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I stood upon the shores of Hindustan, A solitary man; And a voice came pealing across the sea, Unheard by all but me; And the voice said "Up; and be gone my son, This land is not for thee.

"Why hast thou left thine own sweet country's bowers. And all its world of flowers? Why hast thou left a home of quiet bliss For such a clime as this? Up; and begone, my son, and quit this land; Thou know'st not what it is.

"Why should'st thou leave a shore, where all is green, Fresh, lovely, and serene; To seek a country far across the sea Where winds blow parchingly. And grim disease comes stalking o'er the plain, Ready to light on thee."

"Dost thou seek glory?—Why abroad then roam? Have we not that at home? Dost thou seek riches?—Oh, believe me. Son, That such a goal when won Will not repay thee for the weary race Thou, seeking it, hast run."