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102
Ballads of Hindustan.
Speak to us, dear one—only speak,
And Calm our idle fears,
Where hast thou been, and what to seek?
Have pity on these tears."
With head bent low the monarch heard,
Then came a cruel throb
That tore his heart,—still not a word,
Only a stifled sob!
"It is not Sindhu—who art thou?
And where is Sindhu gone?
There's blood upon thy hands—avow!"
"There is."—"Speak on, speak on."
The dead child in their arms he placed,
And briefly told his tale,
The parents their dead child embraced,
And kissed his forehead pale.
"Our hearts are broken. Come, dear wife,
On earth no more we dwell;
Now welcome Death, and farewell Life,
And thou, O king, farewell!
