28
HUR CHUNDER DUTT.
A sister's love for thee hath wrought
This silken tie so fair,
That thou protected by the gods
The deadly fray may'st share.
Thy flashing eyes full plainly tell
Thou'lt not disgrace the band,
If e'er the impetuous tide of war
Roll where thy loved ones stand.
And sheath not, knight, thy gleaming blade,
Till routed is the foe;
And as the chaff before the wind,
Before thy ranks they go.
And when by glorious Victory crowned
Thou tread'st the bloody field,
Spare, by my tears, the wounded foe;
Be thou their help and shield.
But hark! the tocsin's quivering peal
Bursts on my ear from far—
Mount, mount thy steed that proudly neighs
To join the ranks of war.
