On the Abolition of Sattee.
Red from his chambers came the morning sun
And frowned, dark Ganges, on thy fatal 'shore.
Journeying on high; but when the day was done
He set in smiles, to rise in blood no more.
Hark! heard ye not? the widow's wail is over;
No more the flames from impious pyres ascend.
See Mercy, now primeval peace restore.
While pagans glad the arch ethereal rend,
For India hails at last, her father and her friend.
Back to its cavern ebbs the tide of crime.
There fettered, locked, and powerless it sleeps;
And History bending o'er the page of time.
Where many a mournful record still she keeps,
The widowed Hindoo's fate no longer weeps;
The priestly tyrant's cruel charm is broken.
And to his den alarmed the monster creeps;
The charm that mars his mystic spell is broken.
O'er all the land 'tis spread: he trembles at the token.
Bentinck, be thine the everlasting meed!
The heart's full homage still is virtue's claim.
And 'tis the good man's ever honoured deed
Which gives an immortality to fame:
Transient and fierce, though dazzling is the flame
That glory lights upon the wastes of war:
Nations unborn shall venerate thy name,
A triumph than the conqueror's mightier far,
Thy memory shall be blessed as is the morning star.