The Rao Of Ilore

A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)

I was sold to the Rao of Ilore,

Slender and tall was he.

When his litter carried him down the street

I peeped through the thatch to see.

Ah, the eyes of the Rao of Ilore,

My lover that was to be!

The hair that lay on his youthful brow

Was curled like an ocean wave;

His eyes were lit with a tender smile,

But his lips were soft and grave.

For sake of these things I was still with joy

When the silver coins were paid,

And they took me up to the Palace gates,

Delighted and unafraid.

Ah, the eyes of the Rao of Ilore,

May never their brilliance fade!

So near was I to the crown of life!

Ten thousand times, alas!

The Diwan leant from the latticed hall,

Looked down and saw me pass.

He begged for me from the Rao of Ilore,

Who answered, “She is thine,

Thou wert ever more than a father to me,

And thy desires are mine.”

Ah, the eyes of the Rao of Ilore

That never had looked in mine!

My years were spent in the Diwan’s Courts,

My youth died down that day.

For sake of thine own content of mind

My lost beloved, I pray

That never my Lord a love may know

Like that he threw away.

Ah, the eyes of the Rao of Ilore,

Who threw my life away!

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• Lucy by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lucy Gray [or Solitude] by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Louisa: After Accompanying Her On A Mountain Excursion by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
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• London, 1802 by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lines Written On A Blank Leaf In A Copy Of The Author’s Poem “The Excursion,” by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
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• Lines Written As A School Exercise At Hawkshead, Anno Aetatis 14 by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
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• Lines Left Upon The Seat Of A Yew-Tree, by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Laodamia by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• Lament Of Mary Queen Of Scots by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• It was an April morning: fresh and clear by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
• It Is No Spirit Who From Heaven Hath Flown by William Wordsworth by William Wordsworth
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