Come, let us weep for Begum; he is dead. Dead; and afar, where Thamis' waters lave The busy marge, he lies unvisited, Unsung; above no cypress branches wave, Nor tributary blossoms fringe his grave;...
Ye distant Hills, ye smiling glades, In decent foliage drest, Where green Sylvanus proudly shades The Sirkar's haughty crest, And ye, that in your wider reign...
Wake! for Reveill'e scatters into flight The flagging Rearguard of a ruined Night, And hark! the meagre Champion of the Roost Has flung a matins to the Throne of Light....
A strong discomfort in the dress Dwindling the clothes to nothingness Saving, for due decorum placed, A huckaback about the waist, Or wanton towel-et, whose touch...
Now the busy screw is churning, Now the horrid sirens blow; Now are India's guests returning Home from India's Greatest Show; Now the gleeful Asiatic Speeds them on their wild career,...