POETRY. . 563 



For what is life ? A groan, a breath, a sigh, 



A bitter tear, a drop of misery, 



A lamp just dying in sepulchral gloom, 



A voice of anguish from the lonely tomb. 



Or wept or weeping all the change we know ; 



'Tis all our mournful history below. 



Pleasure is Grief but smiling to destroy, 



And what is Sorrow but the ghost of Joy ? 



Oh, haste that hour, whose rustling wings shall play 



To warn the shades of guilt and grief away ! 



Meantime, what dubixjus contest on those plaim 

 With the faint dawn reluctant Night maintains ! 

 Britain thy voice can bid the dawn ascend, 

 On thee alone the eyes of Asia bend. 

 High arbitress ! to thee her hopes are given, 

 Role pledge of bliss and delegate of Heaven ; 

 In thy dread mantle all her fates repose, 

 Or bright with blessings, or o'ercast with woes ; 

 And future ages shall thy mandate keep, 

 Smile at thy touch, or at thy bidding weep. 

 Oh ! to thy godlike destiny arise ! 

 Awake and meet the purpose of the skies ! 

 Wide as thy sceptre waves let India learn 

 What virtues round the shrine of empire burn ; 

 Some nobler flight let thy bold Genius tower, 

 Nor stoop to vidgar lures of fame or power ; 

 Such power as gluts the tyrant's purple pride, 

 Such fame as reeks around the homicide. 

 With peaceful trophies deck thy throne, nor bare 

 Thy conquering sword, till Justice ask the war : 

 Justice alone can consecrate renown, 

 Iler's are the brightest rays in Glory's crown ; 

 All else nor eloquence nor song sublime 

 Can screen from curse, or sanctify from crime. 



Let gentler hearts awake at thy behest, 

 And science soothe the Hindoo's mournful breast. 

 In vain has Nature shed her gifts around, 

 For eye or car, soft bloom or tuneful sound ; 

 Fruits of all hues on every grove display'd. 

 And pour'd profuse the tamarind's gorgeous shade. 

 What joy to him can song or shade afford, 

 Outcast so abject, by himself abliorr'd ? 

 While chain'd to dust, half struggling, half resign'd, 

 Sinks to her fate the heaven-descended Mind, 

 Disrob'd of all her lineaments sublime. 

 The daring hope, whose glance out-measur'd time. 

 Warm passions to the voice of Rapture strung, 

 Anit conscious thought that told her whence sbe sprung. 



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