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123
A Ballad of Sir Pertab Singh
In the first year of him that first
Was Emperor and King,
A rider came to the Rose-red House,
The House of Pertab Singh.
Was Emperor and King,
A rider came to the Rose-red House,
The House of Pertab Singh.
Young he was and an Englishman,
And a soldier, hilt and heel,
And he struck fire in Pertab's heart
As the steel strikes on steel.
And a soldier, hilt and heel,
And he struck fire in Pertab's heart
As the steel strikes on steel.
Beneath the morning stars they rode,
Beneath the evening sun,
And their blood sang to them as they rode
That all good wars are one.
Beneath the evening sun,
And their blood sang to them as they rode
That all good wars are one.
They told their tales of the love of women,
Their tales of East and West,
But their blood sang that of all their loves
They loved a soldier best.
Their tales of East and West,
But their blood sang that of all their loves
They loved a soldier best.
So ran their joy the allotted days,
Till at the last day's end
The Shadow stilled the Rose-red House
And the heart of Pertab's friend.
Till at the last day's end
The Shadow stilled the Rose-red House
And the heart of Pertab's friend.
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When morning came, in narrow chest
The soldier's face they hid,
And over his fast-dreaming eyes
Shut down the narrow lid.
The soldier's face they hid,
And over his fast-dreaming eyes
Shut down the narrow lid.
Three were there of his race and creed,
Three only and no more:
They could not find to bear the dead
A fourth in all Jodhpore.
Three only and no more:
They could not find to bear the dead
A fourth in all Jodhpore.
“O Maharaj, of your good grace
Send us a Sweeper here:
A Sweeper has no caste to lose
Even by an alien bier.”
Send us a Sweeper here:
A Sweeper has no caste to lose
Even by an alien bier.”
“What need, what need?” said Pertab Singh,
And bowed his princely head.
“I have no caste, for I myself
Am bearing forth the dead.”
And bowed his princely head.
“I have no caste, for I myself
Am bearing forth the dead.”
“O Maharaj, O passionate heart,
Be wise, bethink you yet:
That which you lose to-day is lost
Till the last sun shall set.”
Be wise, bethink you yet:
That which you lose to-day is lost
Till the last sun shall set.”
“God only knows,” said Pertab Singh,
“That which I lose to-day:
And without me no hand of man
Shall bear my friend away.”
“That which I lose to-day:
And without me no hand of man
Shall bear my friend away.”
125
Stately and slow and shoulder-high
In the sight of all Jodhpore
The dead went down the rose-red steps
Upheld by bearers four.
In the sight of all Jodhpore
The dead went down the rose-red steps
Upheld by bearers four.
When dawn relit the lamp of grief
Within the burning East
There came a word to Pertab Singh,
The soft word of a priest.
Within the burning East
There came a word to Pertab Singh,
The soft word of a priest.
He woke, and even as he woke
He went forth all in white,
And saw the Brahmins bowing there
In the hard morning light.
He went forth all in white,
And saw the Brahmins bowing there
In the hard morning light.
“Alas! O Maharaj, alas!
O noble Pertab Singh!
For here in Jodhpore yesterday
Befell a fearful thing.
O noble Pertab Singh!
For here in Jodhpore yesterday
Befell a fearful thing.
“O here in Jodhpore yesterday
A fearful thing befell.”
“A fearful thing,” said Pertab Singh,
“God and my heart know well—
A fearful thing befell.”
“A fearful thing,” said Pertab Singh,
“God and my heart know well—
“I lost a friend.”
“More fearful yet!
When down these steps you past
In sight of all Jodhpore you lost—
O Maharaj!—your caste.”
“More fearful yet!
When down these steps you past
In sight of all Jodhpore you lost—
O Maharaj!—your caste.”
126
Then leapt the light in Pertab's eyes
As the flame leaps in smoke,
“Thou priest! thy soul hath never known
The word thy lips have spoke.
As the flame leaps in smoke,
“Thou priest! thy soul hath never known
The word thy lips have spoke.
“My caste! Know thou there is a caste
Above my caste or thine,
Brahmin and Rajput are but dust
To that immortal line:
Above my caste or thine,
Brahmin and Rajput are but dust
To that immortal line:
“Wide as the world, free as the air,
Pure as the pool of death—
The caste of all Earth's noble hearts
Is the right soldier's faith.”
Pure as the pool of death—
The caste of all Earth's noble hearts
Is the right soldier's faith.”
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