ATTAR SINGH.

Otago Witness, Issue 1825, 12 November 1886, Page 34

ATTAR SINGH.

This ballad was written by Sir Lepel Griffin, ansl the incidents related extend from 1840 to 1880. It is the story of an old Sikh sirdar, or chief, who, having served in one of our irregular cavalry regiments, comes to pay his last respects to his commanding officer before retiring on his pension. He has been superannuated, but like a true soldier hates the idea of putting off his harness and hanging up his sword on the wall. He cannot believe he is past work, and longs for just one more fight— one charge more at the head of his men. The first incident refers to Runjeet Singh driving the Afghans put of Peshawur, which they had occupied ; then he goes on to the Sutlej campaign, when the Sikhs crossed the Sutlej and fought us at Moodkhee 18th December 1845, Ferozeshah 22nd December 1845 (where we were so hardly pressed and the honours of the day so very doubtful), Buddiwal, Aliwal, and lastly Sobraon on the 10th February 1846. In those days, and up to the time of the Mutiny, our native regiments were almost exclusively composed of Hindon&tanis from Oude, the most eastern part of our dominion — hence the Sepoys were called " Poorbeahs," or men from the east, " Poorb," in contradistinction to the Punjab, in the west. At Sobraon the Sikhs had erected a number of batteries, and taken up a position covering the bridge of boats and the fords of Hari-ki-putton, by which they had come across the Sutlej, and by which, after they had lost the battle, they tried to get back into the Punjab ; but under the circumstances our guns made fearful havoc amongst the retiring crowds on the bridge and in the water. It was generally said at the time that had Sidar Tija Singh at the head of the Sikh cavalry charged us at a critical moment with the old battle cry of " Khalsaju-ke-jae 1 " he might have swept us from the field, instead of which he drew off, and his defection was attributed, and probably justly so, to a bribe he received from our frontier.

After the campaign we marched on Lahore and occupied it, putting Duleep Singh on the throne under a council of regency. In 1848 the Sikhs rose again, and we had the second Sikh war, with fights at Multau, Ramnugger, and Chillianwalla, which was a second Ferozeshah, and we were nearly beaten. Some of our European regiments were almost cut to pieces. The 14th Light Dragoons were beaten back and chased through our line bj the Sikh cavalry, who speared many of our artillerymen at their guns.

The last fight of the campaign was at Goojerat, the birthplace of Runjeet Singh, where we broke them thoroughly with our artillery, fire before we allowed our line to advance. Lord Gough was a gallant old soldier, and his arrangements for a battle used to be most excellent, but his hot Irish olood would never allow him to wait and carry out his prearranged plans. No sooner did the guns open fire than the old man would begin to fidget, and long before the proper.time he would give the order — "Let the infantry advance and give them the 'cowld stale' l" It was said that at Goojerat Lord Gough was enticed to the top of a high building, and the ladder quietly removed so that he, could not interfere. The consequence was 'that Goojerat was one of ■our most successful battles; where we scientifically broke the enemy with our artillery fire, so that when our line advanced there was comparatively little to do, and our loss was proportionately small.

When the Mutiny broke out the Sikhs joined vs — not so much for our own sakes as from the desire 'to avenge themselves on the Poorbeahs. At Delhi the Moree bastion was the most advancedwork of the city, and the fire from its heavy armament did much damage to us.

Fane's Horse, Hodson's Horse, and several other Sikh cavalry regiments took part in the China war, and lastly they did splendid service for us in the Afghan campaign, when they' helped to defend Sherpur, and afterwards went with General Roberts' column to Candahar. At Sherpur the Cabullees collected an immense force, and made one final rush. When that failed, they broke and retired sullenly. No amount of curses from their priests -would induce them to charge again* ■ As they retreated our Sikh cavalry followed, and drove them through most difficult, broken ground, and it was only when they took to the precipitous hills that our men left them. The Sikhs are, of course, all 0 fertile Punjab, but the true home of the Sikh is the "Manjha," the country lying" between the Sutlej and Ranee round the towns of Lahore, Muritsio, Kussow, Jhundiala, Turutaru, &c. The lands therefore in this neighbourhood are most coveted, and the gift here of a jhageer by the sirkar or Government is the most highly prized. I've come to make my salaam, Sahib. My soldiering days are done. Your father was ever a friend to me ; I'm glad to have seen his son. Well, yes, it's hard to be going! I'm an old man now, I know, But I come of a tough old fighting stock, and" I find • it hard to go— To feel that my life is .over, that my sword must hang on the wall, Never- again to leap from its sheath, at the ring of thetrumpet call. - ''• 1 think I could do some service yet, aye though my beard be white, For my heart still warms to the tramp of horse, and longs for the ruah of the fight. Ah well! it comes to us all, Sahib! I am old, I have hal my day, And the young men think me 'a dotard, and wish

mo out of the way. May bo they're right ! w.lien I was young, I should have done the same, But, I come of a tough old fighting stock, and the blood is hard to tame. I think they are not. what we were, who were bred in the wild old times, When every Sikh was a soldier* and Kunjeefc was in his prime. Before I was out of my boyhood I know what it was to feel The joy and the shock of the onset, and the bite of

a foemnn'b steel. I r. de by the side of my father when we scattered

the Aighau hordes, And I longed for tho day when the Khajsa host should roll on tho Sutledge fords, Not one of us feared for the hsue ; we saw your Poorbeahs* yield

* Poorbeahs— Angllce, Hindustanis.

To a half -armed rabble of tribesmen, we drove li 11 ® sheep from the field. v , -„t ».. So we longed for the day that we felt must come— an evil day when it came— " " ( t ,< , God's curse -on the cowardly traitors who sold the Khalsa te shame I My father fell at Sobraon. There was blocd on the old roan's 6 word, As foot by foot you bore us back to the brink of the flooded ford. We never broke, though around us the river was choked with dead, My God! how the grape tore through us from tho guns at the bridge'B head. I had bern unhorsed by a round shot, but I found my w ay to his side, And iUtl s 7iX^ Bn ' B Btirrup as lle P lun « ed I never Knew how the end came, for the fierce stream forced us apart ; shouid **>'**** We rhe^stern ce b rnkr 8 "«•"*« ™ «■««* on We were all unused to be couauerod • ™» »,«j taught us the lesson at last ; ' yy ° U bad But you left us with arms in our hands, Sahib to brood on the hopes of the past «""". w> And we knew we had pressed you sorely, that tho g»rae had been almost won ; And the Sikh blood boiled for another fieht evn » year of peace had run. B Well, you know how the train was fired again, you know how the Khalsa rose;- "* And if you bore us down at last, you found ug stubborn foes. Pull thirty years are gone since then, but still mv heart beats high, y To think how wild the battle raged, against the darkening sky. 1 led . n . troop at Cllillial " v al : they say I led it Near half of us were cold and stiff before the darkHGftß 10)1, How clear it all ib still! I seem to hear the roar of And^see Uie fair-haired Englioh come cheering at And swarm* of slavish Poorbeahs, the scorn of the Khalsa s sons ; They were falling fast, and the rush was spent before they reached the guns ; And then we burst upon them, all winded as they came, J And the shattered line wenfc reeling back, torn through with sword and flame. There was little to choose between us that nteht when the red sun set ; . We had taught those hounds a lesson they have never forgotten yet. J Ah ! yes, I know how it ended, how the big guns swept us away, s 6 BUfc s;vordst a haTdT g P0 ° rbeah Came Up fco ™ My God ! how I longed to see them, how I longed to heir once more The shrill short cheer of the charging lino high over the battle s roar ! But sHll the big guns thundered on, and the plain grew like a hell, * As hour on hour upon us poured the stream of shot and shell. We gave at last, what could we do !— and the Poorbeahs yelled on our tracks ; But for the guns and the white men they'd never have seen our backs : But for the guns and the white men we'd have hunted them through Lahore, And laid all Delhi in ashes. Sahib, and many a fat town more. J But what is the use of boasting now? My lands were tai<en away, And the Company gave me a pension of iust eight annas a day ; 6 And the Poorbeahs, swaggering about our streets as if they had done it all ; Curse them !-they wished they had let us be when we got their backs to the wall. We were all right, weary of yea-s of peace, when the murdering cowards rose, And never a one of us all but longed for a chance at his father's foes. I was first man up to the summons with a score good of Singhs at my heel. Rare times those were tor a soldier, wild months of battle and storm, And the horse well in to the thick of it, wherever we'd room to form. I rodo to Delhi with Hodson ; there were three bi my father's sons ; Two of them died at the foot of the ridge, in the line of the Moree's guns. I followed him on when the great town fell : he was cruel and cold, they said ; - The men were sobbing around mo the day that I saw him dead. It's not soft words that a soldier wants ; we knew what he was in fight, And we love the man who can lead us, aye, though his face be white. • • s I fought in China after that ; and now I've lived to see My grandson ride through Cabul with a Ghazi at his knee. Lord ! how the people scowled at us, us of the hated race, Scowl as they will, they little love to meetusface to face. Sherpur? well, yes, they faced us there-a score or so to one— And some of them repented it I think before we'd done. Five days we fought their gathering clans, and smote, and broke, and slew ; And then, the fifth, they bore us back, for we were faint and few ; And twice iive days we stood at bay behind the crumbling wall, And still they shrunk from tho one great rush that would have finished all. It came at last, one wintry dawn, before the break of light, A sud'len flare of beacon fires upon the Southern height ; A signal shot to east and west, and then with one wild swell Pealed up from fifty thousand throats the Ghazi "s bittloyoll. And the riHe flashes hemmed us round in one broad quivering ring ; And over head in fiery gu6ts tho lead began to sing ; And we clenched our frozen carbines in the darkness and the snow, And waiti d with fast beatiDg hearts the onset of the foo. Just one rush— and all was over." Sullenly they faced us still, - . - J Swarms of stubborn swordsmen gathering round their banners on the hill, And from field and wall around us, all about the broken plain, ' Rose the fittul rifle volleys, rose, and sank; and rose again. ,

But the battle cry was silent ; and the battle rush was sped ; ' ' ' , And their hearts were cold within them ;~and in vain their lpade's led ;' - • • And in vain then- Mullahs cursed them : whatthev could do they had done,. . , And we spoared them through the open, ere the sotting of the sun. - Well. Sahib, I've made the tale too long; I rode to Kandahnr, • . And .-aw once more an Afghan host broken and scattered n.r ; And now I'm Kick in Hindustan, and the times are times of peace, And I must la 3' my old sword down, and my fighting days muse cease. The great Sirkar's been good to me, for I've served the English well ; . - And my fields are broad by the Ravi, where mv father's kinsfolk dwell, And all the Punjab knows me, for my father's name was known • ■ ■■ • - In the days of the conquering Khalsa, when I was a boy half grown ; . > .>■- And since he died, nigh forty years, I've kepfc his memory bright, And men have heard of "Attar Singh in niariv'a stormy fight. • . J So I can rest with honour now, and lay'my harness And, the lauds that saw my father born will sec mv children die. . J But still— it's hard to bo going ! I'm an old man now, I know, - .. \. * But I : como of a Lough old lighting sU>6k, and I ftfel it hard to go, • ' 1 ktl ead the d°tT behiud mo> Sahib ' T^'U fi»4 bini

Your father was ever a friend to me, and the boy

- - ■will look to you. - . - - He's young, a"d the ways of men must change, and his ways are strange to me. And I've said sometimes he'd never be all his father*

used to be. I wronged him, ana I know it now ; when first our squadron shook— They fought like devils in broken ground, and our spen beasts swerved at the brook. I saw him turn, with a ringing curse, and a wrench

at his horse's head, And the first of us over the crumbling bank was the

boy the old house bred. , I've never entered nfc him since then ; he laughs, as

a young man will, Wheu I preach of the days that are long gone by, bub the Sikh blood's hot in him still ; And if ever tho time should come, Sahib— as come

full well it may— When all is not as smooth and fair as all things

teem to-day ; When foes are rising round you fast, and friends are few and cold ; And a yard or two of trusty steel is worth a prince's gold ; Remember Hodsoa trusted us, and trust the old

blood too, And as we followed him to death, our sons will follow you 1