Argument—The Indian Government being minded
to discover the economic condition of their lands, sent
a Committee to inquire into it; and saw that it was good.
Scene—The wooded heights of Simla.
The Incarnation of the Government of India in the raiment
of the Angel of Plenty signs, to pianoforte accompaniment: —
1. “HOW sweet is the shepherd’s sweet life!
From the dawn to the even he strays —
He shall follow his sheep all the day
And his tongue shall be filled with praise.
(adagio dim.) Filled with praise!”
2. (largendo con sp.) Now this is the position,
Go make an inquisition
Into their real condition
As swiftly as ye may.
(p) Ay, paint our swarthy billions
The richest of vermillions
Ere two well-led cotillions
Have danced themselves away.
3. TURKISH PATROL, as able and intelligent Investigators
wind down the Himalayas:—
What is the state of the Nation?
What is its occupation?
Hi! get along, get along, get along—lend us the information!
(dim.) Census the byle and the yabu—capture a first-class Babu,
Set him to file Gazetteers—Gazetteers .
. . (ff) What is the state of the Nation, etc., etc.
INTERLUDE, from Nowhere in Particular, to stringed and Oriental instruments.
4. Our cattle reel beneath the yoke they bear—
The earth is iron and the skies are brass—
And faint with fervour of the flaming air
The languid hours pass.
5. The well is dry beneath the village tree—
The young wheat withers ere it reach a span,
And belts of blinding sand show cruelly
Where once the river ran.
6. Pray, brothers, pray, but to no earthly King—
Lift up your hands above the blighted grain,
Look westward—if they please, the Gods shall bring
Their mercy with the rain.
7. Look westward—bears the blue no brown cloud-bank?
Nay, it is written—wherefore should we fly?
On our own field and by our cattle’s flank
Lie down, lie down to die!
8. By the plumed heads of Kings
Where the tall corn springs
O’er the dead.
If they rust or rot we die,
If they ripen we are fed.
Very mighty is the power of our Kings!
9. Triumphal return to Simla of the Investigators, attired after
the manner of Dionysus, leading a pet tiger-cub in wreaths
of rhubarb-leaves, symbolical of India under medical treatment.
10. We have seen, we have written—behold it, the proof of our manifold toil!
In their hosts they assembled and told it—the tale of the Sons of the Soil.
We have said of the Sickness—“Where is it?”—and of Death—“It is far from our ken,”—
We have paid a particular visit to the affluent children of men.
We have trodden the mart and the well-curb—we hae stooped to the bield and the byre;
And the King may the forces of Hell curb for the People have all they desire!
Castanets and step-dance:—
11. Oh, the dom and the mag and the thakur and the thag,
And the nat and the brinjaree,
And the bunnia and the ryot are as happy and as quiet
And as plump as they can be!
Yes, the jain and the jat in his stucco-fronted hut,
And the bounding bazuga,
By the favour of the King, are as fat as anything,
They are—they are—they are!
Recitative— Government of India, with white satin wings
and electro-plated harp:—
13. Hired Band, brasses only, full chorus:—
We have our proper rations!