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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=511191" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>With Scindia To Delhi</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">More than a hundred years ago, in a great battle fought near Delhi,<br> an Indian Prince rode fifty miles after the day was lost<br> with a beggar-girl, who had loved him and followed him in all his camps,<br> on his saddle-bow. He lost the girl when almost within sight of safety.<br> A Maratta trooper tells the story: --<br> <br> <br>The wreath of banquet overnight lay withered on the neck,<br> Our hands and scarfs were saffron-dyed for signal of despair,<br>When we went forth to Paniput to battle with the ~Mlech~, --<br> Ere we came back from Paniput and left a kingdom there.<br> <br>Thrice thirty thousand men were we to force the Jumna fords --<br> The hawk-winged horse of Damajee, mailed squadrons of the Bhao,<br>Stark levies of the southern hills, the Deccan's sharpest swords,<br> And he the harlot's traitor son the goatherd Mulhar Rao!<br> <br>Thrice thirty thousand men were we before the mists had cleared,<br> The low white mists of morning heard the war-conch scream and bray;<br>We called upon Bhowani and we gripped them by the beard,<br> We rolled upon them like a flood and washed their ranks away.<br> <br>The children of the hills of Khost before our lances ran,<br> We drove the black Rohillas back as cattle to the pen;<br>'Twas then we needed Mulhar Rao to end what we began,<br> A thousand men had saved the charge; he fled the field with ten!<br> <br>There was no room to clear a sword -- no power to strike a blow,<br> For foot to foot, ay, breast to breast, the battle held us fast --<br>Save where the naked hill-men ran, and stabbing from below<br> Brought down the horse and rider and we trampled them and passed.<br> <br>To left the roar of musketry rang like a falling flood --<br> To right the sunshine rippled red from redder lance and blade --<br>Above the dark ~Upsaras~* flew, beneath us plashed the blood,<br> And, bellying black against the dust, the Bhagwa Jhanda swayed.<br> <br>* The Choosers of the Slain.<br> <br>I saw it fall in smoke and fire, the banner of the Bhao;<br> I heard a voice across the press of one who called in vain: --<br>&quot;Ho! Anand Rao Nimbalkhur, ride! Get aid of Mulhar Rao!<br> Go shame his squadrons into fight -- the Bhao -- the Bhao is slain!&quot;<br> <br>Thereat, as when a sand-bar breaks in clotted spume and spray --<br> When rain of later autumn sweeps the Jumna water-head,<br>Before their charge from flank to flank our riven ranks gave way;<br> But of the waters of that flood the Jumna fords ran red.<br> <br>I held by Scindia, my lord, as close as man might hold;<br> A Soobah of the Deccan asks no aid to guard his life;<br>But Holkar's Horse were flying, and our chiefest chiefs were cold,<br> And like a flame among us leapt the long lean Northern knife.<br> <br>I held by Scindia -- my lance from butt to tuft was dyed,<br> The froth of battle bossed the shield and roped the bridle-chain --<br>What time beneath our horses' feet a maiden rose and cried,<br> And clung to Scindia, and I turned a sword-cut from the twain.<br> <br>(He set a spell upon the maid in woodlands long ago,<br> A hunter by the Tapti banks she gave him water there:<br>He turned her heart to water, and she followed to her woe.<br> What need had he of Lalun who had twenty maids as fair?)<br> <br>Now in that hour strength left my lord; he wrenched his mare aside;<br> He bound the girl behind him and we slashed and struggled free.<br>Across the reeling wreck of strife we rode as shadows ride<br> From Paniput to Delhi town, but not alone were we.<br> <br>'Twas Lutuf-Ullah Populzai laid horse upon our track,<br> A swine-fed reiver of the North that lusted for the maid;<br>I might have barred his path awhile, but Scindia called me back,<br> And I -- O woe for Scindia! -- I listened and obeyed.<br> <br>League after league the formless scrub took shape and glided by --<br> League after league the white road swirled behind the white mare's feet --<br>League after league, when leagues were done, we heard the Populzai,<br> Where sure as Time and swift as Death the tireless footfall beat.<br> <br>Noon's eye beheld that shame of flight, the shadows fell, we fled<br> Where steadfast as the wheeling kite he followed in our train;<br>The black wolf warred where we had warred, the jackal mocked our dead,<br> And terror born of twilight-tide made mad the labouring brain.<br> <br>I gasped: -- &quot;A kingdom waits my lord; her love is but her own.<br> A day shall mar, a day shall cure for her, but what for thee?<br>Cut loose the girl: he follows fast. Cut loose and ride alone!&quot;<br> Then Scindia 'twixt his blistered lips: -- &quot;My Queens' Queen shall she be!<br> <br>&quot;Of all who ate my bread last night 'twas she alone that came<br> To seek her love between the spears and find her crown therein!<br>One shame is mine to-day, what need the weight of double shame?<br> If once we reach the Delhi gate, though all be lost, I win!&quot;<br> <br>We rode -- the white mare failed -- her trot a staggering stumble grew, --<br> The cooking-smoke of even rose and weltered and hung low;<br>And still we heard the Populzai and still we strained anew,<br> And Delhi town was very near, but nearer was the foe.<br> <br>Yea, Delhi town was very near when Lalun whispered: -- &quot;Slay!<br> Lord of my life, the mare sinks fast -- stab deep and let me die!&quot;<br>But Scindia would not, and the maid tore free and flung away,<br> And turning as she fell we heard the clattering Populzai.<br> <br>Then Scindia checked the gasping mare that rocked and groaned for breath,<br> And wheeled to charge and plunged the knife a hand's-breadth in her side --<br>The hunter and the hunted know how that last pause is death --<br> The blood had chilled about her heart, she reared and fell and died.<br> <br>Our Gods were kind. Before he heard the maiden's piteous scream<br> A log upon the Delhi road, beneath the mare he lay --<br>Lost mistress and lost battle passed before him like a dream;<br> The darkness closed about his eyes -- I bore my King away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Rudyard+Kipling">Rudyard Kipling</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=511191" data-title="With Scindia To Delhi de Rudyard Kipling" data-description="More than a hundred years ago, in a great battle fought near Delhi,
 an Indian Prince rode fifty miles after the day was lost
 with a beggar-girl, who had loved him and followed him in all his camps,
 on his saddle-bow. He lost the girl when almos..."></div>
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