New Lays of Ind - Forgotten Books
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Transcript of New Lays of Ind - Forgotten Books
3mm laps of Blah
P ERSONAL REM I N I SCENCES OF AN IND IAN
CIV IL IAN
A L E P H R E
l onbon
THOMAS B URLEIGH,3 76 3 7 7
,STRAND
1 903 .
B A RNICOTT A ND PEARCEPR INTERS
PREFACE .
TH ESE random reminiscences I have thrown to
gether are o f events that eith er happened to me
personally o r with in my o w n knowledge,and can
be vouched fo r as actual occurrences . Even the
circumstances o f the Lay o f the Maid W idow were
proved by evidence in a case brought to trial b e
fore a Criminal Court. It i s pleasant in the eve
o f l ife to recall events that bring back to one ’ s
memory the days o f one’s j oyous youth , and in the
h ope th at some o f them m ay serve to amuse oth ers
and give a glimpse o f life in India, I venture to
lay them before the public dedicating them to the
memory o f th ose old fri ends who shared them with
me and have gone before.
TH E
TH E
TH E
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TH E
TH E
TH E
TH E
TH E
TH E
TH E
TH E
TH E
TH E
TH E
TH E
TH E
TH E
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INDEX.
K uNB I’
s B R IDE
LAY OF TH E A SH -EATING FAK I/RLITTLE ONE ’
s GR AVEEx i LE
’
s CH R ISTM A S
LAY OF TH E FA ITHFUL DOGLAY OF TH E OLD H UNTER .
LAY OF TH E COLLECTOR ’
S s i N
LAY OF TH E H INDOO SAGE .
LAY OF TIIE REJECTED SU ITORLAY OF TH E M A ID W IDOWLAY OF TH E ODOUR OF SANCTITYH INDU G IRL ’S LOVE SONGLA Y OF TH E CAPTURED CAPTA INH INDOO W IDOW ED M A ID
’
s APPEALLAY OF TH E SURAT PANTHERLAY OF TH E B ONESLAY OF TH E PIRANA PANTHERLA Y OF TH E FANC IED VIOLETLA Y OF TH E T IGERCH IEF 'S HOUR OF DOUB TLEGEND OF B ROACHLAY OF DELH IHAPPY K u
’
NB Is
RE&U IEM OF TH E YEARFRESH TO FRESH A ND NEW TO NEW
TH E
TH E
TH E
LA Y OF RU INED B OMB AYLA Y OF TH E A IDE DE CAMPLA Y OF TH E S ISTER
198m flaws o f 3 m .
THE K UNB I ’S B RIDE .
RAM L I was Bapu ’s faithful wifeHe had n o sad domestic strife
,
Fo r did she n o t at early mornArise to grind th e household ’s corn
,
And did she n o t with anxious careFo r fuel cow-dung cakes prepare
,
K eeping besides sufficient storeW herewith to smooth the household floor
A nd could she not with nicetyPrepare her husband ’ s [Allie/tree
,
1
A nd mix with it the quan tum sufi,Of salt to flavour it enough &
But time , though sweet, is swif t o f fligh t,
A nd may bring j oy o r woeOne cannot reckon o n a night
,
Or on a day, you know,
1 . Split peas boi led W ith rice—a favou rite dish .
New Lays of Ind.
And cholera ’s fell scourge o n e dayT o ok faithful Ram li
’
s life away .
When th is event had come to pass ,Bapu was stunned
,fo r w h o , alas I
Would cook h is food , w h o wash his coat,Or take to graze the cow and goat
Like her,c/zup azttz
'
s2 Wh o could pat,
Turning them out so round and flat ‘
9
Who dinner to the well would bring,And in the morning blithely sing
,
Grinding the corn while he might snooze ,TO rise and smoke as he might choose 9
W h o , as he bathed outside the door,H o t water down his back would pour,And with her gentle kindly handTO rub him down would come and stand
Alas l to grieve ’twas n o w too lateHe had her body to cremate .
The cow-dung cakes that she had m adeWere used to speed the parting shade
,
TO bear her to the upper air,
TO be absorbed in Indra 3 there .The neighbour K unbis swarmed aroundTO bear her to the burning ground .
2 . Flat round cakes of flour, toasted on an iron grid3 . Th e H indu idea of eternal bliss .
The K an b i’
s B ride. 3
Rdm bo la-o when Bapfi cried,The K unbis B h a z
’
,R dm
”4 all replied .
W ith naked shoulders and bare headBapu the sad procession led
,
Wh ilst helpless Ramli in the rearWas carried o n her homely bier.
Bareheaded also, K unbis four
&uickly their lifeless burden bore ,In Bapu ’s hand the ready fireTO set alight the funeral pyre .Then
,as the work o f burning sped
,
The thought would enter Bapu ’s head,
Though he had lost a faithful wife,
He could not lead a lonely life,
And he had much o n hand to doTO find and marry Number Tw o .
The Leva K unbis have a wayOf wedding o n one single day
In but a dozen years,and he
Who o n that day would married be,
Must ready be , ere’tis too late
,
With her he ’s chosen f o r his mateIf not, fo r twelve years must he stayIn hope Of that o n e wedding day.
4. Th e funeral cry Call on Ram , and its answer in chorusBrother, Ram
New Lays of Ind.
It happened so that that twelfth yearWhen Ramli died was drawing n ear
,
And Bapu had no time to spareAnother partner to prepare.
’Twere h ard,it could n o t be denied
Thus to await a second bride .H e ran th e country round to seeA match fo r h im who there might be ,
But wildly as h is hopes might runHe could not think Of any one .
At last, to desperation brought ,Advice Of Parbhudass h e sought.
Parbh u , the ready-witted, saidMy wife will soon be brought to bed,
And i f th e child a girl should be’Twill be the very thing fo r me .
You fo r a dowry need not careFo r you h ave wealth enough to spare .
I’
m a poor Pdtz’
ddr,
5 and yo uAre but a K unbi . That will do
I give no dowry, you instead
Into a high-born house will wed.
Is it a bargai n l Y es,
” he said .
The bargain struck,his mind at rest
Hoped Bapu, trusting, fo r the best .
5 . A superior K unbi , o n e Of th e aristocracy of th e caste .
Th e K un b i’
s B r ide .
Tw o little girls, their moth er’s pride
,
Fed from their mother ’s breast, had died,And Parb h u ’
s wife an oath had swornTh at should another girl be bornAnd death again its prey require
,
Gladly would she herself expire .And Parbh u knew her dire intent ,
And that the threat was fully meant.SO when th e good news reach ed her ear,
Rolled down her cheek the happy tear,
And as her heart with gladness throbbed,Oh joy
,my child is saved
,
” she sobbed .
Soon Bapu knew from glances cast,
As people sniggering by him passed,
That something must have gone astray,
And found to Parbh u ’
s house h i s way .
There Parbhu met him at the door,TO mar his budding joy
I’
m very sorry , Bapu , butThe infant i s a boy .
O dear, O dear IWhat shall I doTh e luckless Bapu criedNever despair I I have a plan ,
Parbh u the sly replied .
1 know a K unbi girl j ust now,
From home who ’s run awayThey ’d have her wed an Old
,Old man ,
New Lag/ s of Ind.
And so sh e would n o t stay .
A fi ne young girl , Of th irteen years ,The very thing fo r yo u .
The wedding day i s close at handW illth at n o t, Bapu , doBapu agreed , b u t Parb h u said
A K unbi girl could never wedW i th out some ornaments to deck
Her bridal toes and nose and neck .
B apfi resolved to cut a dashA nd handed o ut the needful cash ,Which Parb h u , o n his plan intent,
Took,and to K oli Rama went .
This worthy h ad a boy, wh om theyProduced upon the wedding day
,
Dressed as a bride in garments gay.
W ith him the nuptial kn ot was tied,
And Bapu parted with h is bride,
Content the usual time to waitEre he took home his youthful mate .
It was not long ere came the dayWhen Bapu had his rent to pay
,
And, as a careful K unbi mustPart with his corn to raise the dust .
Hard by a village tank he passedSome urchins basking lay
,
And in and o ut,the mud about
,
Th e Lazy of th e A sh-ea ting Fah z'
r . 7
Threw water in their play .
He turned him round,and clearly saw
A face he thought he ’d seen .
NOW where o n earth ,” was Bapu s thought ,
Can I that face have seenAnother look Th e truth th en flashed ,As lightning th rough the airOh horror I fright I That naked boyHis K unbi bride was there I
He cuffed him well,—himself he laidOpen to Civil action ,
But got from Parb h u and the boyNO further satisfaction .
THE LA Y OF TH E A SH -EAT ING FAK IR .
ONCE in a town in Gujarat,
A longish name it had ,
(Th e Natives said its name was good ,It ended in
There , bent upon h is evening ride ,A Magistrate went forth &
His course lay by the Delh i gate,
A gate th at pointed North .
8 New Lays qf Ind.
There ’midst the ru ined shrines Of Old,
And mosques Of ancient splendour,
Squatted with th ose who sold ha bébsl
The p an -sop ari2 vendor .
’Neath cupolas Of lordly curveAnd arch and fretted aisle
,
(NO fairer ancient Greece could boast) ,Sat he w h o dwelt in Oil.
W here erst a marble fountain pureIts limpid waters poured,
A Bohra,clad in naught but drawers
,
Tin pots and kettles stored .
Unmindfu l Of the mighty deadThat calmly slept around
G roaned camels , bellowed cows , barked dogs ,A very Babel
’ s sound .
But night draws o n the sun has setOur friend the Magistrate
Is waiting, as we chatter o n ,Just by the Delhi gate .
1 . Pieces Of meat toasted on a. wooden skewer .
2 . Th e betelnut wrapped in a green leaf that most nativeschew .
The Lay of th e A sh-ea ting Fa h z’
r. 9
Around a sweetmeat seller ’s shopHe saw a curious crowdSome talked, some laugh ed , o r passed the j oke,Or vented curses loud .
He brought his horse up to the crowd,
Over their heads to peer,
And saw there , lying o n the groundA dirt-begrimed Fah z
'
r .
3
This holy man h ad scanty clothes,
In fact, o n e could but note, he,Though covered well with co w dung ash
Wore only a Iango ta'
.
4
Some ashes by his side that lay,
Into his m on th he crammedThese with a stick fast down his throatApparently he rammed .
The sweetmeat sell er raised his voice,
And piteously he criedWhy was he forced to give an almsSuppose th e Fah z
’
r died I
3 . A Mussulman religious mendicant .
4. A loin-cloth.
1 0 New Lays of Ind.
The sin Of this would fall on him ,
Th e gaping crowd explainedOf ash to have f o r alms to eatThe Fa h z
’
r, too , complained .
Th e Magistrate, he raised his whip ,In place Of giving alms
In stirring up that foulFa h i rHe felt no foolish qualms .
In trciya5 dour before h i s face
Seeing no Sportive joke , heBade a policeman seiz e his friendA nd walk him Off to cho h z
’
.
6
The Fah ir earns his daily breadNO longer free and gratis
Hard labour fo r three months in jailHis unexpected fate is .
The holy man could see no harmOf alms in his extortion ,
And when he had to work in j ailWas grieved in due proportion .
5 . Personal injury done in order to extort alms .
6 . A Police lock-up .
Th e L ittle On e’s Gra ve .
THE LITTLE ONE ’S GRAVE .
A GROUP Of sympathising Christians stoodAround a new-made grave . W ithin was laidA little coffin , covered all with white,That held the body Of a little child .
Near stood the clergyman , and scattered roundWere labourers Of swarthy Indian hue,Who
,unconcerned , proceeded fast to close
The child ’s last peaceful resting place on earth .
The burial service had been read . The wordsAshes to ashes . Dust to dust stil l rangWith mournful meaning in o ur conscious ears .
Wh o clatters along with such reckless speed ,Still pressing
,still urging h is panting steed
Who rudely rides up on th e pathway steepStraight o n to the group who such silence keep &
Hush I hush I ’
Tis the father,in sorrow w ild
Who rides to the grave Of his only child .
He had ridden through darkness,rain and storm
For o n e last fond look at that well- loved form ,
But, weary and hopeless, heart-broken with w o e,
He saw but the cofli n that rested below .
At such a moment words Of pitying griefWere worse than useless
,feeling mockery
We left him standing by that litttle grave .
ll
1 2 New Lays of Ind.
THE EXILE ’S CHRISTMAS .
CA N this be Christmas, this hot, sultry dayTh e sun with rays Of brass can hardly pierceThe haze o f dust impalpable that broodsUpon the b urn tp up , thirsty land, o n whichFor many months no genial rain m ay fall,Nor ever W inter’s true companion
,snow
,
W ith mantle virgin-hued earth’s bosom deck.
W here are th e cheerful chimes our boyhood heardRise in the wintry wind
,and
,echoing far
,
In distant cadence die,as i f o ur thoughts
TO carry o n beyond the short-lived hour,Unto a time when we
,like them
,must pass
Wh ere i s the little ivy-covered church ,Where all
,both young and Old , both rich and poor,
Th e squire , the farmer, and their kith and kin ,G reeted each other with a kindly smileOn this their h oly day, and carri ed o ut
The angels ’ greeting TO al l men good willT h ey are not here and though
,mayhap
,a few ,
Our f riends in this Our exile, gather roundTalk Of th e current topics Of the day,And wear a smile Of outward cheerfulnessWhen af ter dinner comes the exile ’s toastOf Absent Friends
,
” then look the table round .
I4 lVew Lays of Ind.
Th irty o r forty miles a nightOn
,O ye gods & such roads .
Th eir name was aptly corduroy,Fo r where the soil was black
Th e cart-wheels, moving parallel ,Wore down and formed the track .
On sand o n e smoothly tooled along,
But when one came to stones,
Whack I bang I thump I crash Iwell Off was he,
W h o rode and broke no bones .
Som etimes a n ulla h crossed the trackWith banks ten feet or more
Lucky the W ight w h o got across
&uite dry f rom sh ore to shore.
Fo r privilege leave a doctor onceGave up his draughts and pills
,
Leaving behind an acting manTO cure the Station ’ s ills .
He took PL . , the doctor saidThi s once a pun must plague yo uOut Of th e Station ’ s en dless plague
,
And left behind the ague .
Th e Lay qf th e Fa ithf ulD og .
But ere he went,i t was at night
,
His pistol loaded he,Fo r B h eels and such upon the roadThat he might ready be .
Nerbudda rolled its mighty tide,
The b o atm en’
s song was merry,
Pistol in belt,that doctor fierce
Crossed quickly in the ferry.
And when he reached the other sideHis bullock coach was thereA carpet tied o n arch ed b am b o o s
K ept out the sun and glare.
On well-stuffed grass his mattress lay,
A pillow at each siae
TO ease the j olts , and at his f eetHis little do g he tied .
Poor faithful hound,he little knew
What fate before him lay,Or he had stayed content at home
,
Nor w hined to come away.
The bullocks ’ tail s held high in airProclaimed their eager zeal
I5
I6
I.
New Lays of Ind.
Perhaps anticipated twistAlready they could feel .
It matters little to o ur taleWere ’
t zeal o r fear o r whatChullo
’
s” 1 the word
,the bullocks move
Off at a go o dlv trot.
Past Deeva’
s myriad toddy trees,
Where B h eels delight to dwell ,And past Unklesur
’
s dirty townWith its accu stomed smell .
Outside the town the doctor breathedA purer, f resher air .
He passed the n ullah near and thoughtHis progress so far fair.
He th en a mild Havanna lit,
Soother Of every pang,
And would full soon have been at restIn land o f dreams
,when—bang I
A blunderbuss fired through the cartDisturbed the doctor so
,
He stayed to think Of nothing else.But thought ’twas time to go .
GO '
Th e Lay of th e Fa i thf ulD og .
He left his wee dog in the cart,He let hi s pistol lie
NO thought Of fighting filled his breast ,But simply where to fly .
Th e uullah he ’d just crossed he thoughtA goodish place to hide
But ere he ran,straight at the th ieves
His money-bag he shied .
It’
s th at yo u want, I s’pose, he said,
And in the darkness fled,And tumbling down the n ulla h
’
s bank,
He pitched upon his head .
But quickly rising, on he flewTh e other bank he gained,
A nd tried to climb a ba bo ol2 tree,
But pricked by th orns refrained .
Soon all was still— the robbers gone,
Th e doctor ventured backThe driver and th e cart w ere th ere
,
Still on th e corduroy track .
He whistled to h is little dog,N 0 little dog was there
2 Th e M imosa .
I8 New Lays qf Ind.
Beneath the cart he saw a formWa s dangling in the air.
The faith ful dog h is master triedTO follow as h e fled
,
And there beneath the cart he swung,Hanged by the neck and dead.
O faith ful dog Of human cur,
Of trust deluded victim,
Those robbers had done well if theeThey ’d saved and soundly ki cked him
THE LAY OF THE OLD HUNTER .
TH E hunter started as he heardThat loud-tongued saddling bell
It fired not,as Of Old, his blood ,
But tolled his parting knell.
’Midst crowds that gaped and flutteringThe races ’ gaudy show,
He gave o n e look as if to sayOh master
,must I go
They did not see that mute appeal,
Shot from the hunter ’s eye,
The Lay of th e Old H un ter .
And so Old Bob must brace himselfTO conquer or to die .
It was n o t gain that urged him o n,
No r gamester ’s treacherous luckNO lottery gave his race its z est,But simply Arab pluck .
On, o n , still o n I each hedge , each ditchHe bounded as Of yore
,
Although he felt within himselfHis racing days were o ’er.
The good Old horse, though at each strideHis breathing heavier grew
,
With o n e brave bound the hurdle clearedThat brought the goal in View .
Fast & ’Tis the end I TO urge him OnBoth whip and spur were plied
Beat by a length,the good Old nag
Just passed the post,
-and died I
Staunch to the last,in honour’ s cause
He spent his latest breathNO equine fo e that race had gained
,
Had B o b n o t fought with dea th
1 9
20 New Lays Of Ind.
A crowd came round his prostrate form,
The racing throng drew nearA something glistened in each eye
,
Let ’s h ope it was a tear .
W h ’
lst in each breast some feeling movedOf pity fo r th e steed,
Each hoped to boast,in life ’s short course
,
Of some such noble deed .
THE LA Y OF THE COLLECTOR ’S SIN .
O Y E ,who in the gorgeous East
Live lives Of strictest virtue,I tell a tall Collector ’ s sinIts moral will not hurt yo u .
There are in India people queer,Of many queer persuasions
B yrdyi , G o sa z’
n1 and Fah ir
One meets on all occasions .
The hair Of some in massive foldsIs matted , full Of vermin
l H indoo religious mendicants .
N)
[0 New Lays of Ind.
B /zats , Chare n s ,3 too
,their points to gain
W ill brave unseemly gashes,
W hile Faki’
rs, wallowing on the ground ,
Will stuff their mouths with ashes .
One o f these gents in garb o f ashNO evil did expect
,o r
In hopes Of cash once tried his handOn a tall
,young Collector .
Ashes h e wore , and but o n e rag,Not satin nor prunella
His carcase shaded from the sunA cotton , blue umbrella .
He gat him to the Sahib ’s door,
And there the livelong morningHe sat in hope
,the futile threats
Of P uttew alas4 scorning .
The Sah ib from h is ride came home,
Saw h o w the matter lay ,Dismounted f rom his horse and badeThe nag be led away .
3 . TWO castes , who perpetrated such atrocities .
4 B elted attendants and messengers .
Th e Lay o f th e Collecto r’
s Sin . 23
H e went in , and came o ut as ifNO mischief there was brewingHe looked as if he did not careW hat the G osa i
’
n was doing .
But walking,still he held h is hand
Suspiciously behind,
Looked down, as i f some stone or thingUpon th e ground to find .
But soon the G o sa i’
n gave a j ump ,A veritable start I
As with the slashing Of a whipHe felt his body smart.
Th e wh ip came down a second timeHe stayed no more to see,
But fled as ne’er Go sa in beforeFrom mortal fo e did flee .
Behind him,to o
,in wrath pursued
That furious tall Collector,As i f with wrath Of gods endued ,Of morals as corrector .
Of course, we do not mean to sayIt was not very wrong
24 New Lays of Ind.
Around a G o sa in’
s naked ribsTo strike and twist th at thong,
B ut when G o sa in s and mend icants ,All decent manners scorning
,
Sit at a tallCollector ’s door,’Tis well to give them warning .
In the bazaar’s their proper place,
Where Natives f ear their curses ,And only to th e needy poorWe Sahibs Op e o ur purses .
THE LAY OF THE HINDOO SAGE .
M Y children,practise virtue I ’Tis the noblest end
For which mankind his fleeting days o n earth m ay
spend .
When aspirations pure with carnal sense are cloyed,
’Tis as the purest silver with base dross alloyedWith thoughts engrossed with earthly cares and
fil thy pelfMan cannot be absorbed in Deity itself .
T h is the blest end Of being, that we all shouldcome
TO nothing,but be infinite as one with Brahm .
Th e Lay of th e H indo o Sage. 25
Thus spake the Hindoo sage , as’neath a spreading
treeHe sat in freshest odour Of pure sanctity .
His hair in massive knots upon his head was tiedHis shade a blue umbrella . L ittle else besideHis person covered save the product o f the co wIn shape o f ashes— Siva ’ s trident on his browThe holy man in nature ’ s dress thus sat in calm
repose ,And with his fingers sometimes blew his holy nose .
THE LA Y OF THE REJECTED SUITOR .
Tw o friends once in their shirt-sleevesFo r it was sultry weather,
And prosing on in friendly chatSmoked their cheroots together .
Beneath a mango tope hard byThe tents gleamed fair and white
Among the leaves the firefly’
s sparkGlanced in the evening light.
The horses picketed aroundChumped at their evening meal
26
l
0
New Lays o f Ind.
Their keepers slept upon the ground ,Wrapped up from head to heel .
The jackal,hunting in the dark,
Gave o ut his howling cryThe f ox
,in chorus
,with his bark
Prowled in the cotton nigh .
The Bhisti,
1 s tretched beside his beast ,Spoke with portentous snore
,
Rejoiced that fo r o n e day , at least,His watery task was o ’er .
The Puggy2 and his thi evish crew,
Alert the camp to guard,
In silent watch sat two and two,
Each with his pipe and sword .
The friends re-killed th at morning’
s pigWith their accustomed vigour
,
Hoped,though their last day ’ s bag was big
,
To-morrow ’s would be bigger.
Discussed the tiger’ s latest killAll as it mangled lay ,
Th e water carrier .Th e watchman .
The Lay of th e Rej ected Su itor. 27
And trusted both in Bapu s skillTo track the beast next day .
But even th at prolific theme,
To sportsman dear,the bag,
Must have an end,like morning dream
Their talk began to flag .
Though these Old friends fo r many a dayTogether o ft would roam ,
It was but rarely, strange to say,They ever spoke o f h ome .
That night,however
,it b efel,
Fo r want o f other topics ,Th e younger o f his home did tell
,
His home not in the Tropics .
He told his friend o f sister Clare,
As well as pretty Polly,
And thought, i f one or both were there ,Oh I w ouldn ’t it be j olly
By Jove Ia thought,he cried . Old friend
,
My ancient ch urn,Old Harry,
I think, if sister C lare were here,That she and you might marry .
28 New Lays of Ind.
Hal knew that, as in p h o to s seenClare was a charming creature
,
And blushed so that the flush suffusedEach sun-burnt yellow feature.
H e hinted at advancing yearsAnd n o t to o fresh complexion
Friend To m derided all his fears,And laughed at all Obj ection .
’
Tis right to say,in passing on
,
That Hal was n o t a beauty .
Tom studied but the inward manA man that did his duty.
Hal ’ s h air was red , his nose turned up,His form was limp and lankyWho ’d stan d a tiger’s charge might beFo r allTo m cared
,a Yankee .
’Twas soon arranged th at sister ClareShould come o u t to her brother
,
And Hal and she, when she arrived,Should marry one another.
SO Clare came o ut, from Hal’s long purse
Provided with her tro usseau
3 0 New Lays of Ind.
He was a pattern man o f thoseWhom Vaishuav ites they call
,
One whom the smallest flea ’ s demiseWould terribly appal .
Yet o ne who ’d seize the very rag,
That cloth ed his debtor’s back,
Whilst pigeons o f th e daintiest foodTheir fill would never lack .
B flats h e ’
d softly breathe uponAnd put outside the doorThe gentlest o f all gentle hintsTo go and bite no more.
As fo r F sharps , the more they hopped,The better pleased was he
For who could tell his granny ’ s soulAmongst th em might not be
Domestic virtues , to o , were his ,As custom reckoned such &
Ram ch under, as the story goes,Was married very much .
On e ancient dame o f forty-five,And o ne o f thirty-o n e
,
l .
Th e Lay of the M a id W idow .
H ad cheered his hopes,and yet alas
Ram ch under had no so n .
His spouses twain said to their lordThat this would never do
,
Lest in another world he mightIts consequences rue .
If no so n l it hi s funeralpyre,Where did he hope to go
To Sw ary , o r Paradise he said,
Th ey promptly answered,NO I
The thing,they said, lay in the shell
Of the minutest nut.If such should be , he needs must goDown to the lowest Put.
” 1
What should he do Ram chunder said,
In dire perplexityHis spouses
,with the faintest blush
,
Said Marry Number Three
And so ’twas done . They chose his brideOf the mature age o f nine,
Round whom they hoped in time to seeThe olive branches twine .
Th e infernal region s
3 1
3 2 New Lays of Ind.
Ram chunder rode upon a ta tf’
His face besmeared with red,
With tinselled garments o n h is back ,And more upon his h ead .
His little bride h im followed close,
In gilded palanquinPoor child I Meth ought her hideous fateUpon her face w as seen .
Brahm ins were f ee ’d and fed. Shrieked o ut
Th e fife’
s discordant squeal ,And tom-toms
,echoing to the air ,
Gave forth respondent peal .
Fast to its close the wretched sceneDrew on the f a ted tree
3
Back from whose bourne is no return,
Was times encircled three .
Ram chunder went back to his bags ,Refreshed as giant h e
Those bags that always looked fo r two ,Where th ey gave one Rupee .
2 A pony.
3 . Th e Tulsi tree , to go round which thrice i s a part Of th emarriage ceremony.
Th e Lay of th e M a id W'
ido w . 3 3
He scraped, he screwed , his debtors groundDown to the very dust
If any said he could n o t pay,
The answer was—h e must.
Ram chunder was to have an heir,For so the Brahmins said &
A promise which to gain,o f course,
His bags were freely bled .
His infant bride with ripening yearsK new her impending fateThat thrice—encircled Tuls i treeHad taught it h er too late .
But in the course o f time it came,
The worms Ram ch under spurnedMore than the dust beneath h i s feetAt last the tables turned .
They cut his throat o n e rainy dayAnd set his bonds alight
Did his almost unpitied fateImprove his widow ’ s plight
She has her hair cut short,she sweeps
Each day th e household floor
34 New Lays of Ind.
Those tw o old cats,the sister wives
,
Sit o n her more and more .
To live on with an ancient blokeOr widowed maiden stay .
Which o f the two ’s th e harder lo t,I’
lllet my readers say .
THE LAY OF THE ODOUR OF
SANCT ITY .
A LL ye whose noses may be sharp,
Come,l isten to m y lay,
About a very holy man,
A burly priest, S.J .
H is cassock, girdle-bound at waist,From neck to foot flowed freeHe had o n shoes, but these beyondHis linen none could see .
K nown far and wide fo r deeds o f good,His deeds o f charity,
His Odour spread throughout the land ,Odour Of sanctity .
The Lay of th e Odo ur of San ctity .
He filled his scholar ’s eyes and brainsWith learning that was ample ,
But luckily in this aloneThey followed his example .
On sanitary errand bent,Of odours the corrector,
There came to visit once h i s schoolH—l -t
,the great Inspector.
He sniffed about,looked up and down ,
His n ose h eld high in airHis duty ’s eager sense o f smellWas certainly all there .
He poked about,sniffed in and o ut,
His feelings who can tell 9
His nose had found , there was no doubt,A most unpleasant smell .
The rooms were neat, the school w as clean ,The boys looked smart and fresh
The Padre clearly did n o t careTo mortify the flesh .
The Padre’ s room was tidied up,
No t e ’en his books were dusty,
3 5
3 6 New Lays of Ind.
But yet the atmosphere aroundMost certainly was fusty .
Suspiciously the Inspector searchedEach closet, chest, and bed,My nose is not at fault
,
” said heI fear it is m y head .
”
H e sh owed the Padre, from his bathThe water would not flow
Into the drain . The priest repliedHumbly I did not know I ”
But f rightened at his look o f wrath,
He tried hi s ire to sof tenIt does not matter . In z e bathI do not vosh so often .
I h af been here j oost a ch z eh n month,
Vo n year and haf yo u call,And it is true dat in zat timeI baze tree time in all .
&u ick H—l—t turned upon his heelIn speechless wrath and shame
That sanctimonious odour round,
He ’d found from whence it came I
3 8 New Lays of Ind.
She trimmed with a wick her ti ny boatAnd set it on Gunga ’s breast afloatThen eagerly watched its dwindling lightTill it floated safely out o f sight.But still sh e cried , as she homeward turned
Oh Rama, Rama, come home to meBoth n o w and ever my lord to beWith fond love and prideI’
lllive as thy bride.Then pass through death ’s fire to be ever with
The omen was true,f o r soon to his home
Her Rama returned,no more to roam
And after long life the happy pairBoth passed through fire to the upper airAnd the wish she had uttered came true
Oh Rama,Rama
,come home to me,
Both now and ever my lord to beW ith fond love and prideI’
llli ve as thy bride,
Then pass through death ’ s fire to be ever with
Th e Lay of th e Cap tured Cap ta in . 3 9
THE LAY OF THE CAPTURED
CAPTAIN .
A CAPTA IN in the navy bold,
On matrimony bent,
To call upon a lady fairIn doubting fashion went.
For he was sw arthy-hued and fat,And she was fair and slim
Whilst down each cheek there graceful droopedTwo corkscrew ringlets trim .
A bolder tar, with softer heart,Ne ’er faced a quarter-deck
Unflin ch ingly he death had faced ,In battle, storm and wreck .
But in the art Of female warHe was a perfect dunce
,
And face to face with women ’ s smilesHe struck his flag at once .
But n o w , fo r fear that I should seemLong winded and a bore
,
40 New Lays of Ind.
I’
lltake the hero o f m y songInside the lady ’s door .
Just then (this secret is profound) ,His feelings in a twitter
,
He had imbibed Dutch courage withA little gin and bitter .
He stepped as i f his foeman ’s shipHe boarded with his crew
But halted when , in place o f o n e,He found there ladies two .
He tacked about among the chairs,
The lee side and the weatherY o u could have knocked him down , he th ought,With o n e blow o f a feather.
He hardly knew which way to turn ,With cap and gloves he fumbled
Just managing to shake their handsOver a stool he tumbled .
The words h e ’
d learnt by heart to sayNO more at his disposal ,Soon oozed from o ut his finger endsHis purpose o f proposal .
Th e Lay of th e Cap tured Cap ta in . 41
Mamma, the elder o f th e tw o ,
At match-making was clever,
And purposed,if he was to wed ,
It should be now o r never .
The Captain ’s words were very fewHe knew n o t how th e deuce he
Had managed,yet he was , no doubt
Engaged to marry Lucy .
Elate at first,h e thought he had
The seventh heaven scaled,
But soon at sight o f w edded blis sHis oozing courage failed .
The more he thought,the more he feared
Alas I what could be doneHe soon made up his mind that heHad better cut and run .
He packed his traps so secretlyThat n o t a soul should know,
And sent them Off that very nightOn board the P . and O .
He sneaked himself o n board a boatA t the Apollo Bunder
,
42 N ew Lays o f Ind.
Thinking with glee,when he had gone
H o w Lucy dear would wonder.
His bundeI-boat sailed gai ly onTo catch the Homeward Mail
The morning breeze blew Off the Ghats,And swelled the tautened sail .
Sail o n , my boat, sai l o n &” he cried
My crew are true and staunch I”
But saw,to his dismay
,behind
Th ere steamed an ugly launch .
’Twas all in vain his sturdy crewPulled all
,pulled well together
The Captain knew full well h e ’
d runTh e full length o f his tether .
SO he was caught and taken backTo his expectant bride
,
And by the parson that same dayThe marriage knot was tied .
Th e H indo o W idow ed M a id s A p p eal. 43
THE HINDOO W IDOW ED MAID ’S
APPEAL .
FROM India I heard a voiceOf plaintive moan and soundWith more than blatant trumpet’ s soundIt rang the hills around .
Shrilly the melting tones rang o ut
In piteous accents wild ,And sobs were mingled with the tearsOf a poor Hindoo child .
Oh sisters sweet,across the sea I
Oh mothers kind and fair IOh children o f the ruddy cheekAnd o f the golden hairMy locks are black
,my skin is dark
,
I live ’neath tropic skiesCold is your clime , yet in your heartsWarm sympathy there lies .
I am a little widowed maid,
A drudge domestic, o n e
Whom all the happy in the landAs a mere outcast shun .
They broke my bangles from my arms,
l
l. Th e custom when a husband dies .
44 New Lays of Ind.
Th ey shaved my pretty head,
Th ey gave me garments coarse to wearThey said my lord was dead .
Once , years ago , I recollectThey gave me dresses fine
,
And in my flowing ebon locksDid many a flower twine .
There,seated by a little boy
,
They said I was his wifeOur clothes were knotted by a priest
,
It seems it was fo r life .Oh I would that I that life might loseAnd with his body burn
,
Rather than be that loathsome th ingThat all the household spurn I
Thus should I fast o n h eav ’
nly wingsSoar up to Indra ’s heaven
In Paradise to serve my lordTo me it would be given .
But in your pitying British lawYe Sa ti2 will n o t know
,
And I must be a wretched slaveIn this sad earth below .
The future round me all is dark,
No r j oy nor hope I see
2 . Th e immolation of a widow with h er husband’ s body.
46 New Lays o f Ind.
One o f the prides o f India,As it rolls down from Vindh ya .
Here ’tis much given at its willTo wander from its bed
,and sp ill
Much water,so that folks in haste
Must often flee,not to th eir taste,
Or go upstairs lest they should drown ,As floods come pour ing through the town .
There is another matter, to o ,That So o rutees must often rue
If they are free o f Tap tee’
s flood
SO many houses are o f wood,Set o n e alight and you ’ve a chanceTo lead th e town a pretty dance,
And,once it gets the start o f you
,
To burn straight o ff a street o r tw oSo to total its blessings and make a nice rhyme o f it
,
One migh t say that theSo o rutees have a bad time o f it,
And pray to their gods to leave them at peaceAnd from fire and water to give them release.
No w once, beside from fire and water,They ’d fears from quite another quarter
This to the others did not yield’Twas from a wild beast o f the field IOne Sunday morn
,when f ree from work
Most decent folks were o ff to K irk,A Parsee came in consternation
The Lay of the Sura t Pan th er .
And gave the Sahibs informationA tiger ’
d come where surely heHad never any right to beHad left his leafy, jungle home,In So o rut
’
s peopled streets to roamAnd as the f olks in terror fledHad hidden in a wooden shed .
H ence great excitement, fierce-alarms,People assembling in their swarms
,
And bringing o ut all kinds o f arms .Some came
,in terror f o r their l ives
,
W ith rusty daggers, kitchen kniv esSome
,almost frightened into fits
,
H ad brought Old spears and roasting spits .One
,eager warfare to begin
,
Brandished a mighty rolli ng pin,
And,ere he caught the tiger ’ s eye
,
Determined h e would do or die .The Parsee said
,in mortal strife
Some hundreds had been maimed fo r lifeAs f o r the dead who ’d die no more
,
They lay in each street by the score.Armed with a rifle o r a gun ,The Sahibs must see what could be done
,
From tower to tower, f rom gate to gate,So o rut would else be desolate .Some half-a-dozen Sahibs went out
48 New Lays of Ind.
TO see what ’twould be best to doAnd in a tumble-down old shed
A panther really came to view.
Another worsh ipper o f fireWas there
,maj estic in his ire
,
Big with importance and with fuss,He held an ancient blunderbussHis valour
,quite beyond control
,
Shot at the panther through a hole .This to friend Sp ots was most provoking,
And certainly beyond all j okingSo
,clambering up a wooden wall
,
As steep as any steeple,He gave a jump and came a flopRight down among the people .Oh fo r the pen Of some rare bard Of Old
,
Who wars o f heroes and o f giants told,To sing how B ap o o and Ram chunder
In devious ways then fell asunder.To tell how H aridass that day
,
Armed with a sword quick fled awayHow R o o stum
,name unknown to fear
Then moved strategic to th e rear.To sing h o w Yakub and Mahomet
,
Instead o f at, both bolted from itH o w Moslem,
Parsee and HindooTurned various colours
,mostly blue.
Th e Lay of th e Sura t Pa n th er . 49
In short, how allthe populationWere seized with hideous consternation
,
And one and all,heels over head
Incontinently turned and fled .
Sp o ts, flabbergasted at th e sight ,Thought that h is safety lay in flight
,
Of private property a scorner,Jumped through a yard and round a corner,And th en
,not halting in his race
,
Came o n six Englishmen in face .Careering o n , he put the six
In an uncommon nasty fix .
There were people in front,
There were people beh indThere were people around themOf every kind,
There were people to left,
There were people to rightThey were shouting and yelling,And screaming with frigh t.
Amidst all this terrible hullabaloo,
Please mention,what were those English to do &
They could not fire to kill the brute,
For fear some Native they might shoot .What should they do Th ey would not runFive o ut o f six—yet did it one .He fled away
50 New Lays of Ind.
And sprawling lay .
Th e panther seized him by the calfThe others could but stand and laugh.
Th e panther left the h ero th ere ,And turned his back to flee— but whereThe mob swarmed round o n every side
,
Th e street was only twelve feet wide .Wh ere sh ould h e flee Oh where & Oh wh ereHe looked around him in despair .
Before a house an ancient dameStood she w as yet unknown to fame
,
Th ough now enthroned in awful gloryAs heroine Of my panther story .
Fo r h er o f misery th e cupW as full : the panth er bounded up
,
And,as she shrieked in wild alarm
,
Pinned down and held her by the arm .
Tableau A cool-eyed sportsman stood ,A nd calmly aimed his rifle goodTrue to its aim ,
the bullet sped,
And crash I went through the panther ’s h ead .
Come to its end his little day,
Prone o n his back the victim lay,
And as he kicked upon the groundThe valiant Parsees crowded round .
One bully ( let us say the least )K icked , as he lay, the dying beast .
Th e Lay of th e Sura t Pan th er .
Staunch to the last,in fighting game
He spent his latest breathNO Parsee bully had him kickedB ut that he fought with death .
With dying gasp the plucky bruteSeized a by-stander by the foot
Th e dying grip o f no avai l ,The bitten man n o w tell s th e tale .But he was h eld tight, willy-n illy,And must have looked extremely silly .
But grim old Death had done his workThe beast that well had foughtRelaxed hi s grip
,and soon himself
W as but a thing o f nought.Like that Parsee, a dying beast,No w ,
i f to kick it please yo u ,
Take care to keep beyond his reach,
Lest, dying, he should seize yo u .
Be calm and alw ays stand your groundFo r when the figh t
’
s begun,
If you would save your precious hideThe worst thing is to run .
5 1
New Lays of Ind.
THE LA Y OF THE B ONES .
COM E , all good folks, forsake awh ileThe world ’s tumultuous strife
,
And listen to a little taleOf Indian peasant life .
Now R u tto n was a K I’
Inb i lass,
Of K I‘
Inb i lasses pearl ,In fact, as her sweet name implied,A Jewel o f a girl .
And Parbh o odass, her bosom’s lord
A decent kind o f fellow,
Th ough quite respectable,in age
Verged on the sere and yell ow .
She fooled th e old man to his bentAnd ruled, o f course , th e house,
And like a kitten frolicked roundThat dear
,sedate Old mouse .
One season , as the time grew nearTo pay the Sirkar’ s rent,
54 New Lays of Ind.
W ith wheat Old Parbh o o filled h is cart.And Off to market went.
The village swains there gath ered,to o ,
And in a harmless w ay
That little kitten talked and laughed,
And flirted half the day.
Beware,young lady
,h o w yo u throw
Enchanting glances round,
Fo r’neath a dark skin , as a fair,A tender spot is found .
The day wore o n , and dewy evePassed into starry night
Fair R utto n cooked her evening m eal,
And trimmed her evening light.
Sh e saw the fowls go up to roostOn their accustomed plank
,
And that the co w and buffaloTheir evening water drank .
Th en carefully she barred the doorAnd closed up every chink
,
Hung up her sar i 3 on a peg,And lay awake to think.
3 . A H indoo woman ’s dress
The Lay of th e B on es .
She thought o f Parbh o o toiling on,H is bullock-cart his bed,
And o f th at K ali youth wh o’d put
Th e pitcher o n her head .
The village slept its sleep o f peaceAnd all was still— wh en
,h ark I
Sensation stirred the village dogsAnd th ey began to bark .
Sh e saw a hand th at tried to feelThe door
,to loose the chain
,
Above,below
,and round and round
It f elt but all in vain .
Sh e did n o t stir, she h ardly breathedSh e did not scream , because
Sh e thought it better to lie still ,And find o u t who i t was .
Her heart beat fast,but
,self-possessed
,
Sh e felt n o vain alarm ,
&Then starlight o n the roof revealedThat smart young K oli
’
s form .
A moment passed,then through the air
Rang out a mighty crash
55
56 New Lays of Ind.
The lintel Of the door broke down,
The door itself went smash I
Then Ru tto n thought ’twas time to screamThe cock crowed loud and clear &
Bellowed the buffalo and co w
And woke the neighbours near .
She gave the K oli time to bolt,
Then rent the silent airWith piercing shrieks
,and rushed about
With wild,dissh evelled hair .
By neighbours pacified at length,
B utton forbore to scream ,
And,questioned who the culprit was
,
She thought ’twas K oli B h eem .
Had such a thing been ever thoughtIn dreams Of wildest flight &Revenge
,revenge I the K unbis cried
,
And that ere close o f night .
The morning broke and folks awoke’Twas proved by witness meetThat K ii nb is four a burden boreAll in a winding sheet.
Th e Lay of th e B on es . 57
Soon horrid whispers spread abroad,
A murder there had been,
And vultures at a certain spotTearing a corpse were seen .
A sharp Police Inspector came,
And information gaveTh at K ali B h eem had run away
,
The murder was a sh ave .
A learned Magistrate at onceSaw the transparent sham
Murder was clear and B h eem was dead,The bolting was a flam .
Dig up the corpse ’Twas said I ’
Twas doneAnd there among the stones
,
Just where the vultures had been seenWere veritable bones .
A Doctor saw the bones,and said
Th ey bullocks ’ bones did seemTh e indignant Magistrate declaredOne was the leg o f B h eem .
Policemen,too
,men good at need,
Were ready there to prove
58 New Lays of Ind.
They’d buried B h eem ’
s corpse down belowAnd put a cow above .
B ut he w as baulked . H e could not sendTh e case fo r trial . W hy
For reason good they could not findThe corp us delicti .
So turning out,with smaller fry,
That sharp Police Inspector,
Himself he posed before th e worldOf morals as corrector .
But time is swift,and in its fligh t
Brings funny things to pass ,And in its sternest cynic moodCried Write this man an ass .
That o f the fact no doubt should beA clear proof it adduced
And safe before the villagersThe dead alive produced .
The villagers o f care relieved,
Rejoiced and all was gay ,Nor did the Magistrate his faceShow there fo r many a day .
Th e Lay of th e Pira n a Pan th er 59
No w R utto n’
s grown demure and staidB h eem never looks at Rutto n
,
Fo r since he ’s safe back in his yam ,
4
He does not care a button .
THE LA Y OF THE P IRANA PANTHER .
FOUR Sportsmen , P and R,and N and C
In search o f Christmas farePrepared to h ave a mighty shootOf partridge, quail and hare .
Their field was,on a rolling plain,
And you may think it queer,
But in the language Of the EastTwas called Pirana Beer .
With clum ps and bushes on the plain,
Of crops it was quite bareOccasional gazelles were foundTo sport and frolic there .
These sportsmen all prepared their gunsTwo rifles had as well
,
On the Off ch ance they might with luckGet shots at a gazelle .
Village.
60 New Lays of 1 nd.
Their main idea was th e pot,A nd small birds were th eir aimBeef and plum pudding absent were,They must put up with game .
T0 beat th e bushes as he walkedEach sportsman did not fail
,
And picked up,as he went
,a hare ,
A partridge o r a quail .
And as they allwere decent shotsThe bag began to grow .
Hare soup and jugged,boiled quail and so,
Good f o r the pot,you knOw .
A sudden sh out . Stopped short th e l ine,And N began to cryCome here, yo u fellows come to meAnd see th e reason why .
”
A llbustled up to where N stoodHe pointed to a tree,
A panth er from a bush had sprun g,And grinning th ere sat he .
Th is was a quite unusual ,A novel kind o f sport,
New Lays of Ind .
He clambered down the tree and fledAs fast as he could goBullets pursued him as he went
,
But not one h i t, yo u know .
H e went and h id h imself behindA bush not far away
,
And,thinking all was well so far,
Beneath it skulking lay .
The sportsmen cautiously came o nWith loaded guns again
,
And peered about both high and lowAround the rolling plain .
And soon beneath a spreading bushThey saw the creature lie
,
And R determined to his shotThe wretched beast must die .
Here must we pause a funny tale,
Ere ’tis to o late,to tell
,
Also what kind o f gun he had ,And what there then befell .
He had a gun whose barrels bothWith trigger one were fired
,
The Lay of the Pira n a Pa n th er .
The right one first,and to the left
Th e trigger then retired .
He ran before h is friends and shotThe panther through and through .
Die without fight I Oh no, the beastThis clearly would not do .
And so he charged,but soon fell down
As he was wounded sore,
And it was evident the gameFo r him was well nigh o
’
er.
R . rather lost his head at this,
And acted in a hurryWith his right barrel cocked again
,
He gave way to a flurry .
To let the panther claw his backHe thought would be no fun ,
And thinking he ’d no barrel left,
Opined ’twas time to run .
And so h e did . The wounded beastOne further effort made
,
But he was done,and so himself
Upon the ground he laid .
63
64 New Lays of Ind.
R . with the other barrel sawH o w he ’d been led astray
,
And smash ed the helpless pan ther’ s headAs on the field he lay .
Beware,all sportsman , to be cool
And never in a hurry,
Lest yo u forget a patent trickAnd wind up in a flurry .
LA Y OF THE FANC IED VIOLET .
A s,fowling-piece in hand
,I strayed
,
To while away th e time,And thought o f happy days I
’
d spentIn England ’s genial clime .
A little flower o n m y pathGlistened with morning dew
I thought it was a violet ,And o f th e purest blue .
I plucked it, and it had indeedThe violet’s sweet smell
B u t there w as someth ing in its shapeThat trifle broke th e spell .
Lay of th e Fa n ci ed Violet.
I looked above , and o’er my head
A palm waved in the windI looked around and near me stoodThe swarthy sons o f Ind.
I looked below and found a stemSo green and coarse and rank,
Th at grew among the noisome weedsOf a foul Indian tank .
So may I test earth ’s j oys , and chooseJoys that m ay ne
’er decaySo
,h opeful
,look f o r future life,
Ere this l ife fades away .
THE LAY OF THE T IGER .
SOM E love to ride o n steeds o f pride ,The foaming boar to spear,Whilst others prove th e rifle
’
s grooveUpon the timid deer .
To each his meed,but you and I
Let’s polish up the gun,
That gun with which o’
er nobler beastsOur victories are w o n .
65
66 New Lays of Ind.
With a health to all w h o hear th e callOf Marked him down
,
” and dareTo beard the ruthless tigerAt noonday in his lair .
On foot o r in the h owdah,
Wheree ’r we take our stand,
With cold grey eye unfl inching,And sunburnt
,steady hand,
W e ’ll track the prowling panth er,
The lion to his den,
And follow grizzly Bruin upO ’er rock and hill and glen .
With a health to all who hear the callOf Marked him down,
” and dareTo beard the ruthless tigerAt noonday in his lair.
We envy not that man his wealthW h o , cen tred all in self ,
Dreams but o f speculationAnd all whose hopes are pelfBut give to us o ur comrades
,
W hose hearts are true and large,
Who grudge nough t unto each otherThe danger Of a charge .
Th e Ch ief’
s H o ur of Doubt.
With a health to all who hear th e callOf Marked him down
,
” and dareTo beard the ruth less tigerAt noonday in h is lair.
W e ’ll hope in merry EnglandW hen age is creeping o n ,
To fight again with those old friendsThe battles we have won
And tell our children round usH o w ,
standing side by side ,We laid some monster tiger lo w ,
H o w pluckily he died IWith a health to all w h o hear the call
Of Marked him down,
” and dareTo beard the ruthless tigerA t noonday in his lair .
THE CHIEF ’S HOUR OF DOUB T .
A T Magdala a message cameFrom Abyssinia ’s lord
The fate o f all the captives hung,
Trembling,on Napier ’s w ord .
Should it be & no,
” in savage h andsTheir future who could tell &
67
68 New Lays of Ind.
Should it be yes,
” ’twas libertyI
O Chieftain , ponder well IBitter and sad o ur good Chief ’s th oughtsIn that long hour Of doubt
Earnest the heart-felt prayer with whichHe thought h is duty out .
Then,not without a manly tear
That glistened o n h is cheek,
To those two messengers their doomMust Robert Napier speak .
Old England ’s honour must be saved,
And those w h o tell o ur storyMust write Though dear the captives ’ lives
,
Far more the Nation ’s glory .
’
GO I say to Th eodore, the kingThe captives must be freeWithout conditions, too , himselfSurrender unto me .
His spiteful malice sh ould h e wreakTo do o n e captive harm ,
Full soon the vengeance shall he feelOf England ’s mighty arm .
Should ill befall you,whom I send
In sorrow back again ,Prideaux and Flad
,the world shall know
,
Their duty did as men .
”
And so they went,but in the while
70 New Lays of Ind.
And Meerut they will call Mirat,A nd h orrify allsaints to come ,
By changing to Damdam,Dumdum .
But now,no longer time to waste
Vt’ e’
llleave each critic to his taste,
Premising we are quite contentedWith th e Old names o ur sires invented .
It chanced at Broach in ancient timeI cannot put his name to rhyme,There lived o n e Bhagu f o r his style I wish ye
Could find a synonym h e was a R ish i .So long a time has passed that
, p o s I
I scarce can tell yo u what he was.Great things he could do o f h is own spontaneity,
And the populace worshipped him half as a deity,
But he ate like a mortal and drank just as well,
So we m ay as well call h im a deified swell .In his hand he would take up a venomous snake
,
And tw ine it around on his arm or h is neck,
W hilst cobra cap ella s ,Such nice
,slimy fell(a)o w s,
Would grovel o r rise at his beck .
With h issing and spiteThey’d dart forward and bite
,
And blood would flow free from his arm,
But he first had the tactTheir fangs to extract
,
Th e Legend of B ro ach .
To keep them from doing him harm .
From a pot with nough t in it,
He ’d produce in a minuteA mango
,you watched as it grew
,
Whilst fo r those w h o would ask itHe ’d sh ut up in a basketA boy whom he ’d pierce th rough and through
,
W h ilst a few seconds after,
With shouts and with laugh ter,
The boy would run in safe and wellH e was in , you
’d no doubtHow the deuce h e got out
,
Was more than a fellow could tell .Enough I People adored himAnd oftentimes bored h im
,
Fo r their own or th eir enemies ’ goodIf fix it h e couldn ’t,He ’d say th at he w ouldn
’t,Or rather, be blessed if he would .
Down from Central India ’s fountains,
Down from Vindhya’
s hoary mountains,
Swift through plain , and gorge , and wood ,Flows Nerbudda ’ s mighty flood
,
W here, encamped o f Old, they say,Great Alexander’s army layUnderneath a single tree .Once I went from Broach to see
7 1
72 New Lays of Ind.
No o n e showed it there to meEach branch had now become a mother ,
And thrown down roots wh ence sprang anotherI returned
, yo u cannot wonder,With a face as black as thunderIf yo u would like to see it, Sir,Sail up and see the K a b ir B urr
1
The river ’ s course then lay, they say, Sir,Six miles from Broach below A nklesar
A thriving town o n e dimly sees,Looming amidst its toddy trees .There a w inding bank they show
,
W here Nerb uddah erst did flow .
Indian rivers play such freaks,Turning ditches into creeks
,
Turning land to mud again,
Swallowing up a fertile plain ,So th at one can ne ’er retrieve it
I fo r o n e can quite believe it .As in earth ’s ev ’ry other quarter
,
The B ro ach ites often wanted water,And as
,by Eastern custom led
,
Th ey carried it upon the head,
Six miles to go ere they could reach it,They found it troublesome to fetch it.
1 . A supposed large Banian tree , in an island in th e Nerbudda,real ly a grove of trees , perhaps ori gina lly sprung from a sm gle tree .
Th e Legend of B roach . 73
Unseemly sights were Often seen ,For Deev a
’
s pub . lay just between ,Where maids
,to f reshen mind and body ,
S tepped in to take a drop o f toddy .
2
To poise a pitcher On the headGives women grace
,it may be said,
But then the gait should steady beAnd step from oscillation f ree .No w Broach ’ s maids from drinking toddy ,Were not always quite firm o f body ,So as to deftly bear their weight,
And carry home their pitch ers straight.And so it sometimes came to pass,That they go t home, but then alas IThe pitchers they had gone to fi ll ,
Were o n the road so prone to spill,They ended in a fluid n il.
The ancient B ro ach i tes t ell a tale,Of an old laundress, who was male
A washerwoman male, you
’ll say,
Is not a th ing seen every day .
Oh n o I you ’re very wrong. At least,You’d be so in the gorgeous East
,
W here they adopt th e inverted plan ,And ev ’ry washerwoman is a man I
2. Th e fermented j uice of a kind Of palm .
74 New Lays of Ind.
This artisan is called a DhobyAt washing
,ironing a robe
,h e
W ith utmost skillWill work his will
,
And turn it out with band and frill,
Starch ed to th e n th to such erectionA laundress well might say P erf ectionTh is laundry-man
,in dragging clothes
Out to A nklesar, vented oathsAnd epith ets that laid the lash o n
The female sex i n Eastern fashion ,Words seeming h armless, full o f spite,
No t understandable by ears polite .This Dh oby in a tearing rageCame to th e presence o f the sage,Swearing his clothes had all been soiled
,
And his week ’s washing had been spoiledIn trudging through th e sandy loam
Between A nklesar and h is h ome .If he
,a sage and demi-god ,
Who could do most things with a nod ,W ould put togeth er two and two,
His people ’ s woes would keep in viewAnd set them right
,w hy, well and good I
If not,they ’d get o n as th ey could,
But f o r the sage ’twould n o t be pleasantHe should not have a single present
Th e Legend of B roa ch .
No Offerings o f rice and gh ee ,No jewels
,things o f fi ligree ,
NO dresses,robes o f rich h ineo b.
3
N 0 cash to j ingle in his f o b .
In fact,to act were h e n o t willing ,
He ’d cut him Off without a shilling.
The sage reflected .
’Twas not pleasantTo lose th e Dh o by
’
s daily present .His wardrobe
,too
,was rather scanty .
He th ough t,if clean things h e should want,
Would rather send them to th e wash,Where he would need no ready cash ,And get them hom e so clean and niceWithout their costing him a p i ce .
4
My faithful washerm an ,” then said h e
To grant your prayers I’
m always ready.
Wh en next yo u come from washing, mindYou drag along the clothes behind .
NO looking back,f o r, i f yo u do ,
The consequences yo u may rueBut walk straight o n and you shall seeHow Old Nerbudda worships me .
”
Th e Dhoby took him at his word,
And then the strangest thi ng occurred.
3 . A rich cloth of gold thread.
4. A smallIndian coin .
75
7 6 New Lays of Ind.
Th e waters careered,And the waves th eir heads reared
,
As they followed th e Dhoby behind ,The sh ell-fish coquettedThe eels pirouetted
,
Each with h i s several kind .
The Dhoby walked , the Dhoby talked ,And ch atted to his fill
,
And whilst he so smiling the way w as beguiling,The river followed still .Arrived at home, no more to roam ,
He turned him back to vi ew,
And there h e saw f o r evermoreThe river following too .
This is the legend,this the story
,
Handed down from ages h oary,H o w the R ish i ’s godlike forceTurned aside Nerbudda ’s course .Thus th e tale o f ancient sageNow adorns my humble page ,And immortalised in rhyme
,
L iveth o n to ev ’ry time .
78 New Lays of Ind.
Straining, as dogs held in the leash, at sight o f
hoped-fo r prey,Before the dawn all under arms hailed the eventful
day .
’Twas then the little party,whose story I relate
,
Moved,silent
,swiftly to the front towards th e
K ashmir gate .
Here let us pause , those heroes’ names that all the
w orld may know,
And watch them as to duty in face o f death they go .
Brave Howe and Salkeld led them o n behindthem sergeants four
,
Burgess, Carmichael , Hawthorn , Smith, four bagso f powder bore .
The f o e rained bullets . ’Spite o f these the powderbags were laid
Essay to li ght the port fire then the gallant Salkeldmade ,
But shot through arm and leg,he fell— the fuse
slipped f rom his handYet
,falling
,he to light the fuse to Burgess gave
command .
Then Burgess , as a soldier should, to do his dutytried
,
But as a fatal bullet sped, he fo r his country died .
Th e Lay of Delh i . 79
Carmichael th en the portfire seized and set the fuseo n fire
,
And,wounded mortally
,fell back . His praise
could n o t be higher .
Smith forward leapt to take his place, but saw th e
fuse aglow,
And jumped in time to save his life, into the ditchbelow
A moment more— as lightning bright , th e ignitedpowder flashed
,
And with a sudden hideous roar the gate togethercrashed.
Howe then to H awthorn gave the word to soundhis bugle horn ,
And Britons,fanned by victory
’s wing,into th e
breach were borne .
To these men o f heroic deed vain Fortune was notkind,
Fo r Of the six w h o risked their lives but two wereleft beh ind .
Howe,Salkeld and Carmichael and Burgess livednot long
Hawthorn and Smith alone remained to grace thepoet ’s song.
8 0 New Lays of Ind.
To those whose hearts beat truly to say more there ’ sno need
His heart wh om such deeds fire not must be o f
stone indeed .
THE HAPPY K UNBIS .
LUXM I,m y life , why sit
’
st thou hereL ike o n e distraugh t with grief ,And ch eckest not the silent tear ,That gives thee no relief &
The sugar cane has sprouted upThe bdj ri
’
s well in earPlenty doth surely fi ll o ur cup
,
Of debt we have no fear.The bread was toasted to a turnAnd sweet and fresh the gh i ,
Without a sym p to n o f a burnWas boiled the K h ich eree.
Well cooked m y dinner th us I hadN0 single fault to find .
What is it,th en
,that makes thee sad
What weigh s upon m y mindOh Parb hudass , m y lord most dear,
’Tis sweet to hear thy praise,
Th e H ap py If un b is .
But still must flow th e silent tearAnd sighs my bosom raise .
I know the fields are looking wellAnd in full milk th e cows
Of healthy bullocks we can tellTo yoke in goodly plough s .
’Twere very shame h ad I forgot,Wh en I made hh ich eree
To stir up well the cooking-pot,
Or use unwholesome gh i .For duty done I need no praise,But need forgiveness more ,
Fo r I forgot fo r three whole daysTo co w dung fresh th e floor .”
THE RE&UIEM OF THE Y EAR .
A STATELY ship sailed onwardsTowards its destined strand
,
W hilst from o ur view sank downwardsThe distant sunlit land .
The twilight ever dimmer,
Passed slowly to the W estEach by its tiny glimmer
,
Stars twinkling stood confessed .
8 1
8 2 New Lays of Ind.
Her path the good sh ip cleavingLeft not a trace to find
,
Save sparks o n ocean heaving,Left in the wake beh ind .
N 0 more in time abiding,Down to eternityThe waning year was gliding,And with the year passed we .Still all around and o ’er usThe stars more brightly shone
,
And from the deep before usForth flashed the orient moon .
The tiny wavelets gl istened,
And sang into m y ear,Gently, as still I l istened,The requiem o f th e year.
Th e past with all its sorrowHas faded from our view
Look, hopeful , to the morrowA fresher life and new .
Those l ittle sparks that shiningPass in the wake away,
Warn us ’gainst vain repiningFo r j oys that fled as th ey .
Fresh to Fresh a nd New to New . 8 3
Brigh t as th e moon is th rowingIts fair ligh t on our road,
H ope in thy heart still glowing,Thy future trust to G od.
FRESH TO FRESH AND NEW TO NEW
Tran sla tedf rom th e Pers ia n .
O M IN STREL sweet , renew thy songW ith fresher notes thy strains prolong.
Bring hith er n o w heart-opening wine,And with new melody combine .Well pleased
,retire with me awhile
,
And with thy harp an hour beguile,
Snatch then a kiss to thy delight,Ever be fresh and ever bright &Th en only life
’
s fruit sh alt thou gainWh en th ou the ruby bowl sh alt drain .
O silver-limbed cupbearer,th ou
To th e fair grove art coming n o w
&uick let me , then , the goblet fillW ith wine still new and fresher still .For thou
,sweet charmer o f m y heart,
Dost to m y longing soul impartColour and form Of beauty
,too
,
84
1 .
New Lays of Ind.
A ye fresh to fresh and new to new .
Should ’st, morning breeze, thou e’er repair
To where there dwells th at Pa r i fair,
W hen Hafiz ’ story thou dost tell ,In new fresh accents o n it dwell I
TH E LA Y OF RUINED BOMBAY .
A LL bubble banks must burst in foamThe Treasury run dryBefore th is City shall resumeIts old prosperity .
I saw a vision in my sleep,
That gave my spirit strength to sweepCircle and Rampart R o w :
1
I saw a speculator stand ,The last o f all that noble bandThat made the money go .
Th e market h ad a sickly air,Promoters none were seen ,Th e Mercantile Bank steps were bare
Of brokers erst so keen .
Some men h ad gone to foreign lan ds,And lef t th eir dupes with scrip in hands
Two b usm ess centres In B ombay .
8 6 New Lays of Ind.
Oblivion ’ s pall now kindly th rowO ’er speculation ’ s day
,
For child-like men will better knowW ith edged tools th an to play .
Those w eird Finan c ials bring n o t backThat kept men ’ s minds upon the rackOf hope their sh ares to sell.
How from shareholders ’ treasure ch estsW ere feathered their Directors ’ nestsThe public know full well .
E ’en I am weary o f the funOf seeing others fail,Wh ilst seedy bankrupts cut and runAnd victims wan turn pale ,My lips that speak th is farewell song,Its wholesome truths and moral strong,Must now in pity closeUniting in our common crash
,
Finan cials, R eclamations, smash ,And mortals need repose .
This child o f pleasure sips the cup ,To England he ’ll returnOh never think you ’ll shut him up
,
Or make his fingers burn .
NO I he shall l ive at home and shine
Th e Lay of th e A ide De Ca m p .
In Fashion ’ s circles , realms divine ,W here money reigns supremeWh ere wealth can li ft the snob on high
,
The cynosure o f every eye,
And titled flunkies ’ th eme .
GO, then , while brass sh all give me graceIn this sad
,ruined town
To wear a calm and smiling face,
W hi l e all around me fro w n .
GO,tell the Judges o f the court
TO cut their cutting speeches short,Fo r cheating n ever th rives
,
And we the learned Bench defyTo touch our well earned property
,
’Tis settled o n o ur w ives I
THE LA Y OF THE AIDE DE CAMP .
FY TTE TH E FI RST .
HAVE yo u heard o f E . S . Jervis,Jervis
,the rapacious beast
,
H o w he ate his Chieftain ’s picklesIn the regions Of the East &
8 7
8 8 New Lays of Ind.
Ev ’ry day the greedy creatureLeered from o ut his greedy eyes ,
Leered at h am in tins,at bacon
,
J ellies , j ams and rich game pies .
Riled I ween,was William Mansfield
Such unseemly things to hearFo r he ’d lost his choicest l iquor,Hock
,champagne and bitter beer .
Listen n o w ,sagacious Longden
,
Whom th e colonels all obey ,Is it not m y bounden dutyStraight to send this Aide away 7
Then sagacious Longden answered& You’re the Chief Commander : lessThan a trial by Court-martialWill not do fo r yo u ,
I guess .
First o f all a confidential,
Home-enquiry like, yo u know,
Would make things look so much nicerEre the h og entire you go .
”
Straightway went the Simla Chieftain,
Fo r his Order-book called he,
Th e Lay of th e A ide De Cam p . 8 9
And a Court o f First Enquiry ,Offi cers assembled three
,
Then the three in secret meetingJervis scoundrel did pronounce
,
Contumacious,Court not f earing
,
Whom the Chief should surely troun ce .
W hen Sir William w rote Court-Martial,
Somewhat fidgetty grew heCried at last
,his household backing
,
Neck or nothing it must be .
Sh ew the world I stand devoted,
Victim to unpleasant taskShould not I
,who order oth ers
,
Sacrifice myself , I ask &”
As he spoke, a nasty TaylorIn his face a summons flung
,
Damages, a lac f o r l ibel ,”
W ords o f omen ill were sung.
Fo r a suit o f h uge diversionsIn a C ivil Court sprang up
,
Sw allowing those small proceedingsAs a tiger would a pup .
90 New Lays of Ind.
Tarnal death I This is a sell now ITerrified
,th e household cried ,
But unmoved,th e Chieftain straightway
Close arrest o n Jervis tried .
That’ s your game,said Jervis : angry
W ords o f scorning from h im burst,
NO I My sword I’llnot surrender &See yo u all much furth er first .”
Sudden from the n eigh b’
ring stationsOfficers in troops ascend
,
At w hose Court must Jervis fuming,Nolen s , volen s, still attend .
Calm and stately were they seated ,B rind
,impartial
,at their head .
Under Taylor’ s artful guidanceCross-examination sped .
L ike a moist, unpleasant serpent ,Closer still the coils he drew
,
Till at last the Chief, first witness,
Writhing,most unhappy grew .
In Bombay his o ld acquaintanceSniggered at Sir William ’ s woe
Th e Lay of th e A ide De Cam p . 9 1
Did he n o t sellbeer and muttonH ere not very long ago
FY TTE TH E SECOND .
Sick at heart,still William Mansfield
Broods upon h is grievous wrong.
W h ’
lst the slow and staid Court-MartialDraws its dreary length along .
A lways peering at the papers ,Seeing what th e public say
W hen a Chief h is househ old linenWash es in the face o f day.
No t in vain , f o r ev’ry journal
C almly tells him what it thinks,
While the shocked and sneering armyStill th e luscious scandal drinks .
Still the calm and staid Court-MartialBut at tiffin took no rest
,
Ever solving legal puzzlesAs to honest heads seemed best .
Only after ev’ry sitting
,
W hen the dreary day was o ’
er,
92 New Lays of Ind.
Some there were who,too impatient
,
Voted it a horrid bore .
Still the Court—instructing ChieftainMust h i s home-made orders quote
,
Still in playful fancy clutchingE . S . Jervis by th e throat .
But the Ch ief began to waver,Soon h is brow was overcast,
And the folks began to wh isperSomething in the wind at last .
Soon th e lookers-o n were puzzledH o w to hold their laughing jawsSundry titters soon expandedInto unpolite guffaws .
For a fact o f some importanceSlipped Sir William unaware
,
Th at when Jervis gave his picnicsH e himself was often there .
Midst a pause o f awful portentSmiled the Court to see the play
,
Fo r the Chieftain glared at TaylorIn a most unpleasant way .
94 N ew Lays of Ind.
Mercy I Yes,I’
d mercy shew himCould I think my duty done I”
Then Sir William finished Jervis,
Calm as when h e ’
d fi rst begun .
Though he ’d paid fo r jams and pickles ,And his word was good as cash
Yet h is insubordination ,Fatal
,settled Jervis ’ hash .
THE LAY OF THE SISTER .
OH I sister dear, wh at hidden woeBetrays thy lustrous eyeHath mortal malice dealt the blowAt which thy tears unbidden flowThy bosom heaves th e sigh &
Or hath some G od in anger dreadThy punishment decreed ,And poured o n thy devoted headVials o f wrath as molten leadFo r secret, sinful dead
Th e Lay of th e Sis ter .
No , sister mine . No mortal h andH ath been outstretched o n me,No r hath a god in fury grandOf conscience lit the awful brandFor sin done secretly .
”
Luxm ee alas I a f earful pangAcross thy visage shootsThy hair in h andfuls large doth hang,Snapping with more than bowstring’s pangThou tear ’
st o u t by the roots I
In pity weep , m y sister dearMy secret grief I tellWhen last dear mother brush ed myY o u know her eyesight is n o t clearShe did n o t do it well I”
95
UNIVERSITY OF CA LIFORNIA LIBRAR Y
Lo s Angeles
T his bo o k i s DUE o n th e last da te stam p ed b elow.
o rm L9—3 2m ( ,0 8 6 8 0s4 ) 444
