our scales when weighed together, The beam had turn'd on casting in a feather. Now, that our diet, dress and speech agree. We're almost similar, as pea to pea. He beats me dumb in politics and law, But in top dressing we're an even draw. He in tithes, turnpikes, leaves me not a leg. But my Spenserians bring him down a peg ; So, Ned, you see. State, Pomp, decay with Time^ But virtue lives, and lives our ding dong rhyme." 24 THE CAUCASIAN. We had been reading Conings by, tlie author of which so trium- phantly proves that all virtue and all talent are confined to the Jewish Race, who we all know, are the elite of Caucasus, and we were musing over this interesting fact, as we reclined in our easy chair, at the window of our residence in Harley-street, in the early twilight of evening ; when our ears were regaled with that sublime Caucasian murmur, '* Old clothes, claes, does ;" which, rushing from the hollow fauces and through the bushy beard of the utterer, had mightily the effect of a whirlwind, passing over the pine-shaded cavern of some crag of the Caucasus. As the sound neared our window, it lingered in its sublimity, until we heard the gate of our area open, and the footsteps of the Caucasian descend. The window being ajar, we nlistinctly heard all that passed below, and were much struck at the kindredness of views (begotten by kindred in genius,) between the old clothes man and our favorite author ; the former being limited for audience, to the not very enlightened ears of our house-maid Molly. The spoon referred to was recovered by the activity of the Police just as the crest was following bowl and shank in the Cau- casian dribble. We hope the Public will take timely warning : THE CAUCASIAN. 25 for we can assure them, that the size of a spoon is no security against the spout of a Caucasian. Old clothes, old clothes, bring out your best, Hold not the nose, nor hawk at us : An ancient race loves ancient vest, The purest blood of Caucasus. Old bottles, too, my pretty maid. If stol'n, we think 'em none the wuss ; 'Twas Tubal Cain, who taught the Trade, He brought the vile* from Caucasus. And think, fair Moll, how high your lot, To truckle rag and cork with us ; With tooth-brush stump or gallipot. To sway the pride of Caucasus. For who can furbish orange skin. The drooping cherry's glow resuss ; Or sweat plethoricf guineas thin. Who, like the race from Caucasus. • Vile in the Caucasian dialect, called by Barbarians vial or phial. + Guineas nre sweated by being shaken together in a leathern bag. The gold dust resultiug is carefully collected ; this art is peculiar to the Caucasian. E 26 THE CAUCASIAN. Or who the rusty black or blue, The tarnish'd lace or greasy plush. Receiving old, can barter new ? The purest blood from Caucasus. The cent per cents our nod controls, Thief, spend-thrift, jockey, worship us ; And meum, tuum change their poles, As wags the beard from Caucasus. Quack, fiddler, usurer, pimp, buffoon. Their choicest heroes draw from us ; And not a gelding* brays in tune, If foal'd without the Caucasus. Does conscience raise some ugly doubt^ Your ruler finds cat's paw in us ; Kings cannot clean their subjects out Without a Jew from Caucasus. Dost ask sweet Moll, how this can be ? I'll tell thee now, for one kind buss ; As dog was made to banquet flea, So man, for things from Caucasus. * Brabam was the mutilated edition of Abiuham, THE CAUCASIAN. . 27 Their mongrel blood our beaks will drain, Their purses fill they all for us : The barbarous Briton strives in vain 'Gainst purest blood from Caucasus. 'Tis true the Arab* serves the Turk, The Moor, the Hun, the Perse, the Russ : The Jew does all your dirty work With his pure blood from Caucasus. The only harp ye skill to touch, Derives its name and frame from us : Ben Nevis makes your mountains crouch, And Ben's a Jew from Caucasus. To bait the noble Lion King, To yelp and snarl, and bark and fuss, His foot-prints dig for hidden thing :f No cur like him from Caucasus. * I need not say that the Arab, Moor and Persian arc Caucasian Races. The Turk, Huu and Russ MongoUan. f See the speech of Benjamin on occasion of Sir Robert Peel having dined with some of the opposite party. 28 THE CAUCASIAN. Your clumsy bull, must close in strife, And of one pat is all the wuss : Thy yelp incessant dings out life, Heroic cur of Caucasus. Thus Genius, might, the true sublime, Who plucks a Realm or drives a buss : Sage, hero, poet, statesman, mime Are old clothes men from Caucasus. So, having made all clear as noon, Let's wind up with a cozy buss ; I've known a housemaid bone a spoon, I knows a spout in Caucasus. Here the discourse ended in certain not very describable sounds, hovering between the smacking of a carter's whip and the chinking of halfpence, interrupted now and then by a half stifled giggle : and not having much confidence in Molly's discretion, we cleared our throat pretty distinctly. The sounds ceased. The area gate opened and closed. The Caucasian murmur does, does, does, was renewed and gradually lost in distance. Next morning, sure enough, a silver spoon was missing ; but having a clue to its Caucasian destiny, we placed Molly in the hands of an intelligent policeman, and by good fortune the spout THE CAUCASIAN. 29 was arrested just as the crest and cypher on the spoon were fol- lowing bowl and shank in their dissolution. The Caucasian proprietor of the spout, on being taken into custody, proved to be of the Tribe of Benjamin, and of the family of Israel. We under- stand that he is author of the Psychological Antiquities of Mon- mouth-street — so versatile is the genius of these Caucasians. It is remarkable that, among the numerous and brilliant qualities of Caucasians, we find no mention by either author of honesty. Query. Did they forget to bring it with them from Caucasus ? so LAMENT OF THE COLOSSUS. I'm the horror of all, who survey, From the Queen to the vender of soot ; Who behold in mid air with dismay, A huge nose and a Wellington boot. -'O'^ lHJO>^ Ml.Vt. C* .. .^i..iliQ* O ! Magnitude, where are thy charms ? O ! Brother of Rhodes, for thy face ! How did'st thou get over thy qualms, At the laughter and rampant grimace ? Mr. Punch, at my woes thou wilt melt. We're related as ev'ry one knows. Who remembers what punches I've dealt, Or considers our family nose. And if I settled France with my arms. Thou hast drubb'd her thrice o'er with thy wit ; King and Nation, convuls'd with alarms, Speak in whispers of what thou hast writ. 31 LAMENT OF THE COLOSSUS. And they've wall'd* Paris up in dismay, And they faint if a northern breeze blows, Or a bruit from the pas de Calais Of the loom of your Majesty's nose. Didst thou ever grow out of thy skin ? Hadst ever a dropsy of brass ? Wert ever haul'd up by the chin, Jeer'd and hooted by crowds as they pass ? Hast thou ever, fast nail'd by the leg. In derision's foul pillory sat, Till athirst for a ripe, rotten egg, In love with an honest, dead cat. Whilst cows at your view drop their calves, Your avatar men, trembling, descry, Since the earthquake last issued her cards, No bug-bear so monstrous as I. ! Glumdalclutch, gentlest of maids. Haste, haste thee to succor thy knight, Let us fly from these pigmy Arcades, To Brobdingnag's halls of delight. • Punch was banished from France by the King who fortified Paris, perhaps to keep out this formidable intruder. 32 LAMENT OF THE COLOSSUS. For Committees are sitting by tens, The fate of your love to despatch, All clucking, like fifty brood hens, Who the eggs of the Cockatrice hatch. I hear them, I hear them full well, Conning votes over scalding green tea And Coventry, Jericho, H — 11, Are their mildest of missions for me. Archdukes and archduchesses all, Archprelates, Archdeacons, archdrakes. Do your arches ne'er totter and fall ? Have ye never your little earthquakes. Were ye foal'd at the crown of the arch, Or hoisted aloft in a tow, Or did chitterlings unction and starch Uplift you, no inortal knows how ? Good luck to your keystones and piers. To see, coronet, princedom and crown, I would give you all mine, with mine ears. If ye'd show me but how to get down. LAMENT OF THE COLOSSUS. 3^ Like the Lord of Otranto I'm grown Too big for the place of my birth ; 'Tis in vain they would seek me a throne, For there's not one safe settle on earth. St. Paul's will have nothing to say To a monster so hugely o'ergrown, The Abbey replies in dismay, " I've a big enough nave of my own." Th' Exchange would exchange* what she's got For the ugliest Saint of the choir ; But observes that the fry pan, tho' hot, Is a little less hot than the fire. Imagine I stand grinning there,\ Like a bad shilling nail'd to a till. To bid jobbers and brokers beware, War's an uglier counterfeit still. The ladies' flash man in the Park, Declares me an over drest prig, Would he give you a fig for my talk ? Not he — nor the leaf oi a fig.I * Viz., another statue of the Iron Duke. f At the Exchange. + The history of this nalvcd Statue may be almost forgotten. It was built by a subscription of Ladies, who provided no more than a fig leaf, toward the wardrobe of their child. F 34 LAMENT OF THE COLOSSUS. King Charles, were liis throat right and tight, Might admit tetes-a-tetes, it is said, But since canonised, fancies I might For a cannon ball fancy his head. And as for the Prince's big bomb, He'd enough of your bullies at Cadiz, He intends still to beat his own drum, And reserve all his bows for the ladies. Old Smithfield prize-oxen has known Prize calves, sheep and pigs by the score ; None e'er ventur'd, he vows, with a groan, To propose a prize-butcher, before. The Pyramid thanks me. She knows Pm professor of slashes and wops ; The honor's immense, but she vows. She's had rather a surfeit of Cheops. Oh ! were I maggot to creep Into some little filbert so snug. Or dormouse in slipper asleep. Oh ! were I a bug in a rug. Then the giggle of church-going Belle, The jibe and the jest would repose. Nor Sally, nor Fanny, nor Nell Came to hang her lampoons on my nose. LAMENT OF THE COLOSSUS. 35 This world of Tom Thumbs is aghast : There's but one realm a hero may drop in, I'm a wapper, from first, Sir, to last : Oh ! give me the ticket for Wapping. 36 THE LEGEND OF RANIWAR. INTRODUCTION. The following is little more than a versification of a fiivorite Legend of Huzara. On first entering that beautiful valley, walled on three sides by rugged mountains, and at the time terrible to my Seikh followers for tlie defeats their bravest had sustained from the Mountaineers ; I was struck with an isolated summit, which, through the mists, at the time obscuring the landscape, appeared of gigantic dimen- sions. As I became familiar with the countiy, this impression was efiiiced by higher summits, and by the view of this peak it- self in the clear azure of the heaven. Still, its isolated position, its peaked figure, the tremendous precipices of 5 or 600 feet which scarp its summit northward ; its utter destitution of inhabitants, and the romantic legend attaching to it, have caused it to retain a peculiar interest in ray imagination. Mount Serrh forms, so to speak, the southern boundary pillar of the valley of Huzara. It is a mass of limestone sloping south- ward in rugged spurs, but precipitous to the north. Not only the blue mountain limestone, but many beautiful specimens of cherry limestone, arc found in its mass ; which starts up from the THE LEGEND OF RANBVAR. 37 plain, like a giant, to the height of 1,500 feet, covered with a belt of thorny jungle ; the acacia robusta. The summit is a succession of flakes of bare limestone, weather worn, having shrubs in the natural clefts and fissures. A more wild, more de- solate eyrie could scarcely be imagined. There is not a drop of water upon the hill, nor even at its base. The very river Hur- roh, on approaching it, dries up. Yet, upon this summit, it is said, a young and loving pair dwelt in days of yore. He, a Kaja of the Hunse Tribe, and she, the Rani, his bride. Some say that he chose this retreat because it was inaccessible to the rakuss, a gigantic monster in human form, who having no knee joints, could not climb a mountain. But according to common belief, Pir- than, a much steeper rock, was the chosen haunt of this monster. Tradition is silent regarding the origin and previous history of the Raja ; but he lived a predatory life. The Hunse Tribe may possibly be the Huns of history. There are points of approximation. They were strangers in the Punjaub about 1,800 years ago. Their habits were predatory. A few are still found near this mountain. They are Hindoos, and are by Hin- doos said to be descendants of Rajpootres by Goqjjur mothers. The Goojjurs of the mountaius of Huzara, again, have the names of Rajpootre families. They seem to be the oldest Tribe in that country, and live a pastoral life amongst the wildest mountains, cultivating, however, wherever a plough can be turned upon the 88 THE LEGEND OF RANIWAR. mountain. They are probably the descendants of some old Shepherd race. They appear to me to be, on one side at least, the progenitors of the Rajpootre tribes. Those living in the higher mountains are remarkably fine, athletic and brave men, honest and inoffensive in their manners. They make good a proverb of Huzara, that a milk diet nourishes the bones. On the north-eastern spur of Mount Serrh, are the ruins of a village said to have been peopled by the Chowwindi tribe. Serrh appears to be a corruption of the Sanscrit word Shurr, a precipice. The tradition seems to have been orally transmitted as a ballad. But I have not been able to recover more* than two lines of it. At the north-western root of this mountain, is the village of Eaniwar ; taking its name from the death of the Rani referred to in the tradition. It was in the lands of this village that she fell. * They are these : — Ooneha Serrh boolunda bc-nomaja jah Troont, trooiit, rnooiya Raniya Huns Rae Chootar. 39 THE LEGEND OF RANIWAR. " oil ! go not forth to seek the fight, my Prince, my warrior stay, Fell phantoms haunt my swimming sight, my sinking heart dismay. What be the wealth, the pomp,the power, that tempt thee forth to roam? Time was, thou deemd'st thy Lylie's bower fairer than Kaisar's home, Wert thou as blest in thy poor bride, as I am blest in thee, Thoud'st pray t' arrest each fickle tide of chance and destiny : Thoud'st bid the planets stay their flight, the swift -wing'd sun delay, Lest this young vision of delight, their whisper'd songs affray. " What monarch's throne like ours is pil'd ? The blue sky girds us round. Mass pil'd on mass, in pomp most wild, beetles the cliff profound. See where the eagle, lord supreme of Heav'n, to mortals known, Floats as in some blue ocean stream, a hundred fathom down, Wheeling amid the crystal tide his shadow flecks Huttarr, Now falls in swift, eccentric glide o'er rock-girt Eaniwar : Our vassal he, our realm outspread, all subject to thy brow. Calls not for one sad care or dread. Earth's grov'ling Tyrants know. Thou'st taught my step the rock-deer's speed ; the path I dance in glee, The rock-deer self would shun to tread, untrain'd of love and thee. 40 THE LEGEND OF RANRVAR. One only care sits fell and drear, o'er ray else lightsome breast ; Oil ! would'st tliou quit this life of fear, thy bride were fully blest. What lack we of the wealth, thy hand, still wrings in mortal strife, From all who wield the battle brand, at peril of thy life ? Ah Ishould'stthou fall bysomedire blow, by Treachery's artful wile, What were thy poor, wreck'd Lylie's woe, who lives but in thy smile ; And ; ah, my love, hast never fear'd, that one, of thee cut down. Might be, like thee, belov'd, rever'd, of some poor mourner lone ? Nay, that the wealth, our cup of bliss needs not to swell its flow, The orphan babe may sorely miss, the widow lone forego ?" So spake the Hunse King's fairy bride, as thron'd in savage state On Serrh's high mountainpeakof pride, with her young lord, she sate, Yet as she spoke, with woman's wile, she made each word a snare. With fond glance deck'd and sunny smile, t' enthrall him unaware. The Raja to that fond appeal caressing answer 'd gay, ** And would my young, sweet traitress steal the Warrior's palm away ? What were life's round of grov'ling care, extinct our gloi-y's fire. With noble souls to do and dare, in victory's arms expire ? No peasant mourns his rifled hoard, no traveller grey or lone 'Ere curst Ursulla's reckless sword, UrsuUa's heart of stone. But, when the falcon, plum'd for fight, sails forth the skies to swim, Who blames that bird of stronger flight, out-soars and checks at him? How should I merit smile so bright, that pure hearts sovereign throne If fame could point a braver knight than calls that wealth his own ? THE LEGEND OF RANI WAR. 41 *' See where the silvery-footed Dojir, the blithe, the mountain-bora Clasps with her bright waves' fresh'ning store Maun's terrac'd mound forlorn : There her glad waters gushing wide o'er Abisara flow, 'Mid waving crops of emerald glide, 'mid sunny pastures flow. Thron'd in Iskunder's castled walls, of *Yavan's race renown'd, Vononesf rules those stately halls with pomp and plenty crown'd. This day with falcon, steed and hound Teer's hollow cliffs shall ring. He wots not of the game shall bound to meet the questing king : But he who hawks the Dove may meet the Eagle stooping down Or coursing hare with greyhound fleet, confront the lion's frown. " Here, safely in thy rock-delv'd bower, too rude, alas for thee, Eest thou beyond the Rakuss' power, and long as floating free My pennon waves, let hope's bright glow thy gentle spirit cheer : But, if, with banner droop'd in woe my scatter'd band appeal', Then know, thy lover's hand no more this fairy hand shall press, His lip love's honied accent pour nor shower the fond caress. But fear not loveliest, gentlest, best, the heart thy beauty warms Is in etherial temper drest, to foil a world in arms." He clasp'd her fondly to his heart ; there like the vine she grew, Seem'd it, the storm, those stems would part must both in ruin strew. * Yavan is believed to be the name by Avhich the Baktro and ludo Greeks were known in Hindi Annals. t Vonones is one of the names of the Indo Greek Dynasty of Kings, but 1 have no authority for proving him a contemporary of these lovers. End of Ca:nto 1st. G 42 THE LEGEND OF RANIWAP. Canto 2nd. Niglit heaves amain her sable tide, the golden floods of day BehindGundgurh's dark ridge subside,rich crimson strews their way, Subsiding, aye, in soft decline, beneath th' incumbent might Of heav'ns delicious, sea-like line of molten crysolite ; Where in her bark eve's Fairy Queen, with one, her chosen star, Floats t' o'ertake the golden sheen, bliss-wafted, free and far. Who doth not long with them to float, down that all-glorious tide. To realms of bliss in worlds remote, where such bright beings glide. See from Hurroh's pure, rippling rill, the grey her'n wends his way, To where beneath Serrh's giant hill nod groves of olive grey ; The white stork wings her fairy flight, the eagle seeks his cairn, The gulls, in flakes of snowy white, back to their cliffs return. Streaming from distant brake and hill back to their welcome home In endless files succeeding still, the herds, deep-lowing come. Behind their stately patriarch clann'd in phalanx close and deep Wends slow the shaggy satyr band, the young kids round them leap. THE LEGEND OF RANIWAR. 43 Or, where from mountain browse they flock, recall'd by shrillest cry, Eeverb'd from cavern, cliff and rock, like winged things they fly. The children of the golden sun flee his stern rival's wrath, And night, dire queen, her reign begun, calls all her monsters forth Now crouch the mountainSjfetter bound in her strong stygian chain, Strownin their sidlen gloom around, they whelm th' affrighted plain. Old Bhaingra bows his haughty crest, Aornos, weird and vast. Who fosters nations at his breast, cowers in the midnight blast, O'er Aba Sind's strong flood he reigns, and worlds of forest pours To vales remote, wind-ravag'd plains, and where Sinde's torrent roai's. Crush'd is Tunnowl's gigantic mass on dizzy cliffs up-hung, And crouch'd to let night's chariot pass tri-crested Siri Bhung. Pirthan the last to yield hath bow'd, gloom-whelm'dthe rocks of Wah, And nearest of the giant crowd kneels star-watch'd Junnoo Mah. But what the star so lone and bright, Seri'h's mighty summit flres, Whose lovelit beam out-watches night, the sleepless Pole out-tires ? *Tis Lylie, pale and beauteous Queen ; her ever- restless eye Hath flash'd o'er all the shifting scene, as day's slow car rolled by ; Ilath seen Heav'n's purple, crimson fleck'd, the orient portals wide Burst, by the weight portentous wreck'd of Night's o'erwhelraing tide — And now, with eye which every ray of that deep blackness fires. And heart, that each Night monster's bay with hectic hope inspires, 44 THE LEGEND OF RAN I WAR. She, anxious, holds her vigil lone on Serrh's gigantic spire. Cold is her heart as marble stone, her brow throbs fever's fire. " Was that a shout ? My heart be still, thy tumult wild restrain, Those floods, that hoarsely roaring fill with deluge black my brain, Again, more deep. But no ! his voice, like that to shuddering foe, Hath tones which, aye, my heart rejoice, light up ray spirit's glow, 'Tis the dread tiger's roar ; his prey, perchance, the lov'd, the lone, Young glory of a heart once gay, now wither'd as mine own. — A spark, a torch — Oh ! see, it moves, it flits thro' seas of gloom, Thrice blessed ray ! he lives, he loves, unscath'dhehies him home — 'Tis brighter, nearer, — flash by flash its pale green rays dart forth, Thro'greenwood brakes thehorsemen dashjlove goads,aslately, wrath— For like Ursulla who may ride ? the steed he strides aye springs, Inspir'd of him with tameless pride, upborne on falcon wings — vSo bounds he, joyful to the fight, and so, the battle o'er. Darts, like a golden ray of light, to bless his bride once more." It nearer drew, that pale, green spark, flash'd, faded, died away, Set her fond hopes in gloom most dark, 'twas but the firefly's ray. How endless seem'd that night of woe, but night itself wore by, Pal'd the dim stars Aurora's glow, the golden sun rose high. He rose to greet an aching brow, a heart forlorn to blight, O ! golden sun, what ray hast thou for orbs bereav'd of sight ? The breeze of morn from sleep awoke on old Moachpoora's breast With rustling wing the trancement broke of Nature's hallowed rest, THE LEGEND OF RANIWAR. 45 And with him rose from brake and spray, from copse and bloom- ing thorn, The minstrel bird of blithesome lay, young prophet of the morn. The mist that like a veil was worn, upcurl'd and roll'd away, Blushing as bride on nuptial morn, th' awaken'd valley lay, Eich gemm'd with dews, night's freshening dower, all bright with bashful grace. Tears scarcely quell'd by love's blest power and smiles that tremors chase. Meanwhile Teer's cliffs and wilds had rung to peals of heady fight ; Vonones brave, the gay, the young, fell 'neath Ursulla's might. And back he spurs his courser fleet, full flush'd with glory's pride ; His joy, his triumph incomplete till shar'd with his sweet bride. 'Twas whilst the rocks and wilds around, to pealing echoes rang Of steel arm'd hoofs that bound on bound o'er brake and dingle sprang, That, reining back his war-steed bold, the chief in sportive vein. Bade droop his banner's silken fold, as for their leader slain. *' So shall her joy, who waits me there, from this her transient woe, Gush forth in fount more bright and fair, in tide more blissful flow." Young Lylie, from her watch-tower lone far 'mid the dewy sky, Mark'd the bright gleam of arms glide on with rapture kindling eye. Fluttered her heart, her panting breath, her trembling limbs betray Life's influx strong that threatens death, hope's flush most like dismay. 46 THE LEGEND OF EANIWAR. But when she view'd the banner fold, droop'd heavily in woe, That preconcerted sign which told her young heart's Lord laid low ; With shriek, that spake the heart chords burst, she stretched her snowy arms. One moment, o'er that verge accurst, pois'd light her angel charms, Then plung'd into the gulf profound,like some bright shooting star, — Its heavenward path her spirit found, from the rocks of Raniwar, 47 NOTES TO THE LEGEND OF RANIWAR. See where the silvery-footed Dohr, the blithe, the mountain-born Clasps with her bright waves freshening store Maun's terraced mound forlorn. The little river Dohr, rising in the mountaius of Tuaqjotre, is wholly con- sumed in irrigating the valleys of Rujooia and Huzara. It sweeps under a terrac'd mound, (the last root of a mountain) which has been artificially levelled and scarped by fire-worshippers or by Boodhists, and is called Maunkera, or Manikrae. O'er Abisara flows. Abisara seems to be the old name of Iluzara, not only according to the Greek historians but, probably, also by the Raja Tarangini, which speaks of a district of Cashmere by that name as a retreat of the Monarch from the rigour of winter. Iskundur's castled walls. Iskundur and Sikundur are the Eastern rendering of Alexander. The old capital of Huzara, Sikundurpoor, bears recoini of its Grecian origin in its name. Teer's hollow cliffs. I name this locality according to tradition. Teer is a village at the southern foot of the Tunnawul mountain. See from Hurroh. This river rises in mount Moachpoora, and fertilises the Kanpoor district, being wholly absorbed in irrigation. Old Bhaingra bows his haughty crest. This is a remarkable, isolated peak, about 9,000 feet high, forming North 48 NOTES TO THE LEGEND OF RANIWAR. Western Tunnawul, and comprising the Lilliputian principality of the late celebrated Poynda Khan. » Aornos wild and vast. Aornos was on the western bank of the Indus near its exit from the moun- tains. It was a very considerable and remarkable mountain. See Strabo, Arrian and Curtius. I believe it to be identical with mount Mahabunn — which can turn out 12,000 match-lock-men. Crush'd is Tunnowl's gigantic mass. Tunnowl forms the centre of Huzara — rising to the height of 7,500 feet in the peak Bilhiana— Its formation is very rugged and precipitous. Kneels star- watched Junnoo Mah. This name is variously interpreted.— Some say it should be Junnoo mar, i, e., a spot where the Junnoon or Jins, evil spirits have power to harm— Others make it Junnoo Ma, mother of the Jins— others more commonplace say that it is Junnoo mar or shin-breaker, owing to its being a succession of rugged steps or small precipices. Old Moachpoora's breast. This mountain, about 9,000 feet high, stands on the right bank of the Jelum in the Dhoond country. It is much resorted to by faquirs and jogies from India, who believe that at night spirits descend visibly as flames of fire upon certain roots and plants of alchemical properties.~The Hurroh rises in this mountain— The river Dohr rises in another and higher summit of the same ridge — One of its processes forms the new Sanatariura of Murri. 49 THE PARTING HOUR. When sullen tolls life's parting hour, And I to thee must breathe That farewell word of blighting power, The curse and sting of Death. Then, check thy grief, thy sobs restrain, And let thy gentle voice essay, To soothe me with that halcyon strain, Lov'd of both, when both were gay : Buoyant then the step that bore us. And the World lay bright before us ; Joy and peace smil'd sweetly o'er us. Sorrow, far away. Methinks my soul would lighter wing Her new and venturous flight, Buoy'd on the song, which thou canst sing. To regions of delight ; Where newer strains, but none more dear, Shall bless the Stranger's ravish'd sense, And only thine be wanting there. To perfect Music's eloquence — H 50 THE PARTING HOUR. Breathe, then, breathe each liquid number, Till Death fall peaceful as the slumber, Which pillow'd on thy breast would cumber Each bliss -tranced sense. Thine, thine should be the latest breath That vibrates on mine ear, When call'd from thine embrace by Death, A heavenly choir to hear ; While still in every Angel strain My Seraph's voice I fondly trace And search the glowing choir in vain For her soul-witching grace — For love so twines my heart about thee ; Memory shrines thee so devoutly ; Lonely were my soul without thee, Ev'n in that blest place. And when within its narrow hall The heart, which throbs for thee. Shall silent rest and thou shalt call In vain, fond girl, on me. ^ Then, be nor pomp, nor mourner near, But if thou canst thy sobs restrain, Awake once more, and I shall hear From Heaven that well-remeraber'd strain, THE PARTING HOUR. 51 And, if my wing avail to bear me, Leave those joys awhile to tarry, Hover fondly round my Fairy, Bless thee once again. 52 CHILDHOOD. Season of hopes and joys and fears, Brief ante -past of withering years, Reign of the warm, confiding breast, I tremble, whilst I style thee blest. Small are thy cares, thy woes are light, Thy sorrows short, thy prospects bright, Compar'd with those of after days : Gay is thy spirit's buoyant wing. And round thee smiles perpetual Spring Brief showers and sunny rays. And thou hast kist, with lip of flame. Life's cup of blended flow : Its nectar thrills thy glowing frame. Forgotten every woe : And pants thine inexperienc'd breast With eager thirst to quaff the rest. CHILDHOOD. 53 I styl'd thee blest : — but, art thou so ? — Methinks thine answer still is " No !" Is then each light and trivial care The utmost thy frail strength can bear ? And doth each pang of early woe Suffice to pierce thy bosom through ? And, if thy sorrows trivial be, Sayst thou, they're all in all to thee ? Ah ! what avail thy prospects fair. If, only, truth be wanting there ? Or what thy verdure-bearing spring, If the first wind a storm may bring ? Or how can this thy checquer'd lot. Be blessed, if thou know it not ? Yet, Childhood, all thy woes confest, I must, and all ivill style thee blest. I, too, have sunn'd me in thy smile. Have tried thine every proffer'd pleasure, Have prov'd thy falsehood, known thy guile, Yet love thee fondly, still, as ever. For that same hand which set me free From thy gentle tyranny, Hath crush'd my hopes and laid them low, And ting'd the locks of youth with snow, 54 CHILDHOOD. And I must meet my fellow men, Not as in youth T met their smile, Not loving, trusting, frank as then : But watchful of their guile : Must check the yearning of the heart, Must quell the sparkle of the eye, And trace the gladiator's art, When warm vows flourish high. And if to love, my lot must be ; Then, peace farewell, woe, woe is me ! That cherub which to childish heart, Could still such gushing bliss impart, A demon with our growth is grown, A Fury, rending, one by one, Each nerve that thrill'd to transport wild, The loving, trusting, guileless child. Then slighted love, or, drearer far. The downfall of the worshipp'd star. From its throne of bliss and light, To dimness or the gloom of night, Or, if our love meet fond return, And glory, still our star inurn ; Yet, Death, the tyrant, ever near To blight the bud most fair and dear, } CHILDHOOD. 55 The gloom of his dark wing will throw And thrall in slavery of woe. When yet a child and sorrow prest, A paradise of sacred rest Receiv'd me at a mother's breast. No paradise, the man must know, Save that beyond the Dead Sea's flow ; And grov'ling human minds have striven To cloak in gloom each hue of Heaven : So that the voy'ge to that blest shore Too many as a curse deplore ; And Him who frees Man's struggling breath, Array in terrors, dread, as Death ; And should I paint the scene that lies Before me sketch'd, as paradise, Th' unholy scorn of minds devout, Life's ti'anquil peace would all blot out. But, ah ! that woe, what tongue shall tell, Which dogs stern Manhood's day. When dews of morn, that sweetly fell And sparkled gay o'er mead and dell. Drinks up life's sultry ray ? When, that bright promise, Hope, supplied To youthful heart, hath droop'd and died : 56 CHILDHOOD. The heart, whose gay untarnish'd wing Would still the bright prospective follow, And what to-day had fail'd to bring, Still trusted to the morrow. O'er all stern Truth has cast his blight ; The morrow hatli no sunny light ; But woes, to-day escap'd, shall borroAv Wings to o'ertake our flight, to-morrow. ! Cl)ildhood, thou, whose unchain'd wing Can, blithe as larks, upsoaring, spring. Who hast not watch'd tli' untimely blight Of each fond promise fair to sight, Thou, that Hope's smiling votary art, Thou that hast yet a trusting heart, Thou, whom Death's shadow ne'er dismay 'd, Thou that hast never been betray'd, Thou, for whose use on Earth still rise The flowers and fruits of paradise ; Thou, that hast yet a home of rest, A Country and a Mother's breast, IIow can I doubt to style thee " blest.", Mhow, 1832. .} 57 THE RE- UNION. Deep in the liquid crystal shrin'd On bed of golden sand, Where no unbroken ray may find The biUow-covered strand — Where coral rocks their splinter'd peaks Of countless hues display, And many a sea-plant vainly seeks The light of upper day. Immers'd in haze, so softly clear, Of such a pearly hue. That every object seems to wear A softer semblance, too ; A beauteous form extended lies In deep and tranc'd repose : Clos'd are the curtains of her eyes, Her cheek hath lost its rose ; O'er her transparent ivory neck The clustering ringlets shed Around the lilies of her cheek. And o'er her graceful head THE RE-UNION. A charm like that (so sad and sweet) Bleak, wintry tempests fling, When ruthless, strewing at our feet The fairest flowers of spring. His sacred trust old ocean feels And stills his surge's roar, A sweet and solemn anthem peals O'er the far-resounding shore — The Kraken huge draws nigh to gaze, Expands his hundred eyes. His hundred arms, a wildering maze, Unwary ships surprise. But here, with sudden awe opprest, His terrors lays aside, With drooping eyes and mournful crest Hangs o'er the peerless Bride : And trooping Mermaids cease the song Nor comb the sea-green hair ; But group'd around, a silent throng Stand chill'd and drooping there. See where the Mistress of the Deep Her march majestic bends, O'er floods that roll and waves that leap, Her sceptre calm extends, THE RE-UNION. The gales of Heaven with tempests rife, Her bellying canvass fill, O'er all sea-wanderers arm'd for strife She rules with despot will. With muzzles black, a surly row The bull dogs grim of war, Rang'd tier on tier, threat death and woe And thunderstrike afar. The dancing wave insults her prow And leaps divided back : For many a rood the waters show The ponderous Monster's track : Yet, with the fawn or naiad's step. O'er Edith's grave she treads, Where all the nurselings of the Deep In reverence bend their heads. Proudly the Ocean Queen sweeps on, But in her wake doth float O'er ocean's waste, forlorn and lone, A small, unmasted boat, A frenzied form o'erhangs the prow Down gazing, deep and long ; The wild locks shade his haggard brow Wild words inspire his tongue. 59 60 THE RE-UNION. " My Edith, wilt thou ever lie All cold and silent here ? Nor e'er unclose that radiant eye Thy lover's heart to cheer ? Must the soft magic of that voice For ever cease to charm The object of thy tenderest choice, His troubled soul to calm ? Say, must that soft bewildering smile, With all its dimples sleep, Nor more his bursting grief beguile Who would, but cannot weep. No longer wilt thou roam with me, Amid the flowers of Spring, The fresh-apparell'd woods to see And hear the linnet sing ? And must I wander all alone Where once I roam'd with thee. Where thy sweet presence, loveliest one, Was all the charm to me ? And when sad Autumn stealing nigh Shall strew o'er tree and bower Those tints which made thee muse and sigh In many a happier hour — THE RE-UNION. 61 And when the long, drear winter eve, Once charm'd by love and thee, A thousand, thousand thoughts shall breathe, All withering thoughts to me. Say, must that drear, that silent hall, Ne'er hear thy voice again, And on the echo-banish'd wall Thy lute, untun'd remain ? And who, or what, shall comfort bring As sweeps the night-breeze by. And wakes to life each silent string In dismal melody. Wake, my belov'd, my Edith wake, Thy sleep hath lasted long ; Those slumbers from thine eyelids shake, That spell from thy dear tongue. But, ah ! 'tis vain, 'tis vain to call. For Edith hears no more ! O'er the cold waves mine accents fall. Unheeded in their roar. And can my voice not reach thee. Love, That thou yield'st no reply ? Why sleeps the blush this glance could move, Love lighted at mine eye ?