Page:Rizia - Empress of Inde.djvu/2

What medicine hast thou, what remedy
To cure a—
Altunia. O by Alla's holy throne!
Soon as I reach my fair, my beautiful Sind,
I'll raise unnumbered hosts and teach each trumpet
(The thunder-voic'd and clamorous tongue of war)
To breathe the loudest dirges o'er the grave
Of my allegiance, and with flood-like strength
Rush forth to hurl destruction!

Kobirc. Brave resolve!
But know's thou that soon as the faintest echo
Of rebel-trump doth whisper in this palace,
A fearful lioness will wake to crush—

Altunia. A fearful lioness!—The rotten leman of a vile slave—

Kabirc. Hark thee, Altunia!
Thou ravest, by my troth! Hast thou forgot—
When fierce Lahore with his brave (illegible text)
And mighty Cohorts round yon lofty wall,
Rais'd gleaming forests of unnumber'd spears,
And frown'd with horried splendour, as the sea
Peopling with billowy squadrons its shoreless plain
To meet the cloud-carr'd storm, what time afar
Wild gales sound martial blasts, and the bright sun
Flies all aghast, and on his fated deck
Stands the lone mariner in silent awe!—
When the appalling silence of the desert,
The loneliest desert of fair Arabic—
Fell in this sun-bright city, and pale fear
Unmov'd the bravest hearts, and robbed the hue
Of many a manly, many a lovely cheek,—
How then this rotten leman of a slave,
Like an enhantress, with a smile, a look,
A whisper'd word, drove the fierce hordes away,
And won a bloodless victory!—
Ah! I remember me. When breathless with haste,
A messenger rush'd to the pale divan,
And cried, "All's lost!—beneath the blood-red wave
"Of Gunga, fatal stream!—the pride of Oude
"Hath found a watery grave!—O mighty queen,
"There comes no succour from the death-cold hand!"
How fearful was the silence! Proudest chiefs
Stood statue-like, and one, methinks, could hear