So saying, on her knees the maid Soon their joint labour scoops the easy soil; O Marriataly, thee do I implore, Can do thy daily service, as of yore! The flowers which last I wreath'd around thy brow, And swimming round with arms outspread, In dextrous dance before thee, While underneath the reedy shed, at rest Then heaving from her heart a heavy sigh, For not to him hath Nature given Always and every where with open sight, And took her father's hand, and like a child V. THE SEPARATION. Evening comes on arising from the stream, Homeward the tall flamingo wings his flight; And where he sails athwart the setting beam, His scarlet plumage glows with deeper light. The watchman,12 at the wish'd approach of night, Gladly forsakes the field, where he all day, To scare the winged plunderers from their prey, With shout and sling, on yonder clay-built height, Hath borne the sultry ray. Hark! at the Golden Palaces, 13 The Bramin strikes the hour. For leagues and leagues around, the brazen sound Rolls through the stillness of departing day, Like thunder far away. Behold them wandering on their hopeless way, Unknowing where they stray, Yet sure where'er they stop to find no rest. The evening gale is blowing, It plays among the trees; Like plumes upon a warrior's crest They see yon cocoas tossing to the breeze. Ladurlad views them with impatient mind, Impatiently he hears The gale of evening blowing, The sound of waters flowing, As if all sights and sounds combin'd, To mock his irremediable woe: For not for him the blessed waters flow, For not for him the gales of evening blow; A fire is in his heart and brain, And Nature hath no healing for his pain. Nor heav'd he one complaining sigh, Nor groan'd he with his misery, But silently for her dear sake And now the moon was hid on high, And like the slumber of the sick, Still quietly the sufferer lies, Bearing his torment now with resolute will; He neither moves, nor groans, nor sighs. Doth satiate cruelty bestow This little respite to his woe, She thought, or are there Gods who look below! Perchance, thought Kailyal, willingly deceiv'd, Our Marriataly hath his pain reliev'd, The dews of night fell round them now, The night-wind is abroad, Aloft it moves among the stirring trees. He only heard the breeze,― No healing aid to him it brought, It play'd around his head and touch'd him not, It knew Kehama's Curse. Listening, Ladurlad lay in his despair, If Kailyal slept, for wherefore should she share Her father's wretchedness which none could cure? Better alone to suffer; he must bear The burthen of his Curse, but why endure The unavailing presence of her grief? She too, apart from him, might find relief; For dead the Rajah deem'd her, and as thus Already she his dread revenge had fled, So might she still escape and live secure. Gently he lifts his head, And Kailyal does not feel; She call'd, and through the stillness of the night, Mistrustful for a moment of the sound, She listens! till the step is heard no more; But then she knows that he indeed is gone, And with a thrilling shriek she rushes on. The darkness and the wood impede her speed; She lifts her voice again, Ladurlad!-and again, alike in vain, Straining its tone to hoarseness;-far away, He heard the call and faster did he fly. 'T was like a dream of horror, and she stood Half doubting whether all indeed were true. A Tiger's howl loud echoing through the wood, Rous'd her; the dreadful sound she knew, And turn'd instinctively to what she fear'd. Far off the Tiger's hungry howl was heard; A nearer horror met the maiden's view, For right before her a dim form appear'd, A human form in that black night, Distinctly shaped by its own lurid light, Such light as the sickly moon is seen to shed, Through spell-rais'd fogs, a bloody baleful red. That Spectre fix'd his eyes upon her full; The light which shone in their accursed orbs Was like a light from Hell, And it grew deeper, kindling with the view. She could not turn her sight From that infernal gaze, which like a spell Bound her, and held her rooted to the ground. It palsied every power; Her limbs avail'd her not in that dread hour. There was no moving thence, Thought, memory, sense were gone : She heard not now the Tiger's nearer cry, She thought not on her father now, Her cold heart's blood ran back, Her hand lay senseless on the bough it clasp'd, Her feet were motionless; The wind is abroad, It opens the clouds; Scattered before the gale, And the darkness retiring rolls over the vale. The moon rides on triumphant, broad and bright. Distinct and darkening in her light Appears that Spectre foul. The moon-beam gives his face and form to sight, The living form and face of Arvalan!- But at that sight of dread the maid awoke; As if a lightning-stroke Had burst the spell of fear. Away she broke all franticly, and fled. There stood a temple near beside the way, An open fane of Pollear, 16 gentle God, To whom the travellers for protection pray. With elephantine head and eye severe, Here stood his image, such as when he seiz'd And tore the rebel giant from the ground, With mighty trunk wreath'd round His impotent bulk, and on his tusks, on high Impal'd upheld him between earth and sky. Thither the affrighted maiden sped her flight, And she hath reach'd the place of sanctuary; And now within the temple in despite, Yea, even before the altar, in his sight, Hath Arvalan with fleshly arm of might Seiz'd her. That instant the insulted God Caught him aloft, and from his sinuous grasp, As if from some tort catapult let loose, Over the forest hurl'd him all abroad. O'ercome with dread, She tarried not to see what heavenly power Had saved her in that hour. Breathless and faint she fled. And now her foot struck on the knotted root Of a broad manchineil, and there the maid Fell senselessly beneath the deadly shade. VI. CASYAPA. SHALL this then be thy fate, O lovely Maid, Thus, Kailyal, must thy sorrows then be ended? Her face upon the ground, Beneath the deadly shade. Should snuff his banquet nigh? The poison-dews descend. Bright and so beautiful was that fair night, It might have calm'd the gay amid their mirth, The loveliest race of all of heavenly birth, In sportive flight was floating round and round, With timely pity touch'd for one so fair, Prest her thus pale and senseless to his breast, Where Himakoot, 18 the holy Mount, on high From mid-earth rising in mid-Heaven, Shines in its glory like the throne of Even. Soaring with strenuous flight above, He bears her to the blessed Grove, Where in his ancient and august abodes, There dwells old Casyapa, the Sire of Gods. The Father of the Immortals sate, Know'st thou, he said, my child, EREENIA. I found her in the Groves of Earth, Thus lifeless as thou seest her. In pity have I brought her to these bowers, GASYAPA. What if the maid be sinful? if her ways Were ways of darkness, and her death predoom'd To that black hour of midnight, when the Moon Hath turn'd her face away, Unwilling to behold EREENIA. Then what a lie, my Sire, were written here, O Father, oldest, holiest, wisest, best CASYAPA. All power to him, whereof The disembodied spirit in its state Of weakness could be made participant, Kehama hath assign'd, until his days Of wandering shall be numbered. EREENIA. Look! she driuks The gale of healing from the blessed Groves. Hath touch'd the Holy River in its source, Who would have shrunk if aught impure were nigh. CASYAPA. The Maiden, of a truth, is pure from sin. A life-bloom reddening now her dark-brown cheek; Dark as the depth of Ganges' spring profound Bright as the moon's refulgent beam, Soon she let fall her lids, As one who, from a blissful dream Fain would return to sleep, and dream again. She moves not, fearing to disturb In wonder fix'd, opening again her eye She gazes silently, Thinking her mortal pilgrimage was past, That she had reach'd her heavenly home of rest, And these were Gods before her, Or spirits of the blest. Lo! at Ereenia's voice, A Ship of Heaveu23 comes sailing down the skies. Where wouldst thou bear her? cries The ancient Sire of Gods. Straight to the Swerga, to my bower of bliss, The Glendoveer replies, To Indra's own abodes. Foe of her foe, were it alone for this Indra should guard her from his vengeance there; But if the God forbear, Unwilling yet the perilous strife to try, Or shrinking from the dreadful Rajah's might,Weak as I am, O Father, even I Stand forth in Seeva's sight. Trust thou in him whate'er betide, All that he wills is right, and doubt not thou, May fail us now, His righteous will in all things must be done. My blessing be upon thee, O my son! VII. THE SWERGA. THEN in the Ship of Heaven, Ereenia laid The Ship of Heaven, instinct with thought, display'd The clouds of morn along its path divide; Around the living Bark enamour'd play, Swell underneath the sail, and sing before its way. That Bark, in shape, was like the furrow'd shell Wherein the Sea-Nymphs to their parent-king, On festal day, their duteous offerings bring. Its hue?-Go watch the last green light Ere Evening yields the western sky to Night; Or fix upon the Sun thy strenuous sight Till thou hast reach'd its orb of chrysolite. The sail from end to end display'd Bent, like a rainbow, o'er the Maid. An Angel's head, with visual eye, Through trackless space, directs its chosen way; Nor aid of wing, nor foot, nor fin, Requires to voyage o'er the obedient sky. Smooth as the swan when not a breeze at even Disturbs the surface of the silver stream, Through air and sunshine sails the Ship of Heaven. Recumbent there the Maiden glides along How swift she feels not, though the swiftest wind Feeling no fear; for that etherial air For sure she deem'd her mortal part was o'er, And she was sailing to the heavenly shore; And that angelic form, who moved beside, Was some good spirit sent to be her guide. Daughter of Earth; therein thou deem'st aright, Nor, like a vision of delight, Rise on the raptured Poet's inward eye. Low thought, nor base desire, nor wasting care, Angelic power and dignity and grace Their colour like the winter's moonless sky, Shed through their substance thin a varying hue; Beauteous as fragrant, gives to scent and sight Or ruby when with deepest red it glows; Proclaims the presence of the power divine. Of that celestial Spirit, as he went The gorgeous beauties that they gave to view: Of pearls that grace some Sultan's diadem. Now with slow stroke and strong, behold him smite The buoyant air, and now in gentler flight, On motionless wing expanded, shoot along. Through air and sunshine sails the Ship of Heaven. The gross and heavy atmosphere of earth; The Maid of mortal birth At every breath a new delight inhales. And now towards its port the Ship of Heaven, Swift as a falling meteor, shapes its flight, Yet gently as the dews of night that gein, And do not bend the hare-bell's slenderest stem. |