Translation. 
Astrologers and sages twain 
Are come to Bilal Lata’s door. 
Friends, chew the betel nut, and deign 
To listen to a tale of yore. 
The ground-dove and the nightingale 
Above the planted rice are fleeting : 
‘ Homage ! ’ I cry to you, and ‘ Hail ! 
And you, 0 friends, return my greeting. 
A country coat of dusky hue ! 
10. A cygnet white in reedy nest ! (*) 
‘ Homage ! 0 Chief, I cry to you, 
And ‘ Hail ! ’ to every wedding guest. 
Deep, deep, the Landai waters flow ! 
A stinging fish among the fruit ! 
I tell the story that I know. 
But tales forgotten are not mute. 
The bee no bee of common wing — 
The bee upon the champak flower! 
No common song the song I sing — 
20. A song of legendary power. 
Goodly the bee, of golden wing, 
Alighting on the flowery sprays ! 
Goodly the ancient song I sing, 
A bond with bygone yesterdays. 
Homage, 0 Chief ! ( 
Now the saying of the custom runs : 
Spell from the letter A ! 
Count from the figure I ! 
Tradition is with the old, 
30. Report is with the young. 
What is the report of the young ? 
The Hours that are five,( 2 ) 
The Days that are seven, 
The Months that are twelve, 
The Years that are eight. ( 3 ) 
What is the tradition of the old? 
For the Realm a Ruler, 
For the Province a Chief, 
For the Tribe a Head, 
B. A. Soc., No. 83, 1921. 
The Wedding 
Guest recites 
a verse of 
greeting 
to the Chief 
of the Bride’s 
clan. 
And a pre- 
lude of an- 
cient custo- 
mary wisdom 
