The Bengali Poem, Candi. 
17 
The merchant, guessing who the girl must be, 
Takes smiling leave; and, sitting ’neath a tree, 
Hears all the neighbouring gossips’ tongues astir, 
But scandal’s voice has only praise for her. 
Then to his brahman friend he turns for aid, 
“ Try your best skill to win me this fair maid.” 
Proud of th’ important message which he bore, 
Janardan hastens to the father’s door. 
There he is welcomed with the honours meet, 
A seat is brought, and water for his feet; 
And the pleased father shows his eldest son, 
And names his other children one by one. 
Still some vexed pride inflames the Brahman’s mind, 
Proud of the embassy he kept behind: 
“ Is this your welcome for an honoured guest ? 
"Where are your robes, pan, sweetmeats, and the rest ? 
Am I not come on marriage business bent, 
With offer of a noble settlement ? 
Your daughter there is twelve years old, I hear ; 
And still unmarried—can I trust my ear ? 
Happy that father who has safely given 
His daughter to a husband when she ’s seven ; 
She needs no dower to lure the buyer’s eyes, 
Kind speeches are enough with such a prize. 
Happy, too, he who weds his child at nine,* 1 
He saves the funeral honours for his line, > 
And for himself wins happiness divine. ) 
But you, poor dreamer, blind in heart and brain, 
Have let ten years, eleven, pass in vain. 
Kay, worse than this, you ’ve let the twelfth year come, 
And still she lingers in her father’s home. 
A girl of twelve unwed!—remember hell,— 
You as the father are responsible.” 
The father answered: “ You speak well; I will do all a father should. 
Look for some fitting son-in-law in Bard wan or its neighbourhood.” 
* Girls should he only married in their odd years. 
2 
