POETRY.
THE SIN OF SIR PERTAB SINGH. A KING is great, and the gods are high ; Beyond all gods and kings
Is the Veda's timeless rule whose bonds Hold all created things.
A. king may smite and a God may blast, And pardon be to win; A twice-born man who breaks his law Hath sinned eternal sin.
Ye may sharpen the sword and point the spear Till, whenso war betide, As friends to her friend, as foes to her foe, Ye fight on the White Queen's side.
Ye may hunt the boar with the stranger folk And play the polo game : But strange men's meat and a stranger's cone Are ghostly death and shame.
Yet one God is over the Veda's self, The soul of the world's deep plan, And his works are higher than rule and book In the faith of man to man. It was a chieftain of high degree, Of the sun-born Rahtore name ; His guest was an English soldier lad Who might not live to fame.
Death fell on the lad by Jodhpur's keep, With none of his kin beside : Fast as that keep on world-old rock Stands twice-born Rajputs' pride.
It was Pertab Singh laid hand to the corse Like a Rajput giving his beet, Yea, were it his soul, lest aught should lack To honour the soldier guest.
The Sun-God sat with his holy scribes When an eagle brought the tale : He said: "Now judge me my children's deed," And the scribes with dread waxed pale.
The holiest spake, and sad was he : "For such an one 'tis well If eightfold penance and ninefold fine May save his soul from hell."
The Sun-God spake : "Right well ye judge, But the judgment is of earth : The doom I deem on Pertab Singh Shall befit a high God's worth.
Make ready, my scribe, a pen full fair And write a goodly thing, A charter first among my chiefs For my true son Pertab Singh."
n.
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