Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1835/Scene in Kattiawar

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Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1835 (1834)
by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
Scene in Kattiawar
2373128Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1835 — Scene in Kattiawar1834Letitia Elizabeth Landon

31



SCENE IN KATTIAWAR, TRAVELLERS & ESCORT.

Artist: C. Stanfield - Engraved by: E. Smith



SCENE IN KATTIAWAR.


"The north-western portion of Guzerat is inhabited by a warlike and robber race; hence travellers need an escort. This is sometimes given by the native chieftains. More frequently the merchant hires a guard. The annexed plate represents the halt of such a party. The shelter afforded by the ruined temples and tombs, occasion such resting places to be usually made in their vicinity."


I have a steed, to leave behind
The wild bird, and the wilder wind:
I have a sword, which does not know
How to waste a second blow:
I have a matchlock, whose red breath
Bears the lightning's sudden death:
I have a foot of fiery flight,
I have an eye that cleaves the night.
I win my portion in the land
By my high heart and strong right hand.

The starry heavens lit up the gloom
That lay around Al Herid's tomb;
The wind was still, you might have heard
The falling leaf, the rustling bird;
Yet no one heard my footstep fall,
None saw my shadow on the wall:
Yet curses came with morning's light,
Where was the gold they hid at night?
Where was the gold they loved so well,
My heavy girdle best could tell?

Three travellers crost by yonder shrine;
I saw their polished pistols shine,
And swore they were, or should be mine.
The first, his head was at my feet;
The second I was glad to greet;
He met me like a man, his sword,
Damascus true, deserved its lord;
Yet soon his heart's best blood ran red:
I sought the third—the slave had fled.


I have a lovely mountain bower,
Where blooms a gentle Georgian flower;
She was my spear's accustomed prize,
The antelope hath not such eyes.
Now my sweet captive loves her lot,
What has a queen that she has not?
Let her but wish for shawls or pearls,
To bind her brow, to braid her curls;
And I from east to west would fly,
Ere she should ask and I deny.
But those rich merchants must be near,
Away, I cannot linger here;
The vulture hovers o'er his prey,
Come, my good steed—away!—away!