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And open the leaves of the lotus lay To welcome the noon of the summer day. It was glory and light and beauty all, When closed his wing in Bengal. He stood in the midst of a stately square, As the waves of the sea rolled the thousands there; Their gathering was round the gorgeous car Where sat in his triumph the Subadar, For his sabre was red with the blood of the slain, And his proudest foes were slaves in his chain; And the sound of the trumpet, the sound of his name, Rose in shouts from the crowd as onwards he came. With gems and gold on each ataghan, A thousand warriors led the van, Mounted on steeds black as the night, But with foam and with stirrup gleaming in light;