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 Heaven hath destin'd for the blest, And ye must leave your dear abode of rest. At this momentous hour, Again to save the Swerga from his sway. Fresh trials must be thine; And what must thou, Ladurlad, yet endure! For Providence is good, and virtue is secure. They, little deeming that the fatal day Was come, beheld where, through the morning sky, Onward they watch it steer its steady flight Old Casyapa, the Sire of Gods, alight. Even so, serene the immortal Sire replies; Soon like an earthquake will ye feel the blow Which consummates the mighty sacrifice: And this world, and its Heaven, and all therein Are then Kehama's. To the second ring Of these seven Spheres, the Swerga-King, Even now, prepares for flight Beyond the circle of the conquer'd world, Beyond the Rajah's might. Ocean, that clips this inmost of the Spheres, And girds it round with everlasting roar, Set like a gem appears Within that bending shore. Thither fly all the Sons of heavenly race: I, too, forsake mine ancient dwelling-place. And now, O Child and Father, ye must go, Take up the burthen of your woe, And wander once again below. With patient heart hold onward to the end,— Be true unto yourselves, 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, 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, But placed his daughter in the ethereal Bark, The fiery Curse again like lightning shot. O ye immortal Bowers, Do ye expect the blow, With melancholy cry Their stately necks reluctant they protend, To other worlds, their mournful progress bend. O'er their beloved streams no longer play, The streams of Paradise have ceas'd to flow; The Fountain-Tree withholds its diamond shower, In this portentous hour, This dolorous hour,-this universal woe. Where is the Palace, whose far-flashing beams, With streaks and streams of ever-varying light, Brighten'd the polar night Around the frozen North's extremest shore? Gone like a morning rainbow,-like a dream,—A star that shoots and falls, and then is seen no more Now! now!-Before the Golden Palaces, The Bramin strikes the inevitable hour. The fatal blow is given, That over Earth and Heaven Confirms the Almighty Rajah in his power. The Asuras and the Giants join the cry, The damn'd in Padalon acclaim Their hop'd Deliverer's name; Heaven trembles with the thunder-drowning sound; 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 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. A 'T was a fair scene wherein they stood, For o'er the lawn, irregularly spread, Straight like a plummet, grew towards the ground. 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 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; The peasants drink not from the humble well, noon; And when the breezes, in their play, Ruffled the darkening surface, then, with gleam Of sudden light, around the lotus52 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 bower53 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-grass54 fit roofing gave Beneath the genial sky. And here did Kailyal, each returning day, 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.55 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, Would gleam upon his awful countenance. 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, Patient the while, and tranquil, and content! 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, 57 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, He moves it to and fro. 58 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. 59 Lo! as the voice melodious floats around, 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, 6o are hush'd, and silently Hang on the cluster'd trees. All things in wonder and delight are still; A mighty songster, with the Maid to vie; She only bore her part in powerful sympathy. 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 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. Fate work'd its own the while. A band Of Yoguces, as they roam'd the land And reach'd the bower wherein the Maid abode. XIV. JAGA-NAUT.66 Joy in the City of great Jaga-Naut! Joy in the seven-headed Idol's67 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 !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! 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;- To-night will he go forth from his abode! Prepare the way before him! Uprear'd on twenty wheels elate, The Image of the seven-headed God A bridal statue rather might she seem, 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, And scarce can draw along the enormous load. Their self-devoted bodies there they lay 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, Where shall those eyes be turn'd? she knows not where! Is death, and horror, and despair; And all around, behind, before, Tossing the torches' flames about. Where art thou, Son of Heaven, Ereenia! where In this dread hour of horror and despair? O Maid! thou feelest, but believ'st it not; A hymn of joyaunce and of gratulation. Go, happy bride! For thee the God descends in expectation; Ile leaves his heaven, O Maid of matchless charms! 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! Anguish and agony, and tropeless prayer, There, trembling as she lay, The Bramin of the fane advanced But as the Priest drew nigh, A power invisible opposed his way; She thought her own deliverer had been near; 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 Kelama, 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. |