THE WREATH of banquet overnight lay withered on the neck, | |
| Our hands and scarves were saffron-dyed for signal of despair, | |
| When we went forth to Paniput to battle with the Mlech,— | |
| Ere we came back from Paniput and left a kingdom there. | |
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| Thrice thirty thousand men were we to force the Jumna fords— | 5 |
| The hawk-winged horse of Damajee, mailed squadrons of the Bhao, | |
| Stark levies of the southern hills, the Deccan’s sharpest swords, | |
| And he, the harlot’s traitor-son, the goatherd Mulhar Rao! | |
| |
| Thrice thirty thousand men were we before the mists had cleared. | |
| The low white mists of morning heard the war-conch scream and bray. | 10 |
| We called upon Bhowani and we gripped them by the beard, | |
| We rolled upon them like a flood and washed their ranks away. | |
| |
| The children of the hills of Khost before our lances ran, | |
| We drove the black Rohillas back as cattle to the pen; | |
| ’T was then we needed Mulhar Rao to end what we began, | 15 |
| A thousand men had saved the charge; he fled the field with ten! | |
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| There was no room to clear a sword—no power to strike a blow, | |
| For foot to foot, ay, breast to breast, the battle held us fast— | |
| Save where the naked hill-men ran, and stabbing from below | |
| Brought down the horse and rider and we trampled them and passed. | 20 |
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| To left the roar of musketry rang like a falling flood— | |
| To right the sunshine rippled red from redder lance and blade— | |
| Above the dark Upsaras 1 flew, beneath us plashed the blood, | |
| And, bellying black against the dust, the Bhagwa Jhanda swayed. | |
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| I saw it fall in smoke and fire, the Banner of the Bhao; | 25 |
| I heard a voice across the press of one who called in vain:— | |
| “Ho! Anand Rao Nimbalkhur, ride! Get aid of Mulhar Rao! | |
| “Go shame his squadrons into fight—the Bhao—the Bhao is slain!” | |
| |
| Thereat, as when a sand-bar breaks in clotted spume and spray, | |
| When rain of later autumn sweeps the Jumna water-head, | 30 |
| Before their charge from flank to flank our riven ranks gave way— | |
| But of the waters of that flood the Jumna fords ran red. | |
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| I held by Scindia, my lord, as close as man might hold; | |
| A Soobah of the Deccan asks no aid to guard his life; | |
| But Holkar’s Horse were flying, and our chiefest chiefs were cold, | 35 |
| And like a flame among us leapt the long lean Northern knife. | |
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| I held by Scindia—my lance from butt to tuft was dyed, | |
| The froth of battle bossed the shield and roped the bridle-chain— | |
| What time beneath our horses’ feet a maiden rose and cried, | |
| And clung to Scindia, and I turned a sword-cut from the twain. | 40 |
| |
| (He set a spell upon the maid in woodlands long ago, | |
| A hunter by the Tapti banks, she gave him water there: | |
| He turned her heart to water, and she followed to her woe. | |
| What need had he of Lalun who had twenty maids as fair?) | |
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| Now in that hour strength left my lord; he wrenched his mare aside; | 45 |
| He bound the girl behind him and we slashed and struggled free. | |
| Across the reeling wreck of strife we rode as shadows ride | |
| From Paniput to Delhi town, but not alone were we. | |
| |
| ’T was Lutif-Ullah Populzai laid horse upon our track, | |
| A swine-fed reiver of the North that lusted for the maid; | 50 |
| I might have barred his path awhile, but Scindia called me back, | |
| And I—O woe for Scindia!—I listened and obeyed. | |
| |
| League after league the formless scrub took shape and glided by— | |
| League after league the white road swirled behind the white mare’s feet— | |
| League after league, when leagues were done, we heard the Populzai, | 55 |
| Where sure as Time and swift as Death the tireless footfall beat. | |
| |
| Noon’s eye beheld that shame of flight; the shadows fell, we fled | |
| Where steadfast as the wheeling kite he followed in our train; | |
| The black wolf warred where we had warred, the jackal mocked our dead, | |
| And terror born of twilight-tide made mad the labouring brain. | 60 |
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| I gasped:—“A kingdom waits my lord; her love is but her own. | |
| “A day shall mar, a day shall cure, for her—but what for thee? | |
| “Cut loose the girl: he follows fast. Cut loose and ride alone!” | |
| Then Scindia ’twixt his blistered lips:—“My Queens’ Queen shall she be! | |
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| “Of all who ate my bread last night ’twas she alone that came | 65 |
| “To seek her love between the spears and find her crown therein! | |
| “One shame is mine to-day. What need the weight of double shame? | |
| “If once we reach the Delhi gate, though all be lost, I win!” | |
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| We rode—the white mare failed—her trot a staggering stumble grew,— | |
| The cooking-smoke of even rose and weltered and hung low; | 70 |
| And still we heard the Populzai and still we strained anew, | |
| And Delhi town was very near, but nearer was the foe. | |
| |
| Yea, Delhi town was very near when Lalun whispered:—“Slay! | |
| “Lord of my life, the mare sinks fast—stab deep and let me die!” | |
| But Scindia would not, and the maid tore free and flung away, | 75 |
| And turning as she fell we heard the clattering Populzai. | |
| |
| Then Scindia checked the gasping mare that rocked and groaned for breath, | |
| And wheeled to charge and plunged the knife a hands-breadth in her side— | |
| The hunter and the hunted know how that last pause is death— | |
| The blood had chilled about her heart, she reared and fell and died. | 80 |
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| Our Gods were kind. Before he heard the maiden’s piteous scream | |
| A log upon the Delhi road, beneath the mare he lay— | |
| Lost mistress and lost battle passed before him like a dream; | |
| The darkness closed about his eyes. I bore my King away! | |
