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Of utterance and of motion soon bereft, Frozen to the ice-rock, there behold him lie,

Only the painful sense of Being left,

A Spirit who must feel, and cannot die, Bleaching and bare beneath the polar sky.

XII.

THE SACRIFICE COMPLETED.

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

They, little deeming that the fatal day Was come, beheld where, through the morning sky, A Ship of Heaven drew nigh. Onward they watch it steer its steady flight Till, wondering, they espy Old Casyapa, the Sire of Gods, alight. But, when Ereenia saw the Sire appear, At that unwonted and unwelcome sight His heart receiv'd a sudden shock of fear: Thy presence doth its doleful tidings tell, O Father! cried the startled Glendoveer, The dreadful hour is near ! I know it well Not for less import would the Sire of Gods Forsake his ancient and august abodes. Even so, serene the immortal Sire replies; Soon like an earthquake will ye feel the blow Which consummates the mighty sacrifice: And this world, and its Heaven, and all therein Are then Kellama's. To the second ring Of these seven Spheres, the Swerga-King, Even now, prepares for flight Beyond the circle of the conquer'd world, Beyond the Rajah's might. Ocean, that clips this in most of the Spheres, And girds it round with everlasting roar, Set like a gem appears Within that bending shore. Thither fly all the Sons of heavenly race: l, too, forsake mine ancient dwelling-place.

And now, O Child and Father, ye must go, Take up the hurthen of your woe, And wander once again below. With patient heart hold onward to the end,Be true unto yourselves, 47 and bear in mind That every God is still the good Man's friend; And they, who suffer bravely, save mankind.

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

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

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

O ye immortal Bowers, Where hitherto the Hours Have led their dance of happiness for aye, With what a sense of woe Do ye expect the blow, And see your heavenly dwellers driven away! Lo! where the aunnay-birds 48 of graceful mien, Whose milk-white forms were seen, Lovely as Nymphs, your ancient trees between, And by your silent springs, With melancholy cry Now spread unwilling wings; Their stately necks reluctant they protend, And through the sullen sky, To other worlds, their mournful progress bend. The affrighted gales to-day O'er their beloved streams no longer play, The streams of Paradise have ceasd to tiew; The Fountain-Tree withholds its diamond shower, In this portentous hour, This dolorous hour, -this universal woe. Where is the Palace, whose far-slashing beams, With streaks and streams of ever-varying light, Brighten'd the polar night Around the frozen North's extremest shore ? Gone like a morning rainbow, like a dream,_. A star that shoots and falls, and then is seen no more.

Now! now !—Before the Golden Palaces,
The Bramin strikes the inevitable hour.
The fatal blow is given,
That over Earth and Heaven

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Wherever to their vagrant feet seem'd best, But, turning from the view her mournful eyes, Oh, whether 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.

T was a fair scene wherein they stood, A green and sunny glade amid the wood, And in the midst an aged ig 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 hcight. 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 checquer'd light. So like a temple did it seem, that there A pious heart's first impulse would be prayer.

A brook, with easy current, murmur'd 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 bower33 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-grasso fit roofing gave Beneath the 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 cndued, There Woomdavee 96 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 hallow'd' Danger, Fear, Nor thought of evil ever enter'd 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 offer'd 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, 97 whose silvery feathers play
Oertopping 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. 38 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. 39

Lo! as the voice melodious floats around, The Antelope draws near, The Tigress 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 Monkeys, whose wild gambols late, When not a breeze wav'd the tall jungle grass, Shook the whole wood, to 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, 62 Musk-spot, nor sandal-streak, 63 nor scarlet stain, Ear-drop nor chain, nor arm nor ankle-ring, of 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 step 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 1 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 ecstasies, 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? 'T is 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 sequester'd 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.

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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!68
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
Sct 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 appeard; Loud creak its ponderous wheels, as through the gate A thousand Bramins drag the enormous load. There, throned 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 cnormous load. Prome fall the frantic votaries in its road, And, calling on the God, Their self-devoted bodies there they lay To pave lis 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 roused 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, tuat 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 summon'd 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,09 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 cheerful sound, 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 Ile 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 Templetiate, 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 fame advanced And came to seize the prey. But as the Priest drew nigh, A power invisible opposed his way; Starting, he utter'd 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 tloor With vengeance dash'd him, quivering there in gore. Lo! from the pregnant air, heart-witheriug 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 Kellama, take thy pleasure here.

Her words the accursed race obey'd; Forth with a sound like rushing winds they fled, Aud 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.

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