Up to the sky, his head so fast was set, And so he lay, and strove to rest himself, But vainly; the sharp cords entered his flesh, The dews sank on his shuddering skin; the Moon Rose, like a fire, among the mango boughs, And, slowly wending on her westward way, Smote him with deadly influence: so night passed, A night as long as three; the chilly dawn Came, grey, and weakly struggling with the Moon, Then threw a red flush over all the East, Whereat the Moon turned white, and hid herself, While the great Orb that is her lord arose, And swiftly mounted high: his pain increased, His body streamed, his brain was agonised, His sense was reeling; suddenly there came A tingling stillness on his ears; his eyes Closed; and he scarcely knew of one who said, “Let be; unbind him; ’tis a warrior good.” Long days the fever lasted, but his strength, Nursed by the breezes of a hardier clime, Would not desert him; so that he arose, A bold, refreshed young giant: then the Chief Spoke soothing words; and Michael hid his wrath, And answered calmly; till they made them terms, That Michael gave the service of his skill To tame those wild Mahrattas, ruling them To discipline, that they might grow more fierce, Like dogs, that wreak on foes their masters’ will. IV. Time held his course; the strong-willed man of blood Prospered in all he undertook, and throve, And gathered stores, and seemed to casual eyes A happy child of Fortune; yet there burned Two unextinguished furnaces of woe Within him—lust of gold and of revenge: For his was not a spirit that e’er could yield, Or ever cease to think upon its wrongs. And therefore watched he, many days and years, How he might compass his employer’s ruin, And yet not risk his fortunes; the last spark Of holier fire, his love for that fair girl, That cottage-flower of purity and truth, Margaret, the sister of his boyhood’s friend— That spark still smouldered in some inmost nook Of his sin-darkened bosom, for the fumes Of thought debased, rose ever, like a smoke, Dimming the smiles of Nature; the carouse, The fierce extremes of dalliance and of blood, Had almost made him something less than Man. At length came round the time he waited for; The fraud and rapine of the prince he served Rose to such height, as seemed, to the English chiefs A source of fear, if not at once abridged; And thereupon, they issued words of War. Full long the Rajah treated, hoping still, By terms, to pacify the alien power Which, even then, was growing terrible; But each concession, made a day too late,