Page:Landon in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book 1839.pdf/21

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tomb,—and who within it sleepeth None knows: old Time hath many secret things. But there her rosy tears the Evening weepeth, And there the Morn her early sunshine flings.

For ever glideth on that lovely river; Laden with early wreaths the creepers twine, While, like the arrows from a royal quiver, Golden the glancing sunbeams o’er them shine.

Oh, outward world, how beautiful thy seeming! How lavish in thy luxury! how fair! A thousand blossoms light the thickets, teeming With future glories for the kindling air.

Yet less the prodigal loveliness enchanteth, With all the passing hours from summer win; Less is the human spirit by it haunted Than by some link that wakes the world within.

The Hindoo gathered of the purple flowers— What needed he?—A garland for his head?— Not so—he asketh from the summer hours A tribute for the unforgotten dead.

And not in vain that fragrant wealth is scattered: For lofty thoughts and noble, haunt the grave. The selfish chain of actual life is shattered, And higher thoughts higher existence crave.

It is the past that maketh the ideal, Kindling the future with its onward ray, And o’er a world that else would be too real, Flinging the glory of the moral day.

The melancholy marking the Hindoo character is especially shown in the picturesque sites chosen for their tombs. Strangers will scatter flowers over the dust that, for them, has not even a name. The tomb on the summit of the rocks at Colgong is treated with that tender respect which in India is always the portion of the dead.—"These picturesque rocks, the occasional habitation of a Fakeer, occur at about a day’s journey below Jangbera, on the Ganges, in the midst of romantic and varied scenery. They are esteemed sacred by the Hindoo devotees, and have been sculptured with rude effigies of their gods."