Fakeer of Jungheera 2.8
His sorrows were too fresh and wild
But soon the mournful tale was told
Of fair Nuleeni, his lost child.
He spake of feelings crushed, of shame,
Of ruined hopes, of blighted name,
Of all that man hath fondly thought
Brightens existence with its beams;
As if those idle fancies brought
Whate'er of heaven a poet dreams;
As if the visions which on earth
Have gained the sacred name of worth,
Could, for a passing moment, bless
The soul with aught like happiness!—
His tale was told :—of manly grief
He stood the statue, warmed with life;
Demanding vengeance, not relief,
Honour alive, or death in strife;
Yes—vengeance on the wretch abhorred
Who broke his heart's lone latest chord.—
Within the time-worn breast, revenge,
Till slaked its thirst, has scorned to change ;
Though young and reckless spirits may
Forgive the wrong the stern repay :—
The tender sapling is inclined
Even by the passing summer wind;
The mountain monarch towers unbent
Although by lightning stript and rent.