Life, like a wheel's revolving orb, turns round, Now whirl'd in air, now dragg'd along the ground. "When, from his serpent couch that swims the Sarangi rises from celestial sleep * ; [deep, When four more months unmark'd have run their course, To us all gloom, the curse has lost its force: Subvert thy faith, nor teach thee to despair. It grows in absence, as renew'd delight Some dear memorials, some loved lines, excite.' Such, vast dispenser of the dews of heaven, Such is my suit, and such thy promise given; Fearless upon thy friendship I rely, Nor ask that promise, nor expect reply. H. H. WILSON. • The serpent couch is the great snake ananta, upon which Vishnu, or, as he is called, the holder of the bow Sarnga reclines during the four months of the periodical rains. DESCRIPTION OF A HINDU BEAUTY. FROM THE HINDEE. MARK, her slender form bend low, As the zephyrs lightly blow: See, her face as soft moon beaming; Treasures yield of nectar'd sweet: While brighter tints, and rosier hues, BROUGHTON. VERSES, Written after being at Sea for the first Time. FROM THE PUSHTO. THE sage who first refused to roam The Hindu ladies are accustomed to stain the soles of their feet with a crimson dye, named jaubuk. In the East, ornaments of gold, jewelry, &c. are commonly made in the forms of different flowers. What though the bread on shore we taste When purchased on the brackish main. Can match thy horrors, frightful main! Save the white foam that streaks the main. When journeying on the savage main. From him who travels on the main. Scenes fair, sublime, and strange and new, The parrot pent in wiry cage Its fluttering pinions beats in vain; So vain our grief, so vain our rage, When reeling on the restless main. VOL. VI. GG God save us all from fell remorse, Revenge, and wrath, and proud disdain; For ever bad, 'tis ten times worse To meet them on the desert main. When flames most bright and fierce aspire, Like birds, along the ocean plain, I dread to name them in my strain, That at one gulp both ship and crew Could swallow on the weltering main. Dark demons of portentous form, That heaven's vast arch can scarce contain, You see them stalking in the storm, When journeying on the desert main. Till death his fatal arrows speed, No soul escapes from mortal pain: Of death and all his darts no need Have they who journey on the main. From all these ghastly scenes of fear, That well might turn a poet's brain, To find myself in safety here Foils all the marvels of the main. DR. LEYDEN. ODE. FROM THE CHINESE. BEHOLD where yon blue rivulet glides Light reeds bedeck its verdant sides, So shines our prince! In bright array As pliant hands in shapes refined His laws thus mould each ductile mind, As gems are taught by patient art What soft yet awful dignity! What meek yet manly grace! So shines our prince! A skyborn crowd SIR W. JONES. |