Page:Rudyard Kipling's verse - Inclusive Edition 1885-1918.djvu/105

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By the Sunderbunds unwholesome, by the swamp Moist and damp; And the City and the Viceroy, as we see, Don't agree.

Once, two hundred years ago, the trader came Meek and tame. Where his timid foot first halted, there he stayed, Till mere trade Grew to Empire, and he sent his armies forth South and North, Till the country from Peshawar to Ceylon Was his own. Thus the midday halt of Charnock—more's the pity!— Grew a City. As the fungus sprouts chaotic from its bed, So it spread— Chance-directed, chance-erected, laid and built On the silt— Palace, byre, hovel—poverty and pride— Side by side; And, above the packed and pestilential town, Death looked down.

But the Rulers in that City by the Sea Turned to flee— Fled, with each returning Spring-tide from its ills To the Hills. From the clammy fogs of morning, from the blaze Of the days, From the sickness of the noontide, from the heat, Beat retreat; For the country from Peshawar to Ceylon Was their own. But the Merchant risked the perils of the Plain For his gain.