594 ANNUAL REGISTER, 1817. 



O'er coral rocks and amber beds; 

 Whose mountains, pregnant by the beam 

 Of the warm sun, with diamonds teem ; 

 Whose rivulets are like rich brides. 

 Lovely, with gold beneath their tides ; 

 Whose sandal groves and bowers of spice 

 Might be a Peri's Paradise ! 

 But crimson now her rivers ran 



With human blood— the smell of death 

 Came reeking from those spicy bowers. 

 And man, the sacrifice of man. 



Mingled his taint with every breath 

 Upvvafted from the innocent flowers ! 

 Land of the Sun ! what foot invades 

 Thy Pagods and thy pillar'd shades— 

 Thy cavern shrines, and Idol stones. 

 Thy Monarchs and their thousand Thrones ? 

 'Tis He of Gazna — fierce in wrath 



He comes, and India's diadems 

 Lie scatter' d in his ruinous path. — 



His blood- hounds he adorns with g.ems, 

 Toin from the violated necks 



Of many a young and lov'd Sultana ; 



Maidens, within their pure Zenana, 



Priests in the very fane he slaughters. 

 And choaks up with tlie glittering wrecks 



Of golden shrines the sacred waters ! 



Downward the Peki turns her gaze. 

 And, through the wai-field's bloody haze 

 Beholds a youthful warrior stand. 



Alone, beside his native river, — 

 The red blade broken in his liand 



And the last arrow in his quiver. 

 " Live," said the Conqueror, "^live to share 

 The trophies and the crowns I bear 5" 

 Silent that youthful warrior stood — 

 Silent he pointed to the flood 

 All crimson with his country's blood. 

 Then sent his last remaining dart. 

 For answer, to th' Invader's heart. 



False flew the shaft, though pointed well ; 

 The Tyrant liv'd, the Hero fell !— 

 Yet mark'd the Peri where he lay. 

 And when t.he ru^sh of wav was past. 



Swiftly 



