That on the agitated air Flutters and glitters to the torch's glare. 7. A man and maid of aspect wan and wild, Who raised his fatal hand at Arvalan? Then were all hearts of all the throng deploring; 8. Far, far behind, beyond all reach of sight, Rolls on the undistinguishable clamour, Of streams which down the wintry mountain pour, Of breakers on a rocky shore, When the winds rage over the waves, 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; 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 Calmly she took her seat, Calmly the whole terrific pomp survey'd ; The lifeless head of Arvalan was laid. 11. Woe! woe! Nealliny, They strip her ornaments away, Bracelet and anklet, ring, and chain, and zone; The marriage knot alone,... Then with white flowers, the coronal of death, 12. O sight of misery! You cannot hear her cries, ... their sound The supplication and the agony,... 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 pyre; Then hand in hand the victim band In drunken whirl they wheel around; Till one by one whirl'd in they fall, 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 There with collected voice and painful tone Lo! Arvalan appears; Only Kehama's powerful eye beheld 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, .. |