22
THE BALLAD OF
‘Tis ill to jest with Kings by day and seek a boon by night;
‘And that thou bearest in thy hand is all too sharp to write.
‘But three days hence, if God be good, and if thy strength remain,
‘Thou shalt demand one boon of me and bless me in thy pain.
‘For I am merciful to all, and most of all to thee.
‘My butcher of the shambles, rest—no knife hast thou for me!’
‘And that thou bearest in thy hand is all too sharp to write.
‘But three days hence, if God be good, and if thy strength remain,
‘Thou shalt demand one boon of me and bless me in thy pain.
‘For I am merciful to all, and most of all to thee.
‘My butcher of the shambles, rest—no knife hast thou for me!’
Abdhur Rahman, the Durani Chief, holds hard by the South and the North;
But the Ghilsai knows, ere the melting snows, when the swollen banks break forth,
When the red-coats crawl to the sungar wall, and his Usbeg lances fail.
Ye have heard the song—How long? How long? Wolves of the Zuka Kheyl!
But the Ghilsai knows, ere the melting snows, when the swollen banks break forth,
When the red-coats crawl to the sungar wall, and his Usbeg lances fail.
Ye have heard the song—How long? How long? Wolves of the Zuka Kheyl!
They stoned him in the rubbish-field when dawn was in the sky,
According to the written word, ‘See that he do not die.’
According to the written word, ‘See that he do not die.’
