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Sindhu.
95
Pleased with the scene,—and knowing not
Which way, alas! to go,
The monarch lingered on the spot,—
The lake spread bright below.
He lingered, when—oh hark! oh hark
What sound salutes his ear!
A roebuck drinking in the dark,
Not hunted, nor in fear.
Straight to the stretch his bow he drew,
That bow ne'er missed its aim,—
Whizzing the deadly arrow flew,
Ear-guided, on the game!
Ah me! What means this?—Hark a cry,
A feeble human wail,
"Oh God!" it said—"I die,—I die,
Who'll carry home the pail?"
Startled, the monarch forward ran,
And then there met his view
A sight to freeze in any man
The warm blood coursing true.
