SONG OF THE FLOUR-MILL.
Turn the merry mill-stone, Gunga!
Pour the golden grain in;
Those that twist the Churrak fastest
The cakes soonest win:
Good stones, turn!
The fire begins to burn;
Gunga, stay not!
The hearth is nearly hot.
Grind the hard gold to silver;
Sing quick to the stone;
Feed its mouth with dal and bajri,
It will feed us anon.
Sing, Gunga! to the mill-stone,
It helps the wheel hum;
Blithesome hearts and willing elbows
Make the fine meal come:
Handsful three
For you and for me;
Now it falls white,
Good stones, bite!
Drive it round and round, my Gunga!
Sing soft to the stone;
Better corn and churrak-working
Than idleness and none.
TAZA BA TAZA
Akbar sate high in the ivory hall,
His chief musician he bade them call;
Sing, said the king, that song of glee.
Taza ba taza, now ba now.
Sing me that music sweet and free,
Taza ba taza, now ba now;
Here by the fountain sing it thou,
Taza ba taza, now ba now.
Bending full low, his minstrel took
The Vina down from its painted nook.
Swept the strings of silver so
Taza ba taza, now ba now;
Made the gladsome Vina go
Taza ba taza, now ba now;
Sang with light strains and brightsome brow
Taza ba taza, now ba now.
"What is the lay for love most fit?
What is the melody echoes it?
Ever in tune and ever meet,
Taza ba taza, now ba now;
Ever delightful and ever sweet
Taza ba taza, now ba now;
Soft as the murmur of love's first vow,
Taza ba taza, now ba now."
"What is the bliss that is best on earth?
Lovers' light whispers and tender mirth;
Bright gleams the sun on the Green Sea's isle,
But a brighter light has a woman's smile:
Ever, like sunrise, fresh of hue,
Taza ba taza, now ba now;
Ever, like sunset, splendid and new,
Taza ba taza, now ba now."