Receiving homage as it goes, Onward the mighty current flows, Dispensing, as with regal hand, Its bounteous blessings o’er the land: Type of that power whose mercies flow O’er all this wildering scene below. But ah! too oft its noble tide By horrid sacrifices dyed, Whilst bright self-immolating pyres Shed o’er the stream their flickering fires. Now from cool groves, whose mellow shades No prying ray of light invades, The low, fond cooings of the dove Tell ’tis the hour of peace and love; And light-winged zephyrs gently play O’er the Mimosa’s quivering spray. The setting sun its parting gleam Sheds over Gunga’s sacred stream, Which seems to blush as waning light Consigns her to the arms of night; And many a mosque and idol-fane Reflect the crimson hue of shame, Which slowly seems to ebb away The vital tide of dying day. By yon blue mountain’s brow afar Now twinkles bright the evening star; Translucent ray! the brightest gem That decks its glittering diadem. Now deeper shades invest the shore, The weary boatman rests his oar, Glides slowly, that his eye may seek The shelter of some friendly creek. Abroad the night winds freely rove, And countless fire-flies deck the grove. Swift-winged brilliants! gems of light! Bright jewels of the tropic night, Than which the diamond of the mine In richer lustre ne’er could shine! Now sparkling forth from nook and bay, Long-scattered fires succeed the day, And round them gathering, to their meal, The dusky forms of boatmen steal, Like wizard, demons of the wold, Who round a pile their orgies hold, Framing, on Scandinavian fell, Some direful charm or potent spell. The simple meal despatched, the song And merry drum the joy prolong; Or some light jocund tale gives birth To honest bursts of simple mirth. At length, the song and story past, Silence profound succeeds at last, By every sound unbroken, save The turtle’s splash or rippling wave. Thus by life’s woes and cares opprest, The weary spirit sinks to rest, And ebon pall and marble tomb Invest the closing scene with gloom.