22
THE RAJAH'S OBSEQUIES.
A fairer scene to spell-bound eyes
The smiling earth could scarce unfold—
There's not a cloud o'er those blue skies;
And from its founts of living gold
The sun pours down a flood of light
Upon the river's sparkling wave,
Where the swift current speeds its flight,
Or lingers wooingly to lave
Some bright pagoda's jutting walls,
Or ripples on in gentle falls,
Where all of shining granite wrought
Spreads the broad terrace of the ghaut.
And there majestic banians fling
Their green luxuriance beside
The lofty minarets that spring
With upward flight in towering pride;
As though to their bold spires 'twere given
To pierce the azure vaults of heaven.
