"Ho! Anand Rao Nimbalkhur ride! Get aid of Mulhar Rao!
"Go shame his squadrons into fight—the Bhao—the Bhao is slain!"
Thereat, as when a sand-bar breaks in clotted spume and spray—
When rain of later autumn sweeps the Jumna water-head,
Before their charge from flank to flank our riven ranks gave way;
But of the waters of that flood the Jumna fords ran red.
I held by Scindia, my lord, as close as man might hold;
A Soobah of the Deccan asks no aid to guard his life;
But Holkar's Horse were flying, and our chiefest chiefs were cold,
And like a flame among us leapt the long lean Northern knife.