Lo! how the Steed, with sudden start,
Turns his quick head to every part;
Long files of men on every side appear.
The sight might well his heart affright,
And yet the silence that is here
Inspires a stranger fear;
For not a murmur, not a sound
Of breath or motion rises round,
No stir is heard in all that mighty crowd;
He neighs, and from the temple-wall
The voice re-echoes loud,
Loud and distinët, as from a hill
Across a lonely vale, when all is still.
Within the temple, on his golden throne
Reclin'd, Kehama lies,
Watching with steady eyes
The perfum'd light that, burning bright,
Metes out the passing hours.
On either hand his eunuchs stand,
Freshening with fans of peacock plumes the air Which, redolent of all rich gums and flowers, Seems, overcharged with sweets, to stagnate there. Lo! the time-taper's flame ascending slow Creeps up its coil toward the fated line; Kehama rises and goes forth,
And from the altar, ready where it lies,
He takes the axe of sacrifice.
That instant from the crowd, with sudden shout,
A man sprang out,
To lay upon the Steed his hand profane.
A thousand archers, with unerring eye,
At once let fly,
And with their hurtling arrows fill the sky.
In vain they fall upon him fast as rain;
He bears a charmed life, which may defy
All weapons,... and the darts that whizz around,
He from an adamantine panoply
Repell'd, fall idly to the ground.
Kehama clasp'd his hands in agony,
And saw him grasp the hallowed courser's mane,
Spring up with sudden bound,
And madman's gesture, gallop round and round.
They seize, they drag him to the Rajah's feet.
What doom will now be his,...what vengeance meet
Will he, who knows no mercy, now require?
The obsequious guards around, with blood-hound eye,
Look for the word, in slow-consuming fire,
By peace-meal death, to make the wretch expire,
Or hoist his living carcase, hook'd on high,
To feed the fowls and insects of the sky;
Or if aught worse inventive cruelty
To that remorseless heart of royalty
Might prompt, accursed instruments they stand
To work the wicked will with wicked hand.
Far other thoughts were in the multitude;
Pity, and human feelings held them still;
And stifled sighs and groans supprest were there,
And many a secret curse and inward prayer
Call'd on the insulted Gods to save mankind.
Expecting some new crime in fear they stood,
Some horror which would make the natural blood
Start, with cold shudderings thrill the sinking heart,
Whiten the lip, and make the abhorrent eye
Roll back and close, prest in for agony.
How then fared he for whom the mighty crowd,
Suffered in spirit thus,...how then fared he?
A ghastly smile was on his lip, his eye
Glared with a ghastly hope, as he drew nigh,
And cried aloud, Yes, Rajah! it is I!
And wilt thou kill me now?
The countenance of the Almighty Man
Fell when he knew Laudurlad, and his brow
Was clouded with despite, as one asham'd.
That wretch again! indignant he exclaim'd,
And smote his forehead, and stood silently
Awile in wrath: then, with ferocious smile,
And eyes which seem'd to darken his dark cheek,
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!
He bade the archers pile their weapons
No manly courage fill'd the slavish band,
No sweetening vengeance rous'd 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 splendour quench'd in gore.
At noon the massacre begun,
And night clos'd in before the work of death was done.
in the city of great Jaga-Naut!
Joy in the seven-headed Idol's shrine!
A virgin bride his ministers have brought,
A mortal maid in form and face divine,
Peerless among all daughters of mankind!
Search'd they the world again from East to West,
In endless quest,
Seeking the fairest and the best,
No maid so lovely might they hope to find ;....
For she hath breath'd celestial air,
And heavenly food has been her fare,
And heavenly thoughts and feelings give her face
That heavenly grace,
Joy in the city of great Jaga-Naut,
Joy in the seven-headed Idol's shrine!
The fairest maid his Yognees sought,
A fairer than the fairest have they brought,
A maid of charms surpassing human thought,
A maid divine.
Now bring ye forth the Chariot of the God!
Bring him abroad,
That through the swarming city he may ride;
And by his side
Place ye the Maid of more than mortal grace,
The Maid of perfect form and heavenly face!
Set her aloft in triumph, like a bride
Upon the bridal car,
And spread the joyful tidings wide and far,....
Spread it with trump and voice
That all may hear, and all who hear rejoice,...
The Mighty One hath found his mate! the God
Will ride abroad!
To-night will he go forth from his abode!
Ye myriads who adore him,
Prepare the way before him!
Uprear'd on twenty wheels elate,
Huge as a Ship, the bridal car appear'd;
Loud creak its ponderous wheels, as through the gate.
A thousand Bramins drag the enormous load.
There thron'd aloft in state,
The image of the seven-headed God
Came forth from his abode; and at his side
Sate Kailyal like a bride;
A bridal statue rather might she seem,
For she regarded all things like a dream,
Having no thought, nor fear, nor will, nor aught
Save hope and faith, that liv'd within her still.
O silent night, how have they startled thee
With the brazen trumpet's blare!
And thou, O Moon! whose quiet light serene Filleth wide heaven, and bathing hill and wood, Spreads o'er the peaceful valley like a flood, How have they dimm'd thee with the torches' glare, Which round yon moving pageant flame and flare, As the wild rout, with deafening song and shout, Fling their long flashes out,
That, like infernal lightnings, fire the air.
A thousand pilgrims strain,
Arm, shoulder, breast and thigh, with might and main,
To drag the sacred wain,
And scarce can draw along the enormous load.
Prone fall the frantic votaries in its road,
And, calling on the God, i
Their self-devoted bodies there they lay
To pave his chariot-way.
On Jaga-Naut they call,
The ponderous Car 'rolls on, and crushes all. Through blood and bones it ploughs its dreadful path, Groans rise unheard; the dying cry, And death and agony
Are trodden under foot by yon mad throng,
Who follow close, and thrust the deadly wheels along.,
Where shall those eyes be turn'd? she knows not where ! Downward they dare not look, for there
Is death and horror, and despair;
Nor can her patient looks to Heaven repair,
For the huge Idol over her, in air,
Spreads his seven hideous heads, and wide
Extends their snaky necks on every side;
And all around, behind, before,
The bridal Car, is the raging rout,
With frantic shout, and deafening roar,
Tossing the torches' flames about.
And the double double peals of the drum are there,
And the startling burst of the trumpet's blare;
And the gong that seems, with its thunders dread,
To stun the living, and waken the dead.
The ear strings throb as if they were broke,
And the eye-lids drop at the weight of its stroke.
Fain would the Maid have kept them fast,
But open they start at the crack of the blast.
ES! there are real mourners---I have seen
A fair, sad Girl, mild, suffering, and serene;
Attention (through the day) her duties claim'd,
And to be useful as resign'd she aim'd;
Neatly she drest, nor vainly seem'd t'expect
Pity for grief, or pardon for neglect;
But when her weary'd parents sunk to sleep,
She sought her place to meditate and weep;
Then to her mind was all the past display'd,
That faithful memory brings to sorrow's aid:
For then she thought on one regretted Youth,
Her tender trust, and his unquestion'd truth;
In ev'ry place she wander'd, where they'd been,
And sadly sacred held the parting-scene;
Where last for Sea he took his leave---that place
With double interest would she nightly trace:
For long the courtship was, and he would say,
Each time he sail'd,---" This once, and then the day:"
Yet prudence tarried, but when last he went,
He drew from pitying Love a full consent.
Happy he sail'd, and great the care she took,
That he should softly sleep, and smartly look;
White was his better linen, and his check
Was nide more trim than any on the deck;
|