Anáya, the prophetess of Méwar, a poem

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1838 ...in after time, When my name, may be darkened o'er by crime, Whate'er my spirit from my honor drew. It once to virtue, and to thee, was And through what may befall, it must and will, With all its faults and weakness, love thee still; Though Fate should urge it, e'en to do thee wrong. Gratitude deathless, and affection strong, For thee, for thee, my prince, from this torn heart, Will only with life's latest pulse depart!" 15. Is he so obdurate that he can boast Of his affection, when betraying most? Ever the victim, and the slave of feeling, That which his bosom feels, he is An hour may pass, and in a sterner vein, All his dark dreamings will return again, And he unpitying then will wonder why, He hath relented to a tear or sigh. And Rindhole seeks, in a disordered mind, A meaning for his wayward words to find, And looks, those musings to his aspect lend To pierce the heart's core of his faithless friend. And now that booming, muttering sound is still, But on the summit of a distant hill; The Rana's penetrating eye descried, Some banner rising o'er it in its pride. A sudden burst of martial music fell, On the light breeze that floated o'er the dell. Three hundred warriors then start to view, Each mounted on a steed of sable hue, Curvetting lightly on, they leap the rill Which sparkles down the bosom of the hill. The sunbeams twinkled, as they forward came, On their cuirasses and their shields, like flame. While on the polish-blackened steel were laid Tracings of purest gold, or silver made; And on their banner, wrought in pearls, was seen An open hand, upon a field of green. 17. The choicest warriors of his own land, Circled around the gallant Rindhole stand, And he now bends him from the rampart down, And passes from his brow its transi...