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 THE CURSE AT FAREWELL

A cover, travellers, till the fierce noon pass,

Shall rest; students (how oft!), couched on your grass,

Like me, amid your lonely shadows great,

Lulled by the insect-hum, shall meditate.

The rishis’* sons, after their morning dip,

Shall hang to dry their dress of bark * adrip

Upon your branches; herd-boys in deep noon

Shall play beneath your boughs. Oh, grant this boon |

With these remember your old comrade, me !

DEDJANI Recall our sacrificial cow,’ for she Gave you to drink her milk, like nectar; now Do not through pride neglect this holy cow.

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