126 On the Ballads and Legends of the Punjab. [No. 2. 



3 



The headsman robes his brow in gloom 



Enshrouds his form in night, 

 In pity of his victim's doom, 



Whom thou bemock'st with light. 

 Ah ! falsely smiling, heartless god, 



On thee my curse I lay : 

 Fate blot thee in thy victim's blood 



Prom heav'n — woe, woe's the day. 



Thus weeping singing still, the while, she drest the bannocks fine ;■ 

 On either side a mountain pile had serv'd a host to dine. 



Russaloo spake : " What mean these tears, this desolation wide, 

 " Ton pile (10) of bread might feast for years the* Pandoo in his pride. 

 " On either side the spacious way, fort, palace, mansion stand, 

 " Bazaars so high, at noon of day they shadow deep the land; 

 " But, save thyself, no living thing hath cheer' d mine aching sight, 

 " What curse could such wide mischief fling, this deadly, general 



blight ? 

 " Cease thy sad weeping, mother mine, be sure I'll freely shed 

 " My blood to staunch those tears of thine, and guard thy reverend 



head." 



" Why do I weep ? Ask rather why tears yet remain to flow, 

 " That plenteous floods have fail'd to dry their deep,lone source of woe: 

 " Seven noble sons around me grew, the least had grae'd a throne ; 

 " Blest in their love my moments flew, their love was all mine own, 

 "For none the spousal rite had shar'd. They took the spoiler's eye, 

 " One only youth his greed hath spar'd : — to-morrow he must die. 

 " Thou whom the beard and turban gay man's stern estate attest, 

 " O ! Eider of the dappled grey, arm well thy warrior breast ; 

 " He comes, he comes, the monster dire, who wastes us in his wrath, 

 " Before him walks devouring fire and famine dogs his path : 

 " And were an hundred heroes' might in thy right arm alone, 



* The Pandoos in India are the remotest of the heroic races. Every grand 

 ruin of antiquity is ascribed to them. 



