He strides, majestic, through his vast domain;
All India's jungles unto him belong.
To battle with the pards God made him strong,
And he of his sharp, glittering tusks is vain.

There, sheltered from the sun-fire and the rain,
Unconscious of the javelin or the thong,
He thunders forth his wild and wooing song,
When monstrous loves have thrilled his flesh again.

But when I see him, with all courage fled,
Chained as a captive on an alien ground,
Far from the torrid pleasaunce of his home,
I think of those great days, forever dead,
When Hannibal led his ancestry renowned
To crush the Imperial phalanxes of Rome!