With long-drawn lips of insolent mockery,
And eyes whose lurid glare

Was like a sulphur fire

Mingling with darkness ere its flames expire.

Ladurlad knew him well: enraged to see
The cause of all his misery,

He stooped and lifted from the ground
A stake, whose fatal point was black with blood;
The same wherewith his hand had dealt the wound,
When Arvalan, in hour with evil fraught,
For violation seized the shrieking Maid.
Thus armed, in act again to strike he stood,
And twice with inefficient wrath essayed
To smite the impassive shade.

The lips of scorn their mockery-laugh renewed,
And Arvalan put forth a hand and caught
The sun-beam, and condensing there its light,
Upon Ladurlad turned the burning stream.
Vain cruelty! the stake

Fell in white ashes from his hold, but he
Endured no added pain; his agony
Was full, and at the height;

The burning stream of radiance nothing harmed him:
A fire was in his heart and brain,
And from all other flame,
Kehama's Curse had charmed him.

Anon the Spirit waved a second hand;

Down rushed the obedient whirlwind from the sky, Scooped up the sand like smoke, and from on high

Shed the hot shower upon Ladurlad's head. Where'er he turns, the accurséd Hand is there; East, West, and North, and South, on every Side The Hand accursed waves in air to guide

The dizzying storm; ears, nostrils, eyes, and mouth It fills and chokes, and, clogging every pore, Taught him new torments might be yet in store. Where shall he turn to fly? behold his house In flames! uprooted lies the marriage bower, The Goddess buried by the sandy shower. Blindly, with staggering step, he reels about, And still the accurséd Hand pursued, And still the lips of scorn their mockery-laugh renewed.

What, Arvalan! hast thou so soon forgot The grasp of Pollear? Wilt thou still defy The righteous Powers of Heaven? or know'st thou not That there are yet superior Powers on high, Son of the Wicked P-Lo, in rapid flight, Ereenia hastens from the ethereal height; Bright is the sword celestial in his hand, Like lightning in its path athwart the sky. He comes and drives, with angel-arm, the blow. Oft have the Asuras, in the wars of Heaven, Felt that keen sword by arm angelic driven, And fled before it from the fields of light. Thrice through the vulnerable shade The Glendoveer impels the griding blade. The wicked Shade flies howling from his foe. So let that Spirit foul

Fly, and for impotence of anger, howl, Writhing with pain, and o'er his wounds deplore;

Worse punishment hath Arvalan deserved,
And righteous fate hath heavier doom in store.

Not now the Glendoveer pursues his flight.
He bade the Ship of Heaven alight,
And gently there he laid

The astonished father by the happy Maid,
The Maid now shedding tears of deep delight.
Beholding all things with incredulous eyes,
Still dizzy with the sand-storm, there he lay,
While sailing up the skies, the living Bark,
Through air and sunshine, held its heavenly way.

X.

MOUNT MERU.

SWIFT through the sky the vessel of the Suras Sails up the fields of ether like an Angel. Rich is the freight, O Vessel, that thou bearest! Beauty and Virtue, Fatherly cares and filial veneration,

Hearts which are proved and strengthened by affliction,
Manly resentment, fortitude and action,
Womanly goodness;

All with which Nature halloweth her daughters,
Tenderness, truth and purity and meekness,
Piety, patience, faith and resignation,
Love and devotement.

Ship of the Gods! how richly art thou laden!

Proud of the charge, thou voyagest rejoicing. Clouds float around to honour thee, and Evening Lingers in heaven.

A Stream descends on Meru mountain;
None hath seen its secret fountain;
It had its birth, so Sages say,
Upon the memorable day
When Parvati presumed to lay,
In wanton play,

Her hands, too venturous Goddess, in her mirth, On Seeva's eyes, the light and life of Earth. Thereat the heart of the Universe stood still; The Elements ceased their influences: the Hours Stopped on the Eternal round; Motion and Breath, Time, Change, and Life and Death,

In sudden trance oppressed, forgot their powers. A moment, and the dread eclipse was ended; But, at the thought of nature thus suspended, The sweat on Seeva's forehead stood,

And Ganges thence upon the World descended, The Holy River, the Redeeming Flood.

None hath seen its secret fountain;
But on the top of Meru mountain
Which rises o'er the hills of earth,

In light and clouds, it hath its mortal birth.
Earth seems that pinnacle to rear
Sublime above this worldly sphere,
Its cradle, and its altar and its throne,
And there the new-born River lies
Outspread beneath its native skies,

As if it there would love to dwell
Alone and unapproachable.
Soon flowing forward, and resigned
To the will of the Creating Mind,
It springs at once, with sudden leap,
Down from the immeasurable steep.

From rock to rock, with shivering force rebounding,
The mighty cataract rushes; Heaven around,
Like thunder, with the incessant roar resounding,
And Meru's summit shaking with the sound.
Wide spreads the snowy foam, the sparkling spray
Dances aloft; and ever there, at morning,
The earliest sun-beams haste to wing their way,
With rainbow-wreaths the holy flood adorning;
And duly the adoring Moon at night
Sheds her white glory there,

And in the watery air

Suspends her halo-crowns of silver light.

A mountain-valley in its blesséd breast Receives the stream, which there delights to lie, Untroubled and at rest,

Beneath the untainted sky.

There in a lovely lake it seems to sleep,
And thence through many a channel dark and deep,
Their secret way the holy Waters wind,
Till, rising underneath the root

Of the Tree of Life on Hemakoot,
Majestic forth they flow to purify mankind.
Towards this Lake, above the nether sphere,
The living Bark, with angel-eye,

Directs its course along the obedient sky.