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That on the agitated air

Flutters and glitters to the torch's glare.

7.

A man and maid of aspect wan and wild,
Then, side by side, by bowmen guarded, came;
O wretched father! O unhappy child!
Them were all eyes of all the throng exploring . . .
Is this the daring man

Who raised his fatal hand at Arvalan?
Is this the wretch condemn'd to feel
Kehama's dreadful wrath?

Then were all hearts of all the throng deploring;
For not in that innumerable throng
Was one who loved the dead; for who could know
What aggravated wrong
Provoked the desperate blow!

8.

Far, far behind, beyond all reach of sight,
In order'd files the torches flow along,
One ever-lengthening line of gliding light:
Far... far behind,

Rolls on the undistinguishable clamour,
Of horn, and trump, and tambour;
Incessant as the roar

Of streams which down the wintry mountain pour,
And louder than the dread commotion

Of breakers on a rocky shore,

When the winds rage over the waves,
And Ocean to the Tempest raves.

9.

And now toward the bank they go, Where winding on their way below, Deep and strong the waters flow. Here doth the funeral pile appear With myrrh and ambergris bestrew'd, And built of precious sandal wood. They cease their music and their outcry here, Gently they rest the bier;

They wet the face of Arvalan,

No sign of life the sprinkled drops excite;

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For not with feeble, nor with erring hand, The brave avenger dealt the blow of death. Then with a doubling peal and deeper blast, The tambours and the trumpets sound on high, And with a last and loudest cry They call on Arvalan.

10.

Woe! woe! for Azla takes her seat
Upon the funeral pile !

Calmly she took her seat,

Calmly the whole terrific pomp survey'd ;
As on her lap the while

The lifeless head of Arvalan was laid.

11.

Woe! woe! Nealliny,
The young Nealliny !

They strip her ornaments away,

Bracelet and anklet, ring, and chain, and zone;
Around her neck they leave

The marriage knot alone,...
That marriage band, which when
Yon waning moon was young,
Around her virgin neck
With bridal joy was hung.

Then with white flowers, the coronal of death,
Her jetty locks they crown.

12.

O sight of misery!

You cannot hear her cries, ... their sound
In that wild dissonance is drown'd;...
But in her face you see

The supplication and the agony,...
See in her swelling throat the desperate strength
That with vain effort struggles yet for life;
Her arms contracted now in fruitless strife,
Now wildly at full length

Towards the crowd in vain for pity spread,... They force her on, they bind her to the dead.

13.

Then all around retire;

Circling the pile, the ministring Bramins stand, Each lifting in his hand a torch on fire. Alone the Father of the dead advanced And lit the funeral pyre.

14.

At once on every side
The circling torches drop,
At once on every side
The fragrant oil is pour'd,
At once on every side
The rapid flames rush up.

pyre;

Then hand in hand the victim band
Roll in the dance around the funeral
Their garments flying folds
Float inward to the fire;

In drunken whirl they wheel around;
One drops,... another plunges in;
And still with overwhelming din
The tambours and the trumpets sound;
And clap of hand, and shouts, and cries,
From all the multitude arise;
While round and round, in giddy wheel,
Intoxicate they roll and reel,

Till one by one whirl'd in they fall,
And the devouring flames have swallow'd all.

15.

Then all was still; the drums and clarions ceased; The multitude were hush'd in silent awe;

Only the roaring of the flames was heard.

9

II.

THE CURSE.

1.

ALONE towards the Table of the Dead
Kehama moved; there on the altar-stone
Honey and rice he spread.

There with collected voice and painful tone
He call'd upon his son.

Lo! Arvalan appears;

Only Kehama's powerful eye beheld
The thin etherial spirit hovering nigh;
Only the Rajah's ear

Receiv'd his feeble breath.

And is this all? the mournful Spirit said, This all that thou canst give me after death? This unavailing pomp,

These empty pageantries that mock the dead!

2.

In bitterness the Rajah heard,

And groan'd, and smote his breast, and o'er his face Cowl'd the white mourning vest.

3.

ARVALAN.

....... even like a God?

Art thou not powerful, ..

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