Poems — Volume 1

Transcribed from the 1912 Times Book Club “Surrey Edition” by David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org
BY GEORGE MEREDITH
SURREY EDITION
LONDON THE TIMES BOOK CLUB 376–384 OXFORD STREET, W. 1912
Edinburgh: T. and A. Constable, Printers to his Majesty
Chillanwallah, Chillanwallah! Where our brothers fought and bled, O thy name is natural music And a dirge above the dead! Though we have not been defeated, Though we can’t be overcome, Still, whene’er thou art repeated, I would fain that grief were dumb.
Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah! ’Tis a name so sad and strange, Like a breeze through midnight harpstrings Ringing many a mournful change; But the wildness and the sorrow Have a meaning of their own— Oh, whereof no glad to-morrow Can relieve the dismal tone!
Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah! ’Tis a village dark and low, By the bloody Jhelum river Bridged by the foreboding foe; And across the wintry water He is ready to retreat, When the carnage and the slaughter Shall have paid for his defeat.
Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah! ’Tis a wild and dreary plain, Strewn with plots of thickest jungle, Matted with the gory stain. There the murder-mouthed artillery, In the deadly ambuscade, Wrought the thunder of its treachery On the skeleton brigade.
Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah! When the night set in with rain, Came the savage plundering devils To their work among the slain; And the wounded and the dying In cold blood did share the doom Of their comrades round them lying, Stiff in the dead skyless gloom.
Chillianwallah, Chillianwallah! Thou wilt be a doleful chord, And a mystic note of mourning That will need no chiming word; And that heart will leap with anguish Who may understand thee best; But the hopes of all will languish Till thy memory is at rest.
And—‘Yonder look! yoho! yoho! Nancy is off!’ the farmer cried, Advancing by the river side, Red-kerchieft and brown-coated;—‘So, My girl, who else could leap like that? So neatly! like a lady! ‘Zounds! Look at her how she leads the hounds!’ And waving his dusty beaver hat, He cheered across the chase-filled water, And clapt his arm about his daughter, And gave to Joan a courteous hug, And kiss that, like a stubborn plug From generous vats in vastness rounded, The inner wealth and spirit sounded: Eagerly pointing South, where, lo, The daintiest, fleetest-footed doe Led o’er the fields and thro’ the furze Beyond: her lively delicate ears Prickt up erect, and in her track A dappled lengthy-striding pack.