Part 15

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Thereat, with running ditty of mingled pride and pity, Jymul Rao makes the six wires sigh; And the girls with tearful eyes note the music's fall and rise, And the boys let the fire fade and die.

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All day lay Soorj the Rajpoot in Shureef's iron cage, All day the coward Muslims spent on him spite and rage.

With bitter cruel torments, and deeds of shameful kind, They racked and broke his body, but could not shake his mind.

And only at the Azan, when all their worst was vain, They left him, like dogs slinking from a lion in his pain.

No meat nor drink they gave him through all that burning day, And done to death, but scornful, at twilight-time he lay.

So when the gem of Shiva uprose, the shining moon, Soorj spake unto his spirit, "The end is coming soon."

"I would the end might hasten, could Neila only know-- What is that Nautch-girl singing with voice so known and low?

"Singing beneath the cage-bars the song of love and fear My Neila sang at parting!--what doth that Nautch-girl here?

"Whence comes she by the music of Neila's tender strain, She, in that shameless tinsel?--O Nautch-girl, sing again!"

"Ah, Soorj!"--so followed answer--"here thine own Neila stands, Faithful in life and death alike,--look up, and take my hands:

"Speak low, lest the guard hear us;--to-night, if thou must die, Shureef shall have no triumph, but bear thee company."

So sang she like the Koil that dies beside its mate; With eye as black and fearless, and love as hot and great.

Then the Chief laid his pale lips upon the little palm, And sank down with a smile of love, his face all glad and calm;

And through the cage-bars Neila felt the brave heart stop fast, "O Soorj!"--she cried--"I follow! have patience to the last."

She turned and went. "Who passes?" challenged the Mussulman; "A Nautch-girl, I."--"What seek'st thou?"--"The presence of the Khan;"

"Ask if the high chief-captain be pleased to hear me sing;" And Shureef, full of feasting, the Kunchenee bade bring.

Then, all before the Muslims, aflame with lawless wine, Entered the Ranee Neila, in grace and face divine;

And all before the Muslims, wagging their goatish chins, The Rajpoot Princess set her to the "bee-dance" that begins,

"If my love loved me, he should be a bee, I the yellow champâk, love the honey of me."

All the wreathed movements danced she of that dance; Not a step she slighted, not a wanton glance;

In her unveiled bosom chased th' intruding bee, To her waist--and lower--she! a Rajpoot, she!

Sang the melting music, swayed the languorous limb: Shureef's drunken heart beat--Shureef's eyes waxed dim.

From his finger Shureef loosed an Ormuz pearl-- "By the Prophet," quoth he, "'tis a winsome girl!"

"Take this ring; and 'prithee, come and have thy pay, I would hear at leisure more of such a lay."

Glared his eyes on her eyes, passing o'er the plain, Glared at the tent-purdah--never glared again!

Never opened after unto gaze or glance, Eyes that saw a Rajpoot dance a shameful dance;