Page:Poets of John Company.djvu/84

62 But thine own honours fairest show Where Bhagirathi's waters flow In many a rich and lovely scene. Invested with unfading green, That as revolving seasons run Still bids defiance to the Sun. Upon the margin of the river The leafy grove is verdant ever; Dark is the Mango's foliage spread; Erect the tall Palm lifts its head; Broad the Banana waves and bright; Graceful the Bambu bends and light; Boiling and black the billows flow The wide spread Indian fig below, Whose scion branches, many and vast, Far from the mighty parent cast, Above the wave extend their shade In columned arch and long arcade. And here, by native faith revered, The Peepul's twisted trunk is reared.

Nor want we animation—rife Is all around, with busy life. Upon the bosom of the tide Vessels of every fabric ride. The fisher's skiff, the light canoe That from a single trunk they hew; The snake and peacock modelled boat In Eastern pageant sent afloat; The heavy barge—the ponderous bark Huge lumbering like another ark: The Bujra broad, the Bholia trim, Or Pinnaces that gallant swim With favouring breeze—or dull and slow Against the heady current go; Creeping along the bank where pace The crew—a strange amphibious race,