University of Virginia Library

I.

Six years have passed, since from her mountain-home
Zara came down to Delhi;—six bright years
Since first her great eyes flashed on tower and dome
Through gushes of hot tears.
Oh! how she gazed from that high mountain-peak,
When on the far horizon's utmost rim
The royal city shimmered far and dim
Between the earth and heaven,—a purple streak
Betwixt the green and gold; a dusky band
Of elephants went wavering o'er the land,
Gaudy with trappings, but so faint and far
Their silver buckles, flashing like a star,
Glowed larger than themselves: she drank the scene
As one who bids farewell to what has been
Once and for ever, and so passes on
Into the future, with far-straining eyes,
Wondering what next, and saying amid sighs
O'er all the old familiars, “Dead and gone!”
But now she has been taught no more to look
With stag-eyed wonder on the stranger's face,
And, with the rapid instincts of her race,
Has learnt her maiden lessons by the book;
Is coy as any in the drawing-room,
Is still and stately, or is maiden-meek;
Can sigh and simper o'er a lover's doom,
Or in hot blushes thrill with gorgeous bloom
The tawny marble of her Indian cheek;
She sings and dances, plays on the guitar,
Knits and embroiders, makes her morning calls,
Rustles her silks, and asks you how you are,
And, ere you answer, rattles on of balls;
Is in all things, save what you cannot tell,
A sweet brunette, a fashionable belle.
But in the silence of her lonely room,
When none are by to listen or to mark,
She flings aside her dresses in the dark,
And with them her reserve. She beats the gloom
In frenzied passion, all her tropic hate
Gathered in lurid lustres in her eyes,
Her savage nature glowing sans disguise,
A stormy Nemesis,—a dusky Fate.
All the affronts and trifles, which by day
She carols over, merry as a lark,
By night the wounded tigress makes her prey,
And paws and crunshes them within the dark,
Her terrible beauty pallid with her ire,
And her large eyeballs flaming o'er with fire.