Air:--"Come into the Garden, Maud."

Come into the pawnee, love, For the dark pagodas have flown, Come into the pawnee, love, I am here at the dhoby alone; And the catamarans are wafted abroad, And the musk of the Tahsildar blown.

A beautiful petal has fallen From the spray of the purple peon; The crystal mofussil is rippling In the smile of the jutka moon; And the distant cheetahs are warbling A pensive cardamom tune.

Arise, O my tattie, my love! Awake, O my tiffin, my dear! Come into the pawnee, love, For thy faithful chuckrum is here. The tappal sighs, 'She is late, she is late!' The banghy whispers, 'She's near!'

She is coming, my godown, my ghaut! She is coming, my dawk, my sweet! My cutcherry leaps, and my tope In my bosom begins to beat,— O my love, my massoolah, my ghee, Thy poochie is at thy feet!