28 
The Bengali Poem, Candl. 
She strips her of her bracelets and her rings, 
Torn from her head her wreath and pearls she flings, 
Her anklets, armlets, zone, away she bears, 
And from her waist her silken sari tears. 
Poor Khullana stands of all her pride bereft, 
Only her iron ring of wifehood left; * 
Thirsty and tired and weeping, there she stands, 
A rope tied tightly round her neck and hands. 
E’en Durbala feels compassion as she weeps, 
And brings some water for her thirsty lips. 
Gently she thanks her in a grateful tone, 
11 0 Huy a, hut for you, my life had gone.” 
i 
Low at her feet she falls and weeps : “ Oh help me in my loneliness; 
I come with straw between my teeth, a suppliant in sore distress. 
I have no friend nor kindred near; my husband, he is far away* 
And Lahana in the empty house tiger-like rages for her prey. 
0 Durbala, I rest on thee, be thou my help for pity’s sake; 
Go tell my mother, as from me—’twas she who made the sad mistake— 
4 Your daughter Khullana is dead—oh what a wondrous gain you got 
When to her fate you sold your child !—abide in joy and sorrow not.’ 
And tell my father, here alone, through Lahana’s tortures I expire— 
’T was his own hand that ruthlessly threw his poor daughter in the fire.’ 
Durbala. She punishes the least offence with blows, 
For a small fault she’d cut off ears and nose; 
I must not vex her—you must wait, I say, 
I ’ll take your message when I find a way. 
In the meantime he patient and submit, 
And feed the goats, if she insists on it. 
I ’ll take your message safely—never fear— 
And in a trice your father will be here.” 
Next Lahana came, her harsh command to press, 
While Duya brushed the mud that stained her dress; 
* This is the iron ring always worn on the left hand of a married woman; it is 
aside in widowhood. 
