Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Asia: Vols. XXI–XXIII. 1876–79.
Ode to an Indian Gold Coin
By John Leyden (1775–1811)S
What vanity has brought thee here?
How can I love to see thee shine
So bright, whom I have bought so dear?
The tent-ropes flapping lone I hear
For twilight converse, arm in arm,
The jackal’s shriek bursts on mine ear
When mirth and music wont to charm.
Where cane-tufts shadow all the wild,
Sweet visions haunt my waking dreams,
Of Teviot loved while still a child,
Of castled rock, stupendous piled
By Esk or Eden’s classic wave,
Where loves of youth and friendship smiled,
Uncursed by thee, vile, yellow slave!
The perished bliss of youth’s first prime,
That once so bright on fancy played,
Revives no more in after-time:
Far from my sacred natal clime,
I haste to an untimely grave;
The daring thoughts that soared sublime
Are sunk in Ocean’s Southern wave.
Gleams baneful as the tomb-fire drear;
A gentle vision comes by night
My lonely widow’s heart to cheer:
Her eyes are dim with many a tear,
That once were guiding-stars to mine;
Her fond heart throbs with many a fear!
I cannot bear to see thee shine.
I left a heart that loved me true,
I crossed the tedious ocean wave,
To roam in climes unkind and new.
The cold wind of the stranger blew
Chill on my withered heart; the grave
Dark and untimely met my view,—
And all for thee, vile, yellow slave!
A wanderer’s banished heart forlorn,
Now that his frame the lightning-shock
Of sun-rays tipped with death has borne
From love? from friendships, country torn,
To memory’s fond regrets the prey?
Vile slave, thy yellow dross I scorn!
Go mix thee with thy kindred clay!