I.
THE FUNERAL.
1.
Midnight, and yet no eye
Through all the Imperial City clos’d in sleep!
Behold her streets a-blaze
With light that seems to kindle the red sky,
Her myriads swarming through the crowded ways!
Master and slave, old age and infancy,
All, all abroad to gaze;
House-top and balcony
Clustered with women, who throw back their veils,
With unimpeded and insatiate sight
To view the funeral pomp which passes by,
As if the mournful rite
Were but to them a scene of joyance and delight.
2.
Vainly, ye blessed twinklers of the night,
Your feeble beams ye shed,
Quench’d in the unnatural light which might out-stare
Even the broad eye of day;
And thou from thy celestial way
Pourest, O Moon, an ineffectual ray!
For lo! ten thousand torches flame and flare
Upon the midnight air,
Blotting the lights of heaven
With one portentous glare.
Behold the fragrant smoke in many a fold,
Ascending floats along the fiery sky,
And hangeth visible on high,
A dark and waving canopy.
3.
Hark! ’tis the funeral trumpet’s breath!
’Tis the dirge of death!
At once ten thousand drums begin,
With one long thunder-peal the ear assailing;
Ten thousand voices then join in,
And with one deep and general din
Pour their wild wailing.
The song of praise is drown’d
Amid that deafening sound;
You hear no more the trumpet’s tone,
You hear no more the mourner’s moan,
Though the trumpet’s breath, and the dirge of death,
Mingle and swell the funeral yell.
But rising over all in one acclaim
Is heard the echoed and re-echoed name,
From all that countless rout:
Arvalan! Arvalan!
Arvalan! Arvalan!
Ten times ten thousand voices in one shout
Call Arvalan! The overpowering sound
From house to house repeated rings about,
From tower to tower rolls round.
4.
The death-procession moves along;
Their bald heads shining to the torches’ ray,
The Bramins lead the way,
Chaunting the funeral song.
And now at once they shout
Arvalan! Arvalan!
With quick rebound of sound,
All in accordant cry,
Arvalan! Arvalan!
The universal multitude reply.
In vain ye thunder on his ear the name!
Would ye awake the dead?
Borne upright in his palankeen,
There Arvalan is seen!
A glow is on his face, . . . a lively red;
’Tis but the crimson canopy
Which o’er his cheek the reddening shade hath shed.
He moves, . . . he nods his head; . . .
But the motion comes from the bearers’ tread,
As the body, borne aloft in state,
Sways with the impulse of its own dead weight.
5.
Close following his dead son, Kehama came,
Nor joining in the ritual song,
Nor calling the dear name;
With head deprest and funeral vest,
And arms enfolded on his breast,
Silent and lost in thought he moves along.
King of the world, his slaves unenvying now
Behold their wretched Lord; rejoiced they see
The mighty Rajah’s misery;
For nature in his pride hath dealt the blow,
And taught the master of mankind to know
Even he himself is man, and not exempt from woe.
6.
O sight of grief! the wives of Arvalan,
Young Azla, young Nealliny, are seen!
Their widow-robes of white,
With gold and jewels bright,
Each like an Eastern queen.
Woe! woe! around their palankeen,
As on a bridal day,
With symphony, and dance, and song,
Their kindred and their friends come on, . . .
The dance of sacrifice! the funeral song!
And next the victim slaves in long array,
Richly bedight to grace the fatal day,
Move onward to their death;
The clarions’ stirring breath
Lifts their thin robes in every flowing fold,
And swells the woven gold,
That on the agitated air
Trembles, and glitters to the torches’ glare.
7.
A man and maid of aspect wan and wild,
Then, side by side, by bowmen guarded, came.
O wretched father! O unhappy child!
Them were all eyes of all the throng exploring; . . .
Is this the daring man
Who raised his fatal hand at Arvalan?
Is this the wretch condemned to feel
Kehama’s dreadful wrath?
Them were all hearts of all the throng deploring,
For not in that innumerable throng
Was one who lov’d the dead; for who could know
What aggravated wrong
Provok’d the desperate blow!
Far, far behind, beyond all reach of sight,
In ordered files the torches flow along,
One ever-lengthening line of gliding light:
Far . . . far behind,
Rolls on the undistinguishable clamour,
Of horn, and trump, and tambour;
Incessant at the roar
Of streams which down the wintry mountain pour,
And louder than the dread commotion
Of stormy billows on a rocky shore,
When the winds rage over the wares,
And Ocean to the Tempest raves.
8.
And now toward the bank they go,
Where, winding on their way below,
Deep and strong the waters flow.
Here doth the funeral pile appear
With myrrh and ambergris bestrew’d,
And built of precious sandal wood.
They cease their music and their outcry here;
Gently they rest the bier:
They wet the face of Arvalan,
No sign of life the sprinkled drops excite.
They feel his breast, . . . no motion there;
They feel his lips, . . . no breath;
For not with feeble, nor with erring hand,
The stern avenger dealt the blow of death.
Then with a doubling peal and deeper blast,
The tambours and the trumpets sound on high,
And with a last and loudest cry
They call on Arvalan.
9.
Woe! woe! for Azla takes her seat
Upon the funeral pile!
Calmly she took her seat,
Calmly the whole terrific pomp survey’d;
As on her lap the while
The lifeless head of Arvalan was laid.
Woe! woe! Nealliny,
The young Nealliny!
They strip her ornaments away,
Bracelet and anklet, ring, and chain, and zone;
Around her neck they leave
The marriage knot alone, . . .
That marriage band, which when
Yon waning moon was young,
Around her virgin neck
With bridal joy was hung.
Then with white flowers, the coronal of death,
Her jetty locks they crown.
O sight of misery!
Yon cannot hear her cries, . . . all other sound
In that wild dissonance is drown’d; . . .
But in her face you see
The supplication and the agony, . . .
See in her swelling throat the desperate strength
That with vain effort struggles yet for life;
Her arms contracted now in fruitless strife,
Now wildly at full length
Towards the crowd in vain for pity spread, . . .
They force her on, they bind her to the dead.
10.
Then all around retire;
Circling the pile, the ministring Bramins stand,
Each lifting in his hand a torch on fire.
Alone the Father of the dead advanced
And lit the funeral pyre.
11.
At once on every side
The circling torches drop;
At once on every side
The fragrant oil is pour’d;
At once on every side
The rapid flames rush up.
Then hand in hand the victim band
Roll in the dance around the funeral pyre;
Their garments’ flying folds
Float inward to the fire.
In drunken whirl they wheel around;
One drops, . . . another plunges in;
And still with overwhelming din
The tambours and the trumpets sound;
And clap of hand, and shouts, and cries,
From all the multitude arise:
While round and round, in giddy wheel,
Intoxicate they roll and reel,
Till one by one whirl’d in they fall,
And the devouring flames have swallowed all.
12.
Then all was still; the drums and clarions ceas’d;
The multitude were hush’d in silent awe;
Only the roaring of the flames was heard.
II.
THE CURSE.
1.
Alone towards the Table of the dead,
Kehama mov’d; there on the altar-stone
Honey and rice he spread,
There with collected voice and painful tone
He call’d upon his son.
Lo! Arvalan appears.
Only Kehama’s powerful eye beheld
The thin etherial spirit hovering nigh;
Only the Rajah’s ear
Receiv’d his feeble breath.
And is this all? the mournful spirit said,
This all that thou canst give me after death?
This unavailing pomp,
These empty pageantries that mock the dead!
2.
In bitterness the Rajah heard,
And groan’d, and smote his breast, and o’er his face
Cowl’d the white mourning vest.
Arvalan.
Art thou not powerful, . . . even like a God?
And must I, through my years of wandering,
Shivering and naked to the elements,
In wretchedness await
The hour of Yamen’s wrath?
I thought thou wouldst embody me anew.
Undying as I am, . . .
Yea, re-create me! . . . Father, is this all!
This all! and thou Almighty!
3.
But in that wrongful and upbraiding tone,
Kehama found relief,
For rising anger half supprest his grief.
Reproach not me! he cried;
Had I not spell-secur’d thee from disease,
Fire, sword, . . . all common accidents of man, . . .
And thou! . . . fool, fool, . . . to perish by a stake!
And by a peasant’s arm! . . .
Even now, when from reluctant Heaven
Forcing new gifts and mightier attributes,
So soon I should have quell’d the Death-God’s power.
4.
Waste not thy wrath on me, quoth Arvalan,
It was my hour of folly! Fate prevail’d,
Nor boots it to reproach me that I fell.
I am in misery, Father! Other souls
Predoom’d to Indra’s Heaven, enjoy the dawn
Of bliss: . . . to them the tempered elements
Minister joy, genial delight the sun
Sheds on their happy being, and the stars
Effuse on them benignant influencies;
And thus o’er earth and air they roam at will,
And when the number of their days is full,
Go fearlessly before the awful throne.
But I, . . . all naked feeling and raw life, . . .
What worse than this hath Yamen’s hell in store?
If ever thou didst love me, mercy, Father!
Save me, for thou canst save: . . . the Elements
Know and obey thy voice.
Kehama.
The Elements
Shall torture thee no more; even while I speak
Already dost then feel their power is gone.
Fear not! I cannot call again the past,
Fate hath made that its own; but Fate shall yield
To me the future; and thy doom be fix’d
By mine, not Yamen’s will. Meantime, all power
Whereof thy feeble spirit can be made
Participant, I give. Is there aught else
To mitigate thy lot?
Arvalan.
Only the sight of vengeance. Give me that!
Vengeance, full, worthy vengeance! . . . not the stroke
Of sodden punishment, . . . no agony
That spends itself and leaves the wretch at rest,
But lasting long revenge.
Kehama.
What, boy? is that cup sweet? then take thy fill!
5.
So as he spake, a glow of dreadful pride
Inflam’d his cheek: with quick and angry stride
He mov’d toward the pile,
And rais’d his hand to hush the crowd, and cried
Bring forth the murderer! At the Rajah’s voice,
Calmly, and like a man whom fear had stunn’d,
Ladurlad came, obedient to the call.
But Kailyal started at the sound,
And gave a womanly shriek, and back she drew,
And eagerly she roll’d her eyes around,
As if to seek for aid, albeit she knew
No aid could there be found.
6.
It chanced that near her, on the river-brink,
The sculptur’d form of Marriataly stood;
It was an idol roughly hewn of wood,
Artless, and poor, and rude.
The Goddess of the poor was she;
None else regarded her with piety.
But when that holy image Kailyal view’d,
To that she sprung, to that she clung,
On her own goddess with close-clasping arms,
For life the maiden hung.
They seiz’d the maid; with unrelenting grasp
They bruis’d her tender limbs;
She, nothing yielding, to this only hope
Clings with the strength of frenzy and despair.
She screams not now, she breathes not now,
She sends not up one vow,
She forms not in her soul one secret prayer,
All thought, all feeling, and all powers’ of life
In the one effort centering. Wrathful they
With tug and strain would force the maid away. . . .
Didst thou, O Marriataly, see their strife?
In pity didst thou see the suffering maid?
Or was thine anger kindled, that rude hands
Assail’d thy holy image? . . . for behold
The holy image shakes!
Irreverently bold, they deem the maid
Relax’d her stubborn hold,
And now with force redoubled drag their prey;
And now the rooted idol to their sway
Bends, . . . yields, . . . and now it falls. But then they scream,
For lo! they feel the crumbling bank give way,
And all are plunged into the stream.
7.
She hath escap’d my will, Kehama cried,
She hath escap’d, . . . but thou art here,
I have thee still,
The worser criminal!
And on Ladurlad, while he spake, severe
He fix’d his dreadful frown.
The strong reflection of the pile
Lit his dark lineaments,
Lit the protruded brow, the gathered front,
The steady eye of wrath.
8.
But while the fearful silence yet endur’d,
Ladurlad rous’d his soul;
Ere yet the voice of destiny
Which trembled on the Rajah’s lips was loos’d,
Eager he interpos’d,
As if despair had waken’d him to hope;
Mercy! oh mercy! only in defence . . .
Only instinctively, . . .
Only to save my child, I smote the Prince.
King of the world, be merciful!
Crush me, . . . but torture not!
9.
The Man-Almighty deign’d him no reply,
Still he stood silent; in no human mood
Of mercy, in no hesitating thought
Of right and justice. At the length he rais’d
His brow yet unrelax’d, . . . his lips unclos’d,
And utter’d from the heart,
With the whole feeling of his soul enforced,
The gather’d vengeance came.
10.
I charm thy life
From the weapons of strife,
From stone and from wood,
From fire and from flood,
From the serpent’s tooth,
And the beasts of blood:
From Sickness I charm thee,
And Time shall not harm thee;
But Earth, which is mine,
Its fruits shall deny thee;
And Water shall hear me,
And know thee and fly thee;
And the Winds shall not touch thee
When they pass by thee,
And the Dews shall not wet thee,
When they fall nigh thee:
And thou shalt seek Death
To release thee, in vain;
Thou shalt live in thy pain,
While Kehama shall reign,
With a fire in thy heart,
And a fire in thy brain;
And sleep shall obey me,
And visit thee never,
And the Curse shall be on thee
For ever and ever.
11.
There where the Curse had stricken him,
There stood the miserable man,
There stood Ladurlad, with loose-hanging arms,
And eyes of idiot wandering.
Was it a dream? alas,
He heard the river flow,
He heard the crumbling of the pile,
He heard the wind which shower’d
The thin white ashes round.
There motionless he stood,
As if he hop’d it were a dream,
And fear’d to move, lest he should prove
The actual misery;
And still at times he met Kehama’s eye,
Kehama’s eye that fasten’d on him still.
III.
THE RECOVERY.
1.
The Rajah turn’d toward the pile again,
Loud rose the song of death from all the crowd;
Their din the instruments begin,
And once again join in
With overwhelming sound.
Ladurlad starts, . . . he looks around.
What hast thou here in view,
O wretched man, in this disastrous scene?
The soldier train, the Bramins who renew
Their ministry around the funeral pyre,
The empty palankeens,
The dimly-fading fire.
Where too is she whom most his heart held dear,
His best-beloved Kailyal, where is she,
The solace and the joy of many a year
Of widowhood! is she then gone,
And is he left all-utterly alone,
To bear his blasting curse, and none
To succour or deplore him?
He staggers from the dreadful spot; the throng
Give way in fear before him;
Like one who carries pestilence about,
Shuddering they shun him, where he moves along.
And now he wanders on
Beyond the noisy rout;
He cannot fly and leave his curse behind,
Yet doth he seem to find
A comfort in the change of circumstance.
Adown the shore he strays,
Unknowing where his wretched feet may rest,
But farthest from the fatal place is best.
2.
By this in the orient sky appears the gleam
Of day. Lo! what is yonder in the stream,
Down the slow river floating slow,
In distance indistinct and dimly seen?
The childless one with idle eye
Followed its motion thoughtlessly;
Idly he gaz’d, unknowing why,
And half unconscious that he watch’d its way.
Belike it is a tree
Which some rude tempest, in its sudden sway,
Tore from the rock, or from the hollow shore
The undermining stream hath swept away.
3.
But when anon outswelling by its side,
A woman’s robe he spied,
Oh then Ladurlad started,
As one, who in his grave
Had heard an angel’s call.
Yea, Marriataly, then hast deign’d to save!
Yea, Goddess! it is she,
To thy dear image clinging senselessly,
And thus in happy hour
Upborne amid the wave
By that preserving power.
4.
Headlong in hope and in joy
Ladurlad dash’d in the water.
The water knew Kehama’s spell,
The water shrunk before him.
Blind to the miracle,
He rushes to his daughter,
And treads the river-depths in transport wild,
And clasps and saves his child.
5.
Upon the farther side a level shore
Of sand was spread: thither Ladurlad bore
His daughter, holding still with senseless hand
The saving Goddess; there upon the sand
He laid the livid maid,
Rais’d up against his knees her drooping head;
Bent to her lips, . . . her lips as pale as death, . . .
If he might feel her breath,
His own the while in hope and dread suspended;
Chaf’d her cold breast, and ever and anon
Let his hand rest upon her heart extended.
6.
Soon did his touch perceive, or fancy there,
The first faint motion of returning life.
He chafes her feet, and lays them bare
In the sun; and now again upon her breast
Lays his hot hand; and now her lips he prest,
For now the stronger throb of life he knew:
And her lips tremble too!
The breath comes palpably,
Her quivering lids unclose
Feebly and feebly fell,
Relapsing as it seem’d to dead repose.
7.
So in her father’s arms thus languidly,
While over her with earnest gaze he hung,
Silent and motionless she lay,
And painfully and slowly writh’d at fits,
At fits to short convulsive starts was stung.
Till when the struggle and strong agony
Had left her, quietly she lay repos’d:
Her eyes now resting on Ladurlad’s face,
Relapsing now, and now again unclos’d.
The look she fix’d upon his face, implies
Nor thought nor feeling; senselessly she lies,
Compos’d like one who sleeps with open eyes.
8.
Long he leant over her,
In silence and in fear.
Kailyal! . . . at length he cried in such a tone,
As a poor mother ventures who draws near,
With silent footstep, to her child’s sick bed.
My Father! cried the maid, and rais’d her head,
Awakening then to life and thought, . . . thou here?
For when his voice she heard,
The dreadful past recurr’d,
Which dimly, like a dream of pain,
Till now with troubled sense confus’d her brain.
9.
And hath he spar’d us then? she cried,
Half rising as she spake,
For hope and joy the sudden strength supplied;
In mercy hath he curb’d his cruel will,
That still thou livest? But as thus she said,
Impatient of that look of hope, her sire
Shook hastily his head;
Oh! he hath laid a Curse upon my life,
A clinging curse, quoth he;
Hath sent a fire into my heart and brain,
A burning fire, for ever there to be!
The winds of Heaven must never breathe on me;
The rains and dews must never fall on me;
Water must mock my thirst and shrink from me;
The common earth must yield no fruit to me;
Sleep, blessed Sleep! must never light on me;
And Death, who comes to all, must fly from me;
And never, never set Ladurlad free.
10.
This is a dream! exclaim’d the incredulous maid,
Yet in her voice the while a fear exprest,
Which in her larger eye was manifest.
This is a dream! she rose and laid her hand
Upon her father’s brow, to try the charm;
He could not bear the pressure there; . . . he shrunk, . . .
He warded off her arm,
As though it were an enemy’s blow, he smote
His daughter’s arm aside.
Her eye glanced down, his mantle she espied
And caught it up; . . . Oh misery! Kailyal cried,
He bore me from the river-depths, and yet
His garment is not wet!
IV.
THE DEPARTURE.
1.
Reclin’d beneath a Cocoa’s feathery shade
Ladurlad lies,
And Kailyal on his lap her head hath laid,
To hide her streaming eyes.
The boatman, sailing on his easy way,
With envious eye beheld them where they lay;
For every herb and flower
Was fresh and fragrant with the early dew;
Sweet sung the birds in that delicious hour,
And the cool gale of morning as it blew,
Not yet subdued by day’s increasing power,
Ruffling the surface of the silvery stream,
Swept o’er the moisten’d sand, and rais’d no shower.
Telling their tale of love,
The boatman thought they lay
At that lone hour, and who so blest as they!
2.
But now the sun in heaven is high,
The little songsters of the sky
Sit silent in the sultry hour,
They pant and palpitate with heat;
Their bills are open languidly
To catch the passing air;
They hear it not, they feel it not,
It murmurs not, it moves not.
The boatman, as he looks to land,
Admires what men so mad to linger there,
For yonder Cocoa’s shade behind them falls,
A single spot upon the burning sand.
3.
There all the morning was Ladurlad laid,
Silent and motionless, like one at ease;
There motionless upon her father’s knees,
Reclin’d the silent maid.
The man was still, pondering with steady mind,
As if it were another’s Curse,
His own portentous lot;
Scanning it o’er and o’er in busy thought,
As though it were a last night’s tale of woe,
Before the cottage door,
By some old beldame sung,
While young and old assembled round,
Listened, as if by witchery bound,
In fearful pleasure to her wonderous tongue.
4.
Musing so long he lay, that all things seem
Unreal to his sense, even like a dream,
A monstrous dream of things which could not be.
That beating, burning brow, . . . why it was now
The height of noon, and he was lying there
In the broad sun, all bare!
What if he felt no wind? the air was still,
That was the general will
Of nature, not his own peculiar doom;
Yon rows of rice erect and silent stand,
The shadow of the Cocoa’s lightest plume
Is steady on the sand.
5.
Is it indeed a dream? he rose to try,
Impatient to the water-side he went,
And down he bent,
And in the stream he plung’d his hasty arm
To break the visionary charm.
With fearful eye and fearful heart,
His daughter watch’d the event;
She saw the start and shudder,
She heard the in-drawn groan,
For the Water knew Kehama’s charm,
The water shrunk before his arm.
His dry hand mov’d about unmoisten’d there;
As easily might that dry hand avail
To stop the passing gale,
Or grasp the impassive air.
He is Almighty then!
Exclaim’d the wretched man in his despair;
Air knows him, Water knows him; Sleep
His dreadful word will keep;
Even in the grave there is no rest for me,
Cut off from that last hope, . . . the wretches’ joy;
And Veeshnoo hath no power to save,
Nor Seeva to destroy.
6.
Oh! wrong not them! quoth Kailyal,
Wrong not the Heavenly Powers!
Our hope is all in them: They are not blind!
And lighter wrongs than ours,
And lighter crimes than his,
Have drawn the Incarnate down among mankind;
Already have the Immortals heard our cries,
And in the mercy of their righteousness
Beheld us in the hour of our distress!
She spake with streaming eyes,
Where pious love and ardent feeling beam;
And turning to the Image, threw
Her grateful arms around it, . . . It was thou
Who saved’st me from the stream!
My Marriataly, it was thou!
I had not else been here
To share my Father’s Curse,
To suffer now, . . . and yet to thank thee thus!
7.
Here then, the maiden cried, dear Father, here
Raise our own Goddess, our divine Preserver!
The mighty of the earth despise her rites,
She loves the poor who serve her.
Set up her image here,
With heart and voice the guardian Goddess bless,
For jealously would she resent
Neglect and thanklessness. . . .
Set up her image here,
And bless her for her aid with tongue and soul sincere.
8.
So saying, on her knees the maid
Began the pious toil.
Soon their joint labour scoops the easy soil;
They raise the image up with reverent hand,
And round its rooted base they heap the sand.
O Thou whom we adore,
O Marriataly, thee do I implore,
The virgin cried; my Goddess, pardon thou
The unwilling wrong, that I no more,
With dance and song,
Can do thy daily service, as of yore!
The flowers which last I wreath’d around thy brow,
Are withering there; and never now
Shall I at eve adore thee,
And swimming round with arms outspread,
Poise the full pitcher on my head,
In dextrous dance before thee;
White underneath the reedy shed, at rest,
My father sate the evening rites to view,
And blest thy name, and blest
His daughter too.
9.
Then heaving from her heart a heavy sigh,
O Goddess! from that happy home, cried she,
The Almighty Man hath forced us!
And homeward with the thought unconsciously
She turn’d her dizzy eye. . . . But there on high,
With many a dome, and pinnacle, and spire,
The summits of, the Golden Palaces
Blaz’d in the dark blue sky, aloft, like fire.
Father, away! she cried, away!
Why linger we so nigh?
For not to him hath Nature given
The thousand eyes of Deity,
Always and every where with open sight,
To persecute our flight!
Away . . . away! she said,
And took her father’s hand, and like a child
He followed where she led.
V.
THE SEPARATION.
1.
Evening comes on: arising from the stream,
Homeward the tall flamingo wings his flight;
And where he sails athwart the setting beam,
His scarlet plumage glows with deeper light.
The watchman, at the wish’d approach of night,
Gladly forsakes the field, where he all day,
To scare the winged plunderers from their prey,
With shout and sling, on yonder clay-built height,
Hath borne the sultry ray.
Hark! at the Golden Palaces,
The Bramin strikes the hour.
For leagues and leagues around, the brazen sound
Rolls through the stillness of departing day,
Like thunder far away.
2.
Behold them wandering on their hopeless way,
Unknowing where they stray,
Yet sure where’er they stop to find no rest.
The evening gale is blowing,
It plays among the trees;
Like plumes upon a warrior’s crest,
They see yon cocoas tossing to the breeze.
Ladurlad views them with impatient mind,
Impatiently he hears
The gale of evening blowing,
The sound of waters flowing,
As if all sights and sounds combin’d
To mock his irremediable woe:
For not for him the blessed waters flow,
For not for him the gales of evening blow,
A fire is in his heart and brain,
And Nature hath no healing for his pain.
3.
The Moon is up, still pale
Amid the lingering light.
A cloud ascending in the eastern sky,
Sails slowly o’er the vale,
And darkens round and closes-in the night.
No hospitable house is nigh,
No traveller’s home the wanderers to invite.
Forlorn, and with long watching overworn,
The wretched father and the wretched child
Lie down amid the wild.
4.
Before them full in sight,
A white flag flapping to the winds of night,
Marks where the tyger seiz’d his human prey.
Far, far away with natural dread,
Shunning the perilous spot,
At other times abhorrent had they fled;
But now they heed it not.
Nothing they care; the boding death-flag now
In vain for them may gleam and flutter there.
Despair and agony in him,
Prevent all other thought;
And Kailyal hath no heart or sense for aught,
Save her dear father’s strange and miserable lot.
5.
There in the woodland shade,
Upon the lap of that unhappy maid,
His head Ladurlad laid,
And never word he spake;
Nor heav’d he one complaining sigh,
Nor groan’d he with his misery,
But silently for her dear sake
Endur’d the raging pain.
And now the moon was hid on high,
No stars were glimmering in the sky;
She could not see her father’s eye,
How red with burning agony.
Perhaps he may be cooler now;
She hoped, and long’d to touch his brow
With gentle hand, yet did not dare
To lay the painful pressure there.
Now forward from the tree she bent,
And anxiously her head she leant,
And listened to his breath.
Ladurlad’s breath was short and quick,
Yet regular it came,
And like the slumber of the sick,
In pantings still the same.
Oh if he sleeps! . . . her lips unclose,
Intently listening to the sound,
That equal sound so like repose.
Still quietly the sufferer lies,
Bearing his torment now with resolute will;
He neither moves, nor groans, nor sighs.
Doth satiate cruelty bestow
This little respite to his woe,
She thought, or are there Gods who look below!
6.
Perchance, thought Kailyal, willingly deceiv’d,
Our Marriataly hath his pain reliev’d,
And she hath bade the blessed sleep assuage
His agony, despite the Rajah’s rage.
That was a hope which fill’d her gushing eyes,
And made her heart in silent yearnings rise,
To bless the Power divine in thankfulness.
And yielding to that joyful thought her mind,
Backward the maid her aching head reclin’d
Against the tree, and to her father’s breath
In fear she hearken’d still with earnest ear.
But soon forgetful fits the effort broke:
In starts of recollection then she woke;
Till now benignant Nature overcame
The Virgin’s weary and exhausted frame,
Nor able more her painful watch to keep,
She clos’d her heavy lids, and sunk to sleep.
7.
Vain was her hope! he did not rest from pain,
The Curse was burning in his brain.
Alas! the innocent maiden thought he slept,
But Sleep the Rajah’s dread commandment kept,
Sleep knew Kehama’s Curse.
The dews of night fell round them now,
They never bath’d Ladurlad’s brow,
They knew Kehama’s Curse.
The night-wind is abroad,
Aloft it moves among the stirring trees.
He only heard the breeze, . . .
No healing aid to him it brought,
It play’d around his head and touch’d him not,
It knew Kehama’s Curse.
8.
Listening, Ladurlad lay in his despair,
If Kailyal slept, for wherefore should she share
Her father’s wretchedness which none could cure?
Better alone to suffer; he must bear
The burthen of his Curse, but why endure
The unavailing presence of her grief?
She too, apart from him, might find relief;
For dead the Rajah deem’d her, and as thus
Already she his dread revenge had fled,
So might she still escape and live secure.
9.
Gently he lifts his head,
And Kailyal does not feel;
Gently he rises up, . . . she slumbers still;
Gently he steals away with silent tread.
Anon she started, for she felt him gone;
She call’d, and through the stillness of the night,
His step was heard in flight.
Mistrustful for a moment of the sound,
She listens! till the step is heard no more;
But then she knows that he indeed is gone,
And with a thrilling shriek she rushes on.
The darkness and the wood impede her speed;
She lifts her voice again,
Ladurlad! . . . and again, alike in vain,
And with a louder cry
Straining its tone to hoarseness; . . . far away,
Selfish in misery,
He heard the call and faster did he fly.
10.
She leans against that tree whose jutting bough
Smote her so rudely. Her poor heart
How audibly it panted,
With sudden stop and start:
Her breath how short and painfully it came!
Hark! all is still around her, . . .
And the night so utterly dark,
She opened her eyes and she closed them,
And the blackness and blank were the same.
11.
’Twas like a dream of horror, and she stood
Half doubting whether all indeed were true.
A Tyger’s howl loud echoing through the wood,
Rous’d her; the dreadful sound she knew,
And turn’d instinctively to what she feared.
Far off the Tyger’s hungry howl was heard;
A nearer horror met the maiden’s view,
For right before her a dim form appear’d,
A human form in that black night,
Distinctly shaped by its own lurid light,
Such light as the sickly moon is seen to shed,
Through spell-rais’d fogs, a bloody baleful red.
12.
That Spectre fix’d his eyes upon her full;
The light which shone in their accursed orbs
Was like a light from Hell,
And it grew deeper, kindling with the view.
She could not turn her sight
From that infernal gaze, which like a spell
Bound her, and held her rooted to the ground.
It palsied every power;
Her limbs avail’d her not in that dread hour.
There was no moving thence,
Thought, memory, sense were gone:
She heard not now the Tyger’s nearer cry,
She thought not on her father now,
Her cold heart’s-blood ran back,
Her hand lay senseless on the bough it clasp’d,
Her feet were motionless;
Her fascinated eyes
Like the stone eye-balls of a statue fix’d,
Yet conscious of the sight that blasted them.
13.
The wind is abroad,
It opens the clouds;
Scattered before the gale,
They skurry through the sky,
And the darkness retiring rolls over the vale.
The stars in their beauty come forth on high,
And through the dark-blue night
The moon rides on triumphant, broad and bright.
Distinct and darkening in her light
Appears that Spectre foul.
The moon beam gives his face and form to sight,
The shape of man,
The living form and face of Arvalan!
His hands are spread to clasp her.
14.
But at that sight of dread the maid awoke;
As if a lightning-stroke
Had burst the spell of fear,
Away she broke all franticly and fled.
There stood a temple near beside the way,
An open fane of Pollear, gentle God,
To whom the travellers for protection pray.
With elephantine head and eye severe,
Here stood his image, such as when he seiz’d
And tore the rebel giant from the ground,
With mighty trunk wreath’d round
His impotent bulk, and on his tusks, on high
Impal’d upheld him between earth and sky.
15.
Thither the affrighted maiden sped her flight,
And she hath reach’d the place of sanctuary;
And now within the temple in despite,
Yea, even before the altar, in his sight,
Hath Arvalan with fleshly arm of might
Seiz’d her. That instant the insulted God
Caught him aloft, and from his sinuous grasp,
As if from some tort catapult let loose,
Over the forest hurl’d him all abroad.
16.
Overcome with dread,
She tarried not to see what heavenly power
Had saved her in that hour.
Breathless and faint she fled.
And now her foot struck on the knotted root
Of a broad manchineil, and there the maid
Fell senselessly beneath the deadly shade.
1.
Shall this then be thy fate, O lovely Maid,
Thus, Kailyal, must thy sorrows then be ended!
Her face upon the ground,
Her arms at length extended,
There like a corpse behold her laid,
Beneath the deadly shade.
What if the hungry Tyger, prowling by,
Should snuff his banquet nigh?
Alas, Death needs not now his ministry;
The baleful boughs hang o’er her,
The poison-dews descend.
What power will now restore her,
What God will be her friend?
2.
Bright and so beautiful was that fair night,
It might have calm’d the gay amid their mirth,
And given the wretched a delight in tears.
One of the Glendoveers,
The loveliest race of all of heavenly birth,
Hovering with gentle motion o’er the earth,
Amid the moonlight air,
In sportive flight was floating round and round,
Unknowing where his joyous way was tending.
He saw the maid where motionless she lay,
And stoopt his flight descending,
And rais’d her from the ground.
Her heavy eye-lids are half clos’d,
Her cheeks are pale and livid like the dead,
Down hang her loose arms lifelessly,
Down hangs her languid head.
3.
With timely pity touch’d for one so fair,
The gentle Glendoveer
Prest her thus pale and senseless to his breast,
And springs aloft in air with sinewy wings,
And bears the Maiden there,
Where Himakoot, the holy Mount, on high
From mid-earth rising in mid-Heaven,
Shines in its glory like the throne of Even.
Soaring with strenuous flight above,
He bears her to the blessed Grove,
Where in his ancient and august abodes,
There dwells old Casyapa, the Sire of Gods.
4.
The Father of the Immortals sate,
Where underneath the Tree of Life
The fountains of the Sacred River sprung:
The Father of the Immortals smil’d
Benignant on his son.
Knowest thou, he said, my child,
Ereenia, knowest thou whom thou bringest here,
A mortal to the holy atmosphere?
Ereenia.
I found her in the Groves of Earth,
Beneath a poison-tree,
Thus lifeless as thou seest her.
In pity have I brought her to these bowers,
Not erring, Father! by that smile . . .
By that benignant eye!
Casyapa.
What if the maid be sinful? If her ways
Were ways of darkness, and her death predoom’d
To that black hour of midnight, when the Moon
Hath turn’d her face away,
Unwilling to behold
The unhappy end of guilt?
Ereenia.
Then what a lie, my Sire, were written here,
In these fair characters! And she had died,
Sure proof of purer life and happier doom,
Now in the moonlight, in the eye of Heaven,
If I had left so fair a flower to fade.
But thou, . . . all knowing as thou art,
Why askest thou of me?
O Father, oldest, holiest, wisest, best,
To whom all things are plain,
Why askest thou of me?
Casyapa.
Knowest thou Kehama?
Ereenia.
The Almighty Man!
Who knows not him and his tremendous power?
The Tyrant of the Earth,
The Enemy of Heaven!
Casyapa.
Fearest thou the Rajah?
Ereenia.
He is terrible!
Casyapa.
Yea, he is terrible! such power hath he,
That hope hath entered Hell.
The Asuras and the spirits of the damn’d
Acclaim their Hero; Yamen, with the might
Of Godhead, scarce can quell
The rebel race accurst;
Half from their beds of torture they uprise,
And half uproot their chains.
Is there not fear in Heaven?
The souls that are in bliss suspend their joy;
The danger hath disturb’d
The calm of Deity,
And Brama fears, and Veeshnoo turns his face
In doubt toward Seeva’s throne.
Ereenia.
I have seen Indra tremble at his prayers,
And at his dreadful penances turn pale.
They claim and wrest from Seeva power so vast,
That even Seeva’s self,
The Highest, cannot grant and be secure.
Casyapa.
And darest thou, Ereenia, brave
The Almighty Tyrant’s power?
Ereenia.
I brave him, Father! I?
Casyapa.
Darest thou brave his vengeance? . . . for if not,
Take her again to earth,
Cast her before the tyger in his path,
Or where the death-dew-dropping tree
May work Kehama’s will.
Ereenia.
Never!
Casyapa.
Then meet his wrath! for he, even he,
Hath set upon this worm his wanton foot.
Ereenia.
I knew her not, how wretched and how fair,
When here I wafted her: . . . poor Child of Earth,
Shall I forsake thee, seeing thee so fair,
So wretched? O my Father, let the maid
Dwell in the Sacred Grove.
Casyapa.
That must not be,
For Force and Evil then would enter here;
Ganges, the holy stream which cleanseth sin,
Would flow from hence polluted in its springs,
And they who gasp upon its banks in death,
Feel no salvation. Piety and peace
And Wisdom, these are mine; but not the power
Which could protect her from the Almighty Man;
Nor when the spirit of dead Arvalan
Should persecute her here to glut his rage,
To heap upon her yet more agony,
And ripen more damnation for himself.
Ereenia.
Dead Arvalan?
Casyapa.
All power to him, whereof
The disembodied spirit in its state
Of weakness could be made participant,
Kehama hath assign’d, until his days
Of wandering shall be numbered.
Ereenia.
Look! she drinks
The gale of healing from the blessed Groves.
She stirs, and lo! her hand
Hath touch’d the Holy River in its source,
Who would have shrunk if aught impure were nigh.
Casyapa.
The Maiden, of a truth, is pure from sin.
5.
The waters of the holy Spring
About the hand of Kailyal play;
They rise, they sparkle, and they sing,
Leaping where languidly she lay,
As if with that rejoicing stir
The holy Spring would welcome her.
The Tree of Life which o’er her spread,
Benignant bow’d its sacred head,
And dropt its dews of healing;
And her heart-blood at every breath,
Recovering from the strife of death,
Drew in new strength and feeling.
Behold her beautiful in her repose,
A life-bloom reddening now her dark-brown cheek;
And lo! her eyes unclose,
Dark as the depth of Ganges’ spring profound
When night hangs over it,
Bright as the moon’s refulgent beam,
That quivers on its clear up-sparkling stream.
6.
Soon she let fall her lids,
As one who, from a blissful dream
Waking to thoughts of pain,
Fain would return to sleep, and dream again.
Distrustful of the sight,
She moves not, fearing to disturb
The deep and full delight.
In wonder fix’d, opening again her eye
She gazes silently,
Thinking her mortal pilgrimage was past,
That she had reach’d her heavenly home of rest,
And these were Gods before her,
Or spirits of the blest.
7.
Lo! at Ereenia’s voice,
A Ship of Heaven comes sailing down the skies.
Where wouldst thou bear her? cries
The ancient Sire of Gods.
Straight to the Swerga, to my Bower of Bliss,
The Glendoveer replies,
To Indra’s own abodes.
Foe of her foe, were it alone for this
Indra should guard her from his vengeance there;
But if the God forbear,
Unwilling yet the perilous strife to try,
Or shrinking from the dreadful Rajah’s might, . . .
Weak as I am, O Father, even I
Stand forth in Seeva’s sight.
8.
Trust thou in Him whatever betide,
And stand forth fearlessly!
The Sire of Gods replied:
All that He wills is right, and doubt not thou,
Howe’er our feeble scope of sight
May fail us now,
His righteous will in all things must be done.
My blessing be upon thee, O my son!
VII.
THE SWERGA.
1.
Then in the Ship of Heaven, Ereenia laid
The waking, wondering Maid;
The Ship of Heaven, instinct with thought, display’d
Its living sail, and glides along the sky.
On either side in wavy tide,
The clouds of morn along its path divide;
The Winds who swept in wild career on high,
Before its presence check their charmed force;
The Winds that loitering lagg’d along their course,
Around the living Bark enamour’d play,
Swell underneath the sail, and sing before its way.
2.
That Bark, in shape, was like the furrowed shell
Wherein the Sea-Nymphs to their parent-king,
On festal day, their duteous offerings bring.
Its hue? . . . Go watch the last green light
Ere Evening yields the western sky to Night;
Or fix upon the Sun thy strenuous sight
Till thou hast reach’d its orb of chrysolite.
The sail from end to end display’d
Bent, like a rainbow, o’er the maid.
An Angel’s head, with visual eye,
Through trackless space, directs its chosen way;
Nor aid of wing, nor foot, nor fin,
Requires to voyage o’er the obedient sky.
Smooth as the swan when not a breeze at even
Disturbs the surface of the silver stream,
Through air and sunshine sails the Ship of Heaven.
3.
Recumbent there the Maiden glides along
On her aerial way,
How swift she feels not, though the swiftest wind
Had flagg’d in flight behind.
Motionless as a sleeping babe she lay,
And all serene in mind,
Feeling no fear; for that etherial air
With such new life and joyance fill’d her heart,
Fear could not enter there;
For sure she deem’d her mortal part was o’er,
And she was sailing to the heavenly shore;
And that Angelic form, who mov’d beside,
Was some good Spirit sent to be her guide.
4.
Daughter of Earth! therein thou deem’st aright.
And never yet did form more beautiful,
In dreams of night descending from on high,
Bless the religious Virgin’s gifted sight;
Nor, like a vision of delight,
Rise on the raptur’d Poet’s inward eye.
Of human form divine was he,
The immortal Youth of Heaven who floated by;
Even such as that divinest form shall be
In those blest stages of our onward race,
When no infirmity,
Low thought, nor base desire, nor wasting care,
Deface the semblance of our heavenly sire.
The wings of Eagle or of Cherubim
Had seem’d unworthy him:
Angelic power and dignity and grace
Were in his glorious pennons; from the neck
Down to the ankle reach’d their swelling web,
Richer than robes of Tyrian die, that deck
Imperial majesty:
Their colour like the winter’s moonless sky
When all the stars of midnight’s canopy
Shine forth; or like the azure deep at noon,
Reflecting back to heaven a brighter blue.
Such was their tint when clos’d, but when outspread,
The permeating light
Shed through their substance thin a varying hue;
Now bright as when the Rose,
Beauteous as fragrant, gives to scent and sight
A like delight; now like the juice that flows
From Douro’s generous vine,
Or ruby when with deepest red it glows;
Or as the morning clouds refulgent shine
When, at forthcoming of the Lord of Day,
The Orient, like a shrine,
Kindles as it receives the rising ray,
And heralding his way,
Proclaims the presence of the power divine.
5.
Thus glorious were the wings
Of that celestial Spirit, as he went
Disporting through his native element.
Nor these alone
The gorgeous beauties that they gave to view:
Through the broad membrane branch’d a pliant bone;
Spreading like fibres from their parent stem,
Its veins like interwoven silver shone,
Or as the chaster hue
Of pearls that grace some Sultan’s diadem.
Now with slow stroke and strong, behold him smite
The buoyant air, and now in gentler flight,
On motionless wing expanded, shoot along.
6.
Through air and sunshine sails the Ship of Heaven.
Far far beneath them lies
The gross and heavy atmosphere of earth;
And with the Swerga gales,
The Maid of mortal birth
At every breath a new delight inhales.
And now toward its port the Ship of Heaven,
Swift as a falling meteor, shapes its flight,
Yet gently as the dews of night that gem,
And do not bend the hare-bell’s slenderest stem.
Daughter of Earth, Ereenia cried, alight,
This is thy place of rest, the Swerga this,
Lo, here my Bower of Bliss!
7.
He furl’d his azure wings, which round him fold
Graceful as robes of Grecian chief of old.
The happy Kailyal knew not where to gaze:
Her eyes around in joyful wonder roam,
Now turn’d upon the lovely Glendoveer,
Now on his heavenly home.
Ereenia.
Here, Maiden, rest in peace,
And I will guard thee, feeble as I am.
The Almighty Rajah shall not harm thee here,
While Indra keeps his throne.
Kailyal.
Alas, thou fearest him!
Immortal as thou art, thou fearest him!
I thought that death had sav’d me from his power;
Not even the dead are safe.
Ereenia.
Long years of life and happiness,
O Child of Earth, be thine!
From death I sav’d thee, and from all thy foes
Will save thee, while the Swerga is secure.
Kailyal.
Not me alone, O gentle Deveta!
I have a father suffering upon earth,
A persecuted, wretched, poor, good man,
For whose strange misery
There is no human help,
And none but I dare comfort him
Beneath Kehama’s curse.
O gentle Deveta, protect him too!
Ereenia.
Come, plead thyself to Indra! words like thine
May win their purpose, rouse his slumbering heart,
And make him yet put forth his arm to wield
The thunder, while the thunder is his own.
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,
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;
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,
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
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,
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,
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
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! . . .
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.
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!
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,
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,
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.
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
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,
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,
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 . . .
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.
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.
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.
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, . . .
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.
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,
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.
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.
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,
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.
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.
1.
Sails up the fields of ether like an Angel.
Love and devotement.
Proud of the charge, thou voyagest rejoicing.
Lingers in heaven.
2.
On Seeva’s eyes, the light and life of Earth.
In sudden trance opprest, forgot their powers.
The Holy River, the Redeeming Flood.
3.
In light and clouds it hath its mortal birth.
Alone and unapproachable.
Down from the immeasurable steep.
And Meru’s summit shaking with the sound.
Suspends her halo-crowns of silver light.
4.
Beneath the untainted sky.
Majestic forth they flow to purify mankind.
5.
Directs its course along the obedient sky.
Here may Ladurlad rest beyond his power.
Then lays Ladurlad by the blessed Lake; . . .
Oh joy! . . . hath found a place of rest
His curse extends not here; his pains have past away.
6.
Your resting place and sanctuary have found.
Vain thought! . . the Holy Valley smil’d
And welcome their beloved feet.
With bright and undecaying leaves.
7.
The Sire, the Maid, the Glendoveer.
A fourth approaches, . . . who is this
Pure dwelling-place for perfect mind.
Of love and painful happiness.
8.
Her mother’s milk was stirring.
The early-lost, the long-deplor’d.
9.
They sin who tell us love can die.
All others are but vanity.
But Love is indestructible.
But the harvest-time of Love is there.
10.
A foretaste of eternal pleasure.
And drinks, . . . yet cannot drink his fill;
Then girds his patient loins again.
And hope, and faith invincible.
Rejoiced to see his overthrow.
For there are Gods who look below. . . .
Nor Veeshnoo careless for mankind.
11.
And Evil yield to Good.
12.
Lovelier grew the lovely flower.
And hold again communion sweet; . . .
Beheld the Bower, and blest the sight.
With open jaws of rage pursued.
Transplanted from the fields of earth; . . .
Saved the Swerga from his power.
And bless the blessed company.
13.
To the Glendoveer or me.
14.
Pois’d his wings and hover’d nigh.
Where Ganges warbled at her feet.
And hovering o’er the silver surface hung.
With their petals barb’d the dart.
15.
Unerring flew, and smote Ereenia’s breast.
Broke off, and took their flight.
To mortal purity and beauty.
For these are proof, by nobler thoughts possest.
16.
Against the evil day. Here rest a while
Of women; . . . yet both favour’d, both belov’d
By all good Powers, here rest a while in peace.
1.
Then, like a meteor, vanish’d from his sight.
Still sore and writhing from its dreaded force.
2.
His soul the ignominious thought disdain’d.
And ask new powers to meet the immortal foe? . . .
And sham’d to tell him of his overthrow.
And there, for counsel, now his way he took.
3.
And hated women because they were lov’d.
Foul instrument for them of fouler mind.
Obeyed her bidding, slaves and masters both.
4.
Such secrets as are damnable to guess.
Might win all hearts, . . . on whom his parents gaze
Death is his doom if she behold, . . . or worse, . . .
And inward sufferings that no tongue can tell.
Eating his very core of life away.
Grows sour at once if Lorrinite pass by.
Force a cold sweat, when Lorrinite was near.
5.
Ere long to mightier mischiefs she aspir’d.
She stirr’d up neighbouring states to mortal strife.
To point its course. And in the baneful air
All deadly plagues and pestilence to brew.
Her breath would drive it to the desert sands.
Dogs fed on human bones in the open light of day.
6.
In quest of vengeance, sought, and thus began.
Revenge me on my enemies.
Lorrinite.
And my tremendous witchery.
Arvalan.
From the water sav’d the maid.
And in revenge would have my will.
Pilots her along the sky.
Mistress of the mighty spell.
7.
Sent forth a sound half-whistle and half-hiss.
In frame as diamond bright, yet black as jet.
Into this organ of her mighty will.
Tell me what is there descried.
Arvalan.
Fit home for blessed company.
See they come forward, . . . one, two, three, . . .
The last a Maiden, . . . it is she!
The visage of my deadliest foe.
Proof against his dreaded sword.
Then shall vengeance be compleat.
Lorrinite.
Hear him, and his wish fulfill.
8.
Needed. Anon a sound, like smother’d thunder,
Helmet and mail and shield and scymitar were laid.
9.
Forged this enchanted armour for the fight.
In the penal icy lake.
The work of Giant strength with magic charms.
The shield and helmet of avail.
And bade her speed him on his way.
10.
Stood harness’d, ready for the way.
Upon their brazen necks, thereat of power.
And up the northern sky begin their flight.
11.
Amid the dark-blue sky.
The Father sent to bear his Curse, . . . the Maid
Resisting vainly in his impious arms.
12.
With steady flight, steer northward for the pole.
Their adamantine yokes to drag them on.
Hath seiz’d the Chariot and the Charioteer.
He struggles to maintain his difficult seat.
Their doubled speed the affrighted Dragons try.
Headlong, with useless pennons, through the sky.
13.
’Twas all-commanding Nature . . They were here
So far above its roots of ice and snow.
On . . on they roll, . . rapt headlong they roll on; . .
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.
Is dropt, . . ten thousand thousand fathoms down, . . .
Foul Arvalan is stopt. There let him howl,
Groan there, . . and there, with unavailing moan,
For aid on his Almighty Father call.
Beyond Kehama’s reign.
Bleaching and bare beneath the polar sky.
1.
And ye must leave your dear abode of rest.
Must own the Tyrant of the World below.
Again to save the Swerga from his sway.
For Providence is good, and virtue is secure.
2.
A Ship of Heaven drew nigh.
Old Casyapa, the Sire of Gods, alight.
Forsake his ancient and august abodes.
3.
Are then Kehama’s. To the second ring
Even now, prepares for flight, . .
Beyond the Rajah’s might.
Within that beading shore.
I, too, forsake mine ancient dwelling-place.
And wander once again below.
With patient heart hold onward to the end, . . .
And they, who suffer bravely, save mankind.
4.
5.
What pleaseth Heaven to hide.
And leave the event, in holy hope, to Heaven.
And Ye, of heavenly nature, follow me.
6.
Then took his seat beside.
There was no word at parting, no adieu.
The fiery Curse again like lightning shot.
Up soar’d the Ship of Heaven, and sail’d away from sight.
7.
To other worlds, their mournful progress bend.
In this portentous hour, . .
This dolorous hour, . . this universal woe.
Gone like a morning rainbow, . . like a dream. . .
A star that shoots and falls, and then is seen no more.
8.
Now! now! . . . Before the Golden Palaces,
The Bramin strikes the inevitable hour.
Confirms the Almighty Rajah in his power.
Set up a joyful shout.
Of Hell, are shaken with the roar.
And scal’d high Heaven, triumphant like a God.
