UDAI CHAND lay sick to death | |
| In his hold by Gungra hill. | |
| All night we heard the death-gongs ring, | |
| For the soul of the dying Rajpoot King, | |
| All night beat up from the women’s wing | 5 |
| A cry that we could not still. | |
| |
| All night the barons came and went, | |
| The Lords of the Outer Guard. | |
| All night the cressets glimmered pale | |
| On Ulwar sabre and Tonk jezail, | 10 |
| Mewar headstall and Marwar mail, | |
| That clinked in the palace yard. | |
| |
| In the Golden Room on the palace roof | |
| All night he fought for air: | |
| And there were sobbings behind the screen, | 15 |
| Rustle and whisper of women unseen, | |
| And the hungry eyes of the Boondi Queen | |
| On the death she might not share. | |
| |
| He passed at dawn—the death-fire leaped | |
| From ridge to river-head, | 20 |
| From the Malwa plains to the Abu scars: | |
| And wail upon wail went up to the stars | |
| Behind the grim zenana-bars, | |
| When they knew that the King was dead. | |
| |
| The dumb priest knelt to tie his mouth | 25 |
| And robe him for the pyre. | |
| The Boondi Queen beneath us cried: | |
| “See, now, that we die as our mothers died | |
| “In the bridal-bed by our master’s side! | |
| “Out, women!—to the fire!” | 30 |
| |
| We drove the great gates home apace— | |
| White hands were on the sill— | |
| But ere the rush of the unseen feet | |
| Had reached the turn to the open street, | |
| The bars shot down, the guard-drum beat— | 35 |
| We held the dovecot still. | |
| |
| A face looked down in the gathering day, | |
| And laughing spoke from the wall: | |
| “Ohé, they mourn here: let me by— | |
| “Azizun, the Lucknow nautch-girl, I! | 40 |
| “When the house is rotten, the rats must fly, | |
| “And I seek another thrall. | |
| |
| “For I ruled the King as ne’er did Queen,— | |
| “To-night the Queens rule me! | |
| “Guard them safely, but let me go, | 45 |
| “Or ever they pay the debt they owe | |
| “In scourge and torture!” She leaped below, | |
| And the grim guard watched her flee. | |
| |
| They knew that the King had spent his soul | |
| On a North-bred dancing-girl: | 50 |
| That he prayed to a flat-nosed Lucknow god, | |
| And kissed the ground where her feet had trod, | |
| And doomed to death at her drunken nod, | |
| And swore by her lightest curl. | |
| |
| We bore the King to his fathers’ place, | 55 |
| Where the tombs of the Sun-born stand: | |
| Where the grey apes swing, and the peacocks preen | |
| On fretted pillar and jewelled screen, | |
| And the wild boar couch in the house of the Queen | |
| On the drift of the desert sand. | 60 |
| |
| The herald read his titles forth | |
| We set the logs aglow: | |
| “Friend of the English, free from fear, | |
| “Baron of Luni to Jeysulmeer, | |
| “Lord of the Desert of Bikaneer, | 65 |
| “King of the Jungle,—go!” | |
| |
| All night the red flame stabbed the sky | |
| With wavering wind-tossed spears: | |
| And out of a shattered temple crept | |
| A woman who veiled her head and wept, | 70 |
| And called on the King—but the great King slept, | |
| And turned not for her tears. | |
| |
| One watched, a bow-shot from the blaze, | |
| The silent streets between, | |
| Who had stood by the King in sport and fray, | 75 |
| To blade in ambush or boar at bay, | |
| And he was a baron old and grey, | |
| And kin to the Boondi Queen. | |
| |
| Small thought had he to mark the strife— | |
| Cold fear with hot desire— | 80 |
| When thrice she leaped from the leaping flame, | |
| And thrice she beat her breast for shame, | |
| And thrice like a wounded dove she came | |
| And moaned about the fire. | |
| |
| He said: “O shameless, put aside | 85 |
| “The veil upon thy brow! | |
| “Who held the King and all his land | |
| “To the wanton will of a harlot’s hand! | |
| “Will the white ash rise from the blistered brand? | |
| “Stoop down, and call him now!” | 90 |
| |
| Then she: “By the faith of my tarnished soul, | |
| “All things I did not well, | |
| “I had hoped to clear ere the fire died, | |
| “And lay me down by my master’s side | |
| “To rule in Heaven his only bride, | 95 |
| “While the others howl in Hell. | |
| |
| “But I have felt the fire’s breath, | |
| “And hard it is to die! | |
| “Yet if I may pray a Rajpoot lord | |
| “To sully the steel of a Thakur’s sword | 100 |
| “With base-born blood of a trade abhorred …” | |
| And the Thakur answered, “Ay.” | |
| |
| He drew and struck: the straight blade drank | |
| The life beneath the breast. | |
| “I had looked for the Queen to face the flame, | 105 |
| “But the harlot dies for the Rajpoot dame— | |
| “Sister of mine, pass, free from shame. | |
| “Pass with thy King to rest!” | |
| |
| The black log crashed above the white: | |
| The little flames and lean, | 110 |
| Red as slaughter and blue as steel, | |
| That whistled and fluttered from head to heel, | |
| Leaped up anew, for they found their meal | |
| On the heart of—the Boondi Queen! | |
| |
