Not long, by the Prophet, on Cabul’s green highlands,
Shall we and thy warriors mourn for the doom
Of thee, whom, afar in the Andaman Islands,[125]
Some infidel hireling may bear to the tomb.
Nor yet when the glorious trumpet is sounding,
And summons to combat the bold and the strong,
Shall one Barakzai, on the enemy bounding,
Ever call on thy name as he rushes along.
So shall Cabul, beloved of Shere Ali, forget thee,
As soon as her tyrants have bid thee depart;