University of Virginia Library


137

SERIM;

OR, THE ARTIFICIAL FAMINE.

AN EAST-INDIAN ECLOGUE.

O Guardian Genius of this sacred wave !
‘O save thy sons, if thine the power to save!’
So Serim spoke, as sad on Ganges' shore
He sat, his country's miseries to deplore—
‘O Guardian Genius of this sacred wave!
‘O save thy sons, if thine the power to save!
‘From Agra's tow'rs to Muxadabat's walls,
‘On thee for aid the suffering Hindoo calls:

140

‘Europe's fell race controul the wide domain,
‘Engross the harvest, and enslave the swain.
‘Why rise these cumbrous piles along thy tide?
‘They hold the plenty to our prayers denied!
‘Guards at their gates perpetual watch maintain,
‘Where Want in anguish craves relief in vain.
“Bring gold, bring gems,” the insatiate plunderers cry;
“Who hoards his wealth by Hunger's rage shall die.”
‘Ye Fiends! ye have ravish'd all our little store;
‘Ye see we perish, yet ye ask for more!
‘Go ye yourselves, and search for gold the mine;
‘Go, dive where pearls beneath the ocean shine!
‘What right have ye to plague our peaceful land?
‘No ships of ours e'er sought your western strand:
‘Ne'er from your fields we snatch'd their crops away,
‘Nor made your daughters or your sons our prey.

141

‘Not ev'n in thought we quit our native place—
‘A calm, contented, inoffensive race!
‘By Avarice led, ye range remotest climes,
‘And every nation execrates your crimes.
‘When Timur's House renown'd, in Delhi reign'd,
‘Distress, assistance unimplor'd obtain'd:
‘When Famine o'er the afflicted region frown'd,
‘And Sickness languish'd on the barren ground,
‘The Imperial granaries wide display'd their doors,
‘And ships provision brought from distant shores;
‘The laden camels crowded Kurah's vales,
‘From Colgon's cliffs they hail'd the coming sails.

142

‘But ye!—even now, while fav'ring seasons smile,
‘And the rich glebe would recompense our toil,
‘Dearth and Disease to you alone we owe;
‘Ye cause the mischief, and enjoy the woe!
‘This beauteous clime, but late, what plenty blest!
‘What days of pleasure, and what nights of rest!
‘From Gola's streets, fam'd mart of fragrant grain!
‘Trade's chearful voice resounded o'er the plain;
‘There now sad Silence listens to the waves
‘That break in murmurs round the rocky caves.
‘Sweet were the songs o'er Jumal's level borne,
‘While busy thousands throng'd to plant the corn;
‘Now tenfold tax the farmer forc'd to yield,
‘Despairs, and leaves unoccupied the field.
‘Sweet were the songs of Burdwan's mulberry grove,
‘While the rich silk the rapid shuttle wove;

143

‘Now from the loom our costly vestments torn,
‘The insulting robbers meanest slaves adorn.
‘In Malda's shades, on Purna's palmy plain,
‘The hapless artists, urg'd to toil in vain,
‘Quit their sad homes, and mourn along the land,
‘A pensive, pallid, self-disabled band !—
‘The year revolves—“Bring choicest fruits and flowers!
‘Spread wide the board in consecrated bowers;

144

“Bring Joy, bring Sport, the song, the dance prepare!
“'Tis Drugah's Feast, and all our friends must share!”
‘The year revolves—nor fruits nor flowers are seen;
‘Nor festive board in bowers of holy green;
‘Nor Joy, nor Sport, nor dance, nor tuneful strain:
‘'Tis Drugah's feast—but Grief and Terror reign.
‘Yet there, ingrate! oft welcome guests ye came,
‘And talk'd of Honour's laws and Friendship's flame.
‘The year revolves—and Bishen's Fast invites
‘On Ganges' marge to pay the solemn rites;

145

‘All, boons of Bishen, great Preserver, crave;
‘All, in the sacred flood, their bodies lave:
‘No more, alas!—the multitude no more
‘Bathe in the tide, or kneel upon the shore;
‘No more from towns and villages they throng,
‘Wide o'er the fields, the public paths along:
‘Sad on our ways, by human foot unworn,
‘Stalks the dim form of Solitude forlorn!—
‘From Ava's mountains Morn's bright eyes survey
‘Fair Ganges' streams in many a winding stray:
‘There fleecy flocks on many an island feed;
‘There herds unnumber'd pasture many a mead;
‘(While noxious herbs our last resource supply,
‘And, dearth escaping, by disease we die)
“Take these,” ye cry, “nor more for food complain;
“Take these, and slay like us, and riot on the slain!”

146

‘Ah no! our Law the crime abhorr'd withstands;
‘We die—but blood shall ne'er pollute our hands.
‘O Guardian Genius of this sacred wave!
‘Save, save thy sons, if thine the power to save!’
So Serim spoke—while by the moon's pale beam,
The frequent corse came floating down the stream .
He sigh'd, and rising turn'd his steps to rove
Where wav'd o'er Nizim's vale the coco-grove;
There, 'midst scorch'd ruins, one lone roof remain'd,
And one forlorn inhabitant contain'd.
The sound of feet he near his threshold heard;
Slow from the ground his languid limbs he rear'd:
‘Come, Tyrant, come! perform a generous part,
‘Lift thy keen steel, and pierce this fainting heart!
‘Com'st thou for gold? my gold, alas, I gave,
‘My darling daughter in distress to save!

147

‘Thy faithless brethren took the shining store,
‘Then from my arms the trembling virgin tore!
‘Three days, three nights, I've languish'd here alone—
‘Three foodless days, three nights to sleep unknown!
‘Come, Tyrant, come! perform a generous part,
‘Lift thy keen steel, and pierce this fainting heart!’
“No hostile steps the haunt of Woe invade,”
Serim replied—and, passing where the glade
A length of prospect down the vale display'd,
Another sight of misery met his view;
Another mournful voice his notice drew!
There, near a temple's recent ruin, stood
A white-rob'd Bramin, by the sacred flood:
His wives, his children, dead beside him lay—
Of Hunger these, and those of Grief the prey!
Thrice he with dust defil'd his aged head;
Thrice o'er the stream his hands uplifted spread:

148

‘Hear, all ye Powers to whom we bend in prayer!
‘Hear, all who rule o'er water, earth, and air!
‘'Tis not for them, tho' lifeless there they lie;
‘'Tis not for me, tho' innocent I die;—
‘My Country's breast the tyger, Avarice, rends,
‘And loud to you her parting groan ascends.
‘Hear, all ye Powers to whom we bend in prayer!
‘Hear, all who rule o'er water, earth, and air!
‘Hear, and avenge!—
‘But hark! what voice, from yonder starry sphere,
‘Slides, like the breeze of Evening, o'er my ear?
‘Lo, Birmah's form! on amber clouds enthron'd;
‘His azure robe with lucid emerald zon'd;

149

‘He looks celestial dignity and grace,
‘And views with pity wretched human race!’
“Forbear, rash man! nor curse thy country's foes;
“Frail man to man forgiveness ever owes.
“When Moisasoor the fell to Earth's fair plain
“Brought his detested offspring, Strife and Pain;
“Revenge with them, relentless Fury, came,
“Her bosom burning with infernal flame!
“Her hair sheds horror, like the comet's blaze;
“Her eyes, all ghastly, blast where'er they gaze;
“Her lifted arm a poison'd crice sustains;
“Her garments drop with blood of kindred veins!
“Who asks her aid, must own her endless reign,
“Feel her keen scourge, and drag her galling chain!”
‘The strains sublime in sweetest music close,
‘And all the tumult of my soul compose.

150

‘Yet you, ye oppressors! uninvok'd on you ,
‘Your steps, the steps of Justice will pursue!
‘Go, spread your white sails on the azure main;
‘Fraught with our spoils, your native land regain;
‘Go, plant the grove, and bid the lake expand,
‘And on green hills the pompous palace stand:
‘Let Luxury's hand adorn the gaudy room,
‘Smooth the soft couch, and shed the rich perfume—
‘There Night's kind calm in vain shall sleep invite,
‘While fancied omens warn, and spectres fright:
‘Sad sounds shall issue from your guilty walls,
‘The widow'd wife's, the sonless mother's calls;
‘And infant Rajahs' bleeding forms shall rise,
‘And lift to you their supplicating eyes:

151

‘Remorse intolerable your hearts will feel,
‘And your own hands plunge deep the avenging steel .
‘(For Europe's cowards Heaven's command disdain,
‘To Death's cold arms they fly for ease in vain.)
‘For us, each painful transmigration o'er,
‘Sweet fields receive us to resign no more;
‘Where Safety's fence for ever round us grows,
‘And Peace, fair flower, with bloom unfading blows;
‘Light's Sun unsetting shines with chearing beam;
‘And Pleasure's River rolls its golden stream!’
Enrapt he spoke—then ceas'd the lofty strain,
And Orel's rocks return'd the sound again.—

152

A British ruffian, near in ambush laid,
Rush'd sudden from the cane-isle's secret shade;
‘Go to thy Gods!’ with rage infernal cried,
And headlong plung'd the hapless Sage into the foaming tide.
 

THE following account of British conduct and its consequences, in Bengal and the adjacent provinces, some years ago, will afford a sufficient idea of the subject of the following Eclogue. After describing the monopoly of salt, betel-nut, and tobacco, the Historian thus proceeds: “Money, in this current, came but by drops; it could not quench the thirst of those who waited in India to receive it. An expedient, such as it was, remained to quicken its pace.—The natives could live with little salt, but not without food. Some of the agents saw themselves well situated for collecting the rice into stores; they did so. They knew the Gentoos would rather die, than violate the precepts of their religion by eating flesh. The alternative would therefore be, between giving what they had, and dying. The inhabitants sunk; they that cultivated the land, and saw the harvest at the disposal of others, planted in doubt; scarcity ensued; then the monopoly was easier managed. The people took to roots, and food they had been unaccustomed to eat. Sickness ensued. In some districts, the languid Living left the bodies of their numerous Dead unburied.”

—Short History of English Transactions in the East-Indies, p. 145.

The above quotation sufficiently proves, that the general plan of the following Poem is founded on fact. And, even with regard to its particlar incidents, there can be little doubt, but that, among the varied miseries of millions, every picture of distress, which the Author has drawn, had its original.

The Hindoos worship a God or Genius of the Ganges.

Muxadabat, or Morshedabat, a large city of India, about two hundred miles above Calcutta. The name is commonly pronounced with the accent on the last syllable: Muxadabàt. I have taken the liberty to accommodate this, and some few other words, to my verse, by altering the accentuation; a matter, I apprehend, of little consequence to the English reader.

The famous Mahometan tyrant, Auranzebe, during a famine which prevailed in different parts of India, exerted himself to alleviate the distress of his subjects. “He remitted the taxes that were due; he employed those already collected in the purchase of corn, which was distributed among the poorer sort. He even expended immense sums out of the treasury, in conveying grain, by land and water, into the interior provinces, from Bengal, and the countries which lie on the five branches of the Indus.” Dow's Indostan, vol. iii. p. 340.

“Those who now made the things the English most wanted, were pressed on all sides—by their own necessities, their neighbours, and the agents employed to procure the Company's investments, as the goods sent to Europe are called. These importunities were united, and urged so much, so often, and in such ways, as to produce, among the people in the silk business, instances of their cutting off their thumbs, that the want of them might excuse them from following their trade, and the inconveniences to which they were exposed beyond the common lot of their neighbours.” History of English Transactions in the East-Indies.

Drugah; a Hindoo Goddess. “Drugah Poojah is the grand general feast of the Gentoos, usually visited by all Europeans (by invitation), who are treated by the proprietors of the feast with the fruits and flowers in season, and are entertained every evening with bands of fingers and dancers.” Vide Holwell's Indostan, vol. ii.

Bishen, Bistnoo, or Jaggernaut, is one of the principal Hindoo deities. “This fast, dedicated to him, is called the Sinan Jattra, or general washing in the Ganges; and it is almost incredible to think the immense multitude, of every age and sex, that appears on both sides the river, throughout its whole course, at one and the same time.” Vide Mr. Holwell, vol. ii. p. 124. 128.

The Hindoos frequently cast the bodies of their deceased into the Ganges; with the idea, I suppose, of committing them to the disposal of the God or Genius of the River.

Birmah is a principal Deity of the Hindoos, in whose person they worship the divine attribute of Wisdom. From the best accounts we have of India, the intelligent part of the natives do not worship “stocks and stones,” merely as such; but rather the Supreme Existence, in a variety of attributes or manifestations.

Moisasoor: the Hindoo Author of Evil, similar to our Satan.

Crice, an Indian dagger.

The Reader must readily perceive the propriety of this turn of thought, in a Poem designed to have a moral tendency. There is much difference between a person wishing evil to his enemy, and prefaging that evil will be the consequence of that enemy's crimes. The first is an immoral act of the will; the second, a neutral act of the judgment.

The Hindoo religion strongly prohibits suicide. Mr. Holwell gives us the following passage from the Shastah: “Whosoever, of the delinquent Debtah, shall dare to free himself from the mortal form wherewith I shall inclose him; thou, Sieb, shalt plunge him into the Onderah for ever: he shall not again have the benefit of the fifteen Boboons of purgation, probation, and purification.”