 | Poems by Mrs. Opie |  |
89
SONG OF A HINDUSTA‘NI’ GIRL.
90
[_]
This Song was occasioned by the following circumstance:.... Mr. Biggs, the composer and editor of many beautiful Airs, gave me, some time ago, a plaintive melody, said to have been composed and sung by a Hindustàní girl on being separated from the man whom she loved.
She had lived several years in India with an English gentleman to whom she was tenderly attached; but he, when about to marry, sent his Indian favourite up the country; and, as she was borne along in her palanquin, she was heard to sing the abovementioned melody. To this melody I wrote the following words; and they have been already given to the public, with the original music, in a second set of Hindoo Airs, arranged and harmonized by Mr. Biggs.
91
'Tis thy will, and I must leave thee:
O then, best-beloved, farewell!
I forbear, lest I should grieve thee,
Half my heartfelt pangs to tell.
Soon a British fair will charm thee,
Thou her smiles wilt fondly woo;
But though she to rapture warm thee,
Don't forget thy poor hindoo.
O then, best-beloved, farewell!
I forbear, lest I should grieve thee,
Half my heartfelt pangs to tell.
Soon a British fair will charm thee,
Thou her smiles wilt fondly woo;
But though she to rapture warm thee,
Don't forget thy poor hindoo.
92
Well I know this happy beauty
Soon thine envied bride will shine;
But will she by anxious duty
Prove a passion warm as mine?
If to rule be her ambition,
And her own desires pursue,
Thou'lt recall my fond submission,
And regret thy poor hindoo.
Soon thine envied bride will shine;
But will she by anxious duty
Prove a passion warm as mine?
If to rule be her ambition,
And her own desires pursue,
Thou'lt recall my fond submission,
And regret thy poor hindoo.
Born herself to rank and splendour,
Will she deign to wait on thee,
And those soft attentions render
Thou so oft hast praised in me?
Yet, why doubt her care to please thee?
Thou must every heart subdue;
I am sure each maid that sees thee
Loves thee like thy poor hindoo.
Will she deign to wait on thee,
And those soft attentions render
Thou so oft hast praised in me?
93
Thou must every heart subdue;
I am sure each maid that sees thee
Loves thee like thy poor hindoo.
No, ah! no!....though from thee parted,
Other maids will peace obtain;
But thy Lola, broken-hearted,
Ne'er, oh! ne'er, will smile again.
O how fast from thee they tear me!
Faster still shall death pursue:
But 'tis well....death will endear me,
And thou'lt mourn thy poor hindoo.
Other maids will peace obtain;
But thy Lola, broken-hearted,
Ne'er, oh! ne'er, will smile again.
O how fast from thee they tear me!
Faster still shall death pursue:
But 'tis well....death will endear me,
And thou'lt mourn thy poor hindoo.
| Poems by Mrs. Opie | |