On An Engraving Of Hindoo Temples

LE the present careth for the past,

Too little—'tis not well!

For careless ones we

Beneath the mighty shadow it has cast.

Its blessings are around our daily path,

We share its mighty spoil,

We live on its great toil,

And yet how little gratitude it hath.

Look on these temples, they were as a

From whence to the far

The human mind went forth,

The moral sunshine of a world divine—That inward world which maketh of our

Its temporary home;

From whence those lightnings come,

That kindle from a far and better day.

The light that is of heaven shone there the

The elements of art,

Mankind's diviner part;

There was young science in its cradle nurst.

Mighty the legacies by mind bequeathed,

For glorious were its

Amid those giant fanes,

And mighty were the triumphs it achievedA woman's triumph mid them is imprest One who upon the

Flung the creative soul,

Disdainful of life's flowers and of its rest.

Vast was the labour, vast the enterprise,

For she was of a

Born to the lowest place,

Earth-insects, lacking wings whereon to rise.

How must that youthful cheek have lost its bloom,

How many a dream

Of early hope and

Must that young heart have closed on like a tomb.

Such throw life's flowers behind them, and

To ask the stars their

And from each ancient

Seek food to stay the mind's consuming fire.

Her triumph was complete and long, the

She struck are yet alive;

Not vainly did she

To leave her soul immortal on her words.

A great example has she left behind,

A lesson we should take,

Whose first task is to

The general wish to benefit our kind.

Our sword has swept o'er India; there remainsA nobler conquest far,

The mind's ethereal war,

That but subdues to civilize its plains.

Let us pay back the past, the debt we owe,

Let us around

Light, hope, intelligence,

Till blessings track our steps where'er we go.

O England, thine be the deliverer's meed,

Be thy great empire

By hearts made all thine own,

By thy free laws and thy immortal creed.