THE DOVE OF DACCA
The freed dove flew to the Rajah's tower—
Fled from the slaughter of Moslem kings—
And the thorns have covered the city of Gaur.
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove!
Little white traitor, with woe on thy wings!
The Rajah of Dacca rode under the wall;
He set in his bosom a dove of flight—
"If she return, be sure that I fall."
Dove—dove—oh, homing dove!
Pressed to his heart in the thick of the fight.
"Fire the palace, the fort, and the keep—
Leave to the foeman no spoil at all.
In the flame of the palace lie down and sleep
If the dove, if the dove—if the homing dove
Come and alone to the palace wall."
The Kings of the North they were scattered abroad—
The Rajah of Dacca he slew them all.
Hot from slaughter he stopped at the ford,
And the dove—the dove—oh, the homing dove!
She thought of her cote on the palace wall.
(Copyright, 1893, by Macmillan & Co.)
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