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.7°

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,

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 poets' 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 71 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. 72
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,
Hearing no voice save of the Ocean flood,
Which roars for ever on the restless ores;
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 Rajab, 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 from the 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.

Thou hast been call'd, O Sleep! the friend of Woe, But 't is the happy who have call'd thee so.73

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 should she behold her 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,74 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
not in rage,
envy,
O thou fair City, that he spares thee thus ?75
Art thou Varounin's capital and court,
Where all the Sea-Gods for delight resort,

The

A place too godlike to be held by us, 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 Garden, 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

his upon 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
Their 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,

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,76
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 liewn, 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 mouidered 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 length 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 Tiger'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
Ilis 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 faint 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.