A HINDOO BELLE.
BY J. E. P.
Come, see Ro Appo, my sweet Hindoo belle;
On Burra deen, a holiday, full dressed,
Glittering with gems, she shineth in the sun,
Superior far to maidens of the west.
Her Dahka veil, light as the fleecy cloud,
Enshrines her form in fairy-like attire
Her every move is made with Eastern grace,
She walks a queen of beauty with her lyre
O'er the Midan, or in the cooler shade
Of scented shrubs or spreading banian grove,
Touching the strings where music sleeps till when
She wakes all into song of joy and love.
See her maunteeka,[C] with its splendid star,
Throws radiating beauty from her brow,
Where diamond amethyst and emerald beams
Blend with the pride that sparkles from her now.
Her champank necklace, glittering round her neck,
Loose dangles down low on her glowing breast,
Whose rise and fall, as inward passion stirs
Oft, like the Ganges, drown its zealous guest.
See, as she raises slow her tiny hand,
How rich her fingers are in jewels rare!
Her thumb she nears, for in her inah[D] glass
She loves to see her beauty shining there
Music is in her step, for, as she stirs,
Listen to Paunjcho merry, tinkling bell,
Betaking well the native cheerfulness
Of my sweet-tempered Hindostanee belle.
I love to see thee in thy pride of show;
Thy sable face, illum'd with Eastern smile,
Wins o'er my soul, in spite thy Pagan creed,
To court thy heart and worship thee awhile.
Doff off thy dark idolatry, and come,
Be one with me; be married, and deride
Thy parents' wrath, thy Bramin's deadliest curse;
Join Europe and Asia, bridegroom and the bride.