« ElőzőTovább »
VICTORIES OF THE SUTLEJ.
“ Arma! Arma! aqui vienen los Ingleses.”
Canto the first.
The moon had risen radiant and fair,
And shed a light most tranquilly serene, Diffusing softness o'er the midnight air,
Enlightening nature with her silver sheen.
It played among the tall palmetta groves,
It listened to the sighs of turtle-doves.
It peeped through the trellis of Leila's bower,
With the jessamine blossoms entwining, As if it would ask, in that lonely hour,
Why Leila's heart was pining.
Leila waits for her husband's return,
By the moonbeams' gentle ray ;
But her thoughts are far away.
Her long raven tresses were loose to the breeze,
“But, hark! what footfall strikes upon mine ear? That mighty tread is full familiar here. Or is it that
anxious ear deceives,
heart? How sad, how lowering is his manly brow! What ill impending shall afflict me now?”
With flashing eyes that gleamed with sullen ire,
His Leila's form he fondly pressed,
Some mighty grief his soul enchaining,
Its nature or its cause explaining. But Leila must this sorrow know,
And set herself, with all her woman's art, To make the pent-up torrent flow,
And all his pain beguile him to impart.
'Twas thus at length the mourning chief revealed The dread disasters of the fatal field.
Canto the Second.
“I saw the sun so brightly shining
O’er the blue Indus' wave,
How many found a grave!
The stern, invading foe;
In grim, imposing show.
Her splendour and her pride? 'Tis now a tale of olden story,
Departed like the tide.
To British lords she bows,
No free-drawn breath allows.