Collected Poems of Henry Derozio: Preface by Manu Samriti Chander; Edited by Amardeep Singh

Fakeer of Jungheera 1.10

Slow moves the throng as 'twere a passing cloud, 
The cymbal tinkles, and the drum beats loud, 
As if in mockery of the solemn scene 
And her who shall be something that had been. 
O! this is but the world's unfeeling way 
To goad the victim that it soon will slay, 
And like a demon 'tis its custom still 
To laugh at sorrow, and then coldly kill. 
Yet dreaming sophists in this world there be 
Who tell us man for man has sympathy, 
Who say that tears arising out of pain 
Soon see themselves reflected;—but 'tis vain— 
Sure social love dwells not beneath the skies, 
Or it is like the bird of paradise, 
Which lights we know not where, and never can 
Be found alive among the haunts of man. 
Ye who in fancy's vision view the fires 
Where the calm widow gloriously expires, 

And, charmed, behold her ere she mounts the pile, 
Her lip illumined by a radiant smile; 
Her tearless eye disowning fear's control 
Lit to reveal the heavenward soaring soul; 
In hope exulting till life's hour be past, 
With ardent faith, devoted to the last; 
Fresh in the spotless loveliness of youth, 
And all the native purity of truth;— 
Ye who are lost in fancy's wondrous maze 
At love you see not—O! could once you gaze 
On those whom martyrs now you fondly deem! 
'Twould break the magic of your golden dream 
To see the beauteous but the purchased flower, 
The toy that pleases but a passing hour, 
The suffering victim to the altar driven, 
And bid to hope for happiness in heaven-- 
A heaven beyond the limits of her thought, 
A bliss her spirit never yet had sought— 
Ah ! haply then might pity mourn above 
Degraded nature, not exalted love! 

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