And I shall slake their thirst,
But Fate has brought thee hither to-day
That thou shouldst be the first.
Old, so old are the temple-walls,
Love is older than they;
But I am the short-lived temple rose,
Blooming for thee to-day.

Thine am I, Prince, and only thine,
What is there more so say ?
If aught in thy heart incline to love
Let there be no delay!


The Rao of Ilore


I was sold to the Rao of Ilore,
Slender and tall was he.
When his litter carried him down the street
I peeped through the thatch to see.
Ah, the eyes of the Rao of Ilore,
My lover that was to be!

The hair that lay on his youthful brow
Was curled like an ocean wave;
His eyes were lit with a tender smile,
But his lips were soft and grave.
For sake of these things I was still with joy
When the silver coins were paid,