Chapter II: Preface (2)

8. Then to the garden of the Deity Ereenia led the maid. In the mid garden tower'd a giant Tree; Rock-rooted on a mountain-top, it grew, Rear'd its unrivall'd head on high, And stretch'd a thousand branches o'er the sky, Drinking with all its leaves celestial dew. Lo! where from thence as from a living well A thousand torrents flow! For still in one perpetual shower, Like diamond drops, etherial waters fell From every leaf of all its ample bower. Rolling adown the steep From that aerial height, Through the deep shade of aromatic trees, Half-seen, the cataracts shoot their gleams of light, And pour upon the breeze Their thousand voices; far away the roar, In modulations of delightful sound, Half-heard and ever varying, floats around. Below, an ample Lake expanded lies, Blue as the o'er-arching skies; Forth issuing from that lovely Lake, {66} A thousand rivers water Paradise. Full to the brink, yet never overflowing, They cool the amorous gales, which, ever blowing, O'er their melodious surface love to stray; Then winging back their way, Their vapours to the parent Tree repay; And ending thus where they began, And feeding thus the source from whence they came, The eternal rivers of the Swerga ran, For ever renovate, yet still the same.

9. On that etherial Lake whose waters lie Blue and transpicuous, like another sky, The Elements had rear'd their King's abode. A strong controuling power their strife suspended, And there their hostile essences they blended, To form a Palace worthy of the God. Built on the Lake the waters were its floor; And here its walls were water arch'd with fire, And here were fire with water vaulted o'er; And spires and pinnacles of fire Round watery cupolas aspire, And domes of rainbow rest on fiery towers; {67} And roofs of flame are turreted around With cloud, and shafts of cloud with flame are bound. Here, too, the Elements for ever veer, Ranging around with endless interchanging; Pursued in love, and so in love pursuing, In endless revolutions here they roll; For ever their mysterious work renewing, The parts all shifting, still unchanged the whole. Even we on earth, at intervals, descry Gleams of the glory, streaks of flowing light, Openings of heaven, and streams that flash at night In fitful splendour, through the northern sky.

10. Impatient of delay, Ereenia caught The Maid aloft, and spread his wings abroad, And bore her to the presence of the God. There Indra sate upon his throne reclin'd, Where Devetas adore him; The lute of Nared, warbling on the wind, All tones of magic harmony combin'd To sooth his troubled mind, While the dark-eyed Apsaras danced before him. In vain the God-musician played, {68} In vain the dark-eyed Nymphs of Heaven essay'd To charm him with their beauties in the dance; And when he saw the mortal Maid appear, Led by the heroic Glendoveer, A deeper trouble fill'd his countenance. What hast thou done, Ereenia, said the God, Bringing a mortal here? And while he spake his eye was on the Maid. The look he gave was solemn, not severe; No hope to Kailyal it convey'd, And yet it struck no fear; There was a sad displeasure in his air, But pity, too, was there.

EREENIA. Hear me, O Indra! On the lower earth I found this child of man, by what mishap I know not, lying in the lap of death. Aloft I bore her to our Father's grove; Not having other thought, than when the gales Of bliss had heal'd her, upon earth again To leave its lovely daughter. Other thoughts Arose, when Casyapa declar'd her fate; For she is one who groans beneath the power {69} Of the dread Rajah, terrible alike To men and Gods. His son, dead Arvalan, Arm'd with a portion, Indra, of thy power Already wrested from thee, persecutes The Maid, the helpless one, the innocent. What then behov'd me but to waft her here To my own Bower of Bliss? what other choice? The spirit of foul Arvalan, not yet Hath power to enter here; here thou art yet Supreme, and yet the Swerga is thine own.

INDRA. No child of man, Ereenia, in the Bowers Of Bliss may sojourn, till he hath put off His mortal part; for on mortality Time and Infirmity and Death attend, Close followers they, and in their mournful train Sorrow and Pain and Mutability: Did they find entrance here, we should behold Our joys, like earthly summers, pass away. Those joys perchance may pass; a stronger hand May wrest my sceptre, and unparadise The Swerga; . . . but, Ereenia, if we fall, Let it be Fate's own arm that casts us down, {70} We will not rashly hasten and provoke The blow, nor bring ourselves the ruin on.

EREENIA. Fear courts the blow. Fear brings the ruin on. Needs must the chariot-wheels of Destiny Crush him who throws himself before their track, Patient and prostrate.

INDRA. All may yet be well. Who knows but Veeshnoo will descend, and save, Once more incarnate?

EREENIA. Look not there for help, Nor build on unsubstantial hope thy trust! Our Father Casyapa hath said he turns His doubtful eyes to Seeva, even as thou Dost look to him for aid. But thine own strength Should for thine own salvation be put forth; Then might the higher powers approving see And bless the brave resolve . . . Oh, that my arm Could wield yon lightnings which play idly there, {71} In inoffensive radiance, round thy head! The Swerga should not need a champion now, Nor Earth implore deliverance still in vain!

INDRA. Thinkest thou I want the will? rash Son of Heaven, What if my arm be feeble as thine own Against the dread Kehama? He went on Conquering in irresistible career, Till his triumphant car had measur'd o'er The insufficient earth, and all the kings Of men received his yoke; then had he won His will, to ride upon their necks elate, And crown his conquests with the sacrifice That should, to men and gods, proclaim him Lord And Sovereign Master of the vassal World, Sole Rajah, the Omnipotent below. The steam of that portentous sacrifice Arose to Heaven. Then was the hour to strike. Then in the consummation of his pride, His height of glory, then the thunder-bolt Should have gone forth, and hurl'd him from his throne Down to the fiery floor of Padalon, To everlasting burnings, agony {72} Eternal, and remorse which knows no end. That hour went by: grown impious in success, By prayer and penances he wrested now Such power from Fate, that soon, if Seeva turn not His eyes on earth, and no Avatar save, Soon will he seize the Swerga for his own, Roll on through Padalon his chariot wheels, Tear up the adamantine bolts which lock The accurst Asuras to its burning floor, And force the drink of Immortality From Yamen's charge . . . Vain were it now to strive; My thunder cannot pierce the sphere of power Wherewith, as with a girdle, he is bound.

KAILYAL. Take me to earth, O gentle Deveta! Take me again to earth! This is no place Of hope for me! . . . my Father still must bear His curse . . . he shall not bear it all alone; Take me to earth, that I may follow him! . . . I do not fear the Almighty Man! the Gods Are feeble here; but there are higher powers Who will not turn their eyes from wrongs like ours; Take me to earth, O gentle Deveta! . . .

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11. Saying thus she knelt, and to his knees she clung, And bow'd her head, in tears and silence praying. Rising anon, around his neck she flung Her arms, and there with folded hands she hung, And fixing on the guardian Glendoveer Her eyes, more eloquent than Angel's tongue, Again she cried, There is no comfort here! I must be with my Father in his pain . . . Take me to earth, O Deveta, again!

12. Indra with admiration heard the maid. O Child of Earth, he cried, Already in thy spirit thus divine, Whatever weal or woe betide, Be that high sense of duty still thy guide, And all good Powers will aid a soul like thine. Then turning to Ereenia, thus he said, Take her where Ganges hath its second birth, Below our sphere, and yet above the earth: There may Ladurlad rest beyond the power Of the dread Rajah, till the fated hour.

VIII. THE SACRIFICE.

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1. Dost thou tremble, O Indra, O God of the Sky, Why slumber those thunders of thine? Dost thou tremble on high, . . . Wilt thou tamely the Swerga resign, . . . Art thou smitten, O Indra, with dread? Or seest thou not, seest thou not, Monarch divine, How many a day to Seeva's shrine Kehama his victim hath led? Nine and ninety days are fled, Nine and ninety steeds have bled; One more, the rite will be complete, One victim more; and this the dreadful day! {75} Then will the impious Rajah seize thy seat, And wrest the thunder-sceptre from thy sway. Along the mead the hallowed steed Yet bends at liberty his way; At noon his consummating blood will flow. O day of woe! above, below, That blood confirms the Almighty Tyrant's reign! Thou tremblest, O Indra, O God of the Sky, Thy thunder is vain! Thou tremblest on high for thy power! But where is Veeshnoo at this hour? But where is Seeva's eye? Is the Destroyer blind? Is the Preserver careless for mankind?

2. Along the mead the hallowed Steed Still wanders wheresoever he will, O'er hill, or dale, or plain; No human hand hath trick'd that mane From which he shakes the morning dew; His mouth has never felt the rein, His lips have never froth'd the chain; For pure of blemish and of stain, {76} His neck unbroke to mortal yoke, Like Nature free the Steed must be, Fit offering for the Immortals he. A year and day the Steed must stray Wherever chance may guide his way, Before he fall at Seeva's shrine; The year and day have past away, Nor touch of man hath marr'd the rite divine. And now at noon the Steed must bleed; The perfect rite to-day must force the meed Which Fate reluctant shudders to bestow; Then must the Swerga-God Yield to the Tyrant of the World below; Then must the Devetas obey The Rajah's rod, and groan beneath his hateful sway.

3. The Sun rides high; the hour is nigh; The multitude who long, Lest aught should mar the rite, In circle wide on every side, Have kept the Steed in sight, Contract their circle now, and drive him on. Drawn in long files before the Temple-court, {77} The Rajah's archers flank an ample space; Here, moving onward still, they drive him near, Then, opening, give him way to enter here.

4. Behold him, how he starts and flings his head! On either side in glittering order spread, The archers ranged in narrowing lines appear; The multitude behind close up the rear With moon-like bend, and silently await The awful end, The rite that shall from Indra wrest his power. In front, with far-stretch'd walls, and many a tower Turret and dome and pinnacle elate, The huge Pagoda seems to load the land: And there before the gate The Bramin band expectant stand, The axe is ready for Kehama's hand.

5. Hark! at the Golden Palaces The Bramin strikes the time! One, two, three, four, a thrice-told chime, And then again, one, two. {78} The bowl that in its vessel floats, anew Must fill and sink again, Then will the final stroke be due. The Sun rides high, the noon is nigh, And silently, as if spell-bound, The multitude expect the sound.

6. Lo! how the Steed, with sudden start, Turns his quick head to every part; Long files of men on every side appear. The sight might well his heart affright, And yet the silence that is here Inspires a stranger fear; For not a murmur, not a sound Of breath or motion rises round, No stir is heard in all that mighty crowd; He neighs, and from the temple-wall The voice re-echoes loud, Loud and distinct, as from a hill Across a lonely vale, when all is still.

7. Within the temple, on his golden throne {79} Reclin'd, Kehama lies, Watching with steady eyes The perfum'd light that, burning bright, Metes out the passing hours. On either hand his eunuchs stand, Freshening with fans of peacock-plumes the air, Which, redolent of all rich gums and flowers, Seems, overcharged with sweets, to stagnate there. Lo! the time-taper's flame ascending slow Creeps up its coil toward the fated line; Kehama rises and goes forth, And from the altar, ready where it lies, He takes the axe of sacrifice.

8. That, instant from the crowd, with sudden shout, A man sprang out To lay upon the Steed his hand profane. A thousand archers, with unerring eye, At once let fly, And with their hurtling arrows fill the sky. In vain they fall upon him fast as rain; He bears a charmed life, which may defy All weapons, . . . and the darts that whizz around, {80} As from an adamantine panoply Repell'd, fall idly to the ground. Kehama clasp'd his hands in agony, And saw him grasp the hallowed courser's mane, Spring up with sudden bound, And with a frantic cry, And madman's gesture, gallop round and round.

9. They seize, they drag him to the Rajah's feet. What doom will now be his, . . what vengeance meet Will he, who knows no mercy, now require? The obsequious guards around, with blood-hound eye, Look for the word, in slow-consuming fire, By piece-meal death, to make the wretch expire, Or hoist his living carcase, hook'd on high, To feed the fowls and insects of the sky; Or if aught worse inventive cruelty To that remorseless heart of royalty Might prompt, accursed instruments they stand To work the wicked will with wicked hand. Far other thoughts were in the multitude; Pity, and human feelings, held them still; And stifled sighs and groans supprest were there, {81} And many a secret curse and inward prayer Call'd on the insulted Gods to save mankind. Expecting some new crime in fear they stood, Some horror which would make the natural blood Start, with cold shudderings thrill the sinking heart, Whiten the lip, and make the abhorrent eye Roll back and close, prest in for agony.

10. How then fared he for whom the mighty crowd Suffered in spirit thus, . . . how then fared he? A ghastly smile was on his lip, his eye Glared with a ghastly hope, as he drew nigh, And cried aloud, Yes, Rajah! it is I! And wilt thou kill me now? The countenance of the Almighty Man Fell when he knew Ladurlad, and his brow Was clouded with despite, as one ashamed. That wretch again! indignant he exclaim'd, And smote his forehead, and stood silently Awhile in wrath: then, with ferocious smile, And eyes which seem'd to darken his dark cheek, Let him go free! he cried; he hath his Curse, And Vengeance upon him can wreak no worse . . . {82} But ye who did not seize him . . . tremble ye!

11. He bade the archers pile their weapons there: No manly courage fill'd the slavish band, No sweetening vengeance rous'd a brave despair. He call'd his horsemen then, and gave command To hem the offenders in, and hew them down. Ten thousand scymitars at once uprear'd, Flash up, like waters sparkling to the sun; A second time the fatal brands appear'd Lifted aloft, . . . they glitter'd then no more, Their light was gone, their splendour quenched in gore. At noon the massacre begun, And night clos'd in before the work of death was done.

IX. THE HOME-SCENE.

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1. The steam of slaughter from that place of blood Spread o'er the tainted sky. Vultures, for whom the Rajah's tyranny So oft had furnish'd food, from far and nigh Sped to the lure: aloft with joyful cry, Wheeling around, they hover'd over head; Or, on the temple perch'd, with greedy eye, Impatient watch'd the dead. Far off the tygers, in the inmost wood, Heard the death-shriek, and snuff'd the scent of blood. They rose, and through the covert went their way, Couch'd at the forest edge, and waited for their prey.

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2. He who had sought for death went wandering on, The hope which had inspir'd his heart was gone, Yet a wild joyance still inflam'd his face, A smile of vengeance, a triumphant glow. Where goes he? . . . Whither should Ladurlad go! Unwittingly the wretch's footsteps trace Their wonted path toward his dwelling-place; And wandering on, unknowing where, He starts at finding he is there.

3. Behold his lowly home, By yonder broad-bough'd plane o'ershaded: There Marriataly's image stands, And there the garland twin'd by Kailyal's hands Around its brow hath faded. The Peacocks, at their master's sight, Quick from the leafy thatch alight, And hurry round, and search the ground, And veer their glancing necks from side to side, Expecting from his hand Their daily dole, which erst the maid supplied, Now all too long denied.

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4. But as he gaz'd around, How strange did all accustom'd sights appear! How differently did each familiar sound Assail his altered ear! Here stood the marriage bower, Rear'd in that happy hour When he, with festal joy and youthful pride, Had brought Yedillian home, his beauteous bride. Leaves not its own, and many a borrowed flower, Had then bedeck'd it, withering ere the night; But he who look'd, from that auspicious day, For years of long delight, And would not see the marriage-bower decay, There planted and nurst up, with daily care, The sweetest herbs that scent the ambient air, And train'd them round to live and flourish there. Nor when dread Yamen's will Had call'd Yedillian from his arms away, Ceas'd he to tend the marriage-bower, but still, Sorrowing, had drest it like a pious rite Due to the monument of past delight.

5. He took his wonted seat before the door, . . . {86} Even as of yore, When he was wont to view, with placid eyes, His daughter at her evening sacrifice. Here were the flowers which she so carefully Did love to rear for Marriataly's brow; Neglected now, Their heavy heads were drooping, over-blown: All else appeared the same as heretofore, All . . . save himself alone; How happy then, . . . and now a wretch for evermore!

6. The market-flag which hoisted high, From far and nigh, Above yon cocoa grove is seen, Hangs motionless amid the sultry sky. Loud sounds the village-drum: a happy crowd Is there; Ladurlad hears their distant voices, But with their joy no more his heart rejoices; And how their old companion now may fare, Little they know, and less they care. The torment he is doom'd to hear Was but to them the wonder of a day, A burthen of sad thoughts soon put away.

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7. They knew not that the wretched man was near, And yet it seem'd, to his distempered ear, As if they wrong'd him with their merriment. Resentfully he turn'd away his eyes, Yet turn'd them but to find Sights that enraged his mind With envious grief more wild and overpowering. The tank which fed his fields was there, and there The large-leav'd lotus on the waters flowering. There, from the intolerable heat, The buffaloes retreat; Only their nostrils rais'd to meet the air, Amid the sheltering element they rest. Impatient of the sight, he clos'd his eyes, And bow'd his burning head, and in despair Calling on Indra, . . . Thunder-God! he said, Thou owest to me alone this day thy throne, Be grateful, and in mercy strike me dead!

8. Despair had rous'd him to that hopeless prayer, Yet thinking on the heavenly Powers, his mind Drew comfort; and he rose and gather'd flowers, {88} And twin'd a crown for Marriataly's brow; And taking then her withered garland down, Replaced it with the blooming coronal. Not for myself, the unhappy Father cried, Not for myself, O mighty one! I pray, Accursed as I am beyond thy aid! But, oh! be gracious still to that dear Maid Who crown'd thee with these garlands day by day, And danced before thee aye at even-tide In beauty and in pride. O Marriataly, wheresoe'er she stray Forlorn and wretched, still be thou her guide!

9. A loud and fiendish laugh replied, Scoffing his prayer. Aloft, as from the air, The sound of insult came: he look'd, and there The visage of dead Arvalan came forth, Only his face amid the clear blue sky, With long-drawn lips of insolent mockery, And eyes whose lurid glare Was like a sulphur fire, Mingling with darkness ere its flames expire.

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10. Ladurlad knew him well: enraged to see The cause of all his misery, He stoop'd and lifted from the ground A stake, whose fatal point was black with blood; The same wherewith his hand had dealt the wound, When Arvalan, in hour with evil fraught, For violation seiz'd the shrieking Maid. Thus arm'd, in act again to strike he stood, And twice with inefficient wrath essay'd To smite the impassive shade. The lips of scorn their mockery-laugh renew'd, And Arvalan put forth a hand and caught The sun-beam, and condensing there its light, Upon Ladurlad turn'd the burning stream. Vain cruelty! the stake Fell in white ashes from his hold, but he Endur'd no added pain; his agony Was full, and at the height; The burning stream of radiance nothing harm'd him: A fire was in his heart and brain, And from all other flame Kehama's Curse had charm'd him.

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11. Anon the Spirit wav'd a second hand; Down rush'd the obedient whirlwind from the sky; Scoop'd up the sand like smoke, and from on high Shed the hot shower upon Ladurlad's head. Where'er he turns, the accursed Hand is there; East, West, and North and South, on every side The Hand accursed waves in air to guide The dizzying storm; ears, nostrils, eyes and mouth, It fills and choaks, and, clogging every pore, Taught him new torments might be yet in store. Where shall he turn to fly? behold his house In flames; uprooted lies the marriage-bower, The Goddess buried by the sandy shower. Blindly, with staggering step, he reels about, And still the accursed Hand pursued, And still the lips of scorn their mockery laugh renew'd.

12. What, Arvalan! hast thou so soon forgot The grasp of Pollear? Wilt thou still defy The righteous Powers of Heaven? or know'st thou not That there are yet superior Powers on high, {91} Son of the Wicked? . . . Lo, in rapid flight, Ereenia hastens from the etherial height; Bright is the sword celestial in his hand, Like lightning in its path athwart the sky. He comes and drives, with angel-arm, the blow. Oft have the Asuras, in the wars of Heaven, Felt that keen sword by arm angelic driven, And fled before it from the fields of light. Thrice through the vulnerable shade The Glendoveer impels the griding blade. The wicked Shade flies howling from his foe. So let that spirit foul Fly, and for impotence of anger, howl, Writhing with pain, and o'er his wounds deplore; Worse punishment hath Arvalan deserv'd, And righteous Fate hath heavier doom in store.

13. Not now the Glendoveer pursued his flight. He bade the Ship of Heaven alight, And gently there he laid The astonished Father by the happy Maid, The Maid now shedding tears of deep delight. {92} Beholding all things with incredulous eyes, Still dizzy with the sand-storm, there he lay, While sailing up the skies, the living Bark, Through air and sunshine, held its heavenly way.

X. MOUNT MERU.

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1. Swift through the sky the vessel of the Suras Sails up the fields of ether like an Angel. Rich is the freight, O Vessel, that thou bearest! Beauty and Virtue, Fatherly cares and filial veneration, Hearts which are prov'd and strengthen'd by affliction, Manly resentment, fortitude and action, Womanly goodness; All with which Nature halloweth her daughters, Tenderness, truth and purity and meekness, Piety, patience, faith and resignation, {94} Love and devotement. Ship of the Gods! how richly art thou laden! Proud of the charge, thou voyagest rejoicing. Clouds float around to honour thee, and Evening Lingers in heaven.

2. A Stream descends on Meru mountain; None hath seen its secret fountain; It had its birth, so sages say, Upon the memorable day When Parvati presumed to lay, In wanton play, Her hands, too venturous Goddess in her mirth, On Seeva's eyes, the light and life of Earth. Thereat the heart of the Universe stood still; The Elements ceas'd their influences; the Hours Stopt on the eternal round; Motion and Breath, Time, Change, and Life and Death, In sudden trance opprest, forgot their powers. A moment, and the dread eclipse was ended; But, at the thought of Nature thus suspended, The sweat on Seeva's forehead stood, And Ganges thence upon the World descended, {95} The Holy River, the Redeeming Flood.

3. None hath seen its secret fountain; But on the top of Meru mountain, Which rises o'er the hills of earth, In light and clouds it hath its mortal birth. Earth seems that pinnacle to rear Sublime above this worldly sphere, Its cradle, and its altar, and its throne; And there the new-born River lies Outspread beneath its native skies, As if it there would love to dwell Alone and unapproachable. Soon flowing forward, and resign'd To the will of the Creating Mind, It springs at once, with sudden leap, Down from the immeasurable steep. From rock to rock, with shivering force rebounding, The mighty cataract rushes; Heaven around, Like-thunder, with the incessant roar resounding, And Meru's summit shaking with the sound. Wide spreads the snowy foam, the sparkling spray Dances aloft; and ever there, at morning, {96} The earliest, sun-beams haste to wing their way, With rain-bow wreaths the holy flood adorning; And duly the adoring Moon at night Sheds her white glory there, And in the watery air Suspends her halo-crowns of silver light.

4. A mountain-valley in its blessed breast Receives the stream, which there delights to lie, Untroubled and at rest, Beneath the untainted sky. There in a lovely lake it seems to sleep, And thence, through many a channel dark and deep, Their secret way the holy Waters wind, Till, rising underneath the root Of the Tree of Life on Himakoot, Majestic forth they flow to purify mankind.

5. Toward this Lake, above the nether sphere, The living Bark, with angel eye, Directs its course along the obedient sky. Kehama hath not yet dominion here; {97} And till the dreaded hour, When Indra by the Rajah shall be driven Dethron'd from Heaven, Here may Ladurlad rest beyond his power. The living Bark alights; the Glendoveer Then lays Ladurlad by the blessed Lake; . . . O happy Sire, and yet more happy Daughter! The etherial gales his agony aslake, His daughter's tears are on his cheek, His hand is in the water; The innocent man, the man opprest, Oh joy! . . . hath found a place of rest Beyond Kehama's sway, His curse extends not here; his pains have past away.

6. O happy Sire, and happy Daughter! Ye on the banks of that celestial water Your resting place and sanctuary have found. What! hath not then their mortal taint defil'd The sacred solitary ground? Vain thought! . . the Holy Valley smil'd Receiving such a sire and child; Ganges, who seem'd asleep to lie, {98} Beheld them with benignant eye, And ripped round melodiously, And roll'd her little waves, to meet And welcome their beloved feet. The gales of Swerga thither fled, And heavenly odours there were shed About, below, and overhead; And Earth, rejoicing in their tread, Hath built them up a blooming Bower, Where every amaranthine flower Its deathless blossom interweaves With bright and undecaying leaves.

7. Three happy beings are there here, The Sire, the Maid, the Glendoveer. A fourth approaches, . . . who is this That enters in the Bower of Bliss? No form so fair might painter find Among the daughters of mankind; For death her beauties hath refin'd, And unto her a form hath given, Fram'd of the elements of Heaven; Pure dwelling-place for perfect mind. {99} She stood and gaz'd on sire and child; Her tongue not yet had power to speak, The tears were streaming down her cheek; And when those tears her sight beguil'd, And still her faultering accents fail'd, The Spirit, mute and motionless, Spread out her arms for the caress, Made still and silent with excess Of love and painful happiness.

8. The Maid that lovely form survey'd; Wistful she gaz'd, and knew her not; But Nature to her heart convey'd A sudden thrill, a startling thought, A feeling many a year forgot, Now like a dream anew recurring, As if again in every vein Her mother's milk was stirring. With straining neck and earnest eye She stretch'd her hands imploringly, As if she fain would have her nigh, Yet fear'd to meet the wish'd embrace, At once with love and awe opprest, {100} Not so, Ladurlad; he could trace, Though brighten'd with angelic grace, His own Yedillian's earthly face; He ran and held her to his breast! Oh joy above all joys of Heaven, By Death alone to others given, This moment hath to him restor'd The early-lost, the long-deplor'd.

9. They sin who tell us love can die. With life all other passions fly, All others are but vanity. In Heaven Ambition cannot dwell, Nor Avarice in the vaults of Hell; Earthly these passions of the Earth, They perish where they have their birth; But Love is indestructible. Its holy flame for ever burneth, From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth; Too oft on Earth a troubled guest, At times deceiv'd, at times opprest, It here is tried and purified, Then hath in Heaven its perfect rest: {101} It soweth here with toil and care, But the harvest-time of Love is there. Oh! when a Mother meets on high The Babe she lost in infancy, Hath she not then, for pains and fears, The day of woe, the watchful night, For all her sorrow, all her tears, An over-payment of delight!

10. A blessed family is this Assembled in the Bower of Bliss! Strange woe, Ladurlad, hath been thine, And pangs beyond all human measure, And thy reward is now divine, A foretaste of eternal pleasure. He knew indeed there was a day When all these joys would pass away, And he must quit this blest abode; And, taking up again the spell, Groan underneath the baleful load, And wander o'er the world again Most wretched of the sons of men: Yet was this brief repose, as when {102} A traveller in the Arabian sands, Half-fainting on his sultry road, Hath reach'd the water-place at last; And resting there beside the Well, Thinks of the perils he has past, And gazes o'er the unbounded plain, The plain which must be travers'd still, And drinks, . . . yet cannot drink his fill; Then girds his patient loins again. So to Ladurlad now was given New strength, and confidence in Heaven, And hope, and faith invincible. For often would Ereenia tell Of what in elder days befell, When other Tyrants, in their might, Usurp'd dominion o'er the earth; And Veeshnoo took a human birth, Deliverer of the Sons of men; And slew the huge Ermaccasen, And piece-meal rent, with lion force, Errenen's accursed corse, And humbled Baly in his pride; And when the Giant Ravanen Had borne triumphant, from his side, {103} Sita, the earth-born God's beloved bride, Then, from his island-kingdom, laugh'd to scorn The insulted husband, and his power defied; How to revenge the wrong in wrath he hied, Bridging the sea before his dreadful way, And met the hundred-headed foe, And dealt him the unerring blow; By Brama's hand the righteous lance was given, And by that arm immortal driven, It laid the mighty Tyrant low; And Earth and Ocean, and high Heaven, Rejoiced to see his overthrow. Oh! doubt not thou, Yedillian cried, Such fate Kehama will betide; For there are Gods who look below. . . . Seeva, the Avenger, is not blind, Nor Veeshnoo careless for mankind.

11. Thus was Ladurlad's soul imbued With hope and holy fortitude; And Child and Sire, with pious mind Alike resolv'd, alike resign'd, Look'd onward to the evil day: {104} Faith was their comfort, Faith their stay; They trusted woe would pass away, And Tyranny would sink subdued, And Evil yield to Good.

12. Lovely wert thou, O Flower of Earth! Above all flowers of mortal birth; But foster'd in this blissful bower From day to day, and hour to hour, Lovelier grew the lovely flower. O blessed, blessed company! When men and heavenly spirits greet, And they whom Death had severed meet, And hold again communion sweet; . . . O blessed, blessed company! The Sun, careering round the sky, Beheld them with rejoicing eye, And bade his willing Charioteer Relax their speed as they drew near; Arounin check'd the rainbow reins, The seven green coursers shook their manes, And brighter rays around them threw; The Car of glory in their view {105} More radiant, more resplendent grew; And Surya, through his veil of light, Beheld the Bower, and blest the sight. The Lord of Night, as he sail'd by, Stay'd his pearly boat on high; And, while around the blissful Bower He bade the softest moonlight flow, Lingered to see that earthly flower, Forgetful of his dragon foe, Who, mindful of their ancient feud, With open jaws of rage pursued. There all good Spirits of the air, Suras and Devetas repair, Aloft they love to hover there And view the flower of mortal birth, Here, for her innocence and worth, Transplanted from the fields of earth; . . . And him who, on the dreadful day When Heaven was fill'd with consternation, And Indra trembled with dismay, And, for the sounds of joy and mirth, Woe was heard and lamentation, Defied the Rajah in his pride, Though all in Heaven and Earth beside Stood mute in dolorous expectation; {106} And, rushing forward in that hour, Saved the Swerga from his power. Grateful for this they hover nigh, And bless the blessed company.

13. One God alone, with wanton eye, Beheld them in their bower; O ye, he cried, who have defied The Rajah, will ye mock my power? 'Twas Camdeo riding on his lory, 'Twas the immortal youth of Love; If men below and Gods above, Subject alike, quoth he, have felt these darts, Shall ye alone, of all in story, Boast impenetrable hearts? Hover here, my gentle lory, Gently hover, while I see To whom hath Fate decreed the glory, To the Glendoveer or me.

14. Then, in the dewy evening sky, The bird of gorgeous plumery Pois'd his wings and hover'd nigh. {107} It chanced at that delightful hour Kailyal sate before the Bower, On the green bank with amaranth sweet, Where Ganges warbled at her feet. Ereenia there, before the Maid, His sails of ocean-blue displayed; And sportive in her sight, Mov'd slowly o'er the lake with gliding flight; Anon, with sudden stroke and strong, In rapid course careering, swept along; Now shooting downward from his heavenly height, Plunged in the deep below, Then rising, soar'd again, And shook the sparkling waters off like rain, And hovering o'er the silver surface hung. At him young Camdeo bent the bow; With living bees the bow was strung, The fatal bow of sugar-cane, And flowers which would inflame the heart With their petals barb'd the dart.

15. The shaft, unerringly addrest, Unerring flew, and smote Ereenia's breast. Ah, Wanton! cried the Glendoveer, {108} Go aim at idler hearts, Thy skill is baffled here! A deeper love I bear that Maid divine, Sprung from a higher will, A holier power than thine! A second shaft, while thus Ereenia cried, Had Camdeo aim'd at Kailyal's side, But, lo! the Bees which strung his bow Broke off, and took their flight. To that sweet Flower of earth they wing their way, Around her raven tresses play, And buzz about her with delight, As if, with that melodious sound, They strove to pay their willing duty To mortal purity and beauty. Ah, Wanton! cried the Glendoveer, No power hast thou for mischief here! Chuse thou some idler breast, For these are proof, by nobler thoughts possest. Go, to thy plains of Matra go, And string again thy broken bow!

16. Rightly Ereenia spake; and ill had thoughts Of earthly love beseem'd the sanctuary {109} Where Kailyal had been wafted, that the Soul Of her dead mother there might strengthen her, Feeding her with the milk of heavenly lore; And influxes of Heaven imbue her heart With hope and faith, and holy fortitude, Against the evil day. Here rest a while In peace, O Father! mark'd for misery Above all sons of men; O Daughter! doom'd For sufferings and for trials above all Of women; . . . yet both favour'd, both belov'd By all good Powers, here rest a while in peace.

XI. THE ENCHANTRESS.

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1. When from the sword, by arm angelic driven, Foul Arvalan fled howling, wild in pain, His thin essential spirit, rent and riven With wounds, united soon and heal'd again; Backward the accursed turn'd his eye in flight, Remindful of revengeful thoughts even then, And saw where, gliding through the evening light, The Ship of Heaven sail'd upward through the sky, Then, like a meteor, vanish'd from his sight. Where should he follow? vainly might he try To trace through trackless air its rapid course; {111} Nor dar'd he that; angelic arm defy, Still sore and writhing from its dreaded force.

2. Should he the lust of vengeance lay aside? Too long had Arvalan in ill been train'd; Nurst up in power and tyranny and pride, His soul the ignominious thought disdain'd. Or to his mighty father should he go, Complaining of defeature twice sustain'd, And ask new powers to meet the immortal foe? . . . Repulse he fear'd not, but he fear'd rebuke, And sham'd to tell him of his overthrow. There dwelt a dread Enchantress in a nook Obscure; old help-mate she to him had been, Lending her aid in many a secret sin; And there, for counsel, now his way he took.

3. She was a woman whose unlovely youth, Even like a cankered rose, which none will cull, Had withered on the stalk; her heart was full Of passions which had found no natural scope, Feelings which there had grown but ripened not; {112} Desires unsatisfied, abortive hope, Repinings which provoked vindictive thought, These restless elements for ever wrought, Fermenting in her with perpetual stir, And thus her spirit to all evil mov'd; She hated men because they lov'd not her, And hated women because they were lov'd. And thus, in wrath and hatred and despair, She tempted Hell to tempt her; and resign'd Her body to the Demons of the Air, Wicked and wanton fiends who, where they will, Wander abroad, still seeking to do ill, And take whatever vacant form they find, Carcase of man or beast, that life hath left; Foul instrument for them of fouler mind. To these the Witch her wretched body gave, So they would wreak her vengeance on mankind, She thus at once their mistress and their slave; And they, to do such service nothing loth, Obeyed her bidding, slaves and masters both.

4. So from this cursed intercourse she caught Contagious power of mischief, and was taught {113} Such secrets as are damnable to guess. Is there a child whose little lovely ways Might win all hearts, . . . on whom his parents gaze Till they shed tears of joy and tenderness? Oh! hide him from that Witch's withering sight! Oh! hide him from the eye of Lorrinite! Her look hath crippling in it, and her curse All plagues which on mortality can light; Death is his doom if she behold, . . . or worse, . . . Diseases loathsome and incurable, And inward sufferings that no tongue can tell. Woe was to him, on whom that eye of hate Was bent; for, certain as the stroke of Fate, It did its mortal work; nor human arts Could save the unhappy wretch, her chosen prey; For gazing, she consum'd his vital parts, Eating his very core of life away. The wine which from yon wounded palm on high Fills yonder gourd, as slowly it distills, Grows sour at once if Lorrinite pass by. The deadliest worm, from which all creatures fly, Fled from the deadlier venom of her eye; The babe unborn, within its mother's womb, Started and trembled when the Witch came nigh, {114} And in the silent chambers of the tomb Death shuddered her unholy tread to hear, And, from the dry and mouldering bones, did fear Force a cold sweat, when Lorrinite was near.

5. Power made her haughty: by ambition fir'd, Ere long to mightier mischiefs she aspir'd. The Calis, who o'er Cities rule unseen, Each in her own domain a Demon Queen, And there ador'd with blood and human life, They knew her, and in their accurst employ She stirr'd up neighbouring states to mortal strife. Sani, the dreadful God, who rides abroad Upon the King of the Ravens, to destroy The offending sons of men, when his four hands Were weary with their toil, would let her do His work of vengeance upon guilty lands; And Lorrinite, at his commandment, knew When the ripe earthquake should be loos'd, and where To point its course. And in the baneful air The pregnant seeds of death he bade her strew, All deadly plagues and pestilence to brew. The Locusts were her army, and their bands, {115} Where'er she turn'd her skinny finger, flew; The floods in ruin roll'd at her commands; And when, in time of drought, the husbandman Beheld the gathered rain about to fall, Her breath would drive it to the desert sands. While in the marshes parch'd and gaping soil, The rice-roots by the searching Sun were dried; And in lean groupes, assembled at the side Of the empty tank, the cattle dropt and died; And Famine, at her bidding, wasted wide The wretched land; till, in the public way, Promiscuous where the dead and dying lay, Dogs fed on human bones in the open light of day.

6. Her secret cell the accursed Arvalan, In quest of vengeance, sought, and thus began. Mighty mother! mother wise! Revenge me on my enemies.

LORRINITE. Com'st thou, son, for aid to me? Tell me who have injur'd thee, Where they are, and who they be; {116} Of the Earth, or of the Sea, Or of the aerial company? Earth, nor Sea, nor Air is free From the powers who wait on me, And my tremendous witchery.

ARVALAN. She for whom so ill I sped, Whom my Father deemeth dead, Lives, for Marriataly's aid From the water sav'd the maid. In hatred I desire her still, And in revenge would have my will. A Deveta with, wings of blue, And sword whose edge even now I rue, In a Ship of Heaven on high, Pilots her along the sky. Where they voyage thou canst tell, Mistress of the mighty spell.

7. At this the Witch, through shrivell'd lips and thin, Sent forth a sound half-whistle and half-hiss. Two winged Hands came in, {117} Armless and bodyless, Bearing a globe of liquid crystal, set In frame as diamond bright, yet black as jet. A thousand eyes were quench'd in endless night, To form that magic globe; for Lorrinite Had, from their sockets, drawn the liquid sight, And kneaded it, with re-creating skill, Into this organ of her mighty will. Look in yonder orb, she cried, Tell me what is there descried.

ARVALAN. A mountain top, in clouds of light Envelop'd, rises on my sight; Thence a cataract rushes down, Hung with many a rainbow crown; Light and clouds conceal its head, Below, a silver Lake is spread; Upon its shores a Bower I see, Fit home for blessed company. See they come forward, . . . one, two, three, . . . The last a Maiden, . . . it is she! The foremost shakes his wings of blue, 'Tis he whose sword even yet I rue; {118} And in that other one I know The visage of my deadliest foe. Mother, let thy magic might Arm me for the mortal fight; Helm and shield and mail afford, Proof against his dreaded sword. Then will I invade their seat, Then shall vengeance be compleat.

LORRINITE. Spirits, who obey my will, Hear him, and his wish fulfill.

8. So spake the mighty one, nor farther spell Needed. Anon a sound, like smother'd thunder, Was heard, slow rolling under; The solid pavement of the cell Quak'd, heav'd, and cleft asunder, And, at the feet of Arvalan display'd, Helmet and mail and shield and scymitar were laid.

9. The Asuras, often put to flight, {119} And scattered in the fields of light, By their foes' celestial might, Forged this enchanted armour for the fight. 'Mid fires intense did they anneal, In mountain furnaces, the quivering steel, Till trembling through each deepening hue, It settled in a midnight blue; Last they cast it, to aslake, In the penal icy lake. Then, they consign'd it to the Giant brood; And, while they forged the impenetrable arms, The Evil Powers, to oversee them, stood, And there imbued The work of Giant strength with magic charms. Foul Arvalan, with joy, survey'd The crescent sabre's cloudy blade, With deeper joy the impervious mail, The shield and helmet of avail. Soon did he himself array, And bade her speed him on his way.

10. Then she led him to the den, Where her chariot, night and day, {120} Stood harness'd, ready for the way. Two Dragons, yok'd in adamant, convey The magic car; from either collar sprung An adamantine rib, which met in air, O'er-arch'd, and crost, and bent diverging there, And firmly in its arc upbore, Upon their brazen necks, thereat of power. Arvalan mounts the car, and in his hand Receives the magic reins from Lorrinite; The dragons, long obedient to command, Their ample sails expand; Like steeds well-broken to fair lady's hand, They feel the reins of might, And up the northern sky begin their flight.

11. Son of the Wicked, doth thy soul delight To think its hour of vengeance now is nigh? Lo! where the far-off light Of Indra's palace flashes on his sight, And Meru's heavenly summit shines on high, With clouds of glory bright, Amid the dark-blue sky. Already, in his hope, doth he espy {121} Himself secure in mail of tenfold charms, Ereenia writhing from the magic blade, The Father sent to bear his Curse, . . . the Maid Resisting vainly in his impious arms.

12. Ah, Sinner! whose anticipating soul Incurs the guilt even when the crime is spar'd! Joyous toward Meru's summit on he far'd, While the twin Dragons, rising as he guides, With steady flight, steer northward for the pole. Anon, with irresistible controul, Force mightier far than his arrests their course; It wrought as though a Power unseen had caught Their adamantine yokes to drag them on. Straight on they bend their way, and now, in vain, Upward doth Arvalan direct the rein! The rein of magic might avails no more; Bootless its strength against that unseen Power Which, in their mid career, Hath seiz'd the Chariot and the Charioteer. With hands resisting, and down-pressing feet Upon their hold insisting, He struggles to maintain his difficult seat. {122} Seeking in vain with that strange Power to vie, Their doubled speed the affrighted Dragons try. Forced in a stream from whence was no retreat, Strong as they are, behold, them whirled along, Headlong, with useless pennons, through the sky.

13. What power was that, which, with resistless might Foil'd the dread magic thus of Lorrinite? 'Twas all-commanding Nature . . They were here Within the sphere of the adamantine rocks Which gird Mount Meru round, as far below That heavenly height where Ganges hath its birth Involv'd in clouds and light, So far above its roots of ice and snow. On . . on they roll, . . rapt headlong they roll on; . . The lost canoe, less rapidly than this, Down the precipitous stream is whirl'd along To the brink of Niagara's dread abyss. On . . on . . they roll, and now, with shivering shock, Are dash'd against the rock that girds the Pole. Down from his shatter'd mail the unhappy Soul Is dropt, . . ten thousand thousand fathoms down, . . . Till in an ice-rift, 'mid the eternal snow, {123} Foul Arvalan is stopt. There let him howl, Groan there, . . and there, with unavailing moan, For aid on his Almighty Father call. All human sounds are lost Amid those deserts of perpetual frost, Old Winter's drear domain, Beyond the limits of the living World, Beyond Kehama's reign. Of utterance and of motion soon bereft, Frozen to the ice-rock, there behold him lie, Only the painful sense of Being left, A Spirit who must feel, and cannot die, Bleaching and bare beneath the polar sky.

XII. THE SACRIFICE COMPLEATED.

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1. O ye who, by the Lake On Meru Mount, partake The joys which Heaven hath destin'd for the blest, Swift, swift, the moments fly, The silent hours go by, And ye must leave your dear abode of rest. O wretched Man, prepare Again thy Curse to bear! Prepare, O wretched Maid, for farther woe! The fatal hour draws near, When Indra's heavenly sphere Must own the Tyrant of the World below. {125} To-day the hundredth Steed, At Seeva's shrine, must bleed, The dreadful sacrifice is full to-day; Nor man nor God hath power, At this momentous hour, Again to save the Swerga from his sway. Fresh woes, O Maid divine, Fresh trials must be thine; And what must thou, Ladurlad, yet endure! But let your hearts be strong, And bear ye bravely on, For Providence is good, and virtue is secure.

2. They, little deeming that the fatal day Was come, beheld where, through the morning sky, A Ship of Heaven drew nigh. Onward they watch it steer its steady flight; Till, wondering, they espy Old Casyapa, the Sire of Gods, alight. But, when Ereenia saw the Sire appear, At that unwonted and unwelcome sight His heart receiv'd a sudden shock of fear: Thy presence doth its doleful tidings tell, {126} O Father! cried the startled Glendoveer, The dreadful hour is near! I know it well! Not for less import would the Sire of Gods Forsake his ancient and august abodes.

3. Even so: serene the immortal Sire replies; Soon like an earthquake will ye feel the blow Which consummates the mighty sacrifice: And this World, and its Heaven, and all therein Are then Kehama's. To the second ring Of these seven Spheres, the Swerga-King, Even now, prepares for flight, . . Beyond the circle of the conquer'd world, Beyond the Rajah's might. Ocean, that clips this inmost of the Spheres, And girds it round with everlasting roar, Set like a gem appears Within that beading shore. Thither fly all the Sons of heavenly race: I, too, forsake mine ancient dwelling-place. And now, O Child and Father, ye must go, Take up the burthen of your woe, And wander once again below. {127} With patient heart hold onward to the end, . . . Be true unto yourselves, and bear in mind That every God is still the good Man's friend; And they, who suffer bravely, save mankind.

4. Oh tell me, cried Ereenia, for from thee Nought can be hidden, when the end will be!

5. Seek not to know, old Casyapa replied, What pleaseth Heaven to hide. Dark is the abyss of time, But light enough to guide your steps is given; Whatever weal or woe betide, Turn never front the way of truth aside, And leave the event, in holy hope, to Heaven. The moment is at hand, no more delay, Ascend the etherial bark, and go your way; And Ye, of heavenly nature, follow me.

6. The will of Heaven be done, Ladurlad cried, Nor more the man replied; {128} But placed his daughter in the etherial Bark, Then took his seat beside. There was no word at parting, no adieu. Down from that empyreal height they flew: One groan Ladurlad breath'd, yet uttered not, When, to his heart and brain The fiery Curse again like lightning shot. And now on earth, the Sire and Child alight, Up soar'd the Ship of Heaven, and sail'd away from sight.