THE MOGUL'S ROYAL RING.
The Mogul's ring had been missing
A hundred years and more.
They sought it, never ceasing,
They sought the city o'er.
A hundred years and more.
They sought it, never ceasing,
They sought the city o'er.
To Hafed, then, the sweeper,
The story came one day.
He dropped his rubbish-barrel
And left it where it lay.
"The barrel grows more heavy
With every year," he said.
"I'll seek the royal signet
And set it on my head!"
The story came one day.
He dropped his rubbish-barrel
And left it where it lay.
"The barrel grows more heavy
With every year," he said.
"I'll seek the royal signet
And set it on my head!"
With mattock, spade and pick-axe
He sought it day and night.
Alas! the golden signet—
He brought it ne'er to light.
When round his house at sunrise
He stole with trembling legs,
The crowd would come and pelt at
His back with rotten eggs.
He sought it day and night.
Alas! the golden signet—
He brought it ne'er to light.
When round his house at sunrise
He stole with trembling legs,
The crowd would come and pelt at
His back with rotten eggs.
He wept, he prayed, he dug still,
But when at night he'd lay
His turban by to bathe him,
His youthful hair was gray.
But when at night he'd lay
His turban by to bathe him,
His youthful hair was gray.
Umballa, Hafed's brother,
35
