Page:Oriental Sketches Dramatic Sketches and Tales.pdf/25

Rh

He lies beside the sacred river, His heart has lost life's ruddy glow, His sighs are faint, his pulses quiver, And death's chill damps are on his brow.

Within yon green and bowery glade Whose path the smile of sunshine wears, Beneath the lofty palm tree's shade His loved though lowly hut appears.

And near him well known sounds arise With joyous songs and laughter fraught, And now his glazed and languid eyes Are turned towards the village-ghaut.

There all is cheerful, as of yore, When with the sun's declining beam He too had sought the Ganges' shore, And bathed within its hallowed stream.