Page:Poets of John Company.djvu/87

Rh And cymbal's clang and trumpet's wail Are mellowed by the wafting gale. 'Tis Durga's festival, and hers The rites—and now her worshippers Bring forth the goddess—to and fro The bands in solemn pageant row. Hymning her praises, as they sweep The populous stream; till in the deep They clamorous toss at set of sun The idol—and the rite is done.

Such are the scenes the Ganges shows. As to the sea it rapid flows: And all who love the works to scan Of nature or the thoughts of man, May here unquestionably find Pleasure and profit for the mind.