Gather her raven hair in one rich cluster,
Let the white champac light it, as a star
Gives to the dusky night a sudden lustre,
Shining afar
Shed fragrant oils upon her fragrant bosom,
Until the breathing air around grows sweet;
Scatter the languid jasmine's yellow blossom
Beneath her feet.
Those small white feet are bare—too soft are they
To tread on aught but flowers; and there is roll’d
Round the slight ankle, meet for such display,
The band of gold.
Chains and bright stones are on her arms and
neck;
What pleasant vanities are link'd with them,
Of happy hours, which youth delights to deck
With gold and gem.
She comes! So comes the Moon, when has she
found
A silvery path wherein through heaven to glide?
Fling the white veil—a summer cloud—around;
She is a bride!
And yet the crowd that gather at her side
Are pale, and every gazer holds his breath.
Eyes fill with tears unbidden, for the bride—
The bride of Death !
She gives away the garland from her hair,
She gives the gems that she will wear no more;
All the affections, whose love-signs they were,
Are gone before.
The red pile blazes—let the bride ascend,
And lay her head upon her husband's heart,
Now in a perfect unison to blend—
No more to part.
Related material
- Cultural Imperialism or Rescue? The British and Suttee
- Other Times, Other Cultures, Other Selves (a chapter in Barbara T. Gates, Victorian Suicide)
Bibliography
Landon, Latitia E. The Poetical Works of Miss Landon. Philadelphia: E.L. Cary and A. Hart, 1839. Hathi Trust Digital Library version of a copy in the New York Public Library. Web. 17 July 2020.
Last modified 17 July 2020