The Bengali Book of English Verse/Akbar's Dying Charge (Hur Chunder Dutt)
Akbar's Dying Charge.
This is no time to weep, my son,
By weeping you do wrong,
But bear thee up right manfully
And in God's love be strong.
Lovely and large thy heritage,
As lovely as a bride,
To keep her still thine own gird on
That bright sword by thy side.
See now it hangs on yonder wall
(For powerless is the hand
That wielded it in hunt or fray)
My own, my noble brand.
Read what is writ on either side
And write it in your breast,
Those characters of gold shine clear:
'The merciful are blest.'
Upon the jewelled hilt and haft
The diamond-sparks bespeak
The grasp around it must be pure
Though not infirm or weak.
At honour's beck, in kingdom's cause,
Like lightning let it fall,
With power avenge the oppressed and wronged,
And justly rule o'er all.
The blood-stains on the polished steel
At mercy's fount make clean,
And may thy battle-fields right soon
With waving crops be green.
In all the triumphs, all the joys
Which thy good angel brings,
Forget not to give glory, son,
To God the King of kings.
His blessing crave, his grace implore,
Alike in weal and woe,
Long be thy reign in this fair land,—
I go where all things go.