was raised. 
  Then, near the flames that brightened her bright face,
  Her uncle and her people shedding tears,
  Her noble husband lying cold and still,
  The story of her father’s cruel death
  Still ringing in her ears, she took farewell. 
  “Dear uncle and my faithful men! grieve not: 
  I see a cloud, now looming yonder there,
  No bigger than the hand of man, that shall
  Expand and rain and water to purge all
  The land of th’ innocent blood shed on it,
  For mother India’s cup of woe is full,
  And but three decades more,—­there will come from
  The far-off ends of this vast globe of ours,—­
  A little island planted in the sea,—­
  A handful of a noble race to trade,
  And shall from thee ask for a plot of land,
  And they shall prosper for their valour and
  Shall be exalted for their righteousness. 
  They shall befriend the helpless and the poor,
  And like the streams that seek the ocean broad,
  The chickens that run to their mothers wings,
  The maidens helpless and forlorn, that court
  The succour of the chivalrous and the brave,
  The orphans poor, the bounty of the kind,
  All men of Ind, all races and all creeds
  Shall to their banner flock, to live in peace
  And amity; the tiger and the lamb
  Their thirst shall quench both from the selfsame brook. 
  The giant brute before the weakly sage
  Shall bow, and men shall fear to even gaze
  Upon the maidens that go forth alone,
  Adorned with naught but chastity, and from
  All lands the wisest shall revere our faith. 
  He that desires our homes to plunder and
  Sully the honour of our women, him
  Punishment terrible shall sure await. 
  Three hundred years more and the little plot
  Of land thou gavest shall grow and expand
  Into an empire huge, unwritten yet
  On hist’ry’s page, and shall surpass the dreams
  Of warriors bold in times of old, and like
  The creepers that, entwined around the oak,
  Luxuriant grow, safe from the storms that blow,
  And flow’rs give forth to beautify the scene,
  Her sons shall everlasting peace enjoy,
  And blessings, hitherto unknown to man—­
  The grandest scene for God to ever cast
  His loving eyes upon, and for the world
  Of man to wonder at, and there shall be
  One sway, the sway of reason and of truth;
  One creed, the creed of righteousness and love;
  And mercy for all living things on earth;
  One brotherhood, the brotherhood of man;
  One fatherhood, the fatherhood of God. 
  But hark! there comes a shout, and yonder runs
  Exulting Bukka to seize me alive. 
  But these kind flames are ready to save me. 
  Run, uncle, run at once to far-off lands
  And continue thy sway in safer climes.” 
  So saying, she leapt on the fun’ral pyre,
  And speedily to ashes were consumed
  The faithful wife and her departed lord. 
  The monarch, who thus from the Moslem ran,
  In honour of this noble maiden, reared
  A princely town,[5] and here the Saxon came,
  And mother India was for ever blest.