Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls.
Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing;
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him,
And makes me poor indeed.
चाह नहीं मैं सुरबाला के
गहनों में गूँथा जाऊँ,
चाह नहीं प्रेमी-माला में
बिंध प्यारी को ललचाऊँ,
चाह नहीं, सम्राटों के शव
पर, हे हरि, डाला जाऊँ
चाह नहीं, देवों के सिर पर,
चढ़ूँ भाग्य पर इठलाऊँ!
मुझे तोड़ लेना वनमाली!
उस पथ पर देना तुम फेंक,
मातृभूमि पर शीश चढ़ाने
जिस पथ जावें वीर अनेक।
सिंहासन हिल उठे राजवंशों ने भृकुटी तानी थी, बूढ़े भारत में भी आई फिर से नयी जवानी थी, गुमी हुई आज़ादी की कीमत सबने पहचानी थी, दूर फिरंगी को करने की सबने मन में ठानी थी। चमक उठी सन सत्तावन में, वह तलवार पुरानी थी, बुंदेले हरबोलों के मुँह हमने सुनी कहानी थी, खूब लड़ी मर्दानी वह तो झाँसी वाली रानी थी।। ..................................................................................... जाओ रानी याद रखेंगे ये कृतज्ञ भारतवासी, यह तेरा बलिदान जगावेगा स्वतंत्रता अविनासी, होवे चुप इतिहास, लगे सच्चाई को चाहे फाँसी, हो मदमाती विजय, मिटा दे गोलों से चाहे झाँसी। तेरा स्मारक तू ही होगी, तू खुद अमिट निशानी थी, बुंदेले हरबोलों के मुँह हमने सुनी कहानी थी, खूब लड़ी मर्दानी वह तो झाँसी वाली रानी थी।।
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace, Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy; O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive; it is in pardoning that we are pardoned; and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
Background: In 'The Adventure Of The Three Garridebs', Sherlock Holmes and his friend Dr. Watson visit a criminal's house.
De Watson writes this: In an instant he (the criminal) had whisked out
a revolver from his breast and had fired two shots. I felt a sudden hot
sear as if a red-hot iron had been pressed to my thigh. There was a crash
as Holmes's pistol came down on the man's head. I had a vision of him sprawling
upon the floor with blood running down his face while Holmes rummaged him
for weapons. Then my friend's wiry arms were round me, and he was leading
me to a chair.
"You're not hurt, Watson?
For God's sake, say that you are not hurt!"
It was worth a wound -- it was
worth many wounds -- to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind
that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the
firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of
a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded
service culminated in that moment of revelation.
"It's nothing, Holmes. It's
a mere scratch."
He had ripped up my trousers with
"You are right," he
cried with an immense sigh of relief. "It is quite superficial."
His face set like flint as he glared at our prisoner, who was sitting up
with a dazed face. "By the Lord, it is as well for you. If you had
killed Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive. Now, sir,
what have you to say for yourself?"