Page:Poets of John Company.djvu/94

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It hath a solemn, sober, staid demeanour,
 * Like the head usher on a flogging day,

Two glassy eyes, that have no more of keen or
 * Living glances, than two balls of clay;

And legs like wither'd reeds; long, white and small. Fit for the very Genius of Bengal.

Yes, such must be the Genius of the Land;
 * We all have seen him through the twilight dim

On some tall sepulchre assume his stand.
 * Silent and motionless, and grey and grim,

As if in gloomy joy he brooded o'er Those who had come to perish on his shore.

Say I not sooth, thou dull and dingy thing,
 * Genius, Argeelah, Adjutant, whate'er

Name thou affectest most?—Could I not sing
 * Of wretchedness as plenteous as the air,

The burning air we breathe?—but I'll not grumble Though all our hopes each day become more humble.

No—rather now that thou and I together
 * Are standing by the side of this lone swamp.

Thy smiling home perhaps, and that the weather
 * Is tolerably cool, though somewhat damp,

Just fit for conversational enjoyments. Would ask you of your past life and employments.

I've mentioned my opinion of your age,
 * So, without loss of time, we pass that over,

No doubt you saw King Sudraka, the Sage,
 * Write of Vansantasena and her lover,

But pass that too—and above all don't bore us With tales of Alexander and King Porus.

Though thou didst stand by Attock, and beheld
 * Greek armour glancing in the Indian sun.

Helmet, and crest, and spear, and bossy shield.
 * Like a bright winding river on the dun

And restless desert—while the air around Shook with the Macedonian trumpet's sound.