THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE 
 
 MOSLEM AND THE HINDOO.
 
 THE 
 
 MOSLEM AND THE HINDOO 
 
 % |oent 
 
 ON THE SEPOY REVOLT. 
 
 BY 
 
 A GRADUATE OF OXFORD. 
 
 LONDON : 
 SAUNDERS AND OTLEY, CONDUIT STREET. 
 
 1858.
 
 
 (*€r1 
 
 THE MOSLEM AND THE HINDOO. 
 
 Sleep ! 'tis a most delicious boon of heav'n ! 
 
 The wretched and exhausted find repose 
 
 And sweet forgetfulness in gentle sleep. 
 
 It has a realm its own — both joy and woe 
 
 Reign in their varied and acutest forms, 
 
 As dreams come stealing on with noiseless step 
 
 Seizing the mind oblivious of the world, 
 
 And sporting 'mong mysterious fantasies. 
 
 It is a wondrous power pervading earth, 
 
 Diffusing round a subtile drowsiness, 
 
 Oft sought, and sought in vain — but falls anon 
 
 B 
 
 e -
 
 2 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Unask'd ; and so on Agatha it fell, 
 
 And sooth'd with welcome touch her wasted frame. 
 
 She slept upon her couch ; beside her sat 
 Her daughter Amy, watching anxiously 
 The silent features of her mother's face. 
 Though saddest thoughts ran through her mind, 
 
 she knew 
 A deadlier weight was on her mother's heart, 
 Sinking it into lowest depths of woe, 
 And in that sorrow she forgot her own. 
 
 The day was fine and sultry, and the calm 
 Lay heavily upon her ; not a breeze 
 Rustled the leaves above the summer walk ; 
 Nor, stealing through the window, dar'd to kiss 
 With cool, refreshing lips the sleeper's cheek, 
 Wantino- the bloom of health ; the scented flow'rs 
 Breath'd a rich fragrance, tempting the lull'd winds 
 To rise and drink their sweetness, but the} r came not.
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 3 
 
 There was no sound : the merry bird had ceas'd 
 
 His cheerful note, and in the shady grove 
 
 Sat lazily, or hopp'd from bough to bough. 
 
 Far through the meadows flow'd the silver stream. 
 
 Now glistfning in the sun — now gloomily 
 
 FrownM in grim darkness underneath the shade. 
 
 The mother slept, and it may be forgot 
 
 The sorrow which had rent her heart, and dreamed 
 
 Of days long gone — the sunny, sunny days, 
 
 Which seem more joyous when in after time 
 
 We catch the glimpse of their retreating form 
 
 Departing in the dismal vale of years. 
 
 Calm in her slumber, on her face there sat 
 
 The fair expression of eternal peace — 
 
 Death rob\l in beauty, animated death 
 
 Tinted and fresh with hectic flush of life, 
 
 Hie pallid garments thrown aside awhile 
 
 To make his ghastly form less terrible. 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Not all unbroken calm — anon there stole 
 
 A frown across the features ; like a cloud 
 
 It pass\l, but soon return 1 cl with darker shade. 
 
 A troubled dream disturb 1 d her slumbVino- soul — 
 
 It struggled with its woe convulsively, 
 
 Then with a start awoke. " Ah me !" she cried, 
 
 " What did I see — what hear — reality I 
 
 Alas ! that shriek, it rent my heart in twain. 
 
 Where am I? Do I dream? Amy, my child, 
 
 Come near me, I would feel your hand ; my brain 
 
 Is all disorder, grief has made me wild, 
 
 And sleep has brought disorder in its train.'"' 
 
 " 'Twas but a dream, 11 said Amy ; " calm yourself, 
 
 And let it pass away. Here, take my hand — 
 
 Assure yourself there is no danger near. 
 
 On your own couch, surrounded by warm hearts, 
 
 Your anxious daughter watching while you slept, 
 
 A troubled dream with silent step pass'd by, 
 
 And shook your startled spirit from its rest. 11
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 5 
 
 " A dream !" the mother said ; " our God be praisM ! 
 
 In mercy, may it have no counterpart ! 
 
 But 'twas so real : I beheld the face 
 
 Of your lov'd sister, who is far away 
 
 In India's troubled land, pallid and wan, 
 
 Her hair dishevell'd, flying from the grasp 
 
 Of rapine and foul murder, but, alas ! 
 
 In vain — the fatal stroke fell heavily. 
 
 Oh ! that dire shriek, the mingling of despair, 
 
 And agony, and woe intense, which struck 
 
 The heart's remotest chord, and sent a thrill 
 
 Of anguish to its very inmost shrine, 
 
 Making it sick with sickness nigh to death. 
 
 Thank God it was but a distorted dream I 11 
 
 Again she slept : the worn and wearied frame 
 Soon yielded to exhaustion ; near her still 
 Her patient daughter watch'd, and night came 
 
 down, 
 Casting its veil on nature — glorious night !
 
 6 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Bearing creation's Jewell" cl crown, and full 
 
 Of deep solemnity and wondrous awe. 
 
 Night ! thou great teacher of tli' inquiring mind, 
 
 What myst'ries thou unfoldest, what a book 
 
 Is open'd in thy darken"d heavens above ! 
 
 How deep thy lessons to pervading thought ; 
 
 Worlds beyond worlds are rolling through all space ; 
 
 Could we but travel, so they roll the same 
 
 Each in its sphere, in order, rul"d, upheld 
 
 By some Almighty hand unseen, yet known 
 
 By far pervading and unceasing pow"r. 
 
 Night ! thou unfoldest to the mortal gaze 
 
 Infinity of worlds which envious day 
 
 Conceals ; and robing them in golden light 
 
 Makest them letters of that mystic book 
 
 Sages have loved to read. Deep lessons there 
 
 A re writ the soul would learn — oh ! how those 
 
 lights 
 Shining m darkness draw the spirit on 
 To silence and to peace, and breathe a calm
 
 AND TdE HINDOO. t 
 
 Around au unknown way; there leap the thoughts, 
 And seem to mount towards unceasing rest. 
 They link us to the past and the departed, 
 The spirits we have lov'd — our other selves 
 Now in the world unknown, who went before 
 Down the dark valley of the shade of death, 
 Leaving a light behind them, and the marks 
 They made in passing, for our comfort left 
 And guidance in the dangerous path they trod. 
 And thy dark vault, O Night ! studded with stars, 
 Brings them to our remembrance, for they seem 
 Recorded in thy deep, mysterious book. 
 Those bright lights, twinkling through eternal space, 
 Stand like the monuments of lov'd ones gone, 
 Differing in glory, brightness, magnitude, 
 As saints on earth excelFd in holiness, 
 Zeal, duty, warmth, deep earnestness, and love. 
 It is a glorious record ! Lo ! they stand 
 The glowing gravestones of the righteous dead, 
 Weaning us from this worn and troubled world
 
 8 THE MOSLEM 
 
 And leading up the spirit to the realms 
 Where reign the saints, the prophets, and the slain 
 For Grod, the martyrs of his sacred cause, 
 The fathers of his church, the holy men, 
 Faithful and just, the advocates of truth, 
 Triumphant now with Jesus, and at rest. 
 Reign in thy glory, Night, with peace profound ! 
 Hush the perplexing thought, the troubled breast, 
 Shed gentle sleep across the wretched, soothe 
 The sufferer with soft slumber ! Thv sought boon, 
 So welcome to the sorrowing and forlorn, 
 Came with refreshing; rest to Agatha. 
 She slept upon her couch, and by her side, 
 Heedless of coming night, with look intent, 
 And thought profound, was Amy watching still.
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 
 
 II. 
 
 From where Britannia, in her seagirt isle, 
 Sits the proud ruler of a vast domain, 
 Safe in her home of strength, while round her rolls 
 Her guardian ocean with eternal song, 
 Chafing her pebbly shores ; with airy wing, 
 And thought unfetter'd, speed we on our way 
 To where the Himalayas stretch their peaks 
 To meet the morning sun, and proudly gaze 
 On the far plain below. Calm and serene 
 Above all storm and tempest which may rage, 
 And sweep their middle pathway, while the height, 
 Wearing its crown of everlasting snow, 
 Looks down upon such tempests, and beholds 
 Fierce elemental war — the battle-field,
 
 10 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Where the mad whirlwinds strive, and hurricanes 
 Contend in wild disorder ; there the clouds 
 In masses roll along, the lightnings leap 
 From crag to crag across the chasm's mouth, 
 And to the hanging cliff and back again. 
 There, through the dark and cloudy bed, they cleave 
 A new and vivid way, and disappear, 
 Nor linger for the roar that after comes. 
 There the hoarse thunder rolls along the track, 
 And through the mountain pass reverberates, 
 Then echoes in the deep abyss below, 
 Mingling in strange confusion with the din 
 Of cataracts, and storm, and riven rocks ; 
 And whirlwind sweeping on in mad career. 
 Yet all unmov , d the snow-crown'd summit sits, 
 Smiling with sunlight on its lofty head, 
 Though wild disorder revels at its base. 
 Like some gaunt giant hoary now with years, 
 Who heeds not tumults of his youthful days, 
 Nor fears their strength, for generations gone
 
 AND THE HINDOO. I 1 
 
 Have taught him wisdom — quietly to watch, 
 And from liis throne, by lapse of ages built, 
 Firmly resolv'd await the sure result, 
 And see the storm of fury pass away. 
 
 From Himalaya's mountains to the south 
 Lies India, with its many states, and powers, 
 And fertile lands, and nigh unbounded wealth ; 
 Yet not its own, for Britain holds the sway — 
 The sceptre of a foreign land is there. 
 From east to west, from north to south, is felt 
 The influence of the stranger's powV, which rules 
 Its native princes, thrones, and fertile plains. 
 
 .Beside the Jumna, winding through the plain 
 To meet her sister Ganges, mingling there 
 The waters of a hundred mountain streams 
 To swell the sacred river, Delhi stands — 
 Delhi, the city of the great Mogul ! 
 Fam'd far and wide with no uncertain fame,
 
 12 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Nor gain'd in modern days — long, long- before 
 The Prophet woke the cry of war, or bar\l 
 His bloody sword for murder, Delhi stood, 
 The home of monarchs of no earthly race, 
 But from the gods descended — sun and moon 
 Gave of their children rulers for this land. 
 
 Time, fleeting Time ! whose rapid flight hath been 
 
 Through unknown ages, whose untiring; wing 
 
 Ne'er resteth in its course, but ceaselessly 
 
 Pursuest year by year a noiseless way ; 
 
 Unseen, yet leaving as thou passest by 
 
 Impressions of the joyous hours of life, 
 
 Too lovM, too sweet to be forgotten, rich 
 
 With all the halo and the magic hues 
 
 Which menfry casts around the past, and blends 
 
 Reality with fiction ; till we see 
 
 Only the bright excitement of the hour, 
 
 But heed not the dark clouds which o'er the sky 
 
 Of those our sunny days pass'd frequently,
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 1 3 
 
 Shading the deep blue of our happiness. 
 Time, with hoary locks ! thou guardian 
 Of earth's remotest secrets, who didst see 
 The chaos of the world, when brooded there 
 The great Eternal Spirit, ere the light 
 Had penetrated darkness, or fair form 
 Or order risen at the Lord's command ; 
 Ere the creating Word wilFd and so spake, 
 And from that dark chaotic mass appear 1 d 
 A world unmatched in beauty, lovely, good, 
 O'er which the morning stars together sang, 
 And shouted all the sons of God for joy. 
 Thou ancient sentinel, which age by age, 
 Sleepless, and ever on the watch, hast kept 
 A faithful record of the ways of men ! 
 Give to the muse thy knowledge, draw the veil 
 Which hides thy secrets, and unsepulchiv 
 The mem'ries of the past, and let them conic 
 With ruddy freshness as of yesterday !
 
 14 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Bounded by Drishadwati's stream, there lies 
 An ancient tract of land, which formerly 
 Was known as Bramhaverta ; here the gods, 
 From their eternal thrones descending, came 
 And made a home terrestrial — here they held 
 Their courts and reignM in splendour ; from the 
 
 rest 
 Of the surrounding nations this they chose 
 For their especial favour, and the gifts 
 Divinity sometimes bestows to raise 
 Poor mortals in the scale of happiness, 
 And make them the brio-ht heroes of the world. 
 
 Such heroes thence arose, brave and renown'd, 
 Admir\l and envied by the thronging crowd, 
 Born to be led and ruled ; without a thought 
 To cleave its own free way, but sluggishly 
 Content with its low lot to follow where 
 The stronger ever leads the weaker will.
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 15 
 
 So reigned the gods of yore and taught the race, 
 Adopted from among mankind, to war, 
 Conquer, subdue, retain ; and gave them priests 
 Instructed in religious rites, inspired 
 With a supernal knowledge, aptly naufd 
 From the first great creating principle. 
 With pow'r to bless and curse ; yet to that law. 
 Written and given by the gods themselves, 
 Bound to conform their life, and not transgress 
 Its rules of holy discipline — to aid 
 The king in council, to instruct, to be 
 The guardian of his actions, and enforce 
 Justice and right — themselves to live apart 
 From common men and things; in holiness 
 Excelling others as a race divine. 
 
 From such a source the Princes sprung who ruTd 
 FamM Bramhaverta's land in olden time, 
 And brought Bramarshi underneath their sway. 
 This last a sacred land, and Bramins born
 
 16 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Within its borders were esteem 1 d the best 
 And aptest teachers for the sons of men. 
 
 Soon was the sword of conquest drawn, and on, 
 Eastward, they made their way ; till Ayodha fell 
 Submissive, and gave up her right to rule, 
 And to her throne the stranger stepp'd, and took 
 Her sceptre for the solar race, which there 
 For fifty generations reign'd supreme. 
 
 Passing those generations, dim and dark 
 With age's hoary features, Rama comes 
 With light upon the scene — a hero he, 
 Fir'd with the love of conquest and of pow 1 !-. 
 Soon known and fear'd, the nations trembling felt 
 Tli* 1 advancing of his armies — far away 
 The terror of his name had struck, he trod 
 The Deckan with victorious foot, and heard 
 The southern ocean chanting conqueror : 
 And saw her smile, and with approving face
 
 AXD THE HINDOO. 17 
 
 Speak welcome, and with friendly spirit point 
 To where the spicy island, Ceylon, lay : 
 Invited onward still, allur'd he went, 
 And took the offer"' d prize in Ayodha's name. 
 
 With Kama's death descends again the shade 
 Where dim oblivion holds a sway, nor gives 
 Much to tir inquirer. His successors rulM, 
 And sixty Princes of his race were found 
 To hold the sceptre of their ancestor, 
 And hand his fame through generations down. 
 
 13ut peace at length was broken, and the sound 
 Of civil war was heard ; two claimants rose — 
 Two branches of the reigning family — 
 Disputing for supremacy and pow'r. 
 Pandu and Ouru, both of royal birth, 
 Descended from one common ancestor — 
 Hastinapura the disputed prize. 
 
 c
 
 18 THE MOSLEM 
 
 L0112; ragfd the war, and friend was found Vainsf 
 
 friend 
 With hand uplifted — rival princes came 
 With stout assistance, and allies from far 
 Pour'd in their succours ; Deckan sent her sons 
 To aid the quarrels of her conquerors, 
 And Indus, looking upward from her bed, 
 Saw crossing to the bloody work of strife 
 Nations she knew not, but that from the west 
 They came with banded might : — in after time 
 She recogniz'd their features, saw them stand 
 Beside her stream as conquerors, and heard 
 The stranger's voice sound through the lapse of 
 
 years. 
 
 Long rag'd that war, and slaughter tbinn'd the 
 
 ranks 
 Of conquerors and conquer 1 d ; merciless, 
 Grim death went stalking through the lines ; there
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 19 
 
 Together stretch'd in death, who should have been 
 
 Bound by the ties of friendship; but stirrM uj> 
 
 By civil hate to cruel deeds of blood, 
 
 Together lay in death, as they had stood 
 
 Upon the day of battle — hand to hand 
 
 In strife ; till by necessity they fell 
 
 To stiffen in the cold destroyer's grasp. 
 
 Upon their wan and settled features lay 
 
 The look defiant, telling to the last 
 
 They would not yield so long as life remain'd. 
 
 The Pandus triumplfd, but a triumph won 
 By such reverses, friends cut off and slain, 
 Their army wasted — they a remnant left, 
 Lonely and desolate, to weep the loss : 
 It seem'd more like defeat than victory. 
 Their great ally no longer there to aid — 
 Chrisna, their hope and strength, whose prowess 
 oft 
 
 c2
 
 20 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Had turn'd the scale of battle-fields, and borne 
 
 Glad victory along the way he took, 
 
 Retuni'd, alas ! in his own land to die — 
 
 By civil discord slain. Lonely and sad 
 
 At losses irretrievable, and friends 
 
 Cut off; with hopes and expectations gone, 
 
 Despairing of the future, some retir'd 
 
 And wander'd, where they knew not, mournfully, 
 
 Making the world their home ; until at length, 
 
 They perishM 'mong the Himalaya's snows. 
 
 A few remainVl to build again the throne, 
 By social discord shaken to its base ; 
 To reconstruct the kingdom, and restore 
 Order and peace : 'twas done with time, and then 
 They fix'cl on Delhi as the seat of pow'r, 
 Where royalty in after time should reign. 
 Nor lone: its fame obscure : the civil strife 
 Soon faded from the mem'ry — twenty-nine 
 Succeeding princes ruFd on Delhi's throne, 

 
 AND THE HINDOO. 2 I 
 
 And raisM the city in magnificence, 
 
 And wealth, and splendour with their victories. 
 
 Time sped ! and after Pandifs race arose 
 The Rajput princes, who successively 
 For twenty generations held the .sway ; 
 When their proud rivals of Tomara's clan 
 Stepp\l in, and claimM the sceptre for themselves, 
 And held it until Pritwi Raja's time, 
 Who fell before the conquVing Mussulman, 
 And left rich Delhi as the victor's spoil. 
 
 Such the false Prophet's hope ; long, long before, 
 When looking; through the future he foresaw 
 His influence spreading through the wide wi 
 
 world, 
 From west to east, from its unfruitful home 
 
 sross the fertile plains of other land , 
 In richness and in greatness growing still, 
 Till kings before it bent, and princes gave
 
 22 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Their aid to strengthen its increasing sway. 
 Lono- had the Mussulmans desir'd to see 
 Submissive to their rule rich India, 
 And often with invasion swept her lands ; 
 Sometimes successfully, and sometimes back 
 With loss and tumult driven to their homes, 
 But ne'er in Delhi stood till Pritwi's time, 
 When, though defeated on Tirouri's field 
 With slaughter and confusion, till compelfd 
 To fly for life and safety, they return'd 
 Again in after years with purpose stern. 
 Successes crowii'd their efforts — through the 
 
 lines 
 Opposing they with fury ruslfd, and brake 
 The barriers which so long had kept them back. 
 The king defeated fled, was taken, slain ; 
 The city plunder 1 d, and their wish complete ; 
 The Prophet's powV in India was supreme, 
 And ruin over Hindoo greatness spread.
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 23 
 
 So when huge ocean from his placid bed, 
 Reflecting back the glory of the .skies, 
 Rises in fury by the tempest stirrM, 
 And tries to overleap the boundaries 
 Which keep his waters from the fertile lands, 
 Oft baffled in th 1 attempt retires awhile 
 And fumes himself to slumber — with dull moan 
 Sinking to rest ; then rous\l again to strife 
 By some new angry outbreak, onward rolls 
 And sweeps the opposing barrier ; driven back, 
 Year after year, to the same strife returns, 
 Till worn by time the bulwark yielding gives 
 An opening to th 1 advancing flood, and sees 
 Sad desolation and a wreck ensue. 
 
 • 
 
 For near six centuries the Prophet's pow'r 
 Held a stern sway, and India bow'd her neck, 
 And gave her sceptre to the Mussulmans. 
 Forgetful of her liberties, her rights, 
 Her children waxed faithless — some forgot
 
 24 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Their ancient worship, and forsook the gods, 
 The victors of their father-land, and gave 
 Their homage to the false usurper s name : 
 Some, of necessity, compelFd by force, 
 But some most willingly, expecting thence 
 Favour and honour from th 1 invading foe. 
 
 As some fair tree which passing years have seen 
 
 Increase in stately beauty silently, 
 
 Till strong with age she proudly lifts her head 
 
 And bids defiance to the coming storm, 
 
 And feels secure — her gnarled roots below 
 
 Grasp firmly the sure earth — above, are spread 
 
 The branches of some generations' 1 growth — 
 
 So had the Prophet's pow'r grown old : the roots 
 
 Had penetrated as in native soil, 
 
 Its branching influence extended wide, 
 
 When to the land another stranger came, 
 
 For Britain's flag unfuiTd ; her standing-place 
 
 Was small, but soon her eagle eye was bent
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 25 
 
 On conquest, and her path of victory 
 Ceas'd not till Delhi's city ownM her sway. 
 
 So fell the Prophet's pow'r, and English rule 
 
 Ourb'd the rough tyrant and his cruelties, 
 
 And held him in submission ; but. alas ! 
 
 Though captive and subdu'd, the silent thought 
 
 Brooded as upon wrong ; that old desire 
 
 Of universal rule his spirit stirr'd, 
 
 And fann'd the smoukVring embers into flame — 
 
 A flame which burst in dreadful fury forth, 
 
 Consuming in its madness ; breaking through 
 
 All known restraint and rule ; forgetting both 
 
 Dutv and faith — uniting into one, 
 
 To stimulate it in the mad career, 
 
 Ambition, passion, anger, and revenge : 
 
 Then leaving desolation in its track, 
 
 And horrors over which the heart grows sick.
 
 26 THE MOSLEM 
 
 III. 
 
 The forest slumber 1 d in forgetfulness, 
 And silence mingled with the cooling shade, 
 Inviting to its bow'rs most temptingly. 
 Delicious refuse from an Indian sun — 
 Most grateful to the weary soul which needs 
 Rest from oppressive heat. A Bramin there 
 Beneath the shade in meditation walk'd ; 
 Sometimes he mutter'd as he pausM, his words 
 Unheeded fell upon the silence near, 
 Melting in fainter sounds. His mind absorbed 
 In grappling with uncertainties, while doubts 
 With hopes and fears together mingling came ; 
 And thus he reasoifd with himself: " 'Tis so ! 
 Our princes once were powerful, from the gods
 
 AND THE HINDOO. -7 
 
 They came, the children of the sun and moon, 
 And we their priests with gifts divine, to bless 
 Or curse, and guide them in true knowledge. Whv 
 Are we so fall n ? now as slaves we serve 
 A stranger nation — conquerors by the sword 
 Of those who should themselves be conquerors. 
 Where is the spirit of our fathers ? Rise ! 
 Rama and Crishna, let your presence aid 
 Your captive children : while we sluggish lie 
 No help will come, we must bestir ourselves, 
 And strike the blow, if we would yet be free. 
 True are the words the Mussulman declarM, 
 ' The sword subduYl us, and the sword again 
 Must give us back our freedom. 1 A few days, 
 And then, brave hearts, arise to liberty !"" 
 
 Scarcely the thought had wing'd its silent way, 
 To vibrate through the spirit world, before 
 He, turning, saw the Mussulman approach.
 
 28 THE MOSLEM 
 
 A mutual greeting o'er, the Bramin said — 
 
 " Welcome, brave servant of the Prophet ! now 
 
 Friendly in heart, though hostile in thy creed, 
 
 So should it be, ill feelings laid aside, 
 
 Our feuds forgotten, linkM in amity, 
 
 We should unite against the common foe 
 
 To break his servile chain. How sped the work V 
 
 " Full well," the Moslem answered ; " hand in 
 
 hand 
 The Prophet's sons will march to victory. 
 Alia himself will bless — his word declares 
 A hundred years, and then our tyrants fall ; 
 Their power shall cease, and our captivity 
 Shall drink its sweet and terrible revenue. 
 No coward hearts are ours — each Moslem chief 
 Is ready for the contest ; ay, at once, 
 If such were needed — but we wait the day, 
 The fatal day appointed for the slaughter.
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 29 
 
 Hast thou conveyed the tidings? Will the Hindoo 
 Fight true and faithful bv the Mussulman, 
 And rid the country of this hated foe V 
 
 " Faithful and true," the Bramin said. " Ere now 
 The secret has been told — the country through 
 Has heard the sacred message ; it is known 
 From ludus unto Brahmaputra's wave. 
 Since last we met, the mystic cake has sped, 
 And curs' 1 d be he of Hindoo race who sees. 
 But answers not, the summons. May the Gods 
 Reject him as unworthy of his name, 
 His country, and his race ! may he become 
 A wanderer upon earth ! From Delhi's home, 
 North, east, west, south, with rapid foot, 'twas borne 
 By many a way, and many an ancient stream, 
 To town and village ; and the sacred fanes 
 Of temples, and the citadels of kings, 
 Revealing the command — the daring deed,
 
 30 THE MOSLEM 
 
 And then the place of meeting. Soon our swords 
 Shall drink the life-blood of our enemies !" 
 
 So spake the traitors who had plami'd the deed 
 Of murder and rebellion ; thence to tread 
 The way ambition pointed to a throne. 
 From them the poison spread insidiously, 
 Till it imbu'd the minds of those they sway'd 
 With wrongs invented, and with hopes in vain, 
 Which vanish 1 d in their grasp ; and so went out 
 Leaving but disappointment, and the guilt 
 Which in due time receiy'd just punishment.
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 31 
 
 IV. 
 
 As dawn across the east broke quietly, 
 And chas'd the darkness with red fiery steeds 
 And silver winged lightnings, till the sky 
 Laugh'd with the many colours of the morn, 
 Chaiio'ino- and chaiio-ino- into countless hues ; 
 As light went dancing up that varied sky, 
 Robbing its tinted cheeks, till, one by one, 
 Each colour faded in the brighter flood, 
 And left the dome of heav'n without a staiu, 
 Glorious and clear in sunlight ; and the earth 
 Sparkling with lustre, where in rainbow meads 
 The subtile rays went speeding on, and crept 
 Through branching trees, with wreathed gems 
 thereon,
 
 32 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Hanging in endless lines of grace, and full 
 Of wondrous beauty and deep speaking pow'r. 
 
 As morn so broke, and down the Jumna's stream 
 PourM a glad greeting, on the Meerut road 
 To Delhi a small troop of horsemen came. 
 Disorderly, infuriate, they seem'd 
 The remnant of a battle-field, overcome 
 By mad excitement — Hying from the foe, 
 Or drunk with lawless plunder. Recklessly, 
 Bearing no doubtful signs of recent fray, 
 With savage joy they onward rode uncheckM, 
 And reached the citv as the morning sun 
 Burnish 1 d her turrets with his golden beams. 
 
 They cross'd the bridge without a question, slew 
 The keeper, and there left a guard ; then on 
 Through the Calcutta gate they made their way. 
 " We come," they cried, as flock , d the citizens 
 Around to learn their errand — " We have come
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 33 
 
 To execute the mission of the Gods : 
 To reinstate the Moslem rule, and drive 
 The stranger from our land. No harm to jou, 
 Good citizens of Delhi, but the foe, 
 Intruding Europeans — they shall die V 
 
 The crowd approv'd, yet did it hesitate 
 
 To rise into rebellion, for the day, 
 
 The fatal day appointed, had not come. 
 
 It would inquire their mission, whence they came, 
 
 Their orders and authority ; one spake 
 
 And gave the question for the multitude. 
 
 " We come," the horsemen said, " as messengers 
 To carry vengeance for committed wrong. 
 We come, but not too soon, though yet the day 
 Appointed for the slaughter is not here, 
 For vengeance will not tarry. We are men, 
 The soldiers of our nation — we stood by 
 And saw our comrades iron\l. Why ? Because 
 
 D
 
 34 THE MOSLEM 
 
 They would not be denTd. "Twas nobly done ! 
 
 The law of Menu did forbid — they bore 
 
 Most manfully their punishment ; but He 
 
 Whose law they honour d sent relief, He stirrYl 
 
 Our souls within, until we rose and smote 
 
 The punisher with punishment, and freed 
 
 Our comrades from confinement. Having struck 
 
 The blow, we wait not the appointed hour, 
 
 But mount the throne at once. Old Delhi's king 
 
 To-day shall be proclaimed as emperor ; 
 
 And every one of the usurpers found 
 
 Shall meet a death of violence — the men 
 
 Unpiti'd shall be slain ; the women, too, 
 
 Shall feel the vengeance of the Hindoo wrong — 
 
 Dishonour 1 d and degraded, they shall die !" 
 
 Th 1 applauding shout of a surrounding crowd 
 Told but too soon the fuel well prepared 
 On which the spark had falFn — no delay, 
 No hesitation — sympathetic spread
 
 AND THE HINDOO. :J5 
 
 The spirit of rebellion : fearless they 
 Beneath his touch threw off restraint and cast 
 Their lot with the seditious, who but point 
 To some new rule and other dynasty. 
 " Onward at once ! the palace walls are nigh, 
 The heir of the Mogul is there : the throne 
 Of Delhi yet shall rise again, and sway 
 The sceptre of this mighty land. Her arms, 
 So long renownM, shall be renownM once more ; 
 Her armies tread the plains victoriously, 
 And laden with rich spoils return again. 
 The reign of the Feringees soon will cease — 
 Its hundred years is wellnigh gone — the knell 
 Of its past glory now departing sounds, 
 Dying in echoes faint, and fainter still. 
 Our native army is prepared, and waits 
 Alone the fatal day ; but seemingly 
 The infidels, unconscious of the cloud 
 Which hung above them, dark and ominous, 
 And charg^ with fury ready to burst forth 
 
 D2
 
 0£ 
 
 o 
 
 6 THE MOSLEM 
 
 In overwhelming terror, would transgress 
 The righteous laws of Menu, and compel 
 His servants to profane, defiling acts. 
 It might not he ! The angry Gods arose, 
 And vengeance quickeii'd her too tardy step ; 
 E'en now she cries aloud, and comes to-day, 
 With you, her messengers, to speed the work." 
 
 Then woke a reign of terror ; wildly flew 
 The tidings through the city — " Law dissolvM, 
 Death to the Infidels ! no mercy ! spare 
 Not young, nor old, and neither sex nor age ! 
 As the destruction, the reward shall be." 
 
 On rode the troopers, murd'ring as they went, 
 
 Where'er an European crossed their way : 
 
 Among the first who fell a sacrifice 
 
 Were Fraser, Nixon, Douglas. Quickly spread 
 
 This tale of terror to the battery. 
 
 Without delay, the Fifty-fourth was sent
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 37 
 
 To check the sceue of murder ; orderly 
 Through Cashmere's gate they marched, but at 
 
 the sight 
 Of those wild Sowars, gory with the work 
 Of slaughter, backward from their lines they ruslf d, 
 And left their officers unarmVl, a prey, 
 Defenceless and expos'd to murd'rous hands. 
 
 Short work they made : the Europeans fell 
 Slain by that bloody crew. The Fifty-fourth, 
 No longer fearing the commander's word, 
 Jom'd joyfully the rebel ranks, and ruslfd 
 With them to crime and heartless butchery. 
 'Twere sick'ninsr and heartrending to relate 
 The horrors of that day — the hellish work, 
 The fiendish hate, by lust and passion led, 
 Drunken with blood and ruthless violence, 
 Which demon-like sat sated on its prey. 
 Deeds vile and monstrous, such as words refuse 
 To speak — such anguish language cannot tell —
 
 38 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Language and words were weak in utterance. 
 The olden barriers, which had stemm'd the tide, 
 Gave way, and in the stream of lawlessness 
 Went rushing like a flood, which having left 
 Its channel carries desolation through 
 Kich meads and cultivated lands, and leaves 
 The wreck of its wild passage. Noble trees 
 Uprooted from the standing-place of years, 
 And stately with hoar age ; the sapling shoot 
 Just putting forth its strength, and promising 
 In after years to lift itself on high, 
 And spread its graceful branches ; and the flow'rs, 
 Peerless in beauty, op'ning with sweet smile, 
 And winning with true loveliness, and drest 
 In robes of grace and modesty — apart 
 From vulgar gaze removM — in meadows far — 
 Secluded from the common step of men, 
 And shrinking from the vulvar touch and hand 
 With rude and hasty grasp. Alas ! in vain 
 They supplicate the raging flood — it sweeps
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 39 
 
 Unmerciful through their secluded home, 
 And spares not beauty nor their innocence. 
 
 So swept that flood of mutiny, when fell 
 
 The barriers of good order and restraint. 
 
 In Delhi's streets unheard-of butcheries 
 
 And perpetrated crimes were common things — 
 
 Crimes of the deepest dye, and cruelties 
 
 Which make the angry heart leap in its home, 
 
 And the cold chill pass over us, while flows 
 
 The blood from the extremities to gain, 
 
 By concentration at the seat of life, 
 
 New strength for the avenger's arm, and nerve 
 
 His stroke with something bitterer than death. 
 
 On ragM that rebel flood : a multitude 
 
 Of outlawM plund'ring villains swelFd the stream ; 
 
 Each regiment mutinied, disorder spread, 
 
 And ruin and wild anarchy were felt 
 
 To hold the city in their reckless arms.
 
 40 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Enough ! the day of retribution waits : 
 Such evil deeds shall not escape ; e'en now 
 TV avenger is at hand. Speed, Vengeance ! speed ! 
 The cry of the dishonour' d calls thee on ! 
 The guiltless, yet the outrag'd, and the child 
 Unconscious of all wrong and innocent, 
 WoncFring to see its mother's face so chang'd, 
 And the rude features, and the ruder grasp 
 Which tears it from the arms of tenderness 
 To feel th' embrace of cruelty and death ! 
 
 On, Vengeance ! on ! We might forgive the blow 
 For freedom nobly struck, if hand to hand, 
 And force to force opposed in battle fair — 
 The long-subdu'd rose up in arms again 
 To struggle with his conqueror, and break 
 The stranger's rule from off his father-land, 
 That he and his belov'd ones might be free. 
 This were a righteous blow the gods might bless — 
 A blow that every noble soul might strike
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 41 
 
 Though in the face of danger, yea ! of death. 
 A thousand mem" vies tempt it, where the land 
 Has fall'n from extended rule, and pow 1 !', 
 And greatness, and magnificence of reign. 
 They come ! those visions of the former days ; 
 With triumph and success, and mighty names, 
 Proud conquerors of the wide earth are seen 
 Passing in gorgeous pageantry along ; 
 And handing down to their posterity 
 A deathless fame, and spirit unsubdifd. 
 
 In such a cause, the blow for freedom struck, 
 We honour and forgive j and fairly strive 
 For that proud crown the valiantest must take. 
 But the foul deeds of slaughter which disgrace 
 The man below the brute, we pardon not : 
 The brave surpris'd and slain, the innocent 
 And feeble tortur'd by the hand of strength, 
 The modest and retiring, tenderly 
 Brought up, and guarded from the common gaze
 
 42 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Aud vulgar touch — these to be demons'' sport, 
 Dishonour^ and outrag'd in pangs to die ! 
 Ah ! worse than death ! expos 1 d to the vile 
 
 taunts, 
 And brutal treatment of that multitude ; 
 To hear the shout of that barbarian horde 
 Insulting, mocking, gloating savagely, 
 Till sated with excess and violence ! 
 Ah ! cruelty refhfd ! in their last hours, 
 Those trying hours of anguish, to compel 
 The mother to behold, with madd'ning woe, 
 The fiendish tortures of her little ones. 
 Who would forbear I who pleads for mercy ? who 
 Lifts not the hand in vengeance \ Horrible 
 The work ! yet on the perpetrators went, 
 Black'ning their way with crime. Ou, vengeance ! 
 
 on ! 
 Check these mad demons in their work, and wipe 
 This blot from off the page of history !
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 43 
 
 Long was that day in Delhi ! long the night ! 
 
 When the first fury of rebellion rag\l. 
 
 Soon came their fate to some, and happy they 
 
 If well prepared to quit their earthly home, 
 
 At once to leave that scene of woe, and land 
 
 Upon the shores of Paradise, where fade 
 
 The tumults of the world in endless peace. 
 
 Less blessed they, to whom the respite came 
 
 Which gave them to the ruffian's powV, to wait 
 
 The doom and orders of a brutish will : 
 
 Oh, terrible suspense ! more terrible 
 
 Than death itself, to look upon his shape 
 
 Made hideous with deformity, and girt 
 
 With hellish rites, and feel his influence 
 
 With tighfning grasp grow firmer and more close, 
 
 And know it is impossible to flee. 
 
 Long was that day, and long the night, if deeds 
 Can lengthen time's existence ; such were there 
 As might have satisfied whole centuries !
 
 44 THE MOSLEM 
 
 On swelPd the rebel tide ; enormities 
 And crimes were plentiful on every side, 
 Enormities and crimes which pass belief: 
 While torture in refiVd inventive garb, 
 Dilating in mysterious cruelties, 
 With most ferocious aspect rent the soul.
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 45 
 
 Some days had pass'd ; the king in council sat, 
 Around him were his counsellors in wrong, 
 Himself a weak old man, the instrument 
 Of those designing villains, who had stirr'd 
 The land to strife, and sow'd sedition's seeds ; 
 Who hopM to reap the fruits and upwards step 
 To thrones, and pow"rs, and dignity, through blood 
 The Bramin and the Moslem both were there. 
 
 Then spake the king — " How counsel you to act ? 
 
 Our forces are increasing, and the spread 
 
 Of your great movement now is known abroad. 
 
 The infidels have suff'erM ; in the sleep 
 
 Of false security you wisely smote.
 
 46 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Surpris'd in their supineness, they have felt 
 The Prophet's fiery zeal — the Moslem's sword 
 Unsheath'd for slaughter in its mightiness. 
 I deem'd not you would so successful be, 
 And trembled at the onset, but now feel 
 The tide of victory is flowing fast. 
 Great Alla's name be prais'd ! who nerv'd the 
 
 hand 
 To strike, and breath' d true courage to the heart 
 For daring deeds. Again on Delhi's throne 
 In all their olden splendour yet shall sit 
 Descendants of the mighty conquerors. 
 Subject awhile to England's haughty rule 
 The race of Timur bent the neck, but now 
 That time is past ; they shall arise in strength, 
 And shake away dull sloth, and manfully 
 Claim their lost rights and freedom, and seek 
 
 back 
 The privileges of a former day.
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 47 
 
 What say ye, my good friends \ What tidings 
 
 come 
 Of things already done? How speaks report?" 
 
 " Well speeds the work," the Moslem said ; "e'en 
 
 now 
 A righteous retribution has o'erta'eu 
 The scoffing infidels ; grim slaughter walk'd 
 Among their ranks, nor that in gentle form. 
 The city search'd has yielded up the race 
 Of our detested enemies. We gave 
 The most part to the drunken multitude 
 For sport, to make a holiday — then die ; 
 But some anions; the maidens were reservM, 
 The fairest and most comely, for thyself — 
 They wait thy royal will. The news from fin- 
 is cheering, and as messengers arrive 
 They tell of our successes. Many a town 
 Has risen for its freedom, and ere long 
 Will send its succours to support thy throne
 
 48 THE MOSLEM 
 
 So far the Moslem element is true, 
 
 It looks for other days, another reign 
 
 Of glory and ambition ; and will go 
 
 Through danger unto death, if Alia bids — 
 
 If Alia and his Prophet lead the way. 
 
 Is it thus with the Hindoo I Is he firm, 
 
 And willing to do battle for his creed ; 
 
 To brave the foe, and face the enemy — 
 
 How speaks our brother for his kindred race V 
 
 Then answer'd the old Bramin — " I have seen 
 Long years go by, and in the forest roanfd, 
 A stranger to mankind, expos'd to rains 
 With doubtful raiment and unwholesome food, 
 There have I steel 1 d my heart with penances, 
 And leara'd to mortify myself, and livM 
 In strict conformity to that just law 
 Our fathers from the gods receiv'd, that so 
 I might propitiate th 1 eternal pow'rs 
 To look upon our nation, and forgive
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 49 
 
 Aught of impiety or guilt, and raise 
 From thraldom up, lost freedom to restore, 
 And sfive back India to our rule ajrain. 
 And now the li<yht is dawning — lo ! I see 
 Its streaks along the dusky night of time, 
 Like the forerunners of a joyous morn, 
 Each moment as they brighten they foretell 
 The vanishing of darkness, and the flood 
 Of light now coming on to overspread 
 And introduce a future day, all bright, 
 Serene, and gladsome, from the dawn till eve. 
 Already has the shout gone forth which swells 
 From land to land, and as it goes imparts 
 New life, and vibrates in a thousand hearts 
 Where sympathetic chords are struck; and still 
 Shall vibrate on, for India's sons respond 
 To the loud call of truth and liberty. 
 The sword ere now has dimm'd itself with gore, 
 And drunk the blood of those who bid us use 
 Th 1 unclean, unholy thing. Ne'er be it sheathM 
 
 E
 
 50 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Till their proud sway be broken : till the sons 
 Of Brahma by their council rule the land ; 
 Ere this the word has pass'd in secresy, 
 And thousands by that sacred word are pledged 
 To rise when comes the needed hour, and strike 
 Th" 1 invader with a valiant arm ; nor rest, 
 Nor backward from the contest shrink, till they 
 See England's rule no more predominant, 
 And all intruders driven from our shores." 
 
 So spake the Bramin, and the king replied — 
 " 'Tis well ! our cause is prospVing gloriously ; 
 With such determination, and the nerve 
 To carry out in action, soon our throne 
 Shall firmly stand. Our ancient city kept, 
 And well defended by our faithful sons, 
 Need fear no foreign foes, though numerous 
 And known in prowess, to the walls they come. 
 Doubtless ere long that common enemy, 
 Reviving from his terror-stricken state,
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 5 I 
 
 Will march against us with collected force. 
 He is no craven foe, nor will he yield, 
 Without a struo-o-le to retain his hold, 
 These fair possessions he so long has kept, 
 And reapM therefrom such harvest, and increasM 
 The wealth and greatness of his native home. 
 Again to strive in battle he will come 
 With will determin 1 d conquVing or to die. 
 Our forces must be ready, and our walls 
 Prepaid for his attack. How counsel ye ? 
 Let those instructed in tried wisdom tell. 11 
 
 Again the Moslem spake — " Along the walls 
 
 Let garrisons be plac'd who faithfully 
 
 Will guard them 'gainst th" approaching foe, 
 
 should lie 
 Come unexpected and with suddenness, 
 Or under cover of the slumb 1 ring night. 
 So shall he be repulsed and kept at bay 
 Till an alarm bo spread, and aid arrive.
 
 52 THE MOSLEM. 
 
 Nor let this one precaution serve ; that we 
 
 May have due notice of his coming, send 
 
 Your scouts abroad on everv side, to watch 
 
 His movements and his numbers, and report 
 
 Whether, with the small force now left, he dare 
 
 Approach our strong position ; or sits still 
 
 Waiting fresh succours from his distant home. 
 
 With his diminish^ army it were wise 
 
 To tarry and defend each citadel 
 
 Till reinforcements come ; his present force, 
 
 Disjointed and in stations far apart, 
 
 If through great dangers could united be, 
 
 Is but a handful 'gainst our multitudes. 
 
 Bereft of his allies, our native troops, 
 
 Who have or in due time will mutiny — 
 
 His right hand as it were that he hath train'd 
 
 For prowess in the deadly battle-field 
 
 Against himself uplifted — it were much 
 
 For him to hold his own, or safely flee 
 
 Unscathed from the contest. Such reports
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 53 
 
 Come to us daily from the provinces ; 
 
 We hope to hear ere long not one remains 
 
 Of his accursed race. Oude sulkily 
 
 Dissatisfied and brooding over wrongs 
 
 Stirs her unsettled spirit ; Lucknow waits, 
 
 Dissembling, till an opportunity 
 
 Arrives, and then ferociously will smite. 
 
 O'er Cawnpore crafty Nana hovers like 
 
 Some watching bird of prey, and with fell swoop 
 
 In an unguarded moment will descend 
 
 With glitfring eye and savage heart, and strike 
 
 Ruthless and deep his talons, and heed not 
 
 The pleading cry of innocence, nor spare 
 
 His terror-stricken, tender, quiv'ring prey. 
 
 Calcutta and Benares, too, are ripe, 
 
 Prepaid for action when the hour shall conn' ; 
 
 And Agra, and the tribes extending far 
 
 To ancient Indus, and where falls the shade 
 
 Of the vast Himalayas, and where run 
 
 The freslfnimr waters of a thousand streams
 
 54 THE MOSLEM. 
 
 There are our friends — there beat the myriad 
 
 hearts 
 In sympathy with ours, and anxiously 
 Await th" 1 arrival of the messenger, 
 Swift rumour, with its hundred varied tongues 
 To tell how speeds our glorious enterprize. 
 
 Ci This do : 'tis needed in the present hour, 
 To cheer the faithful, to inspire the brave, 
 To turn the waVring and the doubting ; send 
 A proclamation in your royal name, 
 That all may know we have a king again, 
 That Delhi's throne is now pre-eminent. 
 Invite your subjects to maintain your rights, 
 And guard you from th 1 aggressor, and in turn 
 Promise protection and security." 
 
 Such counsel met th" approval, and forthwith 
 A royal proclamation issued forth 
 Calling on Hindoos and Mahomedans
 
 AND THE HINDOO. : »"' 
 
 To band together in the common cause ; 
 
 To act courageously, and not to leave 
 
 " The seed of devils in a single place." 
 
 But as in Delhi, so in every town 
 
 Where sped the royal mandate, they should rise 
 
 And slay without exception, pitiless 
 
 To age, or form, or sex ; if infidels, 
 
 Their destiny was settled — let them die. 
 
 " They had decreed to rob us of our faith, 
 
 To make us Christians by deceit or force ; 
 
 Their purpose had been thwarted, and to save 
 
 Ourselves and our religion we stood firm, 
 
 Nor quail'd beneath the threat'ning hand of 
 
 death, 
 But turnM his grasp against our enemies."" 
 
 Thus ran the royal mandate; and proclaimed 
 The emperor of Delhi's power supreme. 
 He would reward the obedient who pledged 
 Their true allegiance, and would quickly raise
 
 56 THE MOSLEM 
 
 The most deserving to high offices. 
 His soldiers would be paid, and just demands 
 Be satisfied when peace could be restored, 
 Success no longer doubtful, he had ta'en 
 The offer'd reins of government — the throne 
 Was now establish 1 d firmly ; with good troops, 
 Already disciplinM and thousands strong, 
 He held the city well supplied with arms. 
 Soon would he seek the remnant of his foe, 
 And drive them from each resting-place, and see 
 His people guarded and their wrongs avenged. 
 
 Night came ! disorder through the city reign 1 d 
 
 And insubordination ; the flushM troop 
 
 No longer felt restraint, and every man 
 
 Did what was right in his own eyes — he saw 
 
 A field of plunder as for tumult there, 
 
 To which he rushM with utter recklessness, 
 
 Nor car'd who should command, nor who obey.
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 57 
 
 Apart from this wild scene that rag'd around. 
 Secluded from the common gaze, and deep 
 In consultation and conflicting plans, 
 The Bramin and the Moslem sat ; dark care 
 Was on the countenance of each, when spake 
 The Bramin to his brother plotter thus — 
 
 " True ! 'twas the Prophet's sword, which bravely 
 
 cut 
 Its way from desert Araby to mount 
 The ancient and proud throne the Hindoo held. 
 The wanderer's choice was wise — from sterile home 
 Most barren and unfruitful, land of rock 
 And desert, he to fertile India came. 
 He saw her fruits, her more luxuriant laud, 
 Her palaces and royal domes, and felt 
 The sweetness of her balmy atmosphere, 
 And then forgot the desert land he left : 
 And sat him down contentedly and ruled 
 The destinies of a far older race.
 
 58 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Then came the stronger hand, which laid the pow'r 
 Alike of conquered and of conqueror 
 Submissive to its rule ; and if that hand 
 Be driven from its holding, which shall sway 
 The royal sceptre of proud Delhi's throne, 
 Mahomedan or Hindoo ? or shall both 
 United for the future rule the land \ " 
 
 " Time, which sets all things right, 11 the Moslem 
 
 said, 
 " Shall settle this hereafter ; but forsooth 
 If Hindoo share with the Mahomedan 
 The dangers of the contest, he should share 
 The glories of the triumph : let us take 
 Alike the spoils of victory. The sway 
 May be divided 1 mong the fittest men. 
 Few are the minds which rule the multitude 
 With Hindoo or Mahomedan ; the mass 
 Follow the bidding of some master-mind : 
 Whether 't is Alia bids them to the fight
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 59 
 
 Or Brahma, their impression is the same — 
 
 For God and their religion they will go. 
 
 'Tis no time now to settle those affairs 
 
 The future will bring with it ; questions grave, 
 
 The settlements of kingdoms, and the sway 
 
 Of monarchs, and the gift of crowns — let these 
 
 Await their day for judgment, it will come. 
 
 Our present work which presses closely now 
 
 Is to unite discordant elements, 
 
 To keep this rebel soldiery in bounds 
 
 Which now into excesses madly runs, 
 
 And make our new created emperor 
 
 Give substance by his name to our designs."" 
 
 Time tarried not ! the midnight came and passM, 
 
 And morning's rosy presence was at hand ! 
 
 The Bramin had departed satisfied 
 
 That glorious days might yet arise, and shine 
 
 As formerly upon the Hindoo race, 
 
 Which now too long had bow'd submissively,
 
 60 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Nor claimed the ancient honours of its sires. 
 The Moslem was alone, and gentle sleep, 
 Which should have brought refreshing energy, 
 And rest, and vigour to the wasted frame, 
 Came not with her kind influence — afar 
 She fled affrighted by the multitude, 
 And din, and wild disorder of the scene ; 
 She loves not noisy strife, nor the quick pulse 
 Of passion and excitement, but the calm, 
 The holy calm of peace. There will she come 
 Alighting with the downiest, softest wing, 
 And touch so gentle, that we heed it not ; 
 Yet feel its welcome presence. Soothingly 
 She lulls the wearied body, and drives back 
 The busy and distressing cares of earth ; 
 And opens from the scene of many woes 
 A strange, mysterious pathway, and allures 
 The spirit thither to a world, her own — 
 That wondrous world of silentness, and breathes
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 61 
 
 Recruiting strength around her visitant 
 To cany back to its exhausted frame. 
 
 But far away, and tempted not that night, 
 She shunird the dwelling of the Mussulman. 
 With step impatient here and there he pacM 
 His room, while anxious thoughts came rapidly. 
 On the successes of that lawless band 
 Mintrlino; together in disorder ; like 
 The waters of a hundred rivulets 
 Which hurricane or tempest on the hills, 
 Or mountain lake bursting its boundary, 
 Send leaping to the plains, with no sure course, 
 Spurning the usual channel — breaking down 
 The barriers which oppose them, mingling 
 
 still 
 In strange confusion, yet with added strength. 
 Unbridled and ungovernable, wild, 
 Making their lawless and destructive way.
 
 62 THE MOSLEM 
 
 On the success of such a dangVous host, 
 
 Reckless and wilful, well the Moslem knew 
 
 Depended thrones and kingdoms. He had sought 
 
 Lons; time to sow the seeds of discontent 
 
 Among the native army, thus to raise 
 
 Revolt, and by it seize the reins of pow'r. 
 
 With such an army, discipline and trainM, 
 
 Obedient to his will, he hopVl to see 
 
 The Prophet's sway again predominant : 
 
 And battles fought, and victories complete 
 
 As those of Mahmud, or the house of Ghor, 
 
 Or Timur the invader, savagely 
 
 Sweeping proud nations from his path, and there 
 
 Leaving the footprints of a conqueror ; 
 
 Or Baber, his descendant, who clahnM back 
 
 The throne of Delhi as his right, and came 
 
 With victory and pomp to reign thereon. 
 
 Such visions oft before the Moslem's mind 
 Flitted, and with rich brightness dazzling sped
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 63 
 
 Along a dangerous way ; yet tempting him 
 To follow onward, seeing but the light 
 To vanish soon in darkness ; heeding not 
 The steeps and dangers where the pathway led. 
 But then the time for action came ; the seed 
 Of mutiny had taken root — the force 
 By which he hop'd to mount to Delhi's throne 
 Had risen "gainst its masters. It was there, 
 Tasting the sweets of freedom, and perchance, 
 From its lewd revelry of lawlessness, 
 Would not return to order when requir'd. 
 Then was the time for action ! so to use 
 This lawless force to answer private ends, 
 To keep it in restraint sufficiently 
 That it might not forget its duty, when 
 Requir'd to meet the enemy, nor yield 
 Tli'' advanc'd position with such daring won ; 
 But confident in strength united hold 
 The gain'd advantage, till triumphantly 
 They could defy their hated foe, nor fear
 
 64 THE MOSLEM 
 
 To strike him in his guarded home, and drive 
 
 Him from each stronghold of their native land. 
 
 Then was the time for wily counsel ! so 
 
 To take away the Bramin's fears, and lull 
 
 His rous'd suspicions that the Moslem aim'd 
 
 At re-establishing the Prophet's pow'r 
 
 Entire, and in its old predominance 
 
 Over the Hindoo as a servile race. 
 
 Though this the final aim, it might not be 
 
 Made known ; but lurking with dissembler's smile 
 
 Await the time for its accomplishment. 
 
 The Bramin's aid was needed in the strife 
 
 For ridding India of that master arm, 
 
 Which rul'd both Hindoo and Mahomedan. 
 
 Sleepless and anxious with unceasing thought 
 
 The Moslem scann'd the pathway he must tread ; 
 
 New dangers thicken'd round him, unforeseen, 
 
 Unthought of, unexpectedly they rose, 
 
 And phantom like wearing terrific form.
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 65 
 
 He might not flee, he must abide the strife 
 
 And meet the foe ; it was his own desire, 
 
 The path he mark\l out for himself, his choice — 
 
 The choice ambition prompted him to make. 
 
 Onward, then ! on ! the fatal road lay there ; 
 
 Forward alone the pathway — no retreat, 
 
 No hope, no mercy, but in victory. 
 
 Oh, for some mighty pow'r ! — his thoughts went up 
 
 For an eternal strength. Alia ! descend 
 
 And gird thy servant with the Prophet's sword, 
 
 Give concentration to our scatter' d plans, 
 
 Curb these rebellious mutineers, unite 
 
 The elements discordant, let them blend 
 
 Together to restore our shatter'd throne. 
 
 Now is the time ! thy favour give,. for now 
 
 The enemy are terror struck, and lie 
 
 Smitten by the avenger's hand. The time 
 
 Is come, if we be e'er to rise again. 
 
 Upon our quick decision, and the way 
 
 F
 
 6Q THE MOSLEM 
 
 We use our opportunities for good, 
 Our deeds of daring in a holy cause, 
 Thy favour, gracious Alia, and this strife, 
 The Destiny of Moslem's race depends-
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 67 
 
 VI. 
 
 Wake, Britain, to thy danger ! wake ! the sound 
 
 Of war has spread itself beneath thy rule ; 
 
 Thy pow'r is set at nought, thy arms defied ; 
 
 Thy sons and daughters destiifd to a fate 
 
 At once atrocious and unmerciful. 
 
 Wake from thy slumber and supineness ! see 
 
 What danger is around thee ! thy false trust 
 
 Encircles thee in peril. Rouse thyself! 
 
 Lest to designing craft and treachery 
 
 Thou unsuspecting shouldest fall a prey. 
 
 War's sounding voice is heard — for mutiny 
 And terrible rebellion are abroad, 
 Like some fell monster, stalking through the land ; 
 Unsightly and inhuman, carrying death. 
 
 F2
 
 68 THE MOSLEM 
 
 And ruin, and destruction in their arms. 
 Through India spreads the rapid, startling sound, 
 111 tidings speed with no slow messenger. 
 From west to east — from east to west alike 
 Confused murmurs blend tumultuously, 
 And deep and deeper swell, as on they pass 
 From place to place ; their meaning more distinct, 
 Their voice more clear, telling the same sad tale — 
 Rebellion, murder, consternation, woe ! 
 
 To Simla sped that cruel sound, and there 
 
 Made known the treaclVrous discord. Anson saw 
 
 The danger of the crisis ; triflinir then 
 
 Were fatal ; he to reach Umballa sought, 
 
 Thence push to Delhi and defeat the foe. 
 
 With eastern haste he to Umballa came, 
 
 But there delay detain'd him — there he found 
 
 No siege-train ready for th' emergency, 
 
 No preparation 'gainst the fatal day. 
 
 Delay ! how trying to th' impatient mind,
 
 AND THE HTXDOO. 69 
 
 \\ hen thought outruns slow action, and performs 
 
 Wonders in its own world, and so comes back 
 
 Dissatisfied, astonished that we move 
 
 With crawling steps along, while wing'd it flies, 
 
 And finds far space no lasting obstacle 
 
 To its pervading pow'r. 
 
 The first delay 
 Surmounted and deficiencies supplied. 
 Onward he march'd to Kurnaul, there to make 
 A rest for ever — that was his long home, 
 His tarrying place on earth — no more to see 
 His troops move proudly forward, nor to hear 
 The sound of music, prelude of the fight. 
 There must he rest ; there bid a long farewell 
 To earth and its endearments ; there see fade 
 The honours he was nearing, feel that all 
 The glory, and the pomp, and pride of powY 
 Were short and fleeting, and of no account, 
 Because they must b i yielded up at death.
 
 70 THE MOSLEM 
 
 He learn' d the lesson then, if not before. 
 
 How frail is poor humanity — a breath 
 
 Of a sweet summer day, which softly dies, 
 
 Subsiding into what we cannot tell. 
 
 'Twas there, but now 'tis gone ; so much we know 
 
 Jftit further our poor knowledge fails to aid. 
 
 In honours path he may not walk again ; 
 
 An enemy has come, but not the one 
 
 Expected ; by a way unknown he came, 
 
 Mysterious and unseen — no sentinel 
 
 Kept watch for his arrival : at an hour 
 
 Not look'd for then he came ; the General 
 
 Unready and surprised was captive ta'en. 
 
 Mighty the pow , r of that arch enemy ; 
 
 Who in ten thousand forms pervades the world, 
 
 Unseen by mortal eyes ; till suddenly 
 
 The veil which hides his features is uprais'd, 
 
 And then the destm'd victim sees him stand 
 
 With bold front — face to face in hideousness.
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 71 
 
 An enemy to most, a friend to few 
 When dire necessity needs such a friend, 
 And wretchedness would seek his cold embrace. 
 An enemy to most, unsightly e^n 
 In his most comely dress, when fleeting time, 
 His great ally by long companionship, 
 With gentle and decaying touch reminds 
 The aged their long race is wellnigh run ; 
 Reminds them of this lost unwelcome truth, 
 And bids them look on that approaching form, 
 Who soon with pitiless, remorseless hand 
 Will bear them to the grave. Most comely he 
 When in such garments clad, but terrible 
 When rob\l in pestilence he walks the earth, 
 With dire and rapid step. Yet more, far more 
 Repulsive, loathsome, when in strange attire, 
 Tatter' d and rent with brutal violence 
 And deeds inhuman, he stalks wildly forth ; 
 in truth the king of terrors, girt about * 
 With signs of bloody pageantry: around,
 
 72 THE MOSLEM 
 
 The demon host of frightful ministers, 
 Pain, anguish, torture, murder, butchery. 
 
 Such the gaunt enemy, who suddenly 
 In pestilential form to Kurnaul came, 
 And captive took the British General. 
 So Anson died ; — and the command forthwith 
 Devolv'd on Barnard. " On, Sir Henry, on ! 
 Thy countrymen at Delhi need thy aid ! 
 Doubt not thy gallant troops, they will respond 
 To every brave design ; nor hesitate 
 Wherever duty leads them, though the path 
 Be steep, and garrisonM with enemies. ,1 
 
 Soon was the order known — with weary limbs, 
 And frame exhausted by an Indian sun 
 They onward march 1 d to Alipore, and there 
 From Q-hazeeoodeenuo'o-er came the force 
 Of Wilson fresh from victory, to join
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 73 
 
 Their yet but little army pressing on 
 With vengeance to the seat of mutiny. 
 
 Midnight had scarcely passM, ere the command 
 
 Was given to advance upon and drive 
 
 The rebels from their stronghold. On the road 
 
 Four miles away they had entrench'd themselves, 
 
 And would dispute the passage. The small force 
 
 Of Britain, ever ready when required 
 
 For action, but more animated then, 
 
 As time of vengeance long delay 'd drew on, 
 
 As near'd the opportunity to smite 
 
 The treach'rous Sepoy for his deadly wrong ; 
 
 With hand prepaid and still increasing wish, 
 
 And thirsting for the battle's strife, those few 
 
 Of England's valiant sons, with ready step 
 
 Beneath the soft and welcome cool of night 
 
 Press'd on the dangVous way ; and when red morn 
 
 Tinted the changing sky with rainbow hues, 
 
 And rays of light came dancing with quick step
 
 74 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Making the dim and doubtful visible, 
 They found the foe prepared, and fortified 
 In strong position guarded carefully, 
 And confident in strength defying them. 
 
 Short was the strife, an hour suffiVd to force 
 Th' intrenclfd position of their enemy. 
 An hour and he had yielded, driven back 
 By Britain's dauntless and unflinching sons 
 Who beard grim death in his selected home ; 
 Defying threats and heeding not his frown, 
 Nor fearing when with angry hand upraisM, 
 And dart already poised, he waits to hurl 
 His fatal weapon "gainst the comers on. 
 Short was the strife, and soon came victory, 
 But came with loss : the gallant Chester lay 
 Aniono- the slain, and found a soldier's o-rave. 
 
 CTerawM by the superior daring, struck 
 By terror at th 1 advance of Britain's arms,
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 75 
 
 The rebel force retir'd along the way, 
 Protected and made ready for defence; 
 But all in vain, the conqiiring few rush'd on 
 And swept before them all resistance ; drove 
 The rebels at the bayonet's point, and forced 
 Secured positions, and disputed spots, 
 As step by step they won the guarded way, 
 Nor rested from continuous victory, 
 Till, harass 1 d and disorganized, the foe 
 With terror-stricken hearts to Delhi fled.
 
 76 THE MOSLEM 
 
 VII. 
 
 Old England's summers do not always smile 
 
 With sunny days and clear unclouded skies. 
 
 Its varying climate intermingles oft 
 
 The lengthen 1 d days of June with passing show 1 ^ 
 
 Mementoes of the spring-time lately gone ; 
 
 Or with the dismal frown of wintry days 
 
 Shuts out the deep blue firmament on high. 
 
 More favour 1 d than was usual in such clime 
 
 The summer time of "Fifty-seven passed, 
 
 And wended tow'rds its close. The autumn tints 
 
 Had not yet spread their glory on the earth, 
 
 But full and ready for the reaper's hand 
 
 The golden harvest tarried, and proclaimed 
 
 In plentiful abundance to the world 
 
 The bounty of the Giver of all good.
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 77 
 
 Of such a summer 'twas the brightest day, 
 
 And from his crimson bed of early morn, 
 Increasing- in resplendent brilliancy, 
 The majesty of day rode proudly on 
 Along his ancient and unclouded course. 
 Making the skies more blue, and looking down 
 On earth with radiant and benignant smile, 
 As if no woe, or aching hearts were there. 
 So little does great nature sympathize 
 With sorrow in the world, that on she walks 
 Calmly with even step ; nor stays to look 
 With pitying eye on anguish ; or to weep 
 O'er the strewn wreck of violence and death. 
 
 That day sad tidings spread. The Indian Mail 
 Had come, and brought intelligence which rent 
 With anguish many a watching, anxious mind. 
 Alas ! it was not rumour then, but truth 
 Confirmed and known ; and hope which held on 
 doubt
 
 78 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Fled as it came, and dread reality, 
 
 With features mark'd and unmistakable, 
 
 And hideous form stood forth in nakedness. 
 
 Truth came ! a woeful tale, unmagnified 
 
 By rumour ; for with all her hundred tongues 
 
 Inventive rumour scarce could magnify, 
 
 So foul the deeds of outrage and of blood. 
 
 To many a home it came, and smote the heart 
 
 With bitterness and woe, intenser still 
 
 Where wealth, and state, and greatness held the 
 
 sway ; 
 Nor bow'd themselves to common wants and cares 
 Which poverty entails on many men. 
 So came the truth, like an omnipotence, 
 And spoke and would be heard ; no putting off, 
 No thrusting from the presence. On it march'd 
 Through gateway and through hall, nor stay'd to 
 
 ask 
 If an intruder it were deeui'd, but stood 
 Th' unwelcome guest, who paralyz'd rebuke ;
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 79 
 
 Spoke in smooth, even tones no mystery ; 
 Froze laughter into sadness with a look ; 
 E'en from the thoughtless claim'd attention; bid 
 Each heart be still in silent wretchedness. 
 
 To Agatha it came among the rest, 
 
 Worn with increasing doubt, and long suspense. 
 
 And cruelly it smote — smote the weak form 
 
 Already wasted with anxiety, 
 
 And thought, deep craving thought. Quench'd 
 
 was the light 
 Of hope, its dim and nigh exhausted ray, 
 Flick'ring for longer life 'midst doubts and fears, 
 Went out extinguished by the sudden blow. 
 And gloom and darkness fell, not like the night, 
 IlluminM with its gems and studding stars, 
 Or gilded with the maiden moon who full 
 And glowing 'mid the deep'ning gloom goes on 
 In silenl glory tow'rds her midnight throne. 
 No1 -— 1 1 * - 1 1 as this, but darkness deeper far
 
 80 THE MOSLEM 
 
 More trying, more distressing, more intense — 
 The agonizing darkness of despair. 
 
 Ruthless and stunning was the blow which fell, 
 
 And Agatha succumVd and prostrate lay. 
 
 Her frame exhausted, and with mind unhinged 
 
 She sank oblivious in forgetfulness, 
 
 Which nature brings to lull acutest grief. 
 
 Lous: time unconscious, she at length awoke 
 
 To all the sorrow of reality. 
 
 Nay worse ! reality thrice magnified 
 
 By quick imagination picturing, 
 
 And concentrating upon one the woes 
 
 Of many, and that one belov'd, our own. 
 
 Then rose the stream of woe, swift and intense, 
 And foam'd against the hindrances which lay 
 Across its new formed channel ; and among 
 Uprooted feelings murmur'd and swept on 
 Unconscious of resistance, till its course
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 81 
 
 Was marked and known ; and every obstacle 
 Smoothen'd or carried from its place, and taught 
 The pow'r of stern necessity. How time, 
 Or habit, or endurance, joy or woe 
 Mark out a channel for themselves, and keep 
 Their wayward course deepening in after years ! 
 Swift was the stream, and noisy for a time, 
 And then its angry passion died away, 
 Its murmur ceas'd to chide ; but onward still 
 With hurrying force it went, till under shade 
 In blessed quietude it seem'd to sleep. 
 Deceptive that fair face ! beneath there roll'd 
 The fatal flood, made heavy and increas'd 
 By streamlets from the spirit world, which blend 
 Reality with fantasies, and press 
 Unwelcome dreams upon the fever'd brain.
 
 82 THE MOSLEM 
 
 VIII. 
 
 In the far south on the horizon's edge, 
 
 When all i> hazy sunlight, and the breath 
 
 Of summer sultry with oppressiveness, 
 
 Anon their rises a small cloud, and up 
 
 The distant skies it climbs mysteriously. 
 
 Stealing with cautious step along its path 
 
 Like beast upon its prey, aud upward still 
 
 Continuing its free course. Behind there comes 
 
 Another aud another, until gloom 
 
 And darkness stain the distant blue, and shade 
 
 Falls like a sable mantle on the earth ; 
 
 And earth puts on the dress, and looks again 
 
 To heav'n with gloomy face, and sympathy 
 
 Increases as the thronging clouds climb on
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 83 
 
 A ml pile them i Ive in mountains ; dark and 
 
 charged 
 With thunder at their base, their summits li1 
 Willi symmetry and beauty; erown'd with crov 
 Of pearl, and Bring , d with dazzling light, and clad 
 In robee of nimwy w 1 1 i t < ■ 1 1 < "ft ;i,ud pure, 
 l»i tinctly marked againsl the deep deep blue, 
 Without the wintry atmosphere, which chills, 
 Aii'l fri i zi a, and repels; l>ut, lazily 
 Breasting the clear and azure firmament 
 Willi warm and genial face; an<l beckoning 
 To in" i delicious heights, where sweet rep 
 Seemc eated upon glory, and enthron'd 
 In soli! mle rind peace ; alluring there 
 To climb on airy steeps, through which the sun 
 Breal be lu strou hue i, and rich magnificence. 
 Willi glory thus around their summit* spread 
 \ 1 1 - 1 dark'niog to their base, the mountain cloud 
 With stately and maj tep, march on 
 
 Till Ih.i v" ii i over jpn ad, and thunders roll
 
 84 THE MOSLEM 
 
 First murm'rmg in the distance ; nearer when 
 The lightning's flash is seen most vividly, 
 Leaping from sky to earth, and writing lines 
 Of fire across the darkness, where the steeds 
 Of death go flying to their distant prey. 
 And then the whirlwind's rush, when the mad 
 
 storm 
 Comes sweeping on with fury, and the hail 
 In wild disorder driven through the air, 
 Partaking of the tempest's revelry 
 Descends to earth, and leaps again on high 
 And dances with its fellows ; and then falls 
 And melts and is forgotten, for his day 
 Is pass'd ; the plaything of an angry hour 
 Of some deep passionate outbreak, which goes on 
 Nor heeds the wreck behind, nor instruments, 
 Nor lives expended for its fitful mirth. 
 
 At such a time, sweet is the distant ray 
 Of light which penetrates the murky gloom,
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 85 
 
 And cleaves the clouds above ; till opening there 
 A way from storm and darkness, shows the sky 
 All clear and blue ; recalling" other times, 
 Long days of sunshine, sacred memories, 
 And summer scenes on which no darkness fell ; 
 And breathing present peace from far, unfolds 
 Tranquillity beyond the tempest's rage. 
 
 So through the storm of grief, which rudely 
 
 swept 
 From India into Britain, and with woe 
 Froze hearts and homes, there came a ray of 
 
 light 
 To Amy — Henry whom she lov'd was safe. 
 A letter told his health ; one from himself 
 To her — a letter breathing constancy, 
 Truth, love, and words to be remember" d long. 
 And rumour told him brave, and magnified 
 With busy speech his gallant deeds, and marked 
 The path of glory he should one day tread.
 
 86 THE MOSLEM 
 
 There is a river of a world-wide fame 
 
 Which sluggishly moves onward, in its course 
 
 Watering most fertile meads ; by sacred haunts 
 
 Famous in song ; by castle walls it flows 
 
 Where stately tow'rs and hoary battlements 
 
 Rise in majestic form above the flood, 
 
 And mirror'd in the deep dark pool below 
 
 Tell passing ages to look on and see 
 
 How small a change across their greatness comes : 
 
 A little hoary here and there with years 
 
 Seems but the touch of beauty, and the tint 
 
 Of dignity to such ancestral home. 
 
 On winds that sleepy stream through meadows far, 
 
 And 'neath the hanging woods ; and by the home 
 
 Where genius once arose, and liy'd and walk'd 
 
 The earth like common mortals, and o-ave birth 
 
 To thought — such thought as dwells but with the 
 
 wise 
 And gifted ; which engraves for after years 
 The mem'ries of the past on fleeting time
 
 AXD THE HINDOO. 87 
 
 With characters of such true vital fire, 
 
 That through long centuries they shine, and draw 
 
 With gravitating influence ; and men 
 
 Behold the light, and wonder, and come near 
 
 To read their golden wisdom. Lessons writ 
 
 From out the heart and speaking to the heart ; 
 
 Words, characters, and thoughts from out the man 
 
 Taken with skilful hand, and to the man 
 
 Speaking again with deep intensity. 
 
 By battle-field that river flows and hears 
 
 The distant sound of savage strife, the cry 
 
 Of hate, which up from civil discord springs 
 
 Fiercer than when the deadly struggle sets 
 
 Against a foreign foe ; then gliding on 
 
 Rolls and forgets, itself ere long to be 
 
 Forgotten — its existence cease — its name 
 
 Fade as things earthly quit this mortal scene. 
 
 Beneath the shade of ancient trees, which crownM 
 The summit of a hill, whose sloping sides
 
 88 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Went down and drank the waters of that stream , 
 
 Sat Amy on the summer afternoon 
 
 When evil tidings spread : she stole an hour 
 
 From watching, and from sickness which now lay 
 
 Exhausted and unconscious in deep sleep. 
 
 An hour she stole, an hour of solitude 
 
 Sweet to the burden'd spirit ; there to be 
 
 Herself — to let her swelling heart break forth 
 
 And cast away its load, and melt itself 
 
 In weakness ; with no eye to see, no ear 
 
 To listen to the sound, and only one 
 
 Companion of that hour of joy or grief — 
 
 Serene and list'ning Nature, who sits by 
 
 With silent patience watching, and awaits 
 
 The lull, when it restoring balm applies, 
 
 And comforts with kind whisperings, and soothes 
 
 With touch the tend'rest and most delicate. 
 
 All is not dark on this sin stricken earth, 
 Across its surface there are precious spots
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 89 
 
 Sacred with richest menVries, over which 
 The heart leaps while we walk, and the gone 
 
 past 
 Comes thronging with a denser atmosphere, 
 Till the thick breath grows difficult, and life 
 Seems strangled by its own intensity. 
 Such was the spot where Amy sat — her eyes 
 Were red with weeping. Was it carking grief, 
 Corroding with its unseen touch the bloom 
 Of comeliness and beauty, caus'd those tears I 
 Or was it joy — intensest happiness 
 Which ever filPd the heart, and gratitude 
 United ; until overflowing full 
 They burst, as bursts the charged cloud, and 
 
 sheds 
 Itself in showr's, and then dissolves away 
 In the clear, fresher atmosphere of hcav n ? 
 Whence sprung those showYs of tears I G ive 
 
 answer ye 
 Who thus have sat and wept in .solitude
 
 90 THE MOSLEM 
 
 'Twas a delicious autumn afternoon 
 
 A year or two before, which sped along 
 
 As speeds full happiness ; until the cool 
 
 Of night came on, and length/'ning shadows grew, 
 
 And warn'd a festive party from the woods 
 
 To home ; but one upon the chosen spot 
 
 Where Amy now was sitting, lingered there 
 
 To watch the setting sun, and eventide 
 
 Put on her golden robes, and intermix 
 
 With light and shade the distant landscape o'er. 
 
 Fix'd was his eye upon the scene ; his thoughts 
 
 Absorb 1 d ; his longing spirit felt the pow'r 
 
 Of Nature's all pervading influence, 
 
 Writing her wond'rous lessons on the soul, 
 
 And pouring through Imagination's realms 
 
 The airy forms we love ; too fanciful 
 
 For earth's rude fingers, yet too manifest 
 
 And real to be rashly cast away. 
 
 He heeded not th' approach of one who came 
 
 With quick elastic step, and hurrying on
 
 AND THE HIXDOO. 91 
 
 Thinking herself deserted in the wood. 
 Amy of summers gone — of late the child 
 Who grew into his heart — now reaching up 
 To womanhood, with all the bloom of health 
 Fresh" ning upon her face, and beauty there 
 Smiling in its own happiest mood, and lit 
 With light and loveliness unspeakable. 
 Through her deep eye beanVd that eternal blue 
 Which mirrors in itself infinity, 
 Lustrous and without end ; which fascinates 
 To an absorbing vortex, and draws on 
 Nearer and nearer still the willing soul 
 With a delicious dream of sweetest joy. 
 In loose and mingled gracefulness, her hair, 
 DishevelTd by the wind and exercise, 
 In rich profusion on her shoulders hung. 
 With gladsome thought, unconscious how swift 
 
 time 
 Steals furtively away, far had she stroll'd, 
 And now retura'd in haste ; her pathway lay
 
 92 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Where Henry drank the evening scene ; she 
 
 paus'd 
 A moment ere she spoke. 
 
 " Watch you the clouds 
 And sailing moon to-night ; or may we hope 
 Your presence at our home \ Can no fair face 
 Seduce you from your lonely reveries 
 And solitary rambles ; shunning men 
 And joys that others seek \ Away to-night 
 With us, the house will lauoji with merriment !"" 
 
 He, starting at her words, replied, " To-night 
 I meant to be your guest, and hear the sound 
 Of mirth which men call joyous ; you shall draw, 
 If such be worth your while, my heart away 
 From its lone worship ; I will give myself 
 A captive to your hands, but bind me not 
 Save with love^ silken cords. Be merciful, 
 And lead me to thine own sweet world, and give 
 Joys I have never tasted. I will watch
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 93 
 
 Another time the moon and drifting clouds, 
 And draw from them deep lore. Tig not forbidern 
 To gaze on silent glory, and the worlds 
 Which win us from this earth ! Dost thou not 
 
 love 
 Our great instructress, Nature \ Is there not 
 A vast, pervading, wondrous sympathy 
 In all that is around us, and which speaks 
 Like spirit unto spirit through the soul ? 
 E'en now it steals upon the senses ! now 
 It draws us from our earthly selves, and gives 
 A more divine existence, exquisite, 
 Intense, and rapturous ; for the eventide 
 Is flooding us with glory. There P' and she 
 Drew nearer to his spirit words, " behold 
 Yon setting sun in true magnificence. 
 The west is all on fire ; the dying king- 
 Grows glorious on his deathbed, and bestows 
 His diadems of splendour ; now the clouds 
 Which linger round his latest hours grow bright 
 
 o too
 
 94 THE MOSLEM 
 
 And lustrous in his presence — the dark shade 
 Which hung across them vanishes, they smile 
 And take the golden crowns and put them on, 
 And wear their royal dresses interwove 
 With light and colour mixed wondrously. 
 Now leap the rays of light, and kiss the east, 
 And make his dark cheek ruddy with fresh bloom, 
 Till in the sombre shade of purple eve 
 They mingle and so fade. Hush'd is each sound 
 Save yonder waterfall, which murmurs on, 
 And now speaks like a melancholy soul 
 Smitten amid the srowintr silentness 
 With consciousness of solitude, and so 
 Complains of its lone lot ; and ever tells 
 Unceasingly, throughout the live-long year, 
 As day by day it leaps into the pool 
 Shady and dim with overhanging boughs, 
 The same sad tale, ' lower and lower still 
 Fate bids us ever roll.'' Against the sky 
 In perfect outline lie the stately trees
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 95 
 
 Rob'd in the richer garments Autumn gives — 
 And touclfd with magic tints. Beneath von firs 
 Clumped and dark with massiveness, there peeps 
 The crimson and resplendent west, which glows 
 Intenser by the contrast — such no stroke 
 Of artist's pencil can delineate, 
 Or vivify on canvass. Where the birch, 
 Frmg"d with its tender twigs, hangs gracefully, 
 And the broad chesnut with full rounded form 
 Lets fall its golden leaves, tender and frail, 
 And yielding to the chill of night ; there rise 
 The turrets of an old ancestral hall, 
 Gray with long years, and haunted memories 
 Which bear us through far centuries, and show 
 The vanish'd past again, revived, recallM 
 With all the pageantry of olden time. 
 And now the full and rising harvest moon 
 Peeps from the dim and purple line, which grows 
 More deep along the sky ; and silently 
 She mounts with radiant glory her known path,
 
 96 THE MOSLEM 
 
 A queen of peace. Oh ! what intensity 
 
 Of feelino- rises towVds her as she looks 
 
 So calm and peaceful from her distant throne ! 
 
 How leaps the longing soul to that red west 
 
 Where ebb the waves of sunset ! joyously 
 
 The spirit through creation flies, and drinks 
 
 Deep from a thousand streams, but back returns 
 
 Restless and thirsting still ! There is a void, 
 
 A vacancy unfillM ; a something yet 
 
 Is needed to complete full happiness. 
 
 A truer sympathy is wanting, such 
 
 As forms another self. The yearning heart 
 
 Beats with tumultuous thoughts, and willingly 
 
 Would melt itself in passion's strains, and find 
 
 Some kindred rest — some kind and gentle home 
 
 Where it might find repose. And now it seems 
 
 To tread a fairy spot, and feel new joy, 
 
 And drink from all the thousand sacred streams 
 
 Mino-led in one ; for when I turn and look 
 
 And see thy pensive face, it fascinates
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 97 
 
 And penetrates unbidden ; and thine eyes 
 
 Deepen with light unspeakable, and hue 
 
 Lustrous, and soft, and full ; and concentrate 
 
 Within their wondrous orbs beauty intense, 
 
 Resistless, and enthralling — pleading not 
 
 With weak unmeaning words, but looks which win , 
 
 And melt with mighty sympathetic pow'r 
 
 Growing upon its captive. I know not 
 
 Why it should speak thus strangely to me. Why 
 
 It penetrates instinctively my soul, 
 
 And draws me with delicious pow'r, and breathes 
 
 A fresher life. Nay ! turn not — true ! the night 
 
 Is coming ; let me be thy guardian then 
 
 Till we o'ertake the rest. Our quicken 1 d step 
 
 Will warn away the chilling damp which steals 
 
 As grows the hour, and spares not young nor old, 
 
 But ever watches anxiously for prey. 1 ' 
 
 Such was the spot, with sacred memories 
 Deepeifd by after time, which Amy chose 
 
 II
 
 98 THE MOSLEM 
 
 As one the most endear'd, and there she went 
 To vent her grief and joy in solitude. 
 Grief for her brother's and her sister's fate ; 
 Hard rumour with unwelcome voice had told 
 Their names among the dead — slain ruthlessly 
 By the false rebel murd'rer's bloody hand. 
 Joy that her Henry liv'd, and valiantly 
 Trod the steep path of fame. Her thankful heart 
 Beat fast with gratitude that he was spar'd, 
 When Death in wrathful mood cast forth his darts. 
 And let the shadow of his lifted arm 
 Fall on the manly countenance ; and smote 
 Unsparingly, and heapM his victims round. 
 Oh ! what a pray'r was that unspoken, but 
 Intenser than in words, from the full heart 
 Went to the throne on high for safety ! what 
 A faith was that which saw Omnipotence 
 Stretching its everlasting arms abroad 
 To India for protection to the brave ! 
 And what a lulling peace descending came
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 99 
 
 With the assurance, tliat above all war, 
 And death, and tumult, sits th' Eternal Mind, 
 Ruling for His great purposes of good 
 The human tempests of the world below ! 
 
 11 2
 
 100 THE MOSLEM 
 
 IX. 
 
 The morning sun lookM gaily down on earth, 
 And risino- from his couch, pour'd forth his beams 
 To penetrate dull autumn's fog, and clear 
 The veil from off the river's winding course, 
 Till they could glitter in the rippling stream, 
 Or glide upon the deep, calm pool, where morn, 
 Thron 1 d on the skies, beholds her radiant face. 
 Restless, exhausted, wakeful, Agatha 
 Saw the first signs of dawn, the light increase 
 Till peeping through the branching dismal trees 
 It dimm'd the midnight lamp, and told of day 
 Coming in usual course. With tardy step 
 To her it seeind to move— so do we judge 
 Of time by what we feel : in happiness
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 101 
 
 It speeds too quickly by ; in sorrow's hours 
 
 It moves with slowest steps. Long, long the night 
 
 To her, for teeming mem'ries throng'd the brain. 
 
 And rose before her in their freshness near, 
 
 Then vanishM far for ever. Hopes, whose birth 
 
 Gladdeifd the heart, and made life's sunny course 
 
 Seem but a joyous holiday, came back ; 
 
 They stood a moment, smil'd, then from her grasp 
 
 Leapt far, and with a fiendish mockery 
 
 Echo'd a lono- farewell. The castle tow'rs, 
 
 O 7 
 
 Built in imagination's dreams, rose up 
 Higher and higher still ; more beautiful, 
 And strong, and firm they stood, and to the base 
 Look'd such as no convulsive shock might move : 
 But as the flag-staff rose to crown the whole, 
 An earthquake heavM and the foundations rent — 
 Down the proud building into ruin fell. 
 
 Then the fierce storm of grief swept rudely by, 
 And on the brain its dark and fearful tide
 
 102 THE MOSLEM 
 
 DashM as rousM ocean dashes 'long the shore, 
 And smites the beetling rocks in mist and gloom. 
 The tidings came, the worst was realized ; 
 Her all seemM lost, both son and daughter slain 
 The certainty struck home with deadly pow 1 !', 
 And life and death disputing then began. 
 Nor long th 1 unequal strife : already worn 
 And wasted by anxiety, while hope 
 And fear contended for the mastery, 
 Stunn'd by the blow, the frail and tender form 
 Of Agatha gave way — she fell and died, 
 Ere to his mid-day throne the sun had climb 1 d — 
 Died in the night of grief and dark despair. 
 Her all was here ! her hope on earth was set ; 
 That hope departed, and her sun went down 
 And left all gloom — no heav'nly ray to cheer, 
 Or light beyond the grave. Her home had been 
 On earth ; there was her love, and to its ways 
 And things her best affections clung — her heart 
 Was given to its service. And for what I
 
 AND THE HINDOO. l()o 
 
 But those who now were taken. She had hopM 
 To see that son climb in the path of life 
 To great and glorious honours, and become 
 Renown'd : for this she plann'd and toil'd, nor 
 
 vain 
 Long time had seem'd her hope, for promises 
 Had come from those in pow'r; but death stepp'd in 
 And claim'd them. They belong' d to her no more, 
 The shadow of the monster stood between 
 And mock'd with cruel sport her grief, and said, 
 " They smile no more, no more reap earthly good." 
 Her desolation came : fearful indeed 
 The truth flasli'd on her ; earthly pleasures fade, 
 For earthly pleasures are but fleeting things. 
 Her children ta'en. Alas ! Resign them ? no ! 
 She could not, they were her one great delight, 
 For thrm she liv'd ! but death most cruelly 
 EchoM with cutting words — " The young or old 
 I spare not, choosing where I will my prey 
 And keep it mine for ever." Then the waves
 
 104 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Of grief leapt huge and heavy on the brain ; 
 And the dim gloom of disappointment grew 
 Darker and darker still ; and so she died, 
 In the black night of bitterness ! No ray 
 Of hope divine was there, and o'er her form, 
 Stiff ning in its last sleep, the moralist 
 Might read these startling, but instructive words, 
 " The sorrow of the world which worketh death."
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 105 
 
 X. 
 
 The day expected, long expected, dawn'd 
 For the assault on Delhi. 'Gainst a force 
 Overwhelming - as to numbers, Britain held, 
 Week after week, her own without the walls 
 And kept the foe at bay. That foe, intent 
 < )n her destruction ere fresh succours came, 
 Often repelPd, to strife again returnM; 
 13ut all in vain — defeated backward fled 
 Within the city walls once more, and there 
 Prepard resistance "gainst extremity. 
 And Britain's gallant band maintained its ground, 
 Stood firm, prepaid and waiting patiently 
 Supplies which came but slowly ; and when all 
 Expected aid had come, they numberM few
 
 106 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Compar'd with the large force of mutineers 
 Who held the city, and defiance breathed. 
 
 Long must they wait, till reinforcement came 
 From England's distant home ; or 'gainst great 
 
 odds 
 Of numbers and position, smite the foe 
 Shielded by Death, and, spite his hideous form, 
 With wondrous daring take the victory. 
 
 That wondrous daring was not wanting, there 
 It burn'd in many a heart, and Vengeance cried, 
 And Wrono- and Outrage stood in dreadful garb 
 Beck'ning the avenger on ; and noble souls, 
 Inspired by the sight, with heated blood 
 And reaching forward to the crown of fame, 
 Stepp'd into danger's path for valiant deeds, 
 And bid decision rise, nor hesitate. 
 So dawnM the day at length for that assault, 
 And Wilson gave command, for Barnard's sun
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 107 
 
 Had sunk and set in death, " The innocent 
 Spare, and be merciful, where mercy calls. 
 But cruelty remember, and spare not 
 The butchers who commit atrocities — 
 Our children and our women slaughter d cry, 
 No mercy to the Sepoy ! none ! he gave 
 None in the frightful hour of massacre."' 1 
 
 The batteries 1 roar had thunder 1 d forth with might, 
 Their messengers had leapt continuously ; 
 Their work was done ; for breaches had been made 
 Near the Cashmere and Water bastions. 
 Two columns plac'd to enter there, or die, 
 Stood ready for such service ; at the word 
 From Koodsee Bagh emerging, with firm step 
 They steadily advanc'd towards the breach, 
 Spite of the show 1 !- of shot which round them flew 
 With fatal pow'r, striking as frequently 
 As winter's hail strikes the yet clinging leaves. 
 They reach'd the ditch; a pause — but not for long,
 
 108 THE MOSLEM 
 
 The ladders ready, to the work they went, 
 And fiercely charging up the scarp, rushVl on 
 With shout defiant, speaking victory. 
 
 Meanwhile advancing to the Cashmere gate, 
 With ammunition ready, Salkeld's band 
 Went dauntless through a fire of musketry, 
 And coolly laid their powder bags ; success 
 Thus far had crowii'd their efforts, but revenge 
 Seeni'd skulking near to smite : brave Salkeld fell, 
 Twice shot ; Carmichael tried to fire the train 
 But paid his life a forfeit ; Burgess then 
 Undaunted took his place, applied the light — 
 A flash — a shock — confusion, and the gate 
 Was riv'n and in atoms. Onward rushM 
 Their eager forces to the city strife ; 
 Then fierce the combat grew, and hand to hand 
 Compeird at last to fight, the mutineer 
 To desperation driv n turn'd at bay. 
 The bayonet's thrust was felt ; the quick report
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 109 
 
 Ot'manv-moutird revolver, and the din 
 And struggle of antagonist and clash 
 Of rival arms were heard ; the thirsty sword 
 Flash 1 d in its passage as it rose and fell. 
 Vengeance, with beating heart and eager eyes, 
 Exultingly look'd on the scene, and drove 
 Melting Compassion far away, and steel'd 
 The harden'd soul still harder than before. 
 More stubborn grew the fight; the English 
 
 troops 
 Had yard by yard to force their onward way — 
 No undisputed ground, tenaciously 
 The Sepoy held his own. From wall and tow , r 
 From house-top far above, on ev'ry side 
 From dome and building fell alike the storm 
 Which thinnM th 1 advancing ranks so fatally ; 
 Yet no avail, it could not stem the tide 
 Which rous'd and angry through that death-storm 
 
 rollM. 
 Still British arms prevaiFd, for victory
 
 110 THE MOSLEM 
 
 And vengeance arni'd, together strode alono - — 
 Proud victory and bloody vengeance join"d. 
 
 But in the middle march of triumph came 
 A cloud across the way, a dismal cloud : 
 Brave Nicholson receivM his mortal wound — 
 He fell ! E'en when the crown he sought was 
 
 near — 
 His hand nigh touch'd it, and the nerves were 
 
 strain'd 
 To reach it — in his grasp it sped, a gloom 
 Spread o'er it till it faded from the sight. 
 He died, and earthly honour round his name 
 Stands like a halo round the orbed moon 
 Upon a murky night ; her purer light 
 Among the denser atmosphere of earth 
 Creating that known circle near her throne. 
 So does the spirit from a better world, 
 With nobler aspirations and desires 
 Than spring from this, create instinctively
 
 AND THE HINDOO. Ill 
 
 From orosser and the denser things of time 
 A livino- halo round its home and name 
 Tinted with endless glory. So it lives 
 And shines for ever in the night of death. 
 No lull succeeded for the tear to fall ; 
 The clash of arms each rising sigh suppressM, 
 Aud rousM the energies from sorrow's sway — 
 Keen grief was lost in action. Onward swept 
 The battle-tide despite the dying brave, 
 Or pity's cry, or pain ; for vengeance spoke, 
 " No mercy to the Sepoy ! none ! he gave 
 None in the frightful hour of massacre !" 
 
 For seven days from street to street they fought, 
 For seven days true courage won its way, 
 And British daring grew in might, and seem'd 
 Invincible, and wonders did, and smote 
 The foe with such a slaughter, till he fled 
 And all the city own'd them conquerors.
 
 112 THE MOSLEM 
 
 So triumph came ! and in the Palace hall 
 Where is the elysium of the eastern world, 
 A paradise on earth, if such there be ; 
 The sacred spot — the inmost shrine of kings, 
 Where no intruder ever dar'd to tread, 
 But spirits of the great departed came, 
 Hoy'rins; in robes invisible, to see 
 The glory of their race continuing 
 Intact, and far above the common mould ; 
 By sacred mernries guarded, and enrich 1 d 
 With lavish gifts and honours, and enthron'd 
 In that most sacred of all sacred spots ; 
 There, in that home of kings, the British name 
 Enter 1 d of right. There rose the loyal shout 
 For her who reigu'd on Britain's distant throne: 
 That shout so strong and true from English hearts 
 Hose with no sound uncertain ; rose and shook 
 The rich pavilion's sanctity, and ssvelFd 
 Through dome and hall, and to the city told 
 Th 1 avenger there, who came by wrongs arous"d
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 113 
 
 And .smote the monsters of committed crimes, 
 And dimmM in blood the sword of vengeance, told 
 How that avenger stood invincible, 
 Proud and supreme in conscious victory.
 
 114 THE MOSLEM 
 
 XL 
 
 The strife had pass'd away, and victory 
 
 In Delhi was complete ; its tidings borne 
 
 To England had made glad a thousand hearts. 
 
 Proud of their nation's prowess, and the brave 
 
 And daring hearts who resolutely stood 
 
 Against o'erpow'ring numbers, till the few 
 
 At hand to succour came ; then nobly rush'd 
 
 To combat with the multitude which held 
 
 The doonVd, polluted city ; and in spite 
 
 Of wall and tow 1 !', of trench and obstacle, 
 
 With armed troops defended, won their way, 
 
 And took the stronghold from th 1 insurgents 1 hand. 
 
 Proud of such men who bore their country's name, 
 The shout in Britain rose for victory.
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 115 
 
 a ■>' 
 
 'Twas well aud nobly done !" each heart replied 
 
 " All honour to the brave !" But as that shout 
 
 Died in a distant echo, slowly came 
 
 A sound of grief, a dull and heavy sound ; 
 
 Grief for the dead — the fall n in the strife, 
 
 The wealthy, noble, gifted, and the pride 
 
 Of families — the light and life of homes. 
 
 That mournful sound had spread, to Amy came 
 
 Already pale and haggard with deep grief. 
 
 A brother and a sister slain afar ; 
 
 Her mother's fate beneath the blow, which fell 
 
 So heavily on all. She left alone 
 
 With one, who like herself bow'd to the storm, 
 
 And heard his children's fate, and saw his wife 
 
 Cut off, yet recognised the hand of God, 
 
 And said, " Thy will be done !" And in his faci 
 
 She saw the soothing light of patient hope ; 
 
 And resignation beaming there, as beams 
 
 The rainbow on the thunder cloud, which dark 
 
 And threat'ning wraps the joyous earth in shade. 
 
 i 2
 
 116 THE MOSLEM 
 
 One earthly hope was hers — her Henry livM ! 
 A hope which like a light in darkness shone, 
 Yet clouded often times with doubt and fear. 
 He trod in dangers pathway, and grim death 
 Had often touch 1 d him as he pass^, and caus'd 
 A chilling shudder to run through the frame ; 
 And that one hope grew strong, and many a pray'r 
 Went up for safety to the throne of God — 
 " Father, protect him by Thy mighty arm." 
 That pray'r was heard, but wondrous are the ways 
 God uses in his purposes ; he speaks 
 In tones of love, which sound all bitterness ; 
 His works of mercy seem but cruelty 
 When wrongly heard and read ; when reason comes 
 With proud and carnal mind interpreting 
 Where it should bow submissively, and learn 
 Its Maker's will. Those whom God loves he le; 
 By dark and troublous paths, yet not in vain, 
 To purify and test their faith ; to try 
 Their constancy, their hope ; and mould them 1
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 117 
 
 Those characters who shall receive His crowns. 
 That one bright hope of Amy's stronger grew, 
 And faith increas'd, and goodly tidings came ; 
 •• Courageous, noble, foremost in the fight, - " 1 
 All told his praise. Alas ! uncertain life ! 
 In that assault he fell, and Delhi's name, 
 And victory brought woe ; deceitful hope 
 Went out and vanish' d in the shade of death. 
 Dread rumour spoke ; with reeling brain she heard 
 Not his victorious deeds, his valiantness : 
 She onlv heard the tidings " he was dead I 11 
 Grief smote her beating heart, yet not a tear 
 Or aught beside the pallor on her cheeks 
 Bespoke her inward woe. Deep, deep, it struck ! 
 And seizM upon her soul, and settled there, 
 And fed itself in speechless agony. 
 Like a dark cloud it came — came all at once ! 
 She could not see her way nor carM to feel, 
 Nor thought on the returning light; no star 
 AppearM in that benighted solitude;
 
 118 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Her object in life's journey ceasM, there fell 
 Such utter desolation round her, such 
 A void was in her heart, in wretchedness 
 Reason and faith together prostrate lay. 
 
 So days and nights pass'd on ! long days, and 
 
 nights, 
 And weeks ; and on her mighty grief she dwelt, 
 Letting it omaw in secret. On the brain 
 It rolFd, as rolls with ceaseless ebb and flow 
 The tide along the shore ; no rest — the dash, 
 Or weary moan was there ; until her frame 
 Nigh sank beneath its pow'r. Her healthy face 
 Grew thin, the light forsook her eye, but all 
 Directed by her Father's hand was well. 
 He gave, He took away ; He tempted not 
 Beyond endurance, at her side He stood 
 With strength sufficient for her day, and faith 
 Rose from the trial purifTd and full.
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 119 
 
 One spot to her more sacred than the rest 
 
 Of earth she lov\l to tread, and there to sit 
 
 And muse on the gone past, and disentomb 
 
 Departed hopes and words more sacred made. 
 
 There had she learnM a secret which became 
 
 The hope of after life ; there consciousness 
 
 First dawn'd that she was lov\l ; that to her bent 
 
 A noble nature in its worship, while 
 
 It moulded hers to it. There had she heard 
 
 Deep lessons from his lips, which back returnM 
 
 With living freshness in her day of grief; 
 
 And musing there when the late autumn sun 
 
 With wintry glances lit the skies above, 
 
 And through the naked trees look\l glitfringly 
 
 With gilding light on the strewn wreck below. 
 
 His words came back with touching melody 
 
 Soft'ning her inward grief: " How fair the scene 
 
 Before us spread in beauty ; it must die. 
 
 'Tis earthly — what is earthly fades. Love not 
 
 With an inordinate affection earth
 
 120 THE MOSLEM 
 
 For disappointment lurks beneath its form. 
 Yon trees, so full of life, shall cast their dress 
 By winter's tempest scatterYl, and their leaves 
 Shall be the sport of whirlwinds ; toss'd about 
 In wild, fantastic frolic, they shall dance 
 Amid the fury of the sweeping storm. 
 Dream, if you will, while verdure clothes the earth 
 And fiWrs laugh in their beauty, and the sun 
 Is warm, and green boughs cast a tempting shade ! 
 Dream and enjoy the present ! but there comes 
 The winter treading on its heels ; for this 
 Prepare ! forget not there is such a time. 1 "' 
 
 So came his words again most soothingly, 
 And seenVd to lift her soul from the long- m-ief 
 Which settled round her ; and above the gloom 
 She saw a bright and joyous spot, and one 
 Stood there, who beckon 1 d her to come, and said, 
 In tones full w T ell remember 1 d and endearM, 
 " Love not the earth too much, it disappoints !
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 121 
 
 Your home is here ! here tread with steady step. 
 Here fix your gaze, here let your hope be set ! 
 Have faith in God. His dealings may appear 
 Mysterious and distressing, but have faith ! 
 Remember His most gracious promise ; let 
 Your thoughts return with comfort to His word: 
 ' All things together work for good, to such 
 As love — to those God by His purpose calls 
 To holy life, and knowledge in his ways."' 
 Distrust not then thy Father's love, He draws 
 Thy wand'ring spirit to Himself, and weans 
 Away from tempting earth. E'en now He tells 
 It cannot satisfy thy hope, nor fill 
 The void existing in thy aching heart. 
 Here ! where no sigh is heard, no tear is seen, 
 No sorrow gnaws upon its victim ; where 
 No heart in desolation sits and broods ; 
 Nor disappointment comes, nor death steps in 
 To check the stream of love : here is true peace 
 Which with delicious sweetness fills the soul !"
 
 122 THE MOSLEM 
 
 Quickly decision came ! " Thy will be done !" 
 And hers to it submissive bent ; then light 
 Broke through the gloom, she saw the Christian's 
 
 path 
 O'erhung with joys she never knew before, 
 And dull religion rise a lovely thing. 
 The weight fell from her heart ; behind, her grief 
 Lay in the darkness past ; before her shone 
 Light, life, new hope, and immortality. 
 Death lost his dreaded form, and changing stood 
 Before her as the gate of life, and faith 
 Applied the key ; it opened, and she saw 
 The lov'd and lost from earth rejoicing there, 
 Safe in the presence of the King of kings. 
 The distance seemM to lessen, and her heart 
 Was drawn towards them, it was but a step 
 Across the valley of the shade of death. 
 The resurrection morn broke vividly, 
 And the regretted and the lost came back 
 Wearing their robes eternal, and the crowns
 
 AND THE HINDOO. 12 
 
 Of victory ; and on each forehead stampM 
 The new name written by the living God, 
 Which none knew but themselves, and in their 
 
 hands 
 The sceptres of the just. Redeem' d from death, 
 And risen from corruption, the vile dust, 
 Chano-'d to a o;lorious bodv like the Lord's, 
 Stood in imperishable life ; the glow 
 Of conscious immortality was there, 
 And on the cheek health's everlasting bloom. 
 
 Earthly delusions fell ; her buoyant soul, 
 Inspired by a divine celestial pow 1 !*, 
 YearnM tow'rds that better rest instinctively ; 
 Her heart leapt to reunion, and she felt 
 That sanctified, and blessM by heav nly love 
 Deep sorrow was the stepping-stone to bliss. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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