1854.] On the Ballads and Legends of the Punjab. 125 



And many a graceful, snow-white fane, its antique obelisk rear'd ; 

 And 'neath the lordly palace frown, crouch' d low the ragged cot, 

 Pomp o'er pale Squalor scowling down, their common end forgot. 

 And many a graceful date-palm stream'd her tresses o'er the sky, 

 The Peepul's fluttering masses gleam' d in tints of warmest dye : 

 But on the fortress crenell'd wall, no archer bands appear, 

 No banner's wave, no trumpet call, no gleam of slender spear ; 

 And from the fane no tinkling (9) bellannounc'd stern Sheeva's rite, 

 Nor shrieks of conch his orgies swell, nor priests who hymn his might, 

 No bearded Synod courts the shade, the* Peepul (8) glooms alone, 

 Each leaf a restless sprite hath made his own peculiar throne. 

 At length before a portal high, his steed Eussaloo stay'd ; 

 Por here at length one plaintive cry life's latent spark betray' d. 

 He left his steed without the gate, a hall before him spread, 

 Where o'er the hearth a matron sate and drest unleaven'd bread. 

 Above the brightly glowing brands, her wither' d person hung 

 And whiles she wept and wrung her hands and whiles she wildly sung. 



Song. 

 Ah ! well a day ! Ah ! well a day ! 



The sun lights up the dawn, 

 "With gems bespangles bower and spray, 



With flowers the dewy lawn. 

 The ray that sparkles sheen and coy, 



That self-same joyous ray 

 Consumes the widow'd mother's joy, 

 My child ! — Ah well a day ! 

 2 

 Ah ! wherefore gleams that ray so bright ? 



Why bloom the flowers around ? 

 But that in gulf of blacker night 

 Her desolate soul be drown' d ? 

 Yet men thee call the merry, merry sun ; 



Nor falsely thus they say ; 

 Por widow's tears are mirth to none 

 But thee. — Ah well a day. 



* The Peepul is an aspen. The incessant flutter of its leaves is attributed to 

 restless sprites inhabiting them. The young leaf has a rich hue of Indian red. 



