DELHI. 
35 
change my mood, nor yet a sound has stolen upon 
the air-— - 
The tombs 
And monumental caves of death look cold, 
And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart. 
Many of the most beautiful specimens of these 
relics are now dissolving so rapidly, owing to the 
destructive extremes of the climate, that in a few 
short years they will be no more seen. The gateway, 
which is exhibited in the annexed plate, is hastening 
to the dust. The scorching sun strikes in and opens 
wide its gaping seams ; and the streaming rains of 
each returning monsoon, as they pour through its 
crannied walls, are hurrying it, stone by stone, w T all 
by wall, into the ravines below. The style of its 
architecture is peculiar to the time of Jehanghir, but 
its history appears to be doubtful ; for some among 
the tradition-vendors at Delhi represent it as having 
been the entrance to the empress Neur Jehans state 
apartments, while others affirm that it formed part 
of the palace of Etimaun-ud-Dowla, the father of 
that illustrious lady. Whether it be one or the 
other, it is equally an object of interest to the natives, 
who appear to have as much reverence for the name 
of the father, because he was the father of the 
renowned Neur Jehan, as they have for the memory 
of the daughter herself. The histories of these cele- 
brated persons are rendered the more imperishable 
from their connexion with that of the intrepid and 
