 | Poems by Dr. Roberts of Eton College |  |
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ARIMANT and TAMIRA. AN EASTERN TALE.
In the Manner of DRYDEN's FABLES.
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If to the field his valiant troops he led,
Before his arm united nations fled;
And when fair peace return'd ('twas peace he lov'd)
His just decrees all sought, for all approv'd.
So generous was this prince; his court so free
To every country, worship, or degree;
So splendid was his train; so deck'd his board
With all that earth, or air, or seas afford;
That distant nations join'd with one consent
To style Yamodin, the Magnificent.
Before his arm united nations fled;
And when fair peace return'd ('twas peace he lov'd)
His just decrees all sought, for all approv'd.
So generous was this prince; his court so free
To every country, worship, or degree;
So splendid was his train; so deck'd his board
With all that earth, or air, or seas afford;
That distant nations join'd with one consent
To style Yamodin, the Magnificent.
Twelve years were over, since his lovely bride
Was snatch'd untimely from this monarch's side.
Of all his numerous race, so fate ordain'd,
To fill Golconda's throne no son remain'd.
One only daughter heaven vouchsaf'd to spare,
One only daughter was his darling care.
In her the father oft would weep to trace
The living features of a dearer face;
In her would gaze on his lost consort's charms,
And clasp the faithful image in his arms.
Was snatch'd untimely from this monarch's side.
Of all his numerous race, so fate ordain'd,
To fill Golconda's throne no son remain'd.
One only daughter heaven vouchsaf'd to spare,
One only daughter was his darling care.
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The living features of a dearer face;
In her would gaze on his lost consort's charms,
And clasp the faithful image in his arms.
This nymph of whom I speak, this gentle maid,
(Whose charms should ne'er decay, nor virtues fade,
If ought my humble verse might raise to fame,)
Was call'd Tamira from her mother's name.
In modest mien, in dignity of air,
Where was the virgin could with her compare;
In whom at once were join'd whate'er can please
Of grace, of motion, elegance, and ease?
(Whose charms should ne'er decay, nor virtues fade,
If ought my humble verse might raise to fame,)
Was call'd Tamira from her mother's name.
In modest mien, in dignity of air,
Where was the virgin could with her compare;
In whom at once were join'd whate'er can please
Of grace, of motion, elegance, and ease?
Fair as she was, and daughter of a throne,
Soon was her fame to neighbouring nations known.
From neighbouring nations rival princes strove
To win Tamira's heart, and gain her love.
As each excell'd in fortune, arms, address,
Some woo'd with bribes, and some with gentleness:
Some told her tales of battles lost and won,
And bloody fields on t'other side the sun.
From rich Indostan wealthy monarchs came,
And kings of Visapour, a mighty name.
But good Yamodin soon compos'd the strife,
And vow'd no stranger e'er should call her wife;
Lest fam'd Golconda, once of high renown,
Should shine a jewel in some foreign crown.
Soon was her fame to neighbouring nations known.
From neighbouring nations rival princes strove
To win Tamira's heart, and gain her love.
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Some woo'd with bribes, and some with gentleness:
Some told her tales of battles lost and won,
And bloody fields on t'other side the sun.
From rich Indostan wealthy monarchs came,
And kings of Visapour, a mighty name.
But good Yamodin soon compos'd the strife,
And vow'd no stranger e'er should call her wife;
Lest fam'd Golconda, once of high renown,
Should shine a jewel in some foreign crown.
And yet, what broils may vex Tamira's reign,
Should she a queen still unespous'd remain?
Some haughty prince, she once refus'd to wed,
May drag her captive to her conqueror's bed.
Or grant the Gods her happy days may bless
In peace with justice, and in arms, success;
What hand, when she's no more, the state shall sway?
What chief the headlong populace obey?
Perhaps, while rival lords aspire to reign,
Th'unpeopled land may weep her children slain:
Or some proud Raja lead up all his powers,
And level with the dust Golconda's lofty towers.
Should she a queen still unespous'd remain?
Some haughty prince, she once refus'd to wed,
May drag her captive to her conqueror's bed.
Or grant the Gods her happy days may bless
In peace with justice, and in arms, success;
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What chief the headlong populace obey?
Perhaps, while rival lords aspire to reign,
Th'unpeopled land may weep her children slain:
Or some proud Raja lead up all his powers,
And level with the dust Golconda's lofty towers.
What then remains but soon to match the fair,
And from her father's court adopt an heir?
Some youth, whose arm the sinking realm may save;
And who so fit, as Arimant the brave?
To powerful kings was Arimant allied,
And, next their monarch, was the people's pride.
Oft from his eye the tear of pity stole,
For soft his heart, tho' dauntless was his soul.
Oft had he check'd his arm the foe to spare,
And wept when victor at the chance of war.
And from her father's court adopt an heir?
Some youth, whose arm the sinking realm may save;
And who so fit, as Arimant the brave?
To powerful kings was Arimant allied,
And, next their monarch, was the people's pride.
Oft from his eye the tear of pity stole,
For soft his heart, tho' dauntless was his soul.
Oft had he check'd his arm the foe to spare,
And wept when victor at the chance of war.
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Long had this youth conceal'd a pleasing pain,
Long fair Tamira lov'd, but lov'd in vain:
For tho Tamira burnt with equal fire,
Yet still she dreaded, as she lov'd her sire.
Now scenes of rapture open to their view
So like a dream, they scarce believe them true.
Fixt for their nuptials is the joyful day;
For life's uncertain pleasures soon decay,
And bliss that wooes our hand 'tis madness to delay.
Long fair Tamira lov'd, but lov'd in vain:
For tho Tamira burnt with equal fire,
Yet still she dreaded, as she lov'd her sire.
Now scenes of rapture open to their view
So like a dream, they scarce believe them true.
Fixt for their nuptials is the joyful day;
For life's uncertain pleasures soon decay,
And bliss that wooes our hand 'tis madness to delay.
O happy pair! for you thro all the court
'Tis feasting, dancing, jollity, and sport!
But ah! the short-liv'd joys shall soon be o'er,
And mirth's wild revelry be heard no more!
Forth from the sickly South's contagious breath
Comes the dire Pestilence, and scatters death:
She stands, and throws her deadly poisons round,
With stride gigantic covering all the ground.
Vain is the voice of grief: in vain the cries
Of widows, mothers, orphans pierce the skies.
Ten nights in vain the watchful Bramin prays,
In vain observes the sun ten tedious days.
What tho whole weeks with still-uplifted hands
Each sad Faquir in painful suppliance stands;
What, tho to hallow'd groves the saint retires,
And in his bosom clasps the sacred fires;
A stronger poison taints the noisome air,
And mighty Ram disdains his votary's prayer.
'Tis feasting, dancing, jollity, and sport!
But ah! the short-liv'd joys shall soon be o'er,
And mirth's wild revelry be heard no more!
Forth from the sickly South's contagious breath
Comes the dire Pestilence, and scatters death:
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With stride gigantic covering all the ground.
Vain is the voice of grief: in vain the cries
Of widows, mothers, orphans pierce the skies.
Ten nights in vain the watchful Bramin prays,
In vain observes the sun ten tedious days.
What tho whole weeks with still-uplifted hands
Each sad Faquir in painful suppliance stands;
What, tho to hallow'd groves the saint retires,
And in his bosom clasps the sacred fires;
A stronger poison taints the noisome air,
And mighty Ram disdains his votary's prayer.
What ransom then can angry heaven demand?
What sacrifice can save a guilty land?
Oft could the blood of royal virgins spare
Their lives in famine, and their troops in war;
Who knows but now, the offended Gods require
Some royal virgin should again expire?
Swift thro the crowd the voice of transport flies,
‘A royal virgin, every tongue replies;
‘The sacred rites prepare; a royal virgin dies.’
What sacrifice can save a guilty land?
Oft could the blood of royal virgins spare
Their lives in famine, and their troops in war;
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Some royal virgin should again expire?
Swift thro the crowd the voice of transport flies,
‘A royal virgin, every tongue replies;
‘The sacred rites prepare; a royal virgin dies.’
Soon the sad tidings reach'd Yamodin's ear;
'Twas what Yamodin long had learnt to fear.
What shall he do? No virgin but his own
Can boast alliance to Golconda's throne.
Speechless he stood: at length recovering said,
(And check'd a tear he seem'd asham'd to shed,)
‘What had I done, that I was doom'd to reign,
‘Curs'd to this sad pre-eminence of pain?
‘How blest the slave, who plac'd beneath a crown,
‘Shrinks at my nod, and trembles at my frown!
‘He undisturb'd, his infant babes can see
‘Smile in his face, or wanton on his knee:
‘He sits secure, and calls them all his own;
‘Their blood a people's guilt can ne'er attone.
‘But I—(O King, is this thy envied state?)
‘One only daughter must resign to fate.
‘Can I forget how to these arms she flew,
‘And told me every idle tale she knew?
‘For yet a child, with each affection free,
‘Her little love was lavish'd all on me.
‘Duty matur'd what nature taught before,
‘And growing years increas'd her fondness more.
‘Yet she must die. O thou, at whose command
‘Golconda weeps, O save a sinking land!
‘Accept that life, for which her country calls,
‘Tamira's life—'tis thine—to thee she falls.’
'Twas what Yamodin long had learnt to fear.
What shall he do? No virgin but his own
Can boast alliance to Golconda's throne.
Speechless he stood: at length recovering said,
(And check'd a tear he seem'd asham'd to shed,)
‘What had I done, that I was doom'd to reign,
‘Curs'd to this sad pre-eminence of pain?
‘How blest the slave, who plac'd beneath a crown,
‘Shrinks at my nod, and trembles at my frown!
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‘Smile in his face, or wanton on his knee:
‘He sits secure, and calls them all his own;
‘Their blood a people's guilt can ne'er attone.
‘But I—(O King, is this thy envied state?)
‘One only daughter must resign to fate.
‘Can I forget how to these arms she flew,
‘And told me every idle tale she knew?
‘For yet a child, with each affection free,
‘Her little love was lavish'd all on me.
‘Duty matur'd what nature taught before,
‘And growing years increas'd her fondness more.
‘Yet she must die. O thou, at whose command
‘Golconda weeps, O save a sinking land!
‘Accept that life, for which her country calls,
‘Tamira's life—'tis thine—to thee she falls.’
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The vow is past, when lo! the nymph appears;
Nor wild complaint she pours, nor silent tears:
But calm content, mild joy, and heavenly grace
Shed their sweet radiance o'er her lovely face.
At the sad sight again the parent's breast
Each tender thought with tenfold force possess'd:
All fear of injur'd heaven his soul forsook;
And, ‘No; thou shalt not die;’ was all he spoke.
Nor wild complaint she pours, nor silent tears:
But calm content, mild joy, and heavenly grace
Shed their sweet radiance o'er her lovely face.
At the sad sight again the parent's breast
Each tender thought with tenfold force possess'd:
All fear of injur'd heaven his soul forsook;
And, ‘No; thou shalt not die;’ was all he spoke.
‘And canst thou see me live,’ Tamira said,
‘With all a people's curses on my head?
‘Of me shall every orphan ask a sire?
‘Of me each mother a lost son require?
‘Of me shall every wife her lord implore?
‘Die, die, Tamira; lord, sire, son, restore.
‘Yes, yes, I go to heal a nation's wound;
‘A grateful nation shall my praise resound:
‘The decent matron, each revolving year,
‘Shall o'er my ashes shed a pious tear;
‘The Bramins too, as feastful days return,
‘Shall hang the golden tissue on mine urn;
‘On which with curious skill some artist draws
‘A princess bleeding in her country's cause.
‘Calm and undaunted to those realms I go,
‘Where virtuous souls a happier mansion know;
‘Thence soon, if ought of truth our sages say,
‘Burst forth triumphant and return to day!’
‘With all a people's curses on my head?
‘Of me shall every orphan ask a sire?
‘Of me each mother a lost son require?
‘Of me shall every wife her lord implore?
‘Die, die, Tamira; lord, sire, son, restore.
‘Yes, yes, I go to heal a nation's wound;
‘A grateful nation shall my praise resound:
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‘Shall o'er my ashes shed a pious tear;
‘The Bramins too, as feastful days return,
‘Shall hang the golden tissue on mine urn;
‘On which with curious skill some artist draws
‘A princess bleeding in her country's cause.
‘Calm and undaunted to those realms I go,
‘Where virtuous souls a happier mansion know;
‘Thence soon, if ought of truth our sages say,
‘Burst forth triumphant and return to day!’
‘Then be it so; and thus;’ the monarch said,
‘Thus to grim death I doom thy guiltless head.
‘Thou heard'st, my child, a parent's voice before,
‘Now hear thy prince; the parent is no more.
‘Prepare; to-morrow, virgin, is the day
‘When thou to heaven thy forfeit life must pay:
‘Virgin, prepare; myself the rites will speed,
‘Conduct the pomp, and see the victim bleed.’
Then round her bending neck his arms he threw,
Embrac'd her thrice, and thrice pronounc'd, adieu.
‘Thus to grim death I doom thy guiltless head.
‘Thou heard'st, my child, a parent's voice before,
‘Now hear thy prince; the parent is no more.
‘Prepare; to-morrow, virgin, is the day
‘When thou to heaven thy forfeit life must pay:
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‘Conduct the pomp, and see the victim bleed.’
Then round her bending neck his arms he threw,
Embrac'd her thrice, and thrice pronounc'd, adieu.
Where now is Arimant? what art can save
His fond, his lov'd Tamira from the grave?
All wild, and frantick to the crowd he flies;
Still the mad crowd, a royal victim, cries,
Thence, reckless where he went, in mere despair
He sought the court, for all he lov'd was there.
He found Tamira with extatic eyes,
And hands erect, commercing with the skies.
Her soul, refin'd from passion's base alloy,
Seem'd wrapt in visions of seraphic joy:
Thus fixt she stood, and breath'd her fervent pray'r;
He, with a look of love, and wild despair,
O'er her enamour'd hung in silent grief;
No tear burst forth to give his soul relief:
Then, when a sigh the obstructed passage broke,
Fondly he press'd her hand, and gently spoke.
‘And is it thus my fairest hopes are cross'd?
‘My scenes of bliss, are thus the phantoms lost?
‘Oh, no! we cannot, must not, will not part!
‘Come, let me clasp thee to my doating heart.
‘Not look, my love,—'tis Arimant is near:
‘Not speak—'tis Arimant's fond voice you hear!’
‘Go, go, vain man,’ at length Tamira said,
‘For I am sentenc'd to another's bed.
‘The clay-cold grave shall clasp me in his arms,
‘The worm shall riot on these lifeless charms.
‘Go, go, vain man; the Gods demand my breath,
‘My King has pass'd the vow, and welcome death!’
His fond, his lov'd Tamira from the grave?
All wild, and frantick to the crowd he flies;
Still the mad crowd, a royal victim, cries,
Thence, reckless where he went, in mere despair
He sought the court, for all he lov'd was there.
He found Tamira with extatic eyes,
And hands erect, commercing with the skies.
Her soul, refin'd from passion's base alloy,
Seem'd wrapt in visions of seraphic joy:
Thus fixt she stood, and breath'd her fervent pray'r;
He, with a look of love, and wild despair,
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No tear burst forth to give his soul relief:
Then, when a sigh the obstructed passage broke,
Fondly he press'd her hand, and gently spoke.
‘And is it thus my fairest hopes are cross'd?
‘My scenes of bliss, are thus the phantoms lost?
‘Oh, no! we cannot, must not, will not part!
‘Come, let me clasp thee to my doating heart.
‘Not look, my love,—'tis Arimant is near:
‘Not speak—'tis Arimant's fond voice you hear!’
‘Go, go, vain man,’ at length Tamira said,
‘For I am sentenc'd to another's bed.
‘The clay-cold grave shall clasp me in his arms,
‘The worm shall riot on these lifeless charms.
‘Go, go, vain man; the Gods demand my breath,
‘My King has pass'd the vow, and welcome death!’
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‘Yet still,’ the youth replied, ‘yet still remains
‘One gleam of hope, one medicine for our pains:
‘Let's instant wed; that when the priest shall stand,
‘And o'er thee raise his unrelenting hand;
‘Myself may snatch thee from the altar's side,
‘No more a virgin, but a lawful bride.
‘The hour that sav'd his child thy sire will bless,
‘And date from this sad day his future happiness!’
‘One gleam of hope, one medicine for our pains:
‘Let's instant wed; that when the priest shall stand,
‘And o'er thee raise his unrelenting hand;
‘Myself may snatch thee from the altar's side,
‘No more a virgin, but a lawful bride.
‘The hour that sav'd his child thy sire will bless,
‘And date from this sad day his future happiness!’
‘No, I will die,’ the royal maid replied,
‘Leave me; for sure my heart is sorely tried.
‘Yet stay, and hear my last, my parting prayer,
‘May'st thou be happy in another fair!
‘When she ('twas once my wish) thy hours beguiles
‘With sweet complacence, and obedient smiles,
‘May'st thou transported read her beauties o'er,
‘And never think of poor Tamira more.’
‘Leave me; for sure my heart is sorely tried.
‘Yet stay, and hear my last, my parting prayer,
‘May'st thou be happy in another fair!
‘When she ('twas once my wish) thy hours beguiles
‘With sweet complacence, and obedient smiles,
‘May'st thou transported read her beauties o'er,
‘And never think of poor Tamira more.’
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But should I tell how much the lover said
To woo his mistress to the bridal bed:
Or how Tamira, melting by degrees,
Thought death more grim, as life began to please:
All this would stretch the limits of my song,
And well I ween my tale's already long.
By vows, by sighs, by tears, the prince prevail'd;
Her thirst of fame, her patriot courage fail'd;
The priest all trembling spoke the blessing o'er,
And join'd their hands, whose hearts were join'd before.
To woo his mistress to the bridal bed:
Or how Tamira, melting by degrees,
Thought death more grim, as life began to please:
All this would stretch the limits of my song,
And well I ween my tale's already long.
By vows, by sighs, by tears, the prince prevail'd;
Her thirst of fame, her patriot courage fail'd;
The priest all trembling spoke the blessing o'er,
And join'd their hands, whose hearts were join'd before.
Now evening shades had chas'd the sun away,
And silent gloom eclips'd the lamp of day.
Thro that still gloom the Muse nor pours her light,
Nor pries into the mysteries of the night.
She waits till morn from yonder hill arise
To wake the verdant earth, and chear the skies.
Nor stops she now, to tell the long array
Of priests, and nobles, darkening all the way;
What hymns the virgins sung, what tears they shed,
To weep the living princess, as the dead;
But opes the sacred shrine with magic hands,
Where at the altar's foot the destin'd victim stands.
Veil'd in his robe, the monarch turns aside;
Nor knows he yet Tamira is a bride.
The labouring Bramin with extatic stare,
His eyes all haggard, and erect his hair,
Lifts o'er the virgin's neck his sacred knife;
‘Spare her,’ cries Arimant, ‘O spare my wife,
‘Golconda's injur'd Gods demand a virgin life.’
And silent gloom eclips'd the lamp of day.
Thro that still gloom the Muse nor pours her light,
Nor pries into the mysteries of the night.
She waits till morn from yonder hill arise
To wake the verdant earth, and chear the skies.
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Of priests, and nobles, darkening all the way;
What hymns the virgins sung, what tears they shed,
To weep the living princess, as the dead;
But opes the sacred shrine with magic hands,
Where at the altar's foot the destin'd victim stands.
Veil'd in his robe, the monarch turns aside;
Nor knows he yet Tamira is a bride.
The labouring Bramin with extatic stare,
His eyes all haggard, and erect his hair,
Lifts o'er the virgin's neck his sacred knife;
‘Spare her,’ cries Arimant, ‘O spare my wife,
‘Golconda's injur'd Gods demand a virgin life.’
As ere hoarse thunders rend the troubled sky,
Ere lightning's forked darts begin to fly,
A gloomy silence reigns o'er all the air;
Yet horrors dark the approaching storm declare:
So silent long the offended monarch stood,
But on his brow was seen the gathering cloud.
Silent he left the shrine. Now, hapless bride,
How dost thou wish the nuptial knot untied!
Yet on thyself no thought hast thou to spare;
The gentle Arimant is all thy care.
Prophetic are thy fears: for lo! a band
(Each bears a falchion glittering in his hand,)
Of trusty guards, with threatening voice they cry,
‘This hour let Arimant prepare to die!’
Thus spake the savage ministers of fate,
And drag'd him struggling to the prison gate.
Ere lightning's forked darts begin to fly,
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Yet horrors dark the approaching storm declare:
So silent long the offended monarch stood,
But on his brow was seen the gathering cloud.
Silent he left the shrine. Now, hapless bride,
How dost thou wish the nuptial knot untied!
Yet on thyself no thought hast thou to spare;
The gentle Arimant is all thy care.
Prophetic are thy fears: for lo! a band
(Each bears a falchion glittering in his hand,)
Of trusty guards, with threatening voice they cry,
‘This hour let Arimant prepare to die!’
Thus spake the savage ministers of fate,
And drag'd him struggling to the prison gate.
Soon as Tamira heard the fatal sound,
All pale she lay, and breathless on the ground.
At length she starts, she wakes: I see her rise,
And round the temple throw her anxious eyes.
Ah! poor Tamira, close those eyes again;
‘Thy Arimant is gone. The griping chain
‘Has fix'd that gallant warrior to the ground;
‘Supine he lies, and waits the fatal wound.
All pale she lay, and breathless on the ground.
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And round the temple throw her anxious eyes.
Ah! poor Tamira, close those eyes again;
‘Thy Arimant is gone. The griping chain
‘Has fix'd that gallant warrior to the ground;
‘Supine he lies, and waits the fatal wound.
Her consort's doom when sad Tamira knew,
Swift to the presence of her sire she flew:
He saw her come, but look'd aside, and frown'd;
He saw her kneel, nor rais'd her from the ground.
‘Save him, O save my love,’ the mourner said,
‘Pour all thy vengeance on this wretched head.
‘I, only I, have sinn'd; my blood alone
‘That guilt can expiate, which is all my own.
‘Perhaps the Gods may yet accept my life,
‘No spotless virgin, but a loyal wife.
‘When these poor weeping eyes shall sleep in peace,
‘Perhaps the insatiate pestilence may cease.
‘If to your soul my mother's name was dear,
‘If e'er your daughter's voice could charm your ear,
‘If e'er affection's tender ties could move,
‘O kill Tamira; but O save my love.’
Swift to the presence of her sire she flew:
He saw her come, but look'd aside, and frown'd;
He saw her kneel, nor rais'd her from the ground.
‘Save him, O save my love,’ the mourner said,
‘Pour all thy vengeance on this wretched head.
‘I, only I, have sinn'd; my blood alone
‘That guilt can expiate, which is all my own.
‘Perhaps the Gods may yet accept my life,
‘No spotless virgin, but a loyal wife.
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‘Perhaps the insatiate pestilence may cease.
‘If to your soul my mother's name was dear,
‘If e'er your daughter's voice could charm your ear,
‘If e'er affection's tender ties could move,
‘O kill Tamira; but O save my love.’
To all her plaints no word the king replied,
But wav'd his hand; and thus again the bride.
But wav'd his hand; and thus again the bride.
‘Since he must die, one only wish is mine;
‘Let the same urn our mingled dust enshrine.
‘Fearless I'll rush to clasp him in the fire,
‘And in his arms a faithful wife expire.
‘Happy the dame of Coromandel's coast!
‘She never there laments a husband lost;
‘But with his ashes to one grave descends,
‘Her faith applauded by surrounding friends:
‘O'er her, while yet alive, those friends prolong
‘The festive dances, and triumphal song.
‘Nor does Golconda to her brides deny
‘With their lov'd lords in funeral pomp to lie.
‘But ah! while others with their consorts sleep,
‘Why should the royal widow live, and weep?
‘Full well I know, Yamodin, to survive
‘A husband lost is our prerogative;
‘Yet let me die; and dying let me prove
‘That royal hearts are not asham'd to love.’
‘Let the same urn our mingled dust enshrine.
‘Fearless I'll rush to clasp him in the fire,
‘And in his arms a faithful wife expire.
‘Happy the dame of Coromandel's coast!
‘She never there laments a husband lost;
‘But with his ashes to one grave descends,
‘Her faith applauded by surrounding friends:
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‘The festive dances, and triumphal song.
‘Nor does Golconda to her brides deny
‘With their lov'd lords in funeral pomp to lie.
‘But ah! while others with their consorts sleep,
‘Why should the royal widow live, and weep?
‘Full well I know, Yamodin, to survive
‘A husband lost is our prerogative;
‘Yet let me die; and dying let me prove
‘That royal hearts are not asham'd to love.’
Silent the monarch stands, but nods assent;
Nor even her instant death can make his heart relent.
Nor even her instant death can make his heart relent.
Now to young Arimant the muse returns;
Still hopeless Arimant in prison mourns.
Chain'd on the ground the prostrate warrior lies,
And with despair, and rage indignant cries;
‘Thus does our king his loyal soldiers pay,
‘Who toil'd for him in many a well-fought day?
‘Have I for this so oft distain'd thy flood,
‘O Ganges, sacred stream, with hostile blood?
‘Did I for this Bengala's monarch wound,
‘And cleave his hundred Omrahs to the ground?
‘Ere yet an hour, this heart, of life the seat,
‘Dry'd all its channels, shall forget to beat!
‘Nor thou, Tamira, whom the rites divine,
‘Had tyrants mercy, made for ever mine,
‘Nor thou Tamira shalt attend my doom,
‘And lay thy murder'd husband in the tomb.’
Still hopeless Arimant in prison mourns.
Chain'd on the ground the prostrate warrior lies,
And with despair, and rage indignant cries;
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‘Who toil'd for him in many a well-fought day?
‘Have I for this so oft distain'd thy flood,
‘O Ganges, sacred stream, with hostile blood?
‘Did I for this Bengala's monarch wound,
‘And cleave his hundred Omrahs to the ground?
‘Ere yet an hour, this heart, of life the seat,
‘Dry'd all its channels, shall forget to beat!
‘Nor thou, Tamira, whom the rites divine,
‘Had tyrants mercy, made for ever mine,
‘Nor thou Tamira shalt attend my doom,
‘And lay thy murder'd husband in the tomb.’
Scarce had he spoke, when fair Tamira came,
And heard her Arimant repeat her name.
‘Yes, yes, my Arimant, I go,’ she cries,
‘To wait on all thy funeral obsequies;
‘Yes, I will see thee fall, yet mark my love,
‘Think not a tear Tamira's faith shall prove;
‘Think not I'll hang lamenting o'er thine urn,
‘And thence to life, and life's vain joys, return;
‘No, Arimant; with thee I mean to die:
‘What grants my father, will my love deny?’
And heard her Arimant repeat her name.
‘Yes, yes, my Arimant, I go,’ she cries,
‘To wait on all thy funeral obsequies;
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‘Think not a tear Tamira's faith shall prove;
‘Think not I'll hang lamenting o'er thine urn,
‘And thence to life, and life's vain joys, return;
‘No, Arimant; with thee I mean to die:
‘What grants my father, will my love deny?’
But now the hour was come; the trusty band,
That seiz'd him first, his forfeit life demand.
‘O stay, ye cruel, stay,’ Tamira cries,
‘Let me once more embrace him, ere he dies.
‘And must he die!—Oh! no; again I'll go,
‘Again, (he will not still despise my woe,)
‘Kneel at my father's feet.—Stay, cruel, stay;
‘Touch not my love besure, while I'm away.’—
Thus she distracted. But the youth, who saw
How reason bow'd to love's superior law,
Saw passion all her boasted strength controul,
With words of comfort calm'd her troubled soul.
That seiz'd him first, his forfeit life demand.
‘O stay, ye cruel, stay,’ Tamira cries,
‘Let me once more embrace him, ere he dies.
‘And must he die!—Oh! no; again I'll go,
‘Again, (he will not still despise my woe,)
‘Kneel at my father's feet.—Stay, cruel, stay;
‘Touch not my love besure, while I'm away.’—
Thus she distracted. But the youth, who saw
How reason bow'd to love's superior law,
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With words of comfort calm'd her troubled soul.
Now, but my bark is hastening to the shore,
I'd count the croud, and tell the legions o'er,
That wait to see their best-lov'd heroe fall,
Each sigh I'd number, and each groan recall:
But the sad pomp I pass in silence by.
Short was his parting prayer: to that, what eye
The tear of honest pity could deny?
With unaverted look, with soul serene
He view'd the horrors of this fatal scene;
Stretch'd to the lifted steel his graceful head,
And at one stroke was number'd with the dead.
I'd count the croud, and tell the legions o'er,
That wait to see their best-lov'd heroe fall,
Each sigh I'd number, and each groan recall:
But the sad pomp I pass in silence by.
Short was his parting prayer: to that, what eye
The tear of honest pity could deny?
With unaverted look, with soul serene
He view'd the horrors of this fatal scene;
Stretch'd to the lifted steel his graceful head,
And at one stroke was number'd with the dead.
Tamira saw his trunk all drench'd in blood,
And pausing o'er his yet-warm relicks stood.
Then from a golden urn began to pour
Fresh water o'er his limbs, and cleanse the clotted gore.
With her own hair she wip'd each stain away,
And kiss'd a thousand times th'unconscious clay.
‘Haste, O ye lingering Bramins, haste,’ she said;
Strait on the pyre his breathless corpse was laid.
There myrrh, and costly frankincense she threw,
Each fragrant herb that drinks the morning dew,
Sweet-smelling woods that odorous gums exhale,
And spices, scented by the Arabian gale.
Then to the pile a flaming torch applied,
Stretch'd out her naked arms, and wildly cried:
And pausing o'er his yet-warm relicks stood.
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Fresh water o'er his limbs, and cleanse the clotted gore.
With her own hair she wip'd each stain away,
And kiss'd a thousand times th'unconscious clay.
‘Haste, O ye lingering Bramins, haste,’ she said;
Strait on the pyre his breathless corpse was laid.
There myrrh, and costly frankincense she threw,
Each fragrant herb that drinks the morning dew,
Sweet-smelling woods that odorous gums exhale,
And spices, scented by the Arabian gale.
Then to the pile a flaming torch applied,
Stretch'd out her naked arms, and wildly cried:
‘I come, I come—what means that hollow groan?
‘Nay, Arimant, you shall not lie alone.
‘Chide not, my love; Tamira will not stay;
‘We'll mount together to the realms of day:
‘Together to celestial climes we'll soar,
‘Where cruel fathers ne'er shall part us more.’
‘Nay, Arimant, you shall not lie alone.
‘Chide not, my love; Tamira will not stay;
‘We'll mount together to the realms of day:
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‘Where cruel fathers ne'er shall part us more.’
She said, and rushing to the impetuous fire,
Embrac'd her consort on the blazing pyre.
There, soon to dust consum'd, the lovers lay;
Part the rude winds bore unperceiv'd away:
One urn inclos'd the rest: resounding fame
To earth's remotest bounds convey'd their name.
Embrac'd her consort on the blazing pyre.
There, soon to dust consum'd, the lovers lay;
Part the rude winds bore unperceiv'd away:
One urn inclos'd the rest: resounding fame
To earth's remotest bounds convey'd their name.
Rest, faithful lovers, at each other's side,
Whose lasting union death could ne'er divide.
O could the Muse shed odors on your tomb,
Sweet as the balms which Eastern vales perfume!
Sweet as the flowrets of a thousand dyes
That deck the ground, where Sigismonda lies.
Yet, friendly passenger, one boon I crave;
Pray you tread softly o'er their peaceful grave.
By you, fond swains, a passing sigh be paid
To gentle Arimant's unhappy shade.
And ye, soft nymphs, whose sorrows oft o'erflow
At the sad story of another's woe,
Your kind concern let poor Tamira prove,
And read with tenderest tears, her tale of hapless love.
Whose lasting union death could ne'er divide.
O could the Muse shed odors on your tomb,
Sweet as the balms which Eastern vales perfume!
Sweet as the flowrets of a thousand dyes
That deck the ground, where Sigismonda lies.
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Pray you tread softly o'er their peaceful grave.
By you, fond swains, a passing sigh be paid
To gentle Arimant's unhappy shade.
And ye, soft nymphs, whose sorrows oft o'erflow
At the sad story of another's woe,
Your kind concern let poor Tamira prove,
And read with tenderest tears, her tale of hapless love.
| Poems by Dr. Roberts of Eton College | |