To India My Native Land
My country! in thy day of glory past
A beautious halo circled round thy brow,
And worshipped as a deity thou wast.
Where is that glory, where that reverence now?
Thy eagle pinion is chained down at last.
And gorvelling in the lowly dust art thou;
Thy minstrel hath no wreath to weave for thee
Save the sad story of thy misery!
Well- let me dive into the depths of time,
And bring from out the ages that have rolled
A few small fragments or those wrecks sublime,
Which human eyes may never more behold;
And let the guerdon of my labour be
My fallen country! one kind wish from thee!
--Henry Louis Vivian Derozio
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