Volume 1 — THE CURSE OF KEHAMA. (continued 2)

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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,

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.

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.

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.

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,

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.

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.

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.

Oh tell me, cried Ereenia, for from thee

Nought can be hidden, when the end will be!

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.

The will of Heaven be done, Ladurlad cried,

Nor more the man replied;

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.

O ye immortal Bowers,

Where hitherto the Hours

Have led their dance of happiness for aye,

With what a sense of woe

Do ye expect the blow,

And see your heavenly dwellers driven away!

Lo! where the aunnay-birds of graceful mien,

Whose milk-white forms were seen,

Lovely as Nymphs, your ancient trees between,

And by your silent springs,

With melancholy cry,

Now spread unwilling wings;

Their stately necks reluctant they protend,

And through the sullen sky,

To other worlds, their mournful progress bend.

The affrighted gales to-day

O’er their beloved streams no longer play,

The streams of Paradise have ceas’d to flow;

The Fountain-Tree withholds its diamond shower,

In this portentous hour, . .

This dolorous hour, . . this universal woe.

Where is the Palace, whose far-flashing beams,

With streaks and streams of ever-varying light,

Brighten’d the polar night

Around the frozen North’s extremest shore?

Gone like a morning rainbow, . . like a dream. . .

A star that shoots and falls, and then is seen no more.

Now! now! . . . Before the Golden Palaces,

The Bramin strikes the inevitable hour.

The fatal blow is given,

That over Earth and Heaven

Confirms the Almighty Rajah in his power.

All evil Spirits then,

That roam the World about,

Or wander through the sky,

Set up a joyful shout.

The Asuras and the Giants join the cry,

The damn’d in Padalon acclaim

Their hop’d Deliverer’s name;

Heaven trembles with the thunder-drowning sound;

Back starts affrighted Ocean from the shore,

And the adamantine vaults, and brazen floor

Of Hell, are shaken with the roar.

Up rose the Rajah through the conquer’d sky,

To seize the Swerga for his proud abode;

Myriads of evil Genii round him fly,

As royally, on wings of winds, he rode,

And scal’d high Heaven, triumphant like a God.