POETRY. 639 



LINES 



Written in a Choultry, situate in a venj desert Tract, by Captain 

 T. j'. Anderson, H. iU. 19th Foot. 



Within this Choultry's ample space. 

 The way-worn traveller's resting-place. 

 Whose massy colvmius covmtless glow, 

 Refiected in the tank beWr» , 

 A\'lio?e cn'lless porticos and halls, 

 'Whose plUar'd domes, and echoing walls. 

 Its p;oud magnificence attest, 

 The child of poverty may rest ! — 

 Here wealth gives no exclusive claim, 

 No deference to a noble name ; 

 To all the race of man as free 

 As heaven's cei'ulean canopy. 

 Long may the pious fabric stand 

 Amid this boundless w aste of sand ; 

 Like some blest island's friendly cove. 

 To those who on the ocean rove ! 



The veriest wretch, while sheltcr'd here, 



8hi'inks fioni no fellow-mortal's sneer, 



■Whose broken spirit ill could brook 



A purse-proud landlord's scornful look ; 



But, safe from noon's destructive force, 



IVIay pause U] on his toilsome course. 



With food and rest his frame renew. 



His homeward journey to pursue; 



And, at the welcome close of light, 



AVhen tire -flies take their evening flight. 



And hover loiind each fragrant tiow'r ; 



When burning skies have lost their pow'r. 



When witli fresh hopes, and tliankfal heart. 



He girds his loins in act to part, 



^Varni fi oni his soul how many a pray'r 



V.'ill bless the generous founder's care ! 



Whom fancy pictures to the eye. 



As passing faint and wearily 



Along this drear and barren scene, 



^^'here noontide rays smite tierce and keen. 



And arid winds incessant sweep 



The billows of this sandy deep, 



No stunted palm, nor date-tree seen. 



To yield a momentary screen. 



No hut his languid limbs to rest, 



Tho' sore by toil and thirst opprest I 



In 



