Themselves not pure who raised them, murmurings;
Surmise grew into knowledge; Michael’s friends
Were few; men stained as he pronounced his doom.
Still there was hope; he never knew despair:
The Rajah he had served should shelter him,
And he would lead his Armies; he foresaw
More wealth, more power, more means of growing great.
III.
He passed from low Bengal’s unbroken green,
That, like a harlot, smiles but to betray,