True to her plighted virgin vow
                                        She seeks the altar's radiant blaze,
                                        Her ardent prayers to Brabma pours,
                                        And calm approaching death surveys.
                                        With India's gorgeous gems adorn'd,
                                        And all her flowers, which loveliest
blow:
                                      "Begin," she cries, "the
solemn rites,
                                      "And bid the fires around me glow.
                                        A cheerful victim at that shrine
                                      "Where nuptial truth can conquer
pain,
                                      " Around my brows rich garlands
twine,
                                        With roses strew the hallow'd plain.
                                      "Near yon deep grove the pyre
ascends,
                                        Where, pale in death, Calindus lies;
                                      "Soon shall these arms, no more
withheld,
                                      "Embrace him in his kindred skies.
                                      "Friends of my youth, your plaints
forbear,
                                        Nor with a tear these rites profane;
                                        Ere long, the sun, that now declines,
                                        Shall see me 'midst the sainted train.
                                        Mother, my last embrace receive;
                                        Take, sisters, take this parting
kiss:
                                      "A glorious martyr decks your
race,
                                      "And leaves you for the realms
of bliss.
                                      "Hark! from the clouds his voice
I hear;
                                      "Celestial visions round me fly!
                                      "I see the radiant shape appear,
                                      "His image beckons from the sky.
                                      "Haste, holy Bramins! light the
blaze
                                        "That bears me to my parted
love;
                                      "I fly, his seraph form to meet,
                                      "And join him in the realms above."
SHAW.