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72
BALLADS OF HINDUSTAN.

And dared not smile upon her co-wife's son.
Observing him,—her rival's boy,—intent
To mount ambitious to his father's knee,
Where sat her own, thus fair Suruchee spake:
"Why hast thou, child, formed such a vain design?
Why harboured such an aspiration proud,
Born from another's womb and not from mine?
Oh thoughtless! To desire the loftiest place,
The throne of thrones, a royal father's lap!
It is an honour to the destined given,
And not within thy reach. What though thou art
Born of the king; those sleek and tender limbs
Hold of my blood no portion; I am queen.
To be the equal of mine only son
Were in thee vain ambition. Know'st thou not,
Fair prattler, thou art sprung,—not, not from mine.
But from Suneetee's bowels? Learn thy place."

Repulsed in silence from his father's lap,
Indignant, furious, at the words that fell
From his step-mother's lips, poor Dhruva ran
To his own mother's chambers, where he stood
Beside her with his pale, thin, trembling lips,