Collected Poems 1897 - 1907 | Page 8

Their limbs alone were weak,
And year by year they kept their cheer, And spoke as freemen speak.
But once a year, on the fourth of June, Their speech to silence died,
And the silence beat to a soundless tune And sang with a wordless
pride; Till when the Indian stars were bright, And bells at home would
ring, To the fetters' clank they rose and drank "England! God save the
King!"
The years came, and the years went, The wheel full-circle rolled; The
tyrant's neck must yet be bent, The price of blood be told: The city yet
must hear the roar Of Baird's avenging guns, And see him stand with
lifted hand By Tippoo Sahib's sons.
The lads were bonny, the lads were young, But he claimed a pitiless
debt; Life and death in the balance hung, They watched it swing and set.
They saw him search with sombre eyes, They knew the place he sought;
They saw him feel for the hilted steel, They bowed before his thought.
But he--he saw the prison there In the old quivering heat, Where merry
hearts had met despair And died without defeat; Where feeble hands
had raised the cup For feebler lips to drain, And one had worn with
smiling scorn His double load of pain.
"The sleep that Tippoo Sahib sleeps Hears not the voice of man; The
faith that Tippoo Sahib keeps No earthly judge may scan; For all the
wrong your father wrought Your father's sons are free; Where Lucas
lay no tongue shall say That Mercy bound not me."

A Ballad of John Nicholson
It fell in the year of Mutiny, At darkest of the night, John Nicholson by
Jalándhar came, On his way to Delhi fight.
And as he by Jalándhar came, He thought what he must do, And he sent
to the Rajah fair greeting, To try if he were true.
"God grant your Highness length of days, And friends when need shall
be; And I pray you send your Captains hither, That they may speak
with me."
On the morrow through Jalándhar town The Captains rode in state;
They came to the house of John Nicholson, And stood before the gate.

The chief of them was Mehtab Singh, He was both proud and sly; His
turban gleamed with rubies red, He held his chin full high.
He marked his fellows how they put Their shoes from off their feet;
"Now wherefore make ye such ado These fallen lords to greet?
"They have ruled us for a hundred years, In truth I know not how, But
though they be fain of mastery They dare not claim it now."
Right haughtily before them all The durbar hall he trod, With rubies red
his turban gleamed, His feet with pride were shod.
They had not been an hour together, A scanty hour or so, When Mehtab
Singh rose in his place And turned about to go.
Then swiftly came John Nicholson Between the door and him, With
anger smouldering in his eyes, That made the rubies dim.
"You are over-hasty, Mehtab Singh,"--- Oh, but his voice was low! He
held his wrath with a curb of iron That furrowed cheek and brow.
"You are overhasty, Mehtab Singh, When that the rest are gone, I have
a word that may not wait To speak with you alone."
The Captains passed in silence forth And stood the door behind; To go
before the game was played Be sure they had no mind.
But there within John Nicholson Turned him on Mehtab Singh, "So
long as the soul is in my body You shall not do this thing.
"Have ye served us for a hundred years And yet ye know not why? We
brook no doubt of our mastery, We rule until we die.
"Were I the one last Englishman Drawing the breath of life, And you
the master-rebel of all That stir this land to strife---
"Were I," he said, "but a Corporal, And you a Rajput King, So long as
the soul was in my body You should not do this thing.
"Take off, take off, those shoes of pride, Carry them whence they came;
Your Captains saw your insolence, And they shall see your shame."
When Mehtab Singh came to the door His shoes they burned his hand,
For there in long and silent lines He saw the Captains stand.
When Mehtab Singh rode from the gate His chin was on his breast: The
Captains said, "When the strong command Obedience is best."

The Guides at Cabul
(1879)
Sons of the Island race, wherever ye dwell, Who speak of your fathers'
battles with lips that burn, The deed of an alien legion hear me tell, And

think not shame from the hearts ye tamed to learn,