Nor aught that time could touch, or force destroy,
In that pure web whereof the robes were wrought;
So long had it in tenfold fires been tried,
And blanch'd, and to that brightness purified.
Apparell'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.

16.

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-moved Car roll❜d on,
And lo! they pass the Gate of Padalon.

XXIII.

PADALON.

1.

WHOE'ER hath loved 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 watery 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.

2.

Far other light than that of day there shone
Upon the travellers, entering Padalon.
They too in darkness enter'd on their way,
But far before the Car,

A glow, as of a fiery furnace light,
Fill'd all before them. 'T was 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.

3.

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-moved Chariot went, Winning the long ascent,

Then, downward rolling, gains the farther shore.

4.

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 wondrous 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 rightful torments for the accursed brood.

5.

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, Opposed 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.

6.

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;