When Nadir asked a princess for his son,
And Delhi's throne required his pedigree,
He stared upon the messenger as one
Who should have known his birth of bravery.
"Go back," he cried, in undissembled scorn,
"And bear this answer to your waiting lord:--
'My child is noble! for, though lowly born,
He is the son and grandson of the _Sword_!'"