Let him go free! he cried; he hath his Curse, And vengeance upon him can wreak no worse . . . But ye who did not stop him . . . tremble ye!

11.

He bade the archers pile their weapons there : No manly courage fill'd the slavish band, No sweetening vengeance roused a brave despair. He call'd his horsemen then, and gave command To hem the offenders in, and hew them down. Ten thousand scymitars at once uprear'd, Flash up, like waters sparkling to the sun; A second time the fatal brands appear'd Lifted aloft, ... they glitter'd then no more, Their light was gone, their splendor quench'd in gore. At noon the massacre begun,

And night closed in before the work of death was done.

IX.

THE HOME-SCENE.

1.

THE steam of slaughter from that place of blood
Spread o'er the tainted sky.

Vultures, for whom the Rajah's tyranny
So oft had furnish'd food, from far and nigh
Sped to the lure: aloft with joyful cry,
Wheeling around, they hover'd over head;
Or, on the temple perch'd, with greedy eye,
Impatient watch'd the dead.

Far off the tygers, in the inmost wood,
Heard the death shriek, and snuff'd the scent of blood;
They rose, and through the covert went their way,
Couch'd at the forest edge, and waited for their prey.

2.

He who had sought for death went wandering on, The hope which had inspired his heart was gone, Yet a wild joyance still inflamed his face, A smile of vengeance, a triumphant glow. Where goes he?... Whither should Ladurlad go! Unwittingly the wretch's footsteps trace Their wonted path toward his dwelling-place; And wandering on, unknowing where,

He starts like one surprized at finding he is there.

3.

Behold his lowly home,

By yonder broad-bough'd plane o'ershaded: There Marriataly's Image stands, And there the garland twined by Kailyal's hands Around its brow hath faded.

The peacocks, at their master's sight, Quick from the leafy thatch alight, And hurry round, and search the ground, And veer their glancing necks from side to side, Expecting from his hand

Their daily dole which erst the Maid supplied, Now all too long denied.

4.

But as he gazed around,

How strange did all accustom'd sights appear! How differently did each familiar sound Assail his alter'd ear!

Here stood the marriage bower,

Rear'd in that happy hour

When he, with festal joy and youthful pride, Had brought Yedillian home, his beauteous bride. Leaves not its own, and many a borrow'd flower, Had then bedeck'd it, withering ere the night; But he who look'd from that auspicious day For years of long delight,

And would not see the marriage bower decay, There planted and nurst up, with daily care, The sweetest herbs that scent the ambient air, And train'd them round to live and flourish there.

Nor when dread Yamen's will

Had call'd Yedillian from his arms away, Ceased he to tend the marriage-bower, but still, Sorrowing, had drest it like a pious rite Due to the monument of past delight.

5.

He took his wonted seat before the door, . . .
Even as of yore,

When he was wont to view with placid eyes,
His daughter at her evening sacrifice.
Here were the flowers which she so carefully
Did love to rear for Marriataly's brow;
Neglected now,

Their heavy heads were drooping, over-blown :
All else appear'd the same as heretofore,
All... save himself alone;

How happy then,...and now a wretch for evermore!

6.

The market-flag which hoisted high,
From far and nigh,

Above yon cocoa grove is seen,
Hangs motionless amid the sultry sky.
Loud sounds the village drum; a happy crowd
Is there ; Ladurlad hears their distant voices,
But with their joy no more his heart rejoices;
And how their old companion now may fare,

Little they know, and less they care;
The torment he is doom'd to bear
Was but to them the wonder of a day,
A burthen of sad thoughts soon put away.

7.

They knew not that the wretched man was near,
And yet it seem'd, to his distemper'd ear,
As if they wrong'd him with their merriment.
Resentfully he turn'd away his eyes,
Yet turn'd them but to find

Sights that enraged his mind

With envious grief more wild and overpowering.
The tank which fed his fields was there, and there
The large-leaved lotus on the waters flowering.
There, from the intolerable heat
The buffaloes retreat;

Only their nostrils raised to meet the air, Amid the sheltering element they rest. Impatient of the sight, he closed his eyes, And bow'd his burning head, and in despair Calling on Indra, . . . Thunder-God! he said, Thou owest to me alone this day thy throne, Be grateful, and in mercy strike me dead.

...

8.

Despair had roused him to that hopeless prayer,
Yet thinking on the heavenly Powers, his mind
Drew comfort; and he rose and gather'd flowers,
And twined a crown for Marriataly's brow;
And taking then her wither'd garland down,
Replaced it with the blooming coronal.
Not for myself, the unhappy Father cried,
Not for myself, O Mighty One! I pray,
Accursed as I am beyond thy aid!
But, oh! be gracious still to that dear Maid