27 
The Bengali Poem, Candi. 
The king the order gave which caused the ill, 
That hateful cage which keeps the merchant still; 
’T is this that sends you out the goats to tend;— 
Blame your own fate, not me, and there ’s an end! ” 
“ Then if that letter is our lord’s, his own, 
Where is the messenger, who brought it, gone ? 
Of all the servants whom he took to wait, 
Has even one been seen within our gate ? ” 
“ To make the cage he has not gold enough ; 
Three servants came, impatient to he off; 
They took the gold and vanished in a trice— 
You were too busy at your favourite dice. 
Two wives like us, left husbandless alone,— 
I fear we ’re sure to quarrel while he \s gone. 
You married him for his wealth—you know ’tis true,— 
Am I to be your slave and wait on you ? ” 
“ Childless old woman, if you thus presume, 
I ’ll heat you, as your mistress, with my broom.” 
II Durbala, you have heard this forward chit; 
Shall she go on and I submit to it ? 
But yesterday she left the nursery, 
And now she dares to handy words with me!” 
Each shook in wrath her bracelet-jangling arm; 
The neighbouring wives come running in alarm. 
By sad mischance, poor Khullana’s hand, though weak, 
Came in collision with the other’s cheek; 
The touch was slight, hut Lahana’s fury rose, 
And, all on fire, she dealt her angry blows; 
Each stormed and cuffed, and pulled the other’s hair, 
In vain the neighbours tried to part the pair; 
Helplessly wondering, they watched the fray, 
And Lahana’s tongue soon drove them all away. 
Each on the other then her anger bent, 
Their armlets, anklets clashed, their clothes were rent; 
Like showers of hail their mutual blows fell fast, 
But Khullana was overpowered at last. 
In vain she called her absent husband’s aid, 
Lahana listened to no word she said; 
