AN INDIAN POEM.

I.
She Sat Upon her Dobie,[1]
To watch the Evening Star,
And all the Punkahs[2] as they passed
Cried, “My! how fair you are!”
Around her bower, with quivering leaves,
The tall Kamsamahs[3] grew,
And Kitmutgars[4] in wild festoons
Hung down from Tchokis[5] blue.
II.
Below her home the river rolled
With soft meloobious sound,
Where golden-finned Chuprassies[6] swam,
In myriads circling round.
Above, on tallest trees remote,
Green Ayahs perched alone,
And all night long the Mussak[7] moaned
Its melancholy tone.
III.
And where the purple Nullahs[8] threw
Their branches far and wide,
And silvery Goreewallahs[9] flew
In silence, side by side,
The little Bheesties’[10] twittering cry
Rose on the fragrant air,
And oft the angry Jampan[11] howled
Deep in his hateful lair.
IV.
She sat upon her Dobie,—
She heard the Nimmak[12] hum,—
When all at once a cry arose:
“The Cummerbund[13] is come!”
In vain she fled;—with open jaws
The angry monster followed,
And so (before assistance came),
That Lady Fair was swallowed.
V.
They sought in vain for even a bone
Respectfully to bury;
They said, “Hers was a dreadful fate!”
(And Echo answered, “Very.”)
They nailed her Dobie to the wall,
Where last her form was seen,
And underneath they wrote these words,
In yellow, blue, and green:—
“Beware, ye Fair! Ye Fair, beware!
Nor sit out late at night,
Lest horrid Cummerbunds should come,
And swallow you outright.”

Note.—First published in the Times of India, Bombay, July, 1874.

THE DONG WITH A LUMINOUS NOSE.

When awful darkness and silence reign
Over the great Gromboolian plain,
Through the long, long wintry nights;—
When the angry breakers roar,
As they beat on the rocky shore;—
When Storm-clouds brood on the towering heights
Of the Hills on the Chankly Bore:—

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