Various

“ To bless the Hindu mind with British lore,
And truth's and nature's faded lights restore—
If for a day that lofty aim was crost,
You grieved, like Titus, that a day was lost.
Alas! it is not now a few brief hours
That fate withholds—a heavier grief o'erpowers
A nation whom you loved as if your own—
A life that gave the life of life is gone! ”

“ The heart's full homage still is virtue's claim.
And 'tis the good man's ever honoured deed
Which gives an immortality to fame:
Transient and fierce, though dazzling is the flame
That glory lights upon the wastes of war:
Nations unborn shall venerate thy name,
A triumph than the conqueror's mightier far,
Thy memory shall be blessed as is the morning star.
He is the friend of man who breaks the seal
The despot custom sets in deed and thought,
He labours generously for human weal
Who holds the omnipotence of fear as naught ”

“ And Meerum's poignard struck Surajah's throat.
To bolder prospects learning to aspire,
The peaceful merchant caught the soldier's fire;
In native squabbles ventured to intrigue,
Revenged another's wrong, or joined a league;
In self-defence he triumphed o'er his foes,
And courted quarrels to ensure repose.
A nobler policy, a wiser plan,
Ne'er reared a state, nor animated man:
For kings amazed in passing years beheld
The modest factory to an empire swelled,
The power of India's ancient rulers flown. ”

“ Through the wide jungle we'll ride like the devil!
Hark! for'ard a boar! Away we go,
Sit down and ride straight, Tally-ho! Tally-ho!
He's a true-bred one, none of your jinking.
Straight across country, no time for thinking.
The nullah in front yawns deep as hell,
But the boar's gone through—we must go as well.
The ditches and banks are wide and steep,
The earth is rotten, the water deep;
The boldest horseman holds his breath,
But he must cross it to see the death.
Over we go, the game's nearly done.
The field is gaining, the race is won ”

“ Her countenance beaming with beauty divine,
"O'er the hearts of my people establish thy throne;
"In one wreath let the laurel and lotus entwine.
"Once the Star of the East shed its lustre afar,
"And again o'er the earth shall its glories be spread,
"While my sons round thy car, the foremost in war,
"Rise to fame, by such heroes as Wellington led." ”

“ A solitary man;
And a voice came pealing across the sea,
Unheard by all but me;
And the voice said "Up; and be gone my son,
This land is not for thee.
"Why hast thou left thine own sweet country's bowers. ”

“ Be sighs above the grave breathed forth no more;
The gods are deaf when men the past deplore;
But let a friend's true merit best be proved
By imitative zeal in acts he loved.
His memory thus with loftiest lessons rife
May well complete the purpose of his life,
And while our Hindu youth Mind's blessings share
They'll learn to venerate the name of HARE! ”

“ Tom Raw, the Griffin, will be unknown to him; and all that occasional writing, often coarsely realistic, that belongs to an age when the trick of pleasing expression in verse came as easy to the gentlemen of England as the nimble handling of a rapier. He may come across the gentle verse of Reginald Heber, and learn something of the vigour of John Leyden; but he will not make the acquaintance of Henry Meredith Parker, whose delicate humour illumines historical and topical themes. ”

“ The Art of Living in India.
No more shall tragic stories fill our rhymes
Come turn and look at life in softer climes;
In Eastern India's realm pursue the route,
Where passions burn within, and Suns without. ”

“ But that millions perish, each hour that flies,
Is the mystic sign of my sacrifice.
Ye may plead and pray for the millions born;
They come like dew on the morning grass;
Your vows and vigils I hold in scorn.
The soul stays never, the stages pass;
All life is the play of the power that stirs
In the dance of my wanton worshippers. ”

“ Immortal men;—were not their glorious brows
With laurels, powder and pomatum cover'd,
Besides gold laced cock'd hats; with many rows
Of curls that shook not, though above them hover'd
The wings of Victory? whose first rich fruits
Were shared by folks with tie wigs and jack boots.
Men who prepared ambrosial Sangaree,
And double Sangaree or Sangarorum;
Now took a fleet, now sold a pound of tea.
Weighed soap, storm'd forts, held princes in terrorem.
Drank, fought, smoked, lied, went home, and good papas,
Gave diamonds to their little boys for taws. ”

“ In this thine exile"—then I answer made
"Alas! 'twas not my choice."
Much did I marvel what the voice could be,
That thus importuned me;
And I cried out—"Those tones, oh! whose are they
That now I hear—oh! say:
Me-thought at first it was my mother's voice:
That thought has died away;
"And now I know not"—Then the voice replied
"I am thy friend—thy guide—
Thou hast none such throughout this teeming earth ”

“ Where tape accumulates, and men decay.
I mourn the rule the Magistrate of yore,
A fostering despot o'er his people bore;
He reigned supreme within his little State,
His smile shed honour, and his frown was fate.
Prompt with the rifle, niggard of the pen,
By manly deeds he won the hearts of men;
His watchful eye each rival chieftain viewed,
And oftener calmed than curbed the rising feud. ”

“ It would be unreasonable to maintain that, apart from authors of established reputation, there is any great quantity of valuable poetical work in the English literature of this period in India. Those writers who have fallen short of permanent recognition have, let it be admitted at once, deserved their fate. But, even if he miss the laurel wreath, an author may merit re-perusal. The peculiar conditions of their work, combined with its frequent historical interest, have given other than a purely literary value to the verse of several writers whose names this volume seeks to revive. ”

“ He has called aloud to awake the Spring,
Spring the balmy, the friend of Love,
The bodiless god who reigns above.
Oh! sad were the hearts of the gods that day
When the worlds all mourned the oppressor's sway ”

“ Above the wave extend their shade
In columned arch and long arcade.
And here, by native faith revered,
The Peepul's twisted trunk is reared.
Nor want we animation—rife
Is all around, with busy life. ”

“ Well, I may be old and foolish, for I've seventy years well told,
And the Franks have ruled me forty, so my heart and my hand's got cold;
Good boys they are, my grandsons, I know, but they'll never be men,
Such as I was at twenty-five when the sword was king of the pen ”

“ His occasional verse, lyrical, descriptive and narrative, is in its combined bulk and value, finer than anything produced in India before or after his time. In the work of Sir Edwin Arnold and of Sir Alfred Lyall, the poetry of Englishmen in India reached its maturity. The first applied the energy of true literary genius, and the precision of scholarship to the interpretation of oriental themes: the second allowed his intimate knowledge of India to become concentrated in verse of small bulk but of unmistakable quality. As a poet he is known by one tiny volume of less than thirty pieces ”

“ Come boldly on! no venom'd snake
Can shelter in so cool a brake:
Child of the Sun, he loves to lie
'Midst Nature's embers, parch'd and dry,
Where o'er some tower in ruin laid.
The peepul spreads its haunted shade ”

“ Things unexisting to existence sprung,
And grateful descant sung.
What first impell'd thee to exert thy might?
Goodness unlimited. What glorious light
Thy pow'r directed? Wisdom without bound.
What prov'd it first? Oh! guide my fancy right,
Oh raise from cumbrous ground
My soul in rapture drown'd,
That fearless it may soar on wings of fire;
For thou, who only knowst, Thou only canst inspire. ”

“ For think not that we tamely bow
To be the things we are,
No, they are strong—but Ganges, thou,
Oh! thou art stronger far.
Lost is our sway, our land, our name,
Low—low beneath the yoke,
Our spirits bend in grief and shame. ”

“ Up; and begone, my son, and quit this land;
Thou know'st not what it is.
"Why should'st thou leave a shore, where all is green,
Fresh, lovely, and serene;
To seek a country far across the sea
Where winds blow parchingly. ”

“ Lines Addressed to Mrs. Heber.
If thou wert by my side, my love,
How fast would evening fail
In green Bengala's palmy grove
Listening the nightingale!
If thou, my love, wert by my side.
My babies at my knee. ”

“ As falling into pleasant sleep—Alas, and well-a-day!
And on his face there lingered still a sweet smile and a bland.
His Bible lying by his side, and some roses in his hand;
His spectacles still marked the place where he had read that day.
The words of faith and hope which cheered his spirit on its way.
And many were the weeping friends who followed him next night.
In many mourning coaches, found by Solitude and Kyte.
And many a circle still laments the good, the kind, the gay,
The hospitable Mr. Simms,—Alas! and well-a-day! ”

“ The path is steep, the road is long,
But the purpose high and true.
Say that you cross the snow drifts sad
But to seek the grasp of friendship's hand,
We wish but the welfare of the land
To make both peoples glad. ”

“ Are sunk in ocean's southern wave.
Slave of the mine! thy yellow light
Gleams baleful as the tomb-fire drear—
A gentle vision comes by night
My lonely widow'd heart to cheer;
Her eyes are dim with many a tear. ”

“ A paunchy looking man with crimson breeches;
As Zoffany has painted—by his side
Stands Jaffier Ally Cawn; to whom you know
The British warrior, with a modest pride.
Is lending half a sovereignty or so.
Jaffier looks blandly, with a smile paternal.
But nathless wishes Satan had the Colonel.
The Colonel!—a Napoleon in his sphere,
Grasping as brave, unscrupulous as wise;
A kind of legal, regal buccaneer.
Who treated empires like a Spanish prize;
Took, spoiled, broke into fragments; but alive
Or dead, few mate with that same Colonel Clive. ”

“ The dew-drops clustering with effulgence bright
On his carnation brow.—His heart beat high
As the exalted chieftain he was drawing nigh.
Now through a spacious dining-room they go,
Where one long table and four dozen chairs
Are seen, and twelve large globe lamps, hanging low.
And in each corner a zepoy, which bears
An Indian shade—while a long punkah stares
The Griffin in the face. Their journey's end. ”

“ In The Light of Asia there is unfolded a whole panorama of Oriental life, idealised in the reflected glory of the Lord Gautama and his teaching, but the first comprehensive picture of Indian faith and custom ever given to the West. ”

“ The world is a world of lies:
A cup to the dead already,
And hurrah! for the next that dies.
Cut off from the land that bore us,
Betrayed by the land we find,
When the brightest have gone before us. ”

“ Near twice six thousand cubits sheer,
O'er India's plains and peoples' throng
Lies white and chill and drear
'Twixt Kinchinjow and Chomiom.
No man or beast may make his home
That barren snow-field near. ”

“ NO complete anthology of verse written by Englishmen in India has ever been compiled; and the reason is not far to seek. Those writers who have achieved distinction have won for themselves a permanent place in the records of English literature. No history of our poetry will neglect the names of Bishop Heber and of Sir Edwin Arnold. Those writers who have failed to secure such recognition have been forgotten ”

“ Claims our best thanks, and has no Briton's curse
And ill is treasure used, and wisdom shown.
In dealing cates and banquets to the drone.
First show the balance where your merits weigh,
Then prove an hardship in the want of pay,
And hint at least an equitable rate
To pay your zeal and services of state,
That wear and tear of body and of mind,
When crazed with thinking, and with study blinds
Your monthly pay-bills in a huff you scrawl. ”

“ Fright children, save in stories old
Of Fathers grey.
Oh! make it each man's only care
Yearly to build a store-room fair
For goods unspent;
And we thy rites shall duly pay:—
Lo! one bought victim now we slay—
One life present. ”

“ Whilst envious artists touch the rival string,
Till rocks and forests ring;
Breathes in rich fragrance from the sandal grove,
Or where the precious musk-deer playful rove;
In dulcet juice from clust'ring fruit distills,
And burns salubrious in the tasteful clove:
Soft banks and verd'rous hills
Thy present influence fills;
In air, in floods, in caverns, woods and plains;
Thy will inspirits all, thy sov'reign MAYA reigns. ”

“ Of Rajahs and Moghuls, paun ever chewing;
And with the leaf of palm
Fanning themselves, they whiff the balm
Of hookahs, still the stimulus renewing.
And thus 'midst smoke and paun they pass their lazy lives.
But European taste
Suspends thee high;
And thou art most commodiously placed.
Not to disturb the eye.
Whilst the luxurious Soldier or Civilian
Quaffs blushing Lai beneath thy breezy swing.
And gulps factitious airs—which drive a million
Muskeetos from him. buzzing on the wing.
Refreshing flapper! influence divine!
Prime relisher of feasts—unmeasured praise be thine! ”

“ The Pindaree.
The steed paws the ground, with a snort and a neigh,
The Pindaree has mounted, and hied him away;
He has braced on his shield, and his sword by his side.
And forth he has gone, on a foray to ride. ”

“ But nature's chiefest bounties fall
To thy productive fields, Bengal,
It is not that the mountains rise
Here as a pathway to the skies—
Nor desert spreads its dreary tract—
Nor foams the thundering cataract. ”

“ And offering turn their eyes away.
Dark Goddess of the iron mace,
Flesh-tearer! quaffing life-blood warm,
The terrors of thine awful face
The pulse of mortal hearts alarm.
Grim Power! if human woes can charm. ”