FIFTY

TO MY CHERRY-TREE-WALKING STICK; YEARS IN THE AUTHOR'S POSSESSION. WHEN thoughtless, from thy parent stock, I cut thee, when a boy,

And, silver-mounted, carried thee, delighted with the

toy;

And heard, with harmless pride of heart, tho' seeming very cool,

Thy varnished bark and shape bepraised by all the boys at school,

I little dreamt that we should hold through life so firm together;

Or combat with so many ills, such stormy troubles weather.

Ah me! what sad vicissitudes, what clouds have gloom'd the scene!

But still with me, where'er I was, there thou hast ever

been;

In many a pleasant country jaunt, in sunshine, health, and smiles,

Thy friendly aid hath lighter made the chosen toil by

miles;

Or when pale sickness' feeble hand hath weakened me with pain,

My trembling grasp hath sought thy strength, and never sought in vain.

Though speechless and inanimate, O! thou wert form'd to be,

Yet when on thee I cast mine eyes, thou art not so to

me;

For many things more eloquent than speech thou dost recal,

Of by-gone days, and friends beloved, too early doom'd

to fall:

And these reflections loudly tell (nor does my heart

repine)

That day approaches quickly, when I must this life re

sign.

E'en as the ruddy fruit that hangs upon thy parent

tree,

Is shrivell'd-blighted by the blast-so shall I stricken

be;

And lifeless fall to mother earth, before the icy breath Of him-the conqueror's conqueror—grim, unrelenting Death.

Pride of my youth, and faithful prop of my declining years!

Then must I bid adieu to thee, and this dull vale of

tears!

Some other hand will grasp thee then, a stranger hand may-be!

Ah! none like me will value thee, my bonny cherry

tree!

SENEX.

THE DYING SAINT.

Bright flowers are scattered on the ground,
Spring music in the air,

Earth's spell is hung on hues and sound,

As if a soul were there.

But thee no bloom nor vernal hymn
Shall ever gladden more:
For thee life's visionings are dim,
Its shades and lights are o'er.

I hear a soft voice from the cloud-
Entoning thy recal,—

In angel harmonies, not loud
But deepening in its fall.

I see reflected splendour break,

And on thine eye-lids shine;

And buried deeds of worth awake,

That slept, as in a shrine.

Then haste-the shadowy lines of faith

In morning-light expand;

Thou hast journeyed through thy desert-path-

Go to a better land.

S.

ORIENTAL SKETCHES.NO. II.

SHAH JEHAN'S SONS.

SHAH JEHAN had four sons, each of whom presided over an extensive district situate at a considerable distance from the paternal residence. Sultan Sujah, was viceroy of Bengal; Aurengzebe, had the government the Deccan; Morad Bakche, presided over the province of Guzerat; and to Dara, the eldest, was assigned the kingdom of Cashmere. He however constantly re

sided with his father.

On the death of Shah Jehan the three youngest sons, each at the head of his army, betook himself to Agra to claim the crown. Aurengzebe combined the characters of the bigot and the hypocrite in a perfection nnknown among less perfidious ages; bold, austere, and calculating, he pretended to all the humble virtues of a devotee, while he pursued his worldly interests with the aid of great sagacity, intelligence, and penetration, and at the expense of every species of cruelty, treachery, and deceit. He had succeeded in joining his forces with those of his younger brother, by pretending to renounce all claims to the throne, in his favour, and to seek only for himself a life of religious seclusion. By this stratagem, and by a tissue of the most artful intrigues, he effectually imposed upon the rashness and impetuosity of his thoughtless brother, and availed himself of his troops to fight his own battles. Dara, the eldest brother, was equally brave but less artful, and his conduct in one of the most memorable battles fought by these rival brothers, is minutely described by an eye witness, and an European.§ Seated on a beautiful elephant of Ceylon, he issued orders for a general onset; and placing himself at the head of a numerous body of horse advanced boldly towards the enemy's cannon. He was received with firmness, and soon surrounded by heaps of slain. And not only the body which he led to the attack, but those by which he was followed, were thrown into disorder.

? Bernier, a French Physician.

Still did he retain an admirable calmness, and evince his immovable determination not to recede. He was observed on his elephant looking about him with an undaunted air, and marking the progress of the action.

The troops were animated by his example, and the fugitives resumed their ranks; the charge was repeated, but he could not come up to the enemy before another volley carried death and dismay among the assailants : many took to flight; but the greater part seemed to have imbibed Dara's spirit, and followed their intrepid commander, until the cannon were forced, the iron chains disengaged, the enemy's camp entered, and the camels and infantry put completely to the rout. It was now that the cavalry of both armies coming in contact, the battle raged with the greatest fierceness. Showers of arrows obscured the air, Dara himself emptying his quiver: these weapons, however, produced but little effect, nine out of ten flying over the soldiers' heads, or falling short.

The arrows discharged, the sword was drawn, and the contending squadrons fought hand to hand, both sides appearing to increase in obstinacy in proportion as the sword performed its murderous work. During the whole of this, tremendous conflict, Dara afforded undeniable proofs of invincible courage, raising the voice of encouragement and command, and performing such, feats of valour that he succeeded at length in overthrowing the enemy's cavalry, and compelling it to fly.

Aurengzebe, who was at no great distance, and mounted also on an elephant, endeavoured, but without success, to retrieve the disasters of the day. He attempted to make head against Dara with a strong body of his choicest cavalry; but it was likewise driven from the field in great confusion. He saw that nearly the whole of the army under his immediate command was defeated and put to flight; the number which remained unbroken and collected about his person not exceeding one thousand. He found that Dara, notwithstanding the extreme ruggedness of the ground which separated them, evidently intended to rush upon his

remaining little band; yet he did not betray the slightest symptom of fear, or even an inclination to retreat; but calling many of his principal officers by name, exclaimed Delirané! (Courage, my friends), Koda-hé ! (God is), What hope can we find in flight? Know ye not where is our Deccan? Koda-hé! Koda-hé! and then, to remove all doubt of his resolution, and to show that he thought of nothing less than a retreat, he commanded (strange expedient!) that chains should be fastened to the feet of his elephant; a command he would undoubtedly have seen obeyed, if all those who were about him had not given the strongest assurances of their unsubdued spirit and unshaken fidelity.

An inadvertency on the part of Dara cost him a crown and saved the fortunes of Aurengzebe: instead of pursuing his career of victory, he turned to support his left wing which had been thrown into disorder; and while restoring order and confidence his brother effected his escape from the critical position in which he had been placed. To retrieve his mistake, Dara advanced upon his brother Morâd-Bakche, but an act of treachery in one of his generals completely changed the fortune of the day; he was persuaded to descend from his elephant, and the soldiers not seeing their sovereign in his seat, easily believed the report, now artfully spread, of the prince's death. A universal panic seized his army; and in a few minutes the conqueror became the vanquished. Aurengzebe was rewarded with the crown of Hindostan, and Dara became a fugitive.

When the victory was secure, and the aid of MorâdBakche no longer required, Aurengzebe, instead of fulfilling his promise, got the unhappy prince into his power. He invited him to supper, and on his assenting, concerted measures with Mirkhan and others of his minions. Morâd-Bakche was greeted with even more external courtesy and respect than had been usual since Aurengzebe had marked him for his victim; tears of joy seemed to flow, and his brother wiped, with a gentle hand, the perspiration and dust from the face of the devoted and credulous Prince. During supper, the