Oriental Scenes, Dramatic Sketches and Tales/A Scene in the Doaab
ORIENTAL SCENES.
A SCENE IN THE DOAAB.
In tangled depths the jungles spread
Around the solitary scene,
The lurking panther's sullen tread
Marks the wild paths of the ravine;
Here too the fierce hyena prowls,
Haunting the dark Jheel's broad lagoon,
And here, at eve, the wolf-cub howls,
And famished jackalls bay the moon.
Its scorching breath the hot wind pours
Along the arid waste; and loud,
The storm-fiend of the desert roars,
When bursts the sable thunder-cloud,
A crumbling mosque—a ruined fort—
Hastening alike to swift decay,
Where owls and vampire bats resort,
And vultures hide them from the day,
Alone remain to tell the tale
Of Moslem power, and Moslem pride,
When shouts of conquest filled the gale
And swords in native blood were dyed.
They sleep—the slayer and the slain—
A lowly grave the victor shares
With the weak slave who wore the chain
None save a craven spirit wears.
Yet had the deeds which they have done
Lived in the poet's deathless song,
These nameless spahis would have won
All that to valour's hopes belong.
They brought their faith from distant lands,
They reared the Moslem badge on high,
And swept away with reeking brands
The reliques of idolatry.
Where'er they spread their prophet's creed
The guilty rites of Brama fled;
No longer shrinking victims bleed,
Nor sleeps the living with the dead.
The frantic shrieks of widowed brides
From burning piles resound no more,
Nor Ganges' desecrated tides
Bear human offerings from its shore.
Their wreaths have faded—lizards bask
Upon the marble pavement, where,
'Twas erst the dark-eyed beauty's task
To crown with flowers her raven hair.
Unheeded now the scorpion crawls,
And snakes unscathed in silence glide,
Where once the bright Zenana's halls
To woman's feet were sanctified.
No trace remains of those gay hours
When lamps, in golden radiance bright,
Streamed o'er these now deserted towers
The sunshine of their perfumed light.
The maiden's song, the anklet's bells
So sweetly ringing o'er the floor,
And eyes as soft as the gazelle's
Are heard, and seen, and felt no more.
Now all is silent; the wild cry
Of savage beasts alone is heard,
Or wrathful tempest hurrying by,
Or moanings of some desert bird.