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



And where is she for whose bright smile, lit up the festal hour ? 

 In yon high, blood-cemented pile, is deck'd her gorgeous bower. 

 The merry sunbeams, streaming through, light up with golden haze 

 The blazon'd deeds of maidens true, and men of other days : 

 And on the fretted roof (35) display the marbles, chaste and rare, 

 "With ruddy gold of rich inlay, in happiest contrast there. 

 And o'er the floor of marble strown, rich Persian carpets glow, 

 And tissues bright from lands unknown, like golden fountains flow. 



But not one joyous ray breaks through the sad heart's dungeon 

 gloom, 

 To scatter far the spectral crew, whose fires her soul consume. 

 The young, sweet dream of woman's heart before her spreads its 



lure, 

 From his lov'd side no more to part, while time and life endure. 

 Elysium bright, whose gate to bar, the fiends of Night arise, 

 Her own proud spirit stirs the war, her brothers' blood replies. 

 The shades of her redoubted race o'erthrong the bridal bower, 

 Their scowling brows her soul deface, quell reason's happier power. 



" O ! Eecreant," cried an inward voice, she strove in vain to drown, 

 " Is this Beera's blameless choice, a sister's high renown ? 

 " Our blood from out the desert sand, for vengeance cries in vain, 

 "A sister clasps the ensanguin'd hand, ere dry that damning stain." 

 Then lower' d anew each gloomy brow, and glar'd each dreadful eye, 

 And apish faces mop and mow, and hellish voices cry, 

 Till frenzied, from her brow she tore the gemm'd and golden hair, 

 And dash'd upon the marble floor, her forehead pale and fair ; 

 And suppliant sued the monster death, by many a honied name, 

 "With his black tide and icy breath to quench life's torturous flame. 



A noble form bent o'er his bride, uprais'd her in his arms, 

 Kiss'd the sweet brow with crimson dyed and sooth'd her wild 



alarms. 

 At sound of that soul-quelling tone, the demons yelling fly ; 

 The maiden stirs ; with piteous moan uplifts th' affrighted eye, 

 And drinks with ear athirst and soul subdued and calm'd the while 

 Those accents fond of high control, and suns her in his smile. 

 " Oh ! leave me, leave me !" wild she cried, " the hosts of hell await 



