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Their silver maces waving high,
The Chobedar band in front appear;
And all around with shout and cry,
Tulwar, and scimitar, and spear,
Peons and Chuprassies clear the way,
Swelling the pomp and the parade,
Where shining in their bright array,
In files a glittering cavalcade
Of mounted nobles lead the van,
The flower and boast of Hindoostan.
Their chargers' tails of scarlet dye,
Their silver housings ringing clear,
Flash on the gazer's dazzled eye,
And strike in music on his ear.
Behind them in more humble guise,
Proud only of the triple thread,
Gracing the Rajah's obsequies,
The Bramins pace with solemn tread.
And next in mournful pageantry
All guarded by a troop of horse,
