128 On the Ballads and Legends oftlie Punjab. [No. 2. 



Fijtte 2nd. 

 How merrily dawns the jocund morn o'er the city that aye is gay, 

 When the warder is winding his mellow horn, and the young bird is 



trilling his lay ; 

 And youth and age and manhood stern and beauty matur'd in grace, 

 And childhood's fetterless footsteps turn to the silver wave's 

 embrace. 

 But not o'er Oodinugri's towers, woke life with waking day : 

 Ko young bird charm'd those smiling bowers, nor youug maid 



carolled gay. 

 No warder dar'd his cornet wind, no priest his conch to fill, 

 The portal stood fast barr'd and blind, glid past th' untasted rill ; 

 The screech owl reign' d without a peer, save when the raven's croak, 

 Or wolf's long wail, so sad and drear, that dismal jargon broke. 



Bussaloo back'd his gallant steed, the youth a palfrey low, 

 And on they prick'd along the mead to seek their giant foe. 

 But not until, with anguish wild, the aged dame had prest, 

 To her sad heart, her lov'd, lost child and offc and o'er carest. 

 At noon the Neel # Raos (13) silver wave laps' d past them free and fair, 

 Hussaloo plung'd his limbs to lave and told his warrior prayer. 

 There rose a mist from out the wood, a whirlwind wrapt it round, 

 Till in 'mid heaven the column stood, and shape and substance found, 

 Fork'd lightnings flash'd around the brow, deep thunders pealed their 



roar, 

 And in Eussaloo's heart 'gan grow a chill ne'er felt before. 

 Majestic stalk' d that column tall the yet disparting ground, 

 The clouds their heavy folds let fall in massive drapery round : 

 But what those folds conceal'dfrom view, thought shudder'd e'en to 



guess, 

 As broke some startling glimpses through of loathly hideousness. 



And now upon the streamlet's brim, high towering in 'mid sky, 

 Pauses the column, gaunt and grim, whence keen, blue lightnings fly i 



* I would willingly have spared the reader and myself this combat, but that it 

 forms so essential a part of the tradition. 



