Chesson & doodhall's

MISCELLANY.

A MONTHLY MAGAZINE.

PART III.]

BOMBAY JANUARY, 1861.

[VOL. I.

Sunset at Mahabuleshwar.

[By the Author of "WEEDS OF POESY."]
ONE moment linger on thy way-

Thy parting beams of glory stay!
Stay while, enraptured, here I stand,
Marking each work of Nature's hand :
A range of mountains stern and grand-
Here their awful tops revealed,
There by verdant groves concealed.

Where yon lines of silver show,
In the bosky depths below,
Krishna's sacred waters flow:
Flow by sun-bathed flowery leas,

Flow by roots of whispering trees

With Yenna dear, that hastes to join

Her sister-stream by Moulee's shrine.*

Less fair the scene where wanton played

Sweet Sakontala, beauteous maid,

Loved by the god of golden wings,

So tuneful Kalidasa sings.

Slow sinks the sun behind yon rocky hold,†
Whence oft Maratha chiefs, in days of old,
Down-rushing like the blasting levin,
Scattered red ruin in their path,

Unconscious agents of Thy wrath,

Almighty and mysterious Heaven!

Now Peace pervades: yet nightly still

Sounds of unutterable ill,
Wailings of Delhi and Cawnpore,
With curses on thy lord, Bithoor,
Ring in my heart and in my brain,

And mingle madness with my strain !

* The Sungum, or "meeting of the waters," at Moulee, near Sattara, where there is a famous temple to Mahadeo.

† Pertâbgurh.

VOL. I.-24

In yonder rude dismantled Fort
The robber SEEVAJEE held court.
For him no patriot muse shall plead :
Dark, dastard, demon-like the deed,
By Afzool Khan's unhappy name
Deep-dammed to an eternal fame.*

Well loves the lyric muse to save,
From cold oblivion's thankless grave,
The memory of the patriot brave :
To tell of Bruce, or Wallace wight,
Who fought and conquered for the right.
Nor ever worthier name had power
To fire the breast in danger's hour,
Than, GARIBALDI ! thine :
Worthy the knights of old romance,
The lion-port, the eagle-glance,

Brave heart, and hand benign.—
Now, Latium, rouse thee from thy trance!
Re-wake thy martial flute !

Sicilia, couch the valorous lance!
Ho, Savoy, to the front advance !
Nor Venice' voice be mute!
Rise, rise upon thine island coast,

Rise-let thy war-song pierce the sky,
And be the watchword of thy host-
"Saint Mark for Liberty !"

Rome Rome shall catch the echoing strain,
Peal it to Austria's dread,
"Revenge, revenge for Silvio's chain;
For Maroncelli's years of pain,

For Oroboni dead!"

Hark, from her glens Helvetia cries,

While Kosciusko's shade replies,

"No despot's chains may fetter you,
Pole! Switzer !-ages vouch it true."
By Hofer's heron-plumed crest,
That simple sign of fear,
By gallant Schill in glory's rest,
Hear, Prussia!-Tyrol, hear!

And ye, to fire whose patriot band,

A Korner sang, a Korner bled,

Yet, yet he calls you from the dead,—
Up for your Father-land!

The sun hath set on castle, stream, and hill,
And I could weep, here as I linger still,
To think what chains of moral darkness bind
Thy sons and daughters, O unhappy Ind!—
Dwells in no breast the patriot's hidden fire?
Doth never love of Truth their souls inspire ?
Hath Faith's, hath Freedom's sun for ever set,
By no high muse to be enkindled yet?

* The celebrated "Wagnuk murder," in 1659, which, as truly said in p. 13 of this Miscellany, "more than any other deed helped to consolidate the national independence”; but which was not the less on that account worthy of all execration.