Volume 2 — THE CURSE OF KEHAMA.

XIII. THE RETREAT.

Around her Father’s neck the Maiden lock’d

Her arms, when that portentous blow was given;

Clinging to him she heard the dread uproar,

And felt the shuddering shock which ran through Heaven.

Earth underneath them rock’d,

Her strong foundations heaving in commotion,

Such as wild winds upraise in raving Ocean,

As though the solid base were rent asunder.

And lo! where, storming the astonish’d sky,

Kehama and his evil host ascend!

Before them rolls the thunder,

Ten thousand thousand lightnings round them fly,

Upward the lengthening pageantries aspire,

Leaving from Earth to Heaven a widening wake of fire.

When the wild uproar was at length allay’d,

And Earth, recovering from the shock, was still,

Thus to her father spake the imploring Maid.

Oh! by the love which we so long have borne

Each other, and we ne’er shall cease to bear, . .

Oh! by the sufferings we have shar’d,

And must not cease to share, . .

One boon I supplicate in this dread hour,

One consolation in this hour of woe!

Thou hast it in thy power, refuse not thou

The only comfort now

That my poor heart can know.

O dearest, dearest Kailyal! with a smile

Of tenderness and sorrow, he replied,

O best belov’d, and to be lov’d the best

Best worthy, . . set thy duteous heart at rest.

I know thy wish, and let what will betide,

Ne’er will I leave thee wilfully again.

My soul is strengthen’d to endure its pain;

Be thou, in all my wanderings, still my guide;

Be thou, in all my sufferings, at my side.

The Maiden, at those welcome words, imprest

A passionate kiss upon her father’s cheek:

They look’d around them, then, as if to seek

Where they should turn, North, South, or East or West,

Wherever to their vagrant feet seem’d best.

But, turning from the view her mournful eyes,

Oh, whither should we wander, Kailyal cries,

Or wherefore seek in vain a place of rest?

Have we not here the Earth beneath our tread,

Heaven overhead,

A brook that winds through this sequester’d glade,

And yonder woods, to yield us fruit and shade!

The little all our wants require is nigh;

Hope we have none, . . why travel on in fear?

We cannot fly from Fate, and Fate will find us here.

’Twas a fair scene wherein they stood,

A green and sunny glade amid the wood,

And in the midst an aged Banian grew.

It was a goodly sight to see

That venerable tree,

For o’er the lawn, irregularly spread,

Fifty straight columns propt its lofty head;

And many a long depending shoot,

Seeking to strike its root,

Straight like a plummet, grew towards the ground.

Some on the lower boughs, which crost their way,

Fixing their bearded fibres, round and round,

With many a ring and wild contortion wound;

Some to the passing wind at times, with sway

Of gentle motion swung,

Others of younger growth, unmov’d, were hung

Like stone-drops from the cavern’s fretted height.

Beneath was smooth and fair to sight,

Nor weeds nor briars deform’d the natural floor,

And through the leafy cope which bower’d it o’er

Came gleams of checquered light.

So like a temple did it seem, that there

A pious heart’s first impulse would be prayer.

A brook, with easy current, murmured near;

Water so cool and clear

The peasants drink not from the humble well,

Which they with sacrifice of rural pride,

Have wedded to the cocoa-grove beside;

Nor tanks of costliest masonry dispense

To those in towns who dwell,

The work of Kings, in their beneficence.

Fed by perpetual springs, a small lagoon,

Pellucid, deep, and still, in silence join’d

And swell’d the passing stream. Like burnish’d steel

Glowing, it lay beneath the eye of noon;

And when the breezes, in their play,

Ruffled the darkening surface, then, with gleam

Of sudden light, around the lotus stem

It rippled, and the sacred flowers that crown

The lakelet with their roseate beauty, ride,

In gentlest waving rock’d, from side to side;

And as the wind upheaves

Their broad and buoyant weight, the glossy leaves

Flap on the twinkling waters, up and down.

They built them here a bower; of jointed cane,

Strong for the needful use, and light and long

Was the slight frame-work rear’d, with little pain;

Lithe creepers, then, the wicker-sides supply,

And the tall jungle-grass fit roofing gave

Beneath that genial sky.

And here did Kailyal, each returning day,

Pour forth libations from the brook, to pay

The Spirits of her Sires their grateful rite;

In such libations pour’d in open glades,

Beside clear streams and solitary shades,

The Spirits of the virtuous dead delight.

And duly here, to Marriataly’s praise,

The Maid, as with an Angel’s voice of song,

Pour’d her melodious lays

Upon the gales of even,

And gliding in religious dance along,

Mov’d, graceful as the dark-eyed Nymphs of Heaven,

Such harmony to all her steps was given,

Thus ever, in her Father’s doting eye,

Kailyal perform’d the customary rite;

He, patient of his burning pain the while,

Beheld her, and approv’d her pious toil;

And sometimes, at the sight,

A melancholy smile

Would gleam upon his awful countenance,

He, too, by day and night, and every hour,

Paid to a higher Power his sacrifice;

An offering, not of ghee, or fruit, or rice,

Flower-crown, or blood; but of a heart subdued,

A resolute, unconquer’d fortitude,

An agony represt, a will resign’d,

To her, who, on her secret throne reclin’d,

Amid the milky Sea, by Veeshnoo’s side,

Looks with an eye of mercy on mankind.

By the Preserver, with his power endued,

There Voomdavee beholds this lower clime,

And marks the silent sufferings of the good,

To recompense them in her own good time.

O force of faith! O strength of virtuous will!

Behold him, in his endless martyrdom,

Triumphant still!

The Curse still burning in his heart and brain,

And yet doth he remain

Patient the while, and tranquil, and content!

The pious soul hath fram’d unto itself

A second nature, to exist in pain

As in its own allotted element.

Such strength the will reveal’d had given

This holy pair, such influxes of grace,

That to their solitary resting place

They brought the peace of Heaven.

Yea all around was hallowed! Danger, Fear,

Nor thought of evil ever entered here.

A charm was on the Leopard when he came

Within the circle of that mystic glade;

Submiss he crouch’d before the heavenly maid,

And offered to her touch his speckled side;

Or with arch’d back erect, and bending head,

And eyes half-clos’d for pleasure, would he stand,

Courting the pressure of her gentle hand.

Trampling his path through wood and brake,

And canes which crackling fall before his way,

And tassel-grass, whose silvery feathers play

O’ertopping the young trees,

On comes the Elephant, to slake

His thirst at noon in yon pellucid springs.

Lo! from his trunk upturn’d, aloft he flings

The grateful shower; and now

Plucking the broad-leav’d bough

Of yonder plane, with waving motion slow,

Fanning the languid air,

He moves it to and fro.

But when that form of beauty meets his sight,

The trunk its undulating motion stops,

From his forgetful hold the plane-branch drops,

Reverent he kneels, and lifts his rational eyes

To her as if in prayer;

And when she pours her angel voice in song,

Entranced he listens to the thrilling notes,

Till his strong temples, bath’d with sudden dews,

Their fragrance of delight and love diffuse.

Lo! as the voice melodious floats around,

The Antelope draws near,

The Tygress leaves her toothless cubs to hear,

The Snake comes gliding from the secret brake,

Himself in fascination forced along

By that enchanting song;

The antic Monkies, whose wild gambols late,

When not a breeze wav’d the tall jungle-grass,

Shook the whole wood, are hush’d, and silently

Hang on the cluster’d trees.

All things in wonder and delight are still;

Only at times the Nightingale is heard,

Not that in emulous skill that sweetest bird

Her rival strain would try,

A mighty songster, with the Maid to vie;

She only bore her part in powerful sympathy.

Well might they thus adore that heavenly Maid!

For never Nymph of Mountain,

Or Grove, or Lake, or Fountain,

With a diviner presence fill’d the shade.

No idle ornaments deface

Her natural grace,

Musk-spot, nor sandal-streak, nor scarlet stain,

Ear-drop nor chain, nor arm nor ankle-ring,

Nor trinketry on front, or neck, or breast,

Marring the perfect form: she seem’d a thing

Of Heaven’s prime uncorrupted work, a child

Of early Nature undefil’d,

A daughter of the years of innocence.

And therefore all things lov’d her. When she stood

Beside the glassy pool, the fish, that flies

Quick as an arrow from all other eyes,

Hover’d to gaze on her. The mother bird,

When Kailyal’s steps she heard,

Sought not to tempt her from her secret nest,

But, hastening to the dear retreat, would fly

To meet and welcome her benignant eye.

Hope we have none, said Kailyal to her Sire.

Said she aright? and had the Mortal Maid

No thoughts of heavenly aid, . .

No secret hopes her inmost heart to move

With longings of such deep and pure desire,

As vestal Maids, whose piety is love,

Feel in their extasies, when rapt above,

Their souls unto their heavenly Spouse aspire?

Why else so often doth that searching eye

Roam through the scope of sky?

Why, if she sees a distant speck on high,

Starts there that quick suffusion to her cheek?

’Tis but the Eagle, in his heavenly height;

Reluctant to believe, she hears his cry,

And marks his wheeling flight,

Then languidly averts her mournful sight.

Why ever else, at morn, that waking sigh,

Because the lovely form no more is nigh

Which hath been present to her soul all night;

And that injurious fear

Which ever, as it riseth, is represt,

Yet riseth still within her troubled breast,

That she no more shall see the Glendoveer!

Hath he forgotten me? The wrongful thought

Would stir within her, and, though still repell’d

With shame and self-reproaches, would recur.

Days after days unvarying come and go,

And neither friend nor foe

Approaches them in their sequestered bower.

Maid of strange destiny! but think not thou

Thou art forgotten now,

And hast no cause for farther hope or fear.

High-fated Maid, thou dost not know

What eyes watch over thee for weal and woe!

Even at this hour,

Searching the dark decrees divine,

Kehama, in the fulness of his power,

Perceives his thread of fate entwin’d with thine.

The Glendoveer, from his far sphere,

With love that never sleeps, beholds thee here,

And, in the hour permitted, will be near.

Dark Lorrinite on thee hath fix’d her sight,

And laid her wiles, to aid

Foul Arvalan when he shall next appear;

For well she ween’d his Spirit would renew

Old vengeance now, with unremitting hate;

The Enchantress well that evil nature knew,

The accursed Spirit hath his prey in view,

And thus, while all their separate hopes pursue,

All work, unconsciously, the will of Fate.

Fate work’d its own the while. A band

Of Yoguees, as they roam’d the land,

Seeking a spouse for Jaga-Naut their God,

Stray’d to this solitary glade,

And reach’d the bower wherein the Maid abode.

Wondering at form so fair, they deem’d the power

Divine had led them to his chosen bride,

And seiz’d and bore her from her father’s side.

XIV. JAGA-NAUT.

Joy in the city of great Jaga-Naut!

Joy in the seven-headed Idol’s shrine!

A virgin-bride his ministers have brought,

A mortal maid, in form and face divine,

Peerless among all daughters of mankind;

Search’d they the world again from East to West,

In endless quest,

Seeking the fairest and the best,

No maid so lovely might they hope to find; . .

For she hath breath’d celestial air,

And heavenly food hath been her fare,

And heavenly thoughts and feelings give her face

That heavenly grace.

Joy in the city of great Jaga-Naut,

Joy in the seven-headed Idol’s shrine!

The fairest Maid his Yoguees sought,

A fairer than the fairest have they brought,

A maid of charms surpassing human thought,

A maid divine.

Now bring ye forth the Chariot of the God!

Bring him abroad,

That through the swarming City he may ride;

And by his side

Place ye the Maid of more than mortal grace,

The Maid of perfect form and heavenly face!

Set her aloft in triumph, like a bride

Upon the bridal car,

And spread the joyful tidings wide and far, . .

Spread it with trump and voice

That all may hear, and all who hear rejoice, . .

The Mighty One hath found his mate! the God

Will ride abroad!

To-night will he go forth from his abode!

Ye myriads who adore him,

Prepare the way before him!

Uprear’d on twenty wheels elate,

Huge as a Ship, the bridal car appear’d;

Loud creak its ponderous wheels, as through the gate

A thousand Bramins drag the enormous load.

There, thron’d aloft in state,

The image of the seven-headed God

Came forth from his abode; and at his side

Sate Kailyal like a bride;

A bridal statue rather might she seem,

For she regarded all things like a dream,

Having no thought, nor fear, nor will, nor aught

Save hope and faith, that liv’d within her still.

O silent Night, how have they startled thee

With the brazen trumpet’s blare!

And thou, O Moon! whose quiet light serene

Filleth wide heaven, and bathing hill and wood,

Spreads o’er the peaceful valley like a flood,

How have they dimm’d thee with the torches’ glare,

Which round yon moving pageant flame and flare,

As the wild rout, with deafening song and shout,

Fling their long flashes out,

That, like infernal lightnings, fire the air.

A thousand pilgrims strain

Arm, shoulder, breast and thigh, with might and main,

To drag that sacred wain,

And scarce can draw along the enormous load.

Prone fall the frantic votaries in its road,

And, calling on the God,

Their self-devoted bodies there they lay

To pave his chariot-way.

On Jaga-Naut they call,

The ponderous Car rolls on, and crushes all.

Through blood and bones it ploughs its dreadful path.

Groans rise unheard; the dying cry,

And death and agony

Are trodden under foot by yon mad throng,

Who follow close, and thrust the deadly wheels along.

Pale grows the Maid at this accursed sight;

The yells which round her rise

Have rous’d her with affright,

And fear hath given to her dilated eyes

A wilder light.

Where shall those eyes be turn’d? she knows not where!

Downward they dare not look, for there

Is death and horror, and despair;

Nor can her patient looks to Heaven repair,

For the huge Idol over her, in air,

Spreads his seven hideous heads, and wide

Extends their snaky necks on every side;

And all around, behind, before,

The bridal Car, is the raging rout,

With frantic shout, and deafening roar,

Tossing the torches’ flames about.

And the double double peals of the drum are there,

And the startling burst of the trumpet’s blare;

And the gong, that seems, with its thunders dread,

To stun the living, and waken the dead.

The ear-strings throb as if they were broke,

And the eye-lids drop at the weight of its stroke.

Fain would the Maid have kept them fast,

But open they start at the crack of the blast.

Where art thou, Son of Heaven, Ereenia! where

In this dread hour of horror and despair?

Thinking on him, she strove her fear to quell,

If he be near me, then will all be well;

And, if he reck not for my misery,

Let come the worst, it matters not to me.

Repel that wrongful thought,

O Maid! thou feelest, but believ’st it not;

It is thine own imperfect nature’s fault

That lets one doubt of him arise within.

And this the Virgin knew; and, like a sin,

Repell’d the thought, and still believ’d him true;

And summoned up her spirit to endure

All forms of fear, in that firm trust secure.

She needs that faith, she needs that consolation,

For now the Car hath measured back its track

Of death, and hath re-entered now its station.

There, in the Temple-court, with song and dance,

A harlot-band, to meet the Maid, advance.

The drum hath ceas’d its peals; the trump and gong

Are still; the frantic crowd forbear their yells;

And sweet it was to hear the voice of song,

And the sweet music of their girdle-bells,

Armlets and anklets, that, with chearful sounds

Symphonious tinkled as they wheel’d around.

They sung a bridal measure,

A song of pleasure,

A hymn of joyaunce and of gratulation.

Go, chosen One, they cried,

Go, happy bride!

For thee the God descends in expectation;

For thy dear sake

He leaves his heaven, O Maid of matchless charms.

Go, happy One, the bed divine partake,

And fill his longing arms!

Thus to the inner fane,

With circling dance and hymeneal strain,

The astonish’d Maid they led,

And there they laid her on the bridal bed.

Then forth they went, and clos’d the Temple-gate,

And left the wretched Kailyal to her fate.

Where art thou, Son of Heaven, Ereenia, where?

From the loathed bed she starts, and in the air

Looks up, as if she thought to find him there!

Then, in despair,

Anguish and agony, and hopeless prayer,

Prostrate she laid herself upon the floor.

There, trembling as she lay,

The Bramin of the fane advanced

And came to seize his prey.

But as the Priest drew nigh,

A power invisible opposed his way;

Starting, he uttered wildly a death-cry,

And fell. At that the Maid all eagerly

Lifted in hope her head;

She thought her own deliverer had been near;

When lo! with other life re-animate,

She saw the dead arise,

And in the fiendish joy within his eyes,

She knew the hateful Spirit who look’d through

Their specular orbs, . . cloth’d in the flesh of man

She knew the accursed soul of Arvalan.

But not in vain, with the sudden shriek of fear,

She calls Ereenia now; the Glendoveer

Is here! Upon the guilty sight he burst

Like lightning from a cloud, and caught the accurst,

Bore him to the roof aloft, and on the floor

With vengeance dash’d him, quivering there in gore.

Lo! from the pregnant air, . . heart-withering sight!

There issued forth the dreadful Lorrinite,

Seize him! the Enchantress cried;

A host of Demons at her word appear,

And like tornado winds, from every side

At once, they rush upon the Glendoveer.

Alone against a legion, little here

Avails his single might,

Nor that celestial faulchion, which in fight

So oft had put the rebel race to flight.

There are no Gods on earth to give him aid;

Hemm’d round, he is overpower’d, beat down, and bound,

And at the feet of Lorrinite is laid.

Meantime the scattered members of the slain,

Obedient to her mighty voice, assum’d

Their vital form again,

And that foul Spirit, upon vengeance bent,

Fled to the fleshly tenement.

Lo! here, quoth Lorrinite, thou seest thy foe!

Him in the Ancient Sepulchres, below

The billows of the Ocean, will I lay;

Gods are there none to help him now, and there

For Man there is no way.

To that dread scene of durance and despair,

Asuras, bear your enemy! I go

To chain him in the Tombs. Meantime do thou,

Freed from thy foe, and now secure from fear,

Son of Kehama, take thy pleasure here.

Her words the accursed race obey’d;

Forth with a sound like rushing winds they fled,

And of all aid from Earth or Heaven bereft,

Alone with Arvalan the Maid was left.

But in that hour of agony, the Maid

Deserted not herself; her very dread

Had calm’d her; and her heart

Knew the whole horror, and its only part.

Yamen, receive me undefil’d! she said,

And seiz’d a torch, and fir’d the bridal bed.

Up ran the rapid flames; on every side

They find their fuel wheresoe’er they spread,

Thin hangings, fragrant gums, and odorous wood,

That pil’d like sacrificial altars stood.

Around they run, and upward they aspire,

And, lo! the huge Pagoda lin’d with fire.

The wicked Soul, who had assum’d again

A form of sensible flesh, for his foul will,

Still bent on base revenge, and baffled still,

Felt that corporeal shape alike to pain

Obnoxious as to pleasure; forth he flew,

Howling and scorch’d by the devouring flame;

Accursed Spirit! still condemn’d to rue,

The act of sin and punishment the same.

Freed from his loathsome touch, a natural dread

Came on the self-devoted, and she drew

Back from the flames, which now toward her spread,

And, like a living monster, seem’d to dart

Their hungry tongues toward their shrinking prey.

Soon she subdued her heart;

O Father! she exclaim’d, there was no way

But this! and thou, Ereenia, who for me

Sufferest, my soul shall bear thee company.

So having said, she knit

Her body up to work her soul’s desire,

And rush at once amid the thickest fire.

A sudden cry withheld her, . . Kailyal, stay!

Child! Daughter! I am here! the voice exclaims,

And from the gate, unharm’d, through smoke and flames

Like as a God, Ladurlad made his way;

Wrapt his preserving arms around, and bore

His Child, uninjur’d, o’er the burning floor.

XV. THE CITY OF BALY.

Kailyal.

Ereenia!

Ladurlad.

Nay, let no reproachful thought

Wrong his heroic heart! The Evil Powers

Have the dominion o’er this wretched World,

And no good Spirit now can venture here.

Kailyal.

Alas, my Father! he hath ventur’d here,

And sav’d me from one horror. But the Powers

Of Evil beat him down, and bore away

To some dread scene of durance and despair,

The Ancient Tombs, methought their Mistress said,

Beneath the ocean-waves: no way for Man

Is there; and Gods, she boasted, there are none

On Earth to help him now.

Ladurlad.

Is that her boast?

And hath she laid him in the Ancient Tombs,

Relying that the Waves will guard him there?

Short-sighted are the eyes of Wickedness,

And all its craft but folly. O, my child!

The Curses of the Wicked are upon me,

And the immortal Deities, who see

And suffer all things for their own wise end,

Have made them blessings to us!

Kailyal.

Then thou knowest

Where they have borne him?

Ladurlad.

To the Sepulchres

Of the Ancient Kings, which Baly, in his power,

Made in primeval times; and built above them

A City, like the Cities of the Gods,

Being like a God himself. For many an age

Hath Ocean warr’d against his Palaces,

Till overwhelm’d, they lie beneath the waves,

Not overthrown, so well the Mighty One

Had laid their deep foundations. Rightly said

The Accursed, that no way for Man was there,

But not like Man am I!

Up from the ground the Maid exultant sprung,

And clapp’d her happy hands, in attitude

Of thanks, to Heaven, and flung

Her arms around her Father’s neck, and stood

Struggling awhile for utterance, with excess

Of hope and pious thankfulness.

Come . . come! she cried, O let us not delay, . .

He is in torments there, . . away! . . away!

Long time they travell’d on; at dawn of day

Still setting forward with the earliest light,

Nor ceasing from their way

Till darkness clos’d the night.

Short refuge from the noontide heat,

Reluctantly compell’d, the Maiden took;

And ill her indefatigable feet

Could that brief tarriance brook.

Hope kept her up, and her intense desire

Supports that heart which ne’er at danger quails,

Those feet which never tire,

That frame which never fails.

Their talk was of the City of the days

Of old, Earth’s wonder once; and of the fame

Of Baly its great founder, . . he whose name

In ancient story, and in poet’s praise,

Liveth and flourisheth for endless glory,

Because his might

Put down the wrong, and aye upheld the right.

Till for ambition, as old sages tell,

The mighty Monarch fell:

For he too, having made the World his own,

Then, in his pride, had driven

The Devetas from Heaven,

And seiz’d triumphantly the Swerga throne.

The Incarnate came before the Mighty One,

In dwarfish stature, and in mien obscure;

The sacred cord he bore,

And ask’d, for Brama’s sake, a little boon,

Three steps of Baly’s ample reign, no more.

Poor was the boon requir’d, and poor was he

Who begg’d, . . a little wretch it seem’d to be;

But Baly ne’er refus’d a suppliant’s prayer.

A glance of pity, in contemptuous mood,

He on the Dwarf cast down,

And bade him take the boon,

And measure where he would.

Lo, Son of giant birth,

I take my grant! the Incarnate power replies.

With his first step he measur’d o’er the Earth,

The second spann’d the skies.

Three paces thou hast granted,

Twice have I set my footstep, Veeshnoo cries,

Where shall the third be planted?

Then Baly knew the God, and at his feet,

In homage due, he laid his humbled head.

Mighty art thou, O Lord of Earth and Heaven,

Mighty art thou! he said,

Be merciful, and let me be forgiven.

He ask’d for mercy of the merciful,

And mercy for his virtue’s sake was shown.

For though he was cast down to Padalon,

Yet there, by Yamen’s throne,

Doth Baly sit in majesty and might,

To judge the dead, and sentence them aright.

And forasmuch as he was still the friend

Of righteousness, it is permitted him,

Yearly, from those drear regions to ascend,

And walk the Earth, that he may hear his name

Still hymn’d and honour’d, by the grateful voice

Of humankind, and in his fame rejoice.

Such was the talk they held upon their way,

Of him to whose old City they were bound;

And now, upon their journey, many a day

Had risen and clos’d, and many a week gone round,

And many a realm and region had they past,

When now the Ancient Towers appear’d at last.

Their golden summits, in the noon-day light,

Shone o’er the dark-green deep that roll’d between;

For domes, and pinnacles, and spires were seen

Peering above the sea, . . a mournful sight!

Well might the sad beholder ween from thence

What works of wonder the devouring wave

Had swallowed there, when monuments so brave

Bore record of their old magnificence.

And on the sandy shore, beside the verge

Of Ocean, here and there, a rock-hewn fane

Resisted in its strength the surf and surge

That on their deep foundations beat in vain.

In solitude the Ancient Temples stood,

Once resonant with instrument and song,

And solemn dance of festive multitude;

Now as the weary ages pass along,

No voice they hear, save of the Ocean flood,

Which roars for ever on the restless shores;

Or, visiting their solitary caves,

The lonely sound of Winds, that moan around

Accordant to the melancholy waves.

With reverence did the travellers see

The works of ancient days, and silently

Approach the shore. Now on the yellow sand,

Where round their feet the rising surges part,

They stand. Ladurlad’s heart

Exulted in his wonderous destiny.

To Heaven he rais’d his hand

In attitude of stern heroic pride;

Oh what a power, he cried,

Thou dreadful Rajah, doth thy Curse impart!

I thank thee now! . . Then turning to the Maid,

Thou see’st how far and wide

Yon Towers extend, he said,

My search must needs be long. Meantime the flood

Will cast thee up thy food, . .

And in the Chambers of the Rock by night,

Take thou thy safe abode,

No prowling beast to harm thee, or affright,

Can enter there; but wrap thyself with care

From the foul Bird obscene that thirsts for blood;

For in such caverns doth the Bat delight

To have its haunts. Do thou with stone and shout,

Ere thou liest down at evening, scare them out,

And in this robe of mine involve thy feet.

Duly commend us both to Heaven in prayer,

Be of good heart, and let thy sleep be sweet.

So saying, he put back his arm, and gave

The cloth which girt his loins, and prest her hand

With fervent love, then down the sloping sand

Advanced into the sea: the coming Wave,

Which knew Kehama’s Curse, before his way

Started, and on he went as on dry land,

And still around his path the waters parted.

She stands upon the shore, where sea-weeds play,

Lashing her polish’d ankles, and the spray

Which off her Father, like a rainbow, fled,

Falls on her like a shower; there Kailyal stands,

And sees the billows rise above his head.

She, at the startling sight, forgot the power

The Curse had given him, and held forth her hands

Imploringly, . . . her voice was on the wind,

And the deaf Ocean o’er Ladurlad clos’d.

Soon she recall’d his destiny to mind,

And, shaking off that natural fear, compos’d

Her soul with prayer, to wait the event resign’d.

Alone, upon the solitary strand,

The lovely one is left; behold her go,

Pacing with patient footsteps, to and fro,

Along the bending sand.

Save her, ye Gods! from Evil Powers, and here

From man she need not fear;

For never Traveller comes near

These awful ruins of the days of yore,

Nor fisher’s bark, nor venturous mariner,

Approach the sacred shore.

All day she walk’d the beach, at night she sought

The Chamber of the Rock; with stone and shout

Assail’d the Bats obscene, and scar’d them out;

Then in her Father’s robe involv’d her feet,

And wrapt her mantle round to guard her head,

And laid her down: the rock was Kailyal’s bed,

Her chamber-lamps were in the starry sky,

The winds and waters were her lullaby.

Be of good heart, and let thy sleep be sweet,

Ladurlad said, . . Alas! that cannot be

To one whose days are days of misery.

How often did she stretch her hands to greet

Ereenia, rescued in the dreams of night!

How oft amid the vision of delight,

Fear in her heart all is not as it seems;

Then from unsettled slumber start, and hear

The Winds that moan above, the Waves below!

Thou hast been call’d, O Sleep! the friend of Woe,

But ’tis the happy who have call’d thee so.

Another day, another night are gone,

A second passes, and a third wanes on.

So long she paced the shore,

So often on the beach she took her stand,

That the wild Sea-Birds knew her, and no more

Fled, when she past beside them on the strand.

Bright shine the golden summits in the light

Of the noon-sun, and lovelier far by night

Their moonlight glories o’er the sea they shed:

Fair is the dark-green deep; by night and day

Unvex’d with storms, the peaceful billows play,

As when they clos’d upon Ladurlad’s head:

The firmament above is bright and clear;

The sea-fowl, lords of water, air, and land,

Joyous alike upon the wing appear,

Or when they ride the waves, or walk the sand;

Beauty and light and joy are every-where;

There is no sadness and no sorrow here,

Save what that single human breast contains,

But oh! what hopes, and fears, and pains are there!

Seven miserable days the expectant Maid,

From earliest dawn till evening, watch’d the shore;

Hope left her then; and in her heart she said,

Never shall I behold my Father more!

XVI. THE ANCIENT SEPULCHRES.

When the broad Ocean on Ladurlad’s head

Had clos’d and arch’d him o’er,

With steady tread he held his way

Adown the sloping shore.

The dark-green waves, with emerald hue,

Imbue the beams of day,

And on the wrinkled sand below,

Rolling their mazy network to and fro,

Light shadows shift and play.

The hungry Shark, at scent of prey,

Toward Ladurlad darted;

Beholding then that human form erect,

How like a God the depths he trod,

Appall’d the monster started,

And in his fear departed.

Onward Ladurlad went with heart elate,

And now hath reach’d the Ancient City’s gate.

Wondering, he stood awhile to gaze

Upon the works of elder days.

The brazen portals open stood,

Even as the fearful multitude

Had left them, when they fled

Before the rising flood.

High over-head, sublime,

The mighty gateway’s storied roof was spread,

Dwarfing the puny piles of younger time.

With the deeds of days of yore

That ample roof was sculptur’d o’er,

And many a godlike form there met his eye,

And many an emblem dark of mystery.

Through these wide portals oft had Baly rode

Triumphant from his proud abode,

When, in his greatness, he bestrode

The Aullay, hugest of four-footed kind,

The Aullay-Horse, that in his force,

With elephantine trunk, could bind

And lift the elephant, and on the wind

Whirl him away, with sway and swing,

Even like a pebble from the practis’d sling.

Those streets which never, since the days of yore,

By human footstep had been visited;

Those streets; which never more

A human foot shall tread,

Ladurlad trod. In sun-light, and sea-green,

The thousand palaces were seen

Of that proud city, whose superb abodes

Seem’d rear’d by Giants for the immortal Gods.

How silent and how beautiful they stand,

Like things of Nature! the eternal rocks

Themselves not firmer. Neither hath the sand

Drifted within their gates, and choak’d their doors,

Nor slime defil’d their pavements and their floors.

Did then the Ocean wage

His war for love and envy, not in rage,

O thou fair City, that he spares thee thus?

Art thou Varounin’s capital and court,

Where all the Sea-Gods for delight resort,

A place too godlike to be held by us,

The poor degenerate children of the Earth?

So thought Ladurlad, as he look’d around,

Weening to hear the sound

Of Mermaid’s shell, and song

Of choral throng from some imperial hall,

Wherein the Immortal Powers, at festival,

Their high carousals keep.

But all is silence dread,

Silence profound and dead,

The everlasting stillness of the Deep.

Through many a solitary street,

And silent market-place, and lonely square,

Arm’d with the mighty Curse, behold him fare.

And now his feet attain that royal fane

Where Baly held of old his awful reign.

What once had been the Garden spread around,

Fair Gardens, once which wore perpetual green,

Where all sweet flowers through all the year were found,

And all fair fruits were through all seasons seen;

A place of Paradise, where each device

Of emulous Art with Nature strove to vie;

And Nature, on her part,

Call’d forth new powers wherewith to vanquish Art.

The Swerga-God himself, with envious eye,

Survey’d those peerless gardens in their prime;

Nor ever did the Lord of Light,

Who circles Earth and Heaven upon his way,

Behold from eldest time a goodlier sight

Than were the groves which Baly, in his might,

Made for his chosen place of solace and delight.

It was a Garden still beyond all price,

Even yet it was a place of Paradise;

For where the mighty Ocean could not spare,

There had he, with his own creation,

Sought to repair his work of devastation.

And here were coral bowers,

And grots of madrepores,

And banks of spunge, as soft and fair to eye

As e’er was mossy bed

Whereon the Wood Nymphs lie

With languid limbs in summer’s sultry hours.

Here, too, were living flowers

Which, like a bud compacted,

Their purple cups contracted,

And now in open blossom spread,

Stretch’d like green anthers many a seeking head.

And arborets of jointed stone were there,

And plants of fibres fine, as silkworm’s thread;

Yea, beautiful as Mermaid’s golden hair

Upon the waves dispread:

Others that, like the broad banana growing,

Rais’d their long wrinkled leaves of purple hue,

Like streamers wide out-flowing.

And whatsoe’er the depths of Ocean hide

From human eyes, Ladurlad there espied,

Trees of the deep, and shrubs and fruits and flowers,

As fair as ours,

Wherewith the Sea-Nymphs love their locks to braid,

When to their father’s hall, at festival

Repairing, they, in emulous array,

Their charms display,

To grace the banquet, and the solemn day.

The golden fountains had not ceas’d to flow,

And, where they mingled with the briny Sea,

There was a sight of wonder and delight,

To see the fish, like birds in air,

Above Ladurlad flying.

Round those strange waters they repair,

Their scarlet fins outspread and plying,

They float with gentle hovering there;

And now upon those little wings,

As if to dare forbidden things,

With wilful purpose bent,

Swift as an arrow from a bow

They dash across, and to and fro,

In rapid glance, like lightning go

Through that unwonted element.

Almost in scenes so wonderous fair,

Ladurlad had forgot

The mighty cause which led him there;

His busy eye was every where,

His mind had lost all thought;

His heart, surrendered to the joys

Of sight, was happy as a boy’s.

But soon the awakening thought recurs

Of him who, in the Sepulchres,

Hopeless of human aid, in chains is laid;

And her who, on the solitary shore,

By night and day her weary watch will keep,

Till she shall see them issuing from the deep.

Now hath Ladurlad reach’d the Court

Of the great Palace of the King; its floor

Was of the marble rock; and there before

The imperial door,

A mighty Image on the steps was seen,

Of stature huge, of countenance serene.

A crown and sceptre at his feet were laid;

One hand a scroll display’d,

The other pointed there, that all might see;

My name is Death, it said,

In mercy have the Gods appointed me.

Two brazen gates beneath him, night and day

Stood open; and within them you behold

Descending steps, which in the living stone

Were hewn, a spacious way

Down to the Chambers of the Kings of old.

Trembling with hope, the adventurous man descended

The sea-green light of day

Not far along the vault extended;

But where the slant reflection ended,

Another light was seen

Of red and fiery hue,

That with the water blended,

And gave the secrets of the Tombs to view.

Deep in the marble rock, the Hall

Of Death was hollowed out, a chamber wide,

Low-roof’d, and long; on either side,

Each in his own alcove, and on his throne,

The Kings of old were seated: in his hand

Each held the sceptre of command,

From whence, across that scene of endless night,

A carbuncle diffused its everlasting light.

So well had the embalmers done their part

With spice and precious unguents, to imbue

The perfect corpse, that each had still the hue

Of living man, and every limb was still

Supple and firm and full, as when of yore

Its motion answered to the moving will.

The robes of royalty which once they wore,

Long since had mouldered off and left them bare:

Naked upon their thrones behold them there,

Statues of actual flesh, . . a fearful sight!

Their large and rayless eyes

Dimly reflecting to that gem-born light,

Glaz’d, fix’d, and meaningless, . . . yet, open wide,

Their ghastly balls belied

The mockery of life in all beside.

But if, amid these Chambers drear,

Death were a sight of shuddering and of fear,

Life was a thing of stranger horror here.

For at the farther end, in yon alcove,

Where Baly should have lain, had he obey’d

Man’s common lot, behold Ereenia laid.

Strong fetters link him to the rock; his eye

Now rolls and widens, as with effort vain

He strives to break the chain,

Now seems to brood upon his misery.

Before him couch’d there lay

One of the mighty monsters of the deep,

Whom Lorrinite encountering on the way,

There station’d, his perpetual guard to keep;

In the sport of wanton power, she charm’d him there,

As if to mock the Glendoveer’s despair.

Upward his form was human, save that here

The skin was cover’d o’er with scale on scale

Compact, a panoply of natural mail.

His mouth, from ear to ear,

Weapon’d with triple teeth, extended wide,

And tusks on either side;

A double snake below, he roll’d

His supple lengths behind in many a sinuous fold.

With red and kindling eye, the Beast beholds

A living man draw nigh,

And, rising on his folds,

In hungry joy awaits the expected feast,

His mouth half-open, and his teeth unsheath’d.

Then on he sprung, and in his scaly arms

Seiz’d him, and fasten’d on his neck, to suck,

With greedy lips, the warm life-blood: and sure

But for the mighty power of magic charms,

As easily as, in the blithesome hour

Of spring, a child doth crop the meadow flower,

Piecemeal those claws

Had rent their victim, and those armed jaws

Snapt him in twain. Naked Ladurlad stood,

Yet fearless and unharm’d in this dread strife,

So well Kehama’s Curse had charm’d his fated life.

He too, . . . for anger, rising at the sight

Of him he sought, in such strange thrall confin’d.

With desperate courage fir’d Ladurlad’s mind, . . .

He, too, unto the fight himself addrest,

And grappling breast to breast,

With foot firm-planted stands,

And seiz’d the monster’s throat with both his hands.

Vainly, with throttling grasp, he prest

The impenetrable scales;

And lo! the guard rose up, and round his foe,

With gliding motion, wreath’d his lengthening coils,

Then tighten’d all their folds with stress and strain.

Nought would the raging Tyger’s strength avail

If once involv’d within those mighty toils;

The arm’d Rhinoceros, so clasp’d, in vain

Had trusted to his hide of rugged mail,

His bones all broken, and the breath of life

Crush’d from the lungs, in that unequal strife.

Again, and yet again, he sought to break

The impassive limbs; but when the monster found

His utmost power was vain,

A moment he relax’d in every round,

Then knit his coils again with closer strain,

And, bearing forward, forced him to the ground.

Ereenia groan’d in anguish at the sight

Of this dread fight: once more the Glendoveer

Essay’d to break his bonds, and fear

For that brave spirit who had sought him here,

Stung him to wilder strugglings. From the rock

He rais’d himself half up, . . with might and main

Pluck’d at the adamantine chain;

And now, with long and unrelaxing strain,

In obstinate effort of indignant strength,

Labour’d and strove in vain;

Till his immortal sinews fail’d at length;

And yielding, with an inward groan, to fate,

Despairingly, he let himself again

Fall prostrate on his prison-bed of stone,

Body and chain alike with lifeless weight.

Struggling they lay in mortal fray

All day, while day was in our upper sphere,

For light of day,

And natural darkness never entered here;

All night, with unabated might,

They waged the unremitting fight.

A second day, a second night,

With furious will they wrestled still.

The third came on, the fourth is gone;

Another comes, another goes,

And yet no respite, no repose;

But day and night, and night and day,

Involv’d in mortal strife they lay;

Six days and nights have past away,

And still they wage, with mutual rage,

The unremitting fray.

With mutual rage their war they wage,

But not with mutual will;

For when the seventh morning came,

The monster’s worn and wearied frame

In this strange contest fails;

And weaker, weaker, every hour

He yields beneath strong Nature’s power,

For now the Curse prevails.

Sometimes the Beast sprung up to bear

His foe aloft; and, trusting there

To shake him from his hold,

Relax’d the rings that wreath’d him round;

But on his throat Ladurlad hung,

And weigh’d him to the ground;

And if they sink, or if they float,

Alike with stubborn clasp he clung,

Tenacious of his grasp;

For well he knew with what a power,

Exempt from Nature’s laws,

The Curse had arm’d him for this hour;

And in the monster’s gasping jaws,

And in his hollow eye,

Well could Ladurlad now descry

The certain signs of victory.

And now the guard no more can keep

His painful watch; his eyes, opprest,

Are fainting for their natural sleep;

His living flesh and blood must rest,

The Beast must sleep or die.

Then he, full faint and languidly,

Unwreathes his rings and strives to fly,

And still retreating, slowly trails

His stiff and heavy length of scales.

But that unweariable foe,

With will relentless, follows still;

No breathing time, no pause of fight

He gives, but presses on his flight;

Along the vaulted chambers, and the ascent

Up to the emerald-tinted light of day,

He harasses his way,

Till lifeless, underneath his grasp,

The huge Sea-Monster lay.

That obstinate work is done! Ladurlad cried,

One labour yet remains!

And thoughtfully he eyed

Ereenia’s ponderous chains;

And with vain effort, half-despairing, tried

The rivets deep in-driven. Instinctively,

As if in search of aid, he look’d around:

Oh, then, how gladly, in the near alcove,

Fallen on the ground its lifeless Lord beside,

The crescent scymitar he spied,

Whose cloudy blade, with potent spells imbued,

Had lain so many an age unhurt in solitude.

Joyfully springing there

He seiz’d the weapon, and with eager stroke

Hew’d at the chain; the force was dealt in vain,

For not as if through yielding air

Past the descending scymitar,

Its deaden’d way the heavy water broke;

Yet it bit deep. Again, with both his hands,

He wields the blade, and dealt a surer blow.

The baser metal yields

To that fine edge, and lo! the Glendoveer

Rises and snaps the half-sever’d links, and stands

Freed from his broken bands.

XVII. BALY.

This is the appointed night,

The night of joy and consecrated mirth,

When, from his judgement-seat in Padalon,

By Yamen’s throne,

Baly goes forth, that he may walk the Earth

Unseen, and hear his name

Still hymn’d and honour’d by the grateful voice

Of humankind, and in his fame rejoice.

Therefore from door to door, and street to street,

With willing feet,

Shaking their firebrands, the glad children run;

Baly! great Baly! they acclaim,

Where’er they run they bear the mighty name;

Where’er they meet,

Baly! great Baly! still their choral tongues repeat.

Therefore at every door the votive flame

Through pendant lanthorns sheds its painted light,

And rockets hissing upward through the sky,

Fall like a shower of stars

From Heaven’s black canopy.

Therefore, on yonder mountain’s templed height,

The brazen cauldron blazes through the night.

Huge as a Ship that travels the main sea

Is that capacious brass; its wick as tall

As is the mast of some great admiral.

Ten thousand votaries bring

Camphor and ghee to feed the sacred flame;

And while, through regions round, the nations see

Its fiery pillar curling high in heaven,

Baly! great Baly! they exclaim,

For ever hallowed be his blessed name!

Honour and praise to him for ever more be given!

Why art not thou among the festive throng,

Baly, O Mighty One! to hear thy fame?

Still as of yore, with pageantry and song

The glowing streets along,

They celebrate thy name;

Baly! great Baly! still

The grateful habitants of Earth acclaim,

Baly! great Baly! still

The ringing walls and echoing towers proclaim.

From yonder mountain the portentous flame

Still blazes to the nations as before;

All things appear to human eyes the same,

As perfect as of yore;

To human eyes, . . but how unlike to thine!

Thine which were wont to see

The Company divine,

That with their presence came to honour thee!

For all the blessed ones of mortal birth

Who have been cloth’d with immortality,

From the eight corners of the Earth,

From the Seven Worlds assembling, all

Wont to attend thy solemn festival.

Then did thine eyes behold

The wide air peopled with that glorious train,

Now may’st thou seek the blessed ones in vain,

For Earth and Air are now beneath the Rajah’s reign.

Therefore the Mighty One hath walk’d the Earth

In sorrow and in solitude to-night.

The sound of human mirth

To him is no delight;

He turns away from that ungrateful sight,

Hallowed not now by visitants divine,

And there he bends his melancholy way

Where, in yon full-orb’d Moon’s refulgent light,

The Golden Towers of his old City shine

Above the silver sea. The mighty Chief

There bent his way in grief,

As if sad thoughts indulged would work their own relief.

There he beholds upon the sand

A lovely Maiden in the moonlight stand.

The land-breeze lifts her locks of jet,

The waves around her polish’d ancles play,

Her bosom with the salt sea-spray is wet;

Her arms are crost, unconsciously, to fold

That bosom from the cold,

While statue-like she seems her watch to keep,

Gazing intently on the restless deep.

Seven miserable days had Kailyal there,

From earliest dawn till evening, watch’d the deep;

Six nights within the chamber of the rock,

Had laid her down, and found in prayer

That comfort which she sought in vain from sleep.

But when the seventh night came,

Never should she behold her Father more,

The wretched Maiden said in her despair;

Yet would not quit the shore,

Nor turn her eyes one moment from the sea:

Never before

Had Kailyal watch’d it so impatiently,

Never so eagerly had hop’d before,

As now when she believ’d, and said, all hope was o’er.

Beholding her, how beautiful she stood,

In that wild solitude,

Baly from his invisibility

Had issued then, to know her cause of woe;

But that, in the air beside her, he espied

Two Powers of Evil for her hurt allied,

Foul Arvalan and dreadful Lorrinite.

The Mighty One they could not see,

And marking with what demon-like delight

They kept their innocent prey in sight,

He waits, expecting what the end may be.

She starts; for lo! where floating many a rood,

A Monster, hugest of the Ocean brood,

Weltering and lifeless, drifts toward the shore.

Backward she starts in fear before the flood,

And, when the waves retreat,

They leave their hideous burthen at her feet.

She ventures to approach with timid tread,

She starts, and half draws back in fear,

Then stops, and stretches on her head,

To see if that huge beast indeed be dead.

Now growing bold, the Maid advances near,

Even to the margin of the ocean-flood.

Rightly she reads her Father’s victory,

And lifts her joyous hands, exultingly,

To Heaven in gratitude.

Then spreading them toward the Sea,

While pious tears bedim her streaming eyes,

Come! come! my Father, come to me!

Ereenia, come! she cries.

Lo! from the opening deep they rise,

And to Ladurlad’s arms the happy Kailyal flies.

She turn’d from him, to meet, with beating heart,

The Glendoveer’s embrace.

Now turn to me, for mine thou art!

Foul Arvalan exdaim’d; his loathsome face

Came forth, and from the air,

In fleshly form, he burst.

Always in horror and despair,

Had Kailyal seen that form and face accurst,

But yet so sharp a pang had ne’er

Shot with a thrill like death through all her frame,

As now when on her hour of joy the Spectre came.

Vain is resistance now,

The fiendish laugh of Lorrinite is heard;

And, at her dreadful word,

The Asuras once again appear,

And seize Ladurlad and the Glendoveer.

Hold your accursed hands!

A Voice exclaim’d, whose dread commands

Were fear’d through all the vaults of Padalon;

And there among them, in the midnight air,

The presence of the mighty Baly shone.

He, making manifest his mightiness,

Put forth on every side an hundred arms,

And seiz’d the Sorceress; maugre all her charms,

Her and her fiendish ministers he caught

With force as uncontroulable as fate;

And that unhappy Soul, to whom

The Almighty Rajah’s power availeth not

Living to avert, nor dead to mitigate

His righteous doom.

Help, help, Kehama! Father, help! he cried;

But Baly tarried not to abide

That mightier Power; with irresistible feet

He stampt and cleft the Earth; it opened wide,

And gave him way to his own judgement-seat.

Down, like a plummet, to the World below

He sunk, and bore his prey

To righteous punishment, and endless woe.

XVIII. KEHAMA’S DESCENT.

The Earth, by Baly’s feet divided,

Clos’d o’er his way as to the judgement-seat

He plunged and bore his prey.

Scarce had the shock subsided,

When, darting from the Swerga’s heavenly heights,

Kehama, like a thunderbolt, alights.

In wrath he came, a bickering flame

Flash’d from his eyes which made the moonlight dim,

And passion forcing way from every limb,

Like furnace-smoke, with terrors wrapt him round.

Furious he smote the ground;

Earth trembled underneath the dreadful stroke,

Again in sunder riven;

He hurl’d in rage his whirling weapon down.

But lo! the fiery sheckra to his feet

Return’d, as if by equal force re-driven,

And from the abyss the voice of Baly came:

Not yet, O Rajah, hast thou won

The realms of Padalon!

Earth and the Swerga are thine own,

But, till Kehama shall subdue the throne

Of Hell, in torments Yamen holds his son.

Fool that he is! . . in torments let him lie!

Kehama, wrathful at his son, replied.

But what am I

That thou should’st brave me? . . kindling in his pride

The dreadful Rajah cried.

Ho! Yamen! hear me. God of Padalon,

Prepare thy throne,

And let the Amreeta cup

Be ready for my lips, when I anon

Triumphantly shall take my seat thereon,

And plant upon thy neck my royal feet.

In voice like thunder thus the Rajah cried,

Impending o’er the abyss, with menacing hand

Put forth, as in the action of command,

And eyes that darted their red anger down.

Then drawing back he let the earth subside,

And, as his wrath relax’d, survey’d,

Thoughtful and silently, the mortal Maid.

Her eye the while was on the farthest sky,

Where up the etherial height

Ereenia rose and past away from sight.

Never had she so joyfully

Beheld the coming of the Glendoveer,

Dear as he was and he deserv’d to be,

As now she saw him rise and disappear.

Come now what will, within her heart said she,

For thou art safe, and what have I to fear?

Meantime the Almighty Rajah, late

In power and majesty and wrath array’d,

Had laid his terrors by

And gaz’d upon the Maid.

Pride could not quit his eye,

Nor that remorseless nature from his front

Depart; yet whoso had beheld him then

Had felt some admiration mix’d with dread,

And might have said

That sure he seem’d to be the King of Men;

Less than the greatest that he could not be,

Who carried in his port such might and majesty.

In fear no longer for the Glendoveer,

Now toward the Rajah Kailyal turn’d her eyes

As if to ask what doom awaited her.

But then surprise,

Even as with fascination, held them there,

So strange a thing it seem’d to see the change

Of purport in that all-commanding brow,

That thoughtfully was bent upon her now.

Wondering she gaz’d, the while her Father’s eye

Was fix’d upon Kehama haughtily;

It spake defiance to him, high disdain,

Stern patience, unsubduable by pain,

And pride triumphant over agony.

Ladurlad, said the Rajah, thou and I

Alike have done the work of Destiny,

Unknowing each to what the impulse tended;

But now that over Earth and Heaven my reign

Is stablish’d, and the ways of Fate are plain

Before me, here our enmity is ended.

I take away thy Curse. . . As thus he said,

The fire which in Ladurlad’s heart and brain

Was burning, fled, and left him free from pain.

So rapidly his torments were departed,

That at the sudden ease he started,

As with a shock, and to his head

His hands up-fled,

As if he felt through every failing limb

The power and sense of life forsaking him.

Then turning to the Maid, the Rajah cried,

O Virgin, above all of mortal birth

Favour’d alike in beauty and in worth,

And in the glories of thy destiny,

Now let thy happy heart exult with pride,

For Fate hath chosen thee

To be Kehama’s bride,

To be the Queen of Heaven and Earth,

And of whatever Worlds beside

Infinity may hide . . . For I can see

The writing which, at thy nativity,

All-knowing Nature wrought upon thy brain,

In branching veins, which to the gifted eye

Map out the mazes of futurity.

There is it written, Maid, that thou and I,

Alone of human kind a deathless pair,

Are doom’d to share

The Amreeta-drink divine

Of immortality. Come, Maiden mine!

High-fated One, ascend the subject sky,

And by Kehama’s side

Sit on the Swerga throne, his equal bride.

Oh never, . . never . . Father! Kailyal cried;

It is not as he saith, . . it cannot be!

I! . . I, his bride!

Nature is never false; he wrongeth her!

My heart belies such lines of destiny.

There is no other true interpreter!

At that reply Kehama’s darkening brow

Bewray’d the anger which he yet supprest.

Counsel thy daughter; tell her thou art now

Free from thy Curse, he said, and bid her bow

In thankfulness to Fate’s benign behest.

Bid her her stubborn will restrain,

For Destiny at last must be obey’d,

And tell her, while obedience is delay’d,

Thy Curse will burn again.

She needeth not my counsel, he replied,

And idly, Rajah, dost thou reason thus

Of Destiny! for though all other things

Were subject to the starry influencings,

And bow’d submissive to thy tyranny,

The virtuous heart, and resolute will are free.

Thus in their wisdom did the Gods decree

When they created man. Let come what will,

This is our rock of strength; in every ill,

Sorrow, oppression, pain and agony,

The spirit of the good is unsubdued,

And, suffer as they may, they triumph still.

Obstinate fools! exclaim’d the Mighty One,

Fate and my pleasure must be done,

And ye resist in vain!

Take your fit guerdon till we meet again!

So saying, his vindictive hand he flung

Towards them, fill’d with curses; then on high

Aloft he sprung, and vanish’d through the Sky.

XIX. MOUNT CALASAY.

The Rajah, scattering curses as he rose,

Soar’d to the Swerga, and resum’d his throne.

Not for his own redoubled agony,

Which now through heart and brain,

With renovated pain,

Rush’d to its seat, Ladurlad breathes that groan,

That groan is for his child; he groan’d to see

The lovely one defil’d with leprosy,

Which, as the enemy vindictive fled,

O’er all her frame with quick contagion spread.

She, wondering at events so passing strange,

And fill’d with hope and fear,

And joy to see the Tyrant disappear,

And glad expectance of her Glendoveer,

Perceiv’d not in herself the hideous change.

His burning pain, she thought, had forced the groan

Her father breath’d; his agonies alone

Were present to her mind; she claspt his knees,

Wept for his Curse, and did not feel her own.

Nor when she saw her plague, did her good heart,

True to itself, even for a moment fail.

Ha, Rajah! with disdainful smile she cries,

Mighty and wise and wicked as thou art,

Still thy blind vengeance acts a friendly part.

Shall I not thank thee for this scurf and scale

Of dire deformity, whose loathsomeness,

Surer than panoply of strongest mail,

Arms me against all foes? Oh, better so,

Better such foul disgrace,

Than that this innocent face

Should tempt thy wooing! That I need not dread;

Nor ever impious foe

Will offer outrage now, nor farther woe

Will beauty draw on my unhappy head;

Safe through the unholy world may Kailyal go.

Her face in virtuous pride

Was lifted to the skies,

As him and his poor vengeance she defied;

But earthward, when she ceas’d, she turn’d her eyes,

As if she sought to hide

The tear which in her own despite would rise.

Did then the thought of her own Glendoveer

Call forth that natural tear?

Was it a woman’s fear,

A thought of earthly love, which troubled her?

Like yon thin cloud amid the moonlight sky

That flits before the wind

And leaves no trace behind,

The womanly pang past over Kailyal’s mind.

This is a loathsome sight to human eye,

Half-shrinking at herself, the Maiden thought,

Will it be so to him? Oh surely not!

The immortal Powers, who see

Through the poor wrappings of mortality,

Behold the soul, the beautiful soul, within,

Exempt from age and wasting malady,

And undeform’d, while pure and free from sin.

This is a loathsome sight to human eye,

But not to eyes divine,

Ereenia, Son of Heaven, oh not to thine!

The wrongful thought of fear, the womanly pain

Had past away, her heart was calm again.

She rais’d her head, expecting now to see

The Glendoveer appear;

Where hath he fled, quoth she,

That he should tarry now? Oh had she known

Whither the adventurous Son of Heaven was flown,

Strong as her spirit was, it had not borne

The awful thought, nor dar’d to hope for his return.

For he in search of Seeva’s throne was gone,

To tell his tale of wrong;

In search of Seeva’s own abode

The daring one began his heavenly road.

O wild emprize! above the farthest skies

He hop’d to rise!

Him who is thron’d beyond the reach of thought,

The Alone, the Inaccessible, he sought.

O wild emprize! for when in days of yore,

For proud pre-eminence of power,

Brama and Veeshnoo, wild with rage, contended,

And Seeva, in his might,

Their dread contention ended;

Before their sight

In form a fiery column did he tower,

Whose head above the highest height extended,

Whose base below the deepest depth descended.

Downward, its depth to sound,

Veeshnoo a thousand years explor’d

The fathomless profound,

And yet no base he found:

Upward, to reach its head,

Ten myriad years the aspiring Brama soar’d,

And still, as up he fled,

Above him still the Immeasurable spread.

The rivals own’d their lord,

And trembled and ador’d.

How shall the Glendoveer attain

What Brama and what Veeshnoo sought in vain?

Ne’er did such thought of lofty daring enter

Celestial Spirit’s mind. O wild adventure

That throne to find, for he must leave behind

This World, that in the centre,

Within its salt-sea girdle, lies confin’d;

Yea the Seven Earths that, each with its own ocean,

Ring clasping ring, compose the mighty round.

What power of motion,

In less than endless years shall bear him there,

Along the limitless extent,

To the utmost bound of the remotest spheres?

What strength of wing

Suffice to pierce the Golden Firmament

That closes all within?

Yet he hath past the measureless extent,

And pierced the Golden Firmament;

For Faith hath given him power, and Space and Time

Vanish before that energy sublime.

Nor doth Eternal Night,

And outer Darkness, check his resolute flight;

By strong desire through all he makes his way,

Till Seeva’s Seat appears, . . behold Mount Calasay!

Behold the Silver Mountain! round about

Seven ladders stand, so high, the aching eye,

Seeking their tops in vain amid the sky,

Might deem they led from earth to highest heaven.

Ages would pass away,

And Worlds with age decay,

Ere one whose patient feet from ring to ring

Must win their upward way,

Could reach the summit of Mount Calasay.

But that strong power that nerv’d his wing,

That all-surmounting will,

Intensity of faith and holiest love,

Sustain’d Ereenia still,

And he hath gain’d the plain, the sanctuary above.

Lo, there the Silver Bell,

That, self-sustain’d, hangs buoyant in the air!

Lo! the broad Table there, too bright

For mortal sight,

From whose four sides the bordering gems unite

Their harmonizing rays,

In one mid fount of many-colour’d light.

The stream of splendour, flashing as it flows,

Plays round, and feeds the stem of yon celestial Rose.

Where is the Sage whose wisdom can declare

The hidden things of that mysterious flower,

That flower which serves all mysteries to bear?

The sacred triangle is there,

Holding the Emblem which no tongue may tell.

Is this the Heaven of Heavens, where Seeva’s self doth dwell?

Here first the Glendoveer

Felt his wing flag, and paus’d upon his flight.

Was it that fear came over him, when here

He saw the imagin’d throne appear?

Not so, for his immortal sight

Endur’d the Table’s light;

Distinctly he beheld all things around,

And doubt and wonder rose within his mind

That this was all he found.

Howbeit he lifted up his voice and spake.

There is oppression in the World below;

Earth groans beneath the yoke; yea, in her woe,

She asks if the Avenger’s eye is blind?

Awake, O Lord, awake!

Too long thy vengeance sleepeth. Holy One!

Put thou thy terrors on for mercy’s sake,

And strike the blow, in justice to mankind!

So as he pray’d, intenser faith he felt,

His spirit seem’d to melt

With ardent yearnings of increasing love;

Upward he turn’d his eyes

As if there should be something yet above;

Let me not, Seeva! seek in vain! he cries,

Thou art not here, . . for how should these contain thee?

Thou art not here, . . for how should I sustain thee?

But thou, where’er thou art,

Canst hear the voice of prayer,

Canst hear the humble heart.

Thy dwelling who can tell,

Or who, O Lord, hath seen thy secret throne?

But thou art not alone,

Not unapproachable!

O all-containing Mind,

Thou who art every where,

Whom all who seek shall find,

Hear me, O Seeva! hear the suppliant’s prayer!

So saying, up he sprung,

And struck the Bell, which self-suspended, hung

Before the mystic Rose.

From side to side the silver tongue

Melodious swung, and far and wide

Soul-thrilling tones of heavenly music rung.

Abash’d, confounded,

It left the Glendoveer; . . yea all astounded

In overpowering fear and deep dismay;

For when that Bell had sounded,

The Rose, with all the mysteries it surrounded,

The Bell, the Table, and Mount Calasay,

The holy Hill itself, with all thereon,

Even as a morning dream before the day

Dissolves away, they faded and were gone.

Where shall he rest his wing, where turn for flight,

For all around is Light,

Primal, essential, all-pervading Light!

Heart cannot think, nor tongue declare,

Nor eyes of Angel bear

That Glory unimaginably bright;

The Sun himself had seem’d

A speck of darkness there,

Amid that Light of Light!

Down fell the Glendoveer,

Down through all regions, to our mundane sphere

He fell; but in his ear

A voice, which from within him came, was heard,

The indubitable word

Of Him to whom all secret things are known:

Go, ye who suffer, go to Yamen’s throne.

He hath the remedy for every woe;

He setteth right whate’er is wrong below.

XX. THE EMBARKATION.

Down from the Heaven of Heavens Ereenia fell

Precipitate, yet imperceptible

His fall, nor had he cause nor thought of fear;

And when he came within this mundane sphere,

And felt that Earth was near,

The Glendoveer his azure wings expanded,

And, sloping down the sky

Toward the spot from whence he sprung on high,

There on the shore he landed.

Kailyal advanced to meet him,

Not moving now as she was wont to greet him;

Joy in her eye and in her eager pace;

With a calm smile of melancholy pride

She met him now, and, turning half aside,

Her warning hand repell’d the dear embrace.

Strange things, Ereenia, have befallen us here,

The Virgin said; the Almighty Man hath read

The lines which, traced by Nature on my brain,

There to the gifted eye

Make all my fortunes plain,

Mapping the mazes of futurity.

He sued for peace, for it is written there

That I with him the Amreeta cup must share;

Wherefore he bade me come, and by his side

Sit on the Swerga-throne, his equal bride.

I need not tell thee what reply was given;

My heart, the sure interpreter of Heaven,

His impious words belied.

Thou seest his poor revenge! So having said,

One look she glanced upon her leprous stain

Indignantly, and shook

Her head in calm disdain.

O Maid of soul divine!

O more than ever dear,

And more than ever mine,

Replied the Glendoveer;

He hath not read, be sure, the mystic ways

Of Fate; almighty as he is, that maze

Hath mock’d his fallible sight.

Said he the Amreeta-cup? So far aright

The Evil One may see; for Fate displays

Her hidden things in part, and part conceals,

Baffling the wicked eye

Alike with what she hides, and what reveals,

When with unholy purpose it would pry

Into the secrets of futurity.

So may it be permitted him to see

Dimly the inscrutable decree;

For to the world below,

Where Yamen guards the Amreeta, we must go;

Thus Seeva hath exprest his will, even he

The Holiest hath ordain’d it; there, he saith,

All wrongs shall be redrest

By Yamen, by the righteous Power of Death.

Forthwith the Father and the fated Maid,

And that heroic Spirit, who for them

Such flight had late essay’d,

The will of Heaven obey’d.

They went their way along the road

That leads to Yamen’s dread abode.

Many a day hath past away

Since they began their arduous way,

Their way of toil and pain;

And now their weary feet attain

The Earth’s remotest bound

Where outer Ocean girds it round.

But not like other Oceans this,

Rather it seem’d a drear abyss,

Upon whose brink they stood.

Oh, scene of fear! the travellers hear

The raging of the flood;

They hear how fearfully it roars,

But clouds of darker shade than night

For ever hovering round those shores,

Hide all things from their sight.

The Sun upon that darkness pours

His unavailing light;

Nor ever Moon nor Stars display,

Through the thick shade, one guiding ray

To shew the perils of the way.

There, in a creek, a vessel lay.

Just on the confines of the day,

It rode at anchor in its bay,

These venturous pilgrims to convey

Across that outer Sea.

Strange vessel sure it seem’d to be,

And all unfit for such wild sea!

For through its yawning side the wave

Was oozing in; the mast was frail,

And old and torn its only sail.

How shall that crazy vessel brave

The billows, that in wild commotion

For ever roar and rave?

How hope to cross the dreadful Ocean,

O’er which eternal shadows dwell,

Whose secrets none return to tell!

Well might the travellers fear to enter!

But summon’d once on that adventure,

For them was no retreat.

Nor boots it with reluctant feet

To linger on the strand;

Aboard! aboard!

An awful voice, that left no choice,

Sent forth its stern command,

Aboard! aboard!

The travellers hear that voice in fear,

And breathe to Heaven an inward prayer,

And take their seats in silence there.

Self-hoisted then, behold the sail

Expands itself before the gale;

Hands, which they cannot see, let slip

The cable of that fated ship;

The land breeze sends her on her way,

And lo! they leave the living light of day!

XXI. THE WORLD’S END.

Swift as an arrow in its flight

The Ship shot through the incumbent night;

And they have left behind

The raging billows and the roaring wind,

The storm, the darkness, and all mortal fears;

And lo! another light

To guide their way appears,

The light of other spheres.

That instant, from Ladurlad’s heart and brain

The Curse was gone; he feels again

Fresh as in Youth’s fair morning, and the Maid

Hath lost her leprous stain.

The dreadful Man hath no dominion here,

Starting she cried; O happy, happy hour!

We are beyond his power!

Then raising to the Glendoveer,

With heavenly beauty bright, her angel face,

Turn’d not reluctant now, and met his dear embrace.

Swift glides the Ship, with gentle motion,

Across that calm and quiet ocean;

That glassy sea, which seem’d to be

The mirror of tranquillity.

Their pleasant passage soon was o’er,

The Ship hath reach’d its destin’d shore;

A level belt of ice which bound,

As with an adamantine mound,

The waters of the sleeping Ocean round.

Strange forms were on the strand

Of earth-born spirits slain before their time;

Who, wandering over sea and sky and land,

Had so fulfill’d their term; and now were met

Upon this icy belt, a motley band,

Waiting their summons, at the appointed hour

When each before the judgement-seat must stand,

And hear his doom from Baly’s righteous power.

Foul with habitual crimes, a hideous crew

Were there, the race of rapine and of blood.

Now, having overpast the mortal flood,

Their own deformity they knew,

And knew the meed that to their deeds was due.

Therefore in fear and agony they stood,

Expecting when the evil Messenger

Among them should appear. But with their fear

A hope was mingled now;

O’er the dark shade of guilt a deeper hue

It threw, and gave a fiercer character

To the wild eye and lip and sinful brow.

They hop’d that soon Kehama would subdue

The inexorable God, and seize his throne,

Reduce the infernal World to his command,

And, with his irresistible right hand,

Redeem them from the vaults of Padalon.

Apart from these a milder company,

The victims of offences not their own,

Look’d when the appointed Messenger should come;

Gathered together some, and some alone

Brooding in silence on their future doom.

Widows whom, to their husbands’ funeral fire,

Force or strong error led, to share the pyre,

As to their everlasting marriage-bed:

And babes, by sin unstain’d,

Whom erring parents vow’d

To Ganges, and the holy stream profan’d

With that strange sacrifice, rite unordain’d

By Law, by sacred Nature unallow’d:

Others more hapless in their destiny,

Scarce having first inhaled this vital breath,

Whose cradles from some tree

Unnatural hands suspended,

Then left, till gentle Death,

Coming like Sleep, their feeble moanings ended;

Or for his prey the ravenous Kite descended;

Or, marching like an army from their caves,

The Pismires blacken’d o’er, then bleach’d and bare

Left their unharden’d bones to fall asunder there.

Innocent Souls! thus set so early free

From sin and sorrow and mortality,

Their spotless spirits all-creating Love

Receiv’d into its universal breast.

Yon blue serene above

Was their domain; clouds pillowed them to rest;

The Elements on them like nurses tended,

And with their growth etherial substance blended.

Less pure than these is that strange Indian bird

Who never dips in earthly streams her bill,

But, when the sound of coming showers is heard,

Looks up, and from the clouds receives her fill.

Less pure the footless fowl of Heaven, that never

Rest upon earth, but on the wing for ever

Hovering o’er flowers, their fragrant food inhale,

Drink the descending dew upon its way,

And sleep aloft while floating on the gale.

And thus these innocents in yonder sky

Grow and are strengthen’d, while the allotted years

Perform their course, then hitherward they fly,

Being free from mortal taint, so free from fears,

A joyous band, expecting soon to soar

To Indra’s happy spheres,

And mingle with the blessed company

Of heavenly spirits there for evermore.

A Gulph profound surrounded

This icy belt; the opposite side

With highest rocks was bounded;

But where their heads they hide,

Or where their base is founded,

None could espy. Above all reach of sight

They rose, the second Earth was on their height,

Their feet were fix’d in everlasting night.

So deep the Gulph, no eye

Could plum its dark profundity,

Yet all its depth must try; for this the road

To Padalon, and Yamen’s dread abode.

And from below continually

Ministrant Demons rose and caught

The Souls whose hour was come;

Then, with their burthen fraught,

Plunged down, and bore them to receive their doom.

Then might be seen who went in hope, and who

Trembled to meet the meed

Of many a foul misdeed, as wild they threw

Their arms retorted from the Demons’ grasp,

And look’d around, all eagerly, to seek

For help, where help was none; and strove for aid

To clasp the nearest shade;

Yea, with imploring looks and horrent shriek,

Even from one Demon to another bending,

With hands extending,

Their mercy they essay’d.

Still from the verge they strain,

And from the dreadful gulph avert their eyes,

In vain; down plunge the Demons, and their cries

Feebly, as down they sink, from that profound arise.

What heart of living man could, undisturb’d,

Bear sight so sad as this! What wonder there

If Kailyal’s lip were blanch’d with inmost dread!

The chill which from that icy belt

Struck through her, was less keen than what she felt

With her heart’s-blood through every limb dispread.

Close to the Glendoveer she clung,

And clasping round his neck her trembling hands,

She clos’d her eyes, and there in silence hung.

Then to Ladurlad said the Glendoveer,

These Demons, whom thou seest, the ministers

Of Yamen, wonder to behold us here;

But for the dead they come, and not for us:

Therefore, albeit they gaze upon thee thus,

Have thou no fear.

A little while thou must be left alone,

Till I have borne thy Daughter down,

And placed her safely by the throne

Of him who keeps the Gate of Padalon.

Then taking Kailyal in his arms, he said,

Be of good heart, Beloved! it is I

Who bear thee. Saying this, his wings he spread,

Sprung upward in the sky, and pois’d his flight,

Then plunged into the Gulph, and sought the World of Night.

XXII. THE GATE OF PADALON.

The strong foundations of this inmost Earth

Rest upon Padalon. That icy Mound

Which girt the mortal Ocean round,

Reach’d the profound, . .

Ice in the regions of the upper air,

Crystal midway, and adamant below,

Whose strength sufficed to bear

The weight of all this upper World of ours,

And with its rampart clos’d the Realm of Woe.

Eight gates hath Padalon; eight heavenly Powers

Have them in charge, each alway at his post,

Lest, from their penal caves, the accursed host,

Maugre the might of Baly and the God,

Should break, and carry ruin all abroad.

Those gates stand ever open, night and day,

And Souls of mortal men

For ever throng the way.

Some from the dolorous den,

Children of sin and wrath, return no more:

They, fit companions of the Spirits accurst,

Are doom’d, like them in baths of fire immerst,

Or weltering upon beds of molten ore,

Or, stretch’d upon the brazen floor,

Are fasten’d down with adamantine chains;

While on their substance inconsumable,

Leeches of fire for ever hang and pull,

And worms of fire for ever gnaw their food,

That, still renew’d,

Freshens for ever their perpetual pains.

Others there were whom Baly’s voice condemned,

By long and painful penance, to atone

Their fleshly deeds. Them, from the Judgement-Throne,

Dread Azyoruca, where she sat involv’d

In darkness as a tent, receiv’d, and dealt

To each the measure of his punishment;

Till, in the central springs of fire, the Will

Impure is purged away; and the freed soul,

Thus fitted to receive its second birth,

Embodied once again, revisits Earth.

But they whom Baly’s righteous voice absolv’d,

And Yamen, viewing with benignant eye,

Dismiss’d to seek their heritage on high,

How joyfully they leave this gloomy bourne,

The dread sojourn

Of Guilt and twin-born Punishment and Woe,

And wild Remorse, here link’d with worse Despair!

They to the eastern Gate rejoicing go:

The Ship of Heaven awaits their coming there,

And on they sail, greeting the blessed light,

Through realms of upper air,

Bound for the Swerga once; but now no more

Their voyage rests upon that happy shore;

Since Indra, by the dreadful Rajah’s might

Compell’d, hath taken flight,

On to the second World their way they wend,

And there, in trembling hope, await the doubtful end.

For still in them doth hope predominate,

Faith’s precious privilege, when higher Powers

Give way to fear in these portentous hours.

Behold the Wardens eight,

Each silent at his gate

Expectant stands; they turn their anxious eyes

Within, and, listening to the dizzy din

Of mutinous uproar, each in all his hands

Holds all his weapons, ready for the fight.

For, hark! what clamorous cries

Upon Kehama for deliverance call!

Come, Rajah! they exclaim, too long we groan

In torments. Come, Deliverer! yonder throne

Awaits thee . . . Now, Kehama! Rajah, now!

Earthly Almighty, wherefore tarriest thou? . .

Such were the sounds that rung, in wild uproar,

O’er all the echoing vaults of Padalon;

And as the Asuras from the brazen floor,

Struggling against their fetters, strove to rise,

Their clashing chains were heard, and shrieks and cries,

With curses mix’d, against the Fiends who urge,

Fierce on their rebel limbs, the avenging scourge.

These were the sounds which, at the southern gate,

Assail’d Ereenia’s ear; alighting here

He laid before Neroodi’s feet the Maid,

Who, pale and cold with fear,

Hung on his neck, well-nigh a lifeless weight.

Who and what art thou? cried the Guardian Power,

Sight thus unwonted wondering to behold, . .

O Son of Light!

Who comest here at this portentous hour,

When Yamen’s throne

Trembles, and all our might can scarce keep down

The rebel race from seizing Padalon: . . .

Who and what art thou? and what wild despair,

Or wilder hope, from realms of upper air,

Tempts thee to bear

This mortal Maid to our forlorn abodes?

Fitter for her, I ween, the Swerga bowers,

And sweet society of heavenly Powers,

Than this, . . a doleful scene,

Even in securest hours.

And whither would ye go?

Alas! can human or celestial ear,

Unmadden’d, hear

The shrieks and yellings of infernal woe?

Can living flesh and blood

Endure the passage of the fiery flood?

Lord of the Gate, replied the Glendoveer,

We come obedient to the will of Fate;

And haply doom’d to bring

Hope and salvation to the Infernal King,

For Seeva sends us here.

Even He to whom futurity is known,

The Holiest, bade us go to Yamen’s throne.

Thou seest my precious charge;

Under thy care, secure from harm, I leave her,

While I ascend to bear her father down.

Beneath the shelter of thine arm receive her!

Then quoth he to the Maid,

Be of good cheer, my Kailyal! dearest dear,

In faith subdue thy dread,

Anon I shall be here. So having said,

Aloft, with vigorous bound, the Glendoveer

Sprung in celestial might,

And soaring up, in spiral circles, wound

His indefatigable flight.

But, as he thus departed,

The Maid, who at Neroodi’s feet was lying,

Like one entranced or dying,

Recovering strength from sudden terror, started;

And gazing after him with straining sight,

And straining arms, she stood,

As if in attitude

To win him back from flight.

Yea, she had shap’d his name

For utterance, to recall and bid him stay,

Nor leave her thus alone; but virtuous shame

Represt the unbidden sounds upon their way;

And calling faith to aid,

Even in this fearful hour, the pious Maid

Collected courage, till she seem’d to be

Calm and in hope, such power had piety.

Before the Giant Keeper of the Gate

She crost her patient arms, and at his feet,

Prepar’d to meet

The awful will of Fate with equal mind,

She took her seat resign’d.

Even the stern trouble of Neroodi’s brow

Relax’d as he beheld the valiant Maid.

Hope, long unfelt till now,

Rose in his heart reviving, and a smile

Dawn’d in his brightening countenance, the while

He gaz’d on her with wonder and delight.

The blessing of the Powers of Padalon,

Virgin, be on thee! cried the admiring God;

And blessed be the hour that gave thee birth,

Daughter of Earth,

For thou to this forlorn abode hast brought

Hope, who too long hath been a stranger here.

And surely for no lamentable lot,

Nature, who erreth not,

To thee that heart of fortitude hath given,

Those eyes of purity, that face of love: . .

If thou beest not the inheritrix of Heaven,

There is no truth above.

Thus as Neroodi spake, his brow severe

Shone with an inward joy; for sure he thought

When Seeva sent so fair a creature here,

In this momentous hour,

Ere long the World’s deliverance would be wrought,

And Padalon escape the Rajah’s power.

With pious mind the Maid, in humble guise

Inclin’d, received his blessing silently,

And rais’d her grateful eyes

A moment, then again

Abas’d them at his presence. Hark! on high

The sound of coming wings! . . her anxious ears

Have caught the distant sound. Ereenia brings

His burthen down! Upstarting from her seat,

How joyfully she rears

Her eager head! and scarce upon the ground

Ladurlad’s giddy feet their footing found,

When, with her trembling arms, she claspt him round.

No word of greeting,

Nor other sign of joy at that strange meeting.

Expectant of their fate,

Silent, and hand in hand,

Before the Infernal Gate,

The Father and his heavenly Daughter stand.

Then to Neroodi said the Glendoveer,

No Heaven-born Spirit e’er hath visited

This region drear and dread; but I, the first

Who tread your World accurst.

Lord of the Gate, to whom these realms are known,

Direct our fated way to Yamen’s throne.

Bring forth my Chariot, Carmala! quoth then

The Keeper of the way.

It was the Car wherein

On Yamen’s festal day,

When all the Powers of Hell attend their King,

Yearly to Yamenpur did he repair

To pay his homage there.

Pois’d on a single wheel, it mov’d along,

Instinct with motion; by what wonderous skill

Compact, no human tongue could tell,

Nor human wit devise; but on that wheel

Moving or still,

As if an inward life sustain’d its weight,

Supported, stood the Car of miracle.

Then Carmala brought forth two mantles, white

As the swan’s breast, and bright as mountain snow,

When from the wintry sky

The sun, late-rising, shines upon the height,

And rolling vapours fill the vale below.

Not without pain the unaccustom’d sight

That brightness could sustain;

For neither mortal stain,

Nor parts corruptible, remain,

Nor aught that time could touch, or force destroy,

In that pure web whereof the robes were wrought;

So long had it in ten-fold fires been tried,

And blanch’d, and to that brightness purified.

Apparel’d thus, alone,

Children of Earth, Neroodi cried,

In safety may ye pass to Yamen’s throne.

Thus only can your living flesh and blood

Endure the passage of the fiery flood.

Of other frame, O Son of Heaven, art thou!

Yet hast thou now to go

Through regions which thy heavenly mould will try.

Glories unutterably bright, I know,

And beams intense of empyrean light,

Thine eye divine can bear: but fires of woe,

The sight of torments, and the cry

Of absolute despair,

Might not these things dismay thee on thy flight,

And thy strong pennons flag and fail thee there?

Trust not thy wings, celestial though thou art;

Nor thy good heart, which horror might assail

And pity quail,

Pity in these abodes of no avail;

But take thy seat this mortal pair beside,

And Carmala the infernal Car will guide.

Go, and may happy end your way betide!

So as he spake, the self-mov’d Car roll’d on,

And lo! they pass the Gate of Padalon.

XXIII. PADALON.

Whoe’er hath lov’d with venturous step to tread

The chambers dread

Of some deep cave, and seen his taper’s beam

Lost in the arch of darkness overhead,

And mark’d its gleam,

Playing afar upon the sunless stream,

Where, from their secret bed,

And course unknown and inaccessible,

The silent waters well;

Whoe’er hath trod such caves of endless night,

He knows, when measuring back the gloomy way,

With what delight refresh’d, his eye

Perceives the shadow of the light of day,

Through the far portal slanting, where it falls

Dimly reflected on the watry walls;

How heavenly seems the sky,

And how, with quicken’d feet, he hastens up,

Eager again to greet

The living World, and blessed sunshine there,

And drink, as from a cup

Of joy, with thirsty lips, the open air.

Far other light than that of day there shone

Upon the travellers, entering Padalon.

They, too, in darkness entered on their way,

But, far before the Car,

A glow, as of a fiery furnace light,

Fill’d all before them. ’Twas a light which made

Darkness itself appear

A thing of comfort, and the sight, dismay’d,

Shrunk inward from the molten atmosphere.

Their way was through the adamantine rock

Which girt the World of Woe; on either side

Its massive walls arose, and overhead

Arch’d the long passage; onward as they ride,

With stronger glare the light around them spread,

And lo! the regions dread,

The World of Woe before them, opening wide.

There rolls the fiery flood,

Girding the realms of Padalon around.

A sea of flame it seem’d to be,

Sea without bound;

For neither mortal, nor immortal sight,

Could pierce across through that intensest light.

A single rib of steel,

Keen as the edge of keenest scymitar,

Spann’d this wide gulph of fire. The infernal Car

Roll’d to the Gulph, and on its single wheel

Self-balanced; rose upon that edge of steel.

Red-quivering float the vapours overhead;

The fiery gulph beneath them spread,

Tosses its billowing blaze with rush and roar;

Steady and swift the self-mov’d Chariot went,

Winning the long ascent,

Then, downward rolling, gains the farther shore.

But, oh! what sounds and sights of woe,

What sights and sounds of fear,

Assail the mortal travellers here!

Their way was on a causey straight and wide,

Where penal vaults on either side were seen,

Ranged like the cells wherein

Those wonderous winged alchemists infold

Their stores of liquid gold.

Thick walls of adamant divide

The dungeons; and from yonder circling flood,

Off-streams of fire through secret channels glide,

And wind among them, and in each provide

An everlasting food

Of righteous torments for the accursed brood.

These were the rebel race, who, in their might

Confiding impiously, would fain have driven

The Deities supreme from highest Heaven;

But by the Suras, in celestial fight,

Oppos’d and put to flight,

Here, in their penal dens, the accursed crew,

Not for its crime, but for its failure, rue

Their wild ambition. Yet again they long

The contest to renew,

And wield their arms again in happier hour;

And with united power,

Following Kehama’s triumph, to press on

From World to World, and Heaven to Heaven, and Sphere

To Sphere, till Hemakoot shall be their own,

And Meru Mount, and Indra’s Swerga-Bowers,

And Brama’s region, where the heavenly Hours

Weave the vast circle of his age-long day.

Even over Veeshnoo’s empyreal seat

They trust the Rajah shall extend their sway,

And that the seven-headed Snake, whereon

The strong Preserver sets his conquering feet,

Will rise and shake him headlong from his throne,

When, in their irresistible array,

Amid the Milky Sea they force their way.

Even higher yet their frantic thoughts aspire;

Yea, on their beds of torment as they lie,

The highest, holiest Seeva, they defy,

And tell him they shall have anon their day,

When they will storm his realm, and seize Mount Calasay.

Such impious hopes torment

Their raging hearts, impious and impotent;

And now, with unendurable desire

And lust of vengeance, that, like inward fire,

Doth aggravate their punishment, they rave

Upon Kehama; him the accursed rout

Acclaim; with furious cries and maddening shout

They call on him to save;

Kehama! they exclaim;

Thundering, the dreadful echo rolls about,

And Hell’s whole vault repeats Kehama’s name.

Over these dens of punishment, the host

Of Padalon maintain eternal guard,

Keeping upon the walls their vigilant ward.

At every angle stood

A watch-tower, the decurion Demon’s post,

Where, rais’d on high, he view’d with sleepless eye

His trust, that all was well. And over these,

Such was the perfect discipline of Hell,

Captains of fifties and of hundreds held

Authority, each in his loftier tower;

And chiefs of legions over them had power;

And thus all Hell with towers was girt around.

Aloft the brazen turrets shone

In the red light of Padalon,

And on the walls between,

Dark moving, the infernal Guards were seen,

Gigantic Demons pacing to and fro;

Who ever and anon,

Spreading their crimson pennons, plunged below,

Faster to rivet down the Asuras’ chains;

And with the snaky scourge and fiercer pains,

Repress their rage rebellious. Loud around,

In mingled sound, the echoing lash, the clash

Of chains, the ponderous hammer’s iron stroke,

With execrations, groans, and shrieks and cries

Combin’d, in one wild dissonance, arise;

And through the din there broke,

Like thunder heard through all the warring winds,

The dreadful name. Kehama, still they rave,

Hasten and save!

Now, now, Deliverer! now, Kehama, now!

Earthly Almighty, wherefore tarriest thou!

Oh, if that name abhorr’d,

Thus utter’d, could well nigh

Dismay the Powers of Hell, and daunt their Lord,

How fearfully to Kailyal’s ear it came!

She, as the Car roll’d on its rapid way,

Bent down her head, and clos’d her eyes for dread;

And deafening, with strong effort from within,

Her ears against the din,

Cover’d and prest them close with both her hands.

Sure if the mortal Maiden had not fed

On heavenly food, and long been strengthened

With heavenly converse for such end vouchsaf’d,

Her human heart had fail’d, and she had died

Beneath the horrors of this awful hour.

But heaven supplied a power

Beyond her earthly nature, to the measure

Of need infusing strength;

And Fate, whose secret and unerring pleasure

Appointed all, decreed

An ample meed and recompence at length.

High-fated Maid, the righteous hour is nigh!

The all-embracing Eye

Of Retribution still beholdeth thee;

Bear onward to the end, O Maid, courageously!

On roll’d the Car, and lo! afar

Upon its height the Towers of Yamenpur

Rise on the astonish’d sight.

Behold the infernal City, Yamen’s seat

Of empire, in the midst of Padalon,

Where the eight causeys meet.

There on a rock of adamant it stood,

Resplendent far and wide,

Itself of solid diamond edified,

And all around it roll’d the fiery flood.

Eight bridges arch’d the stream; huge piles of brass

Magnificent, such structures as beseem

The Seat and Capital of such great God,

Worthy of Yamen’s own august abode.