Spring up with sudden bound,
And, with a frantic cry

And madman's gesture, gallop round and round.

9.

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 bloodhound eye, Look for the word, in slow-consuming fire, By piecemeal death, to make the wretch expire; Or hoist his living carcass, hooked 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 suppressed were there, And many a secret curse and inward prayer Called 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, pressed in for agony.

10.

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 Ladurlad, and his brow
Was clouded with despite, as one ashamed.
That wretch again!" indignant he exclaimed,
And smote his forehead, and stood silently
Awhile in wrath; then, with ferocious smile,
And eyes which seemed 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!"

11.

He bade the archers pile their weapons there:
No manly courage filled the slavish band,
No sweetening vengeance roused a brave despair.
He called his horsemen then, and gave command
To hem the offenders in, and hew them down.
Ten thousand cimeters, at once upreared,
Flash up like waters sparkling to the sun:
A second time the fatal brands appeared
Lifted aloft, they glittered then no more;
Their light was gone, their splendor quenched 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 furnished food, from far and nigh Sped to the lure: aloft, with joyful cry, Wheeling around, they hovered overhead; Or, on the temple perched with greedy eye, Impatient watched the dead.

Far off the Tigers, in the inmost wood, Heard the death-shriek, and snuffed the scent of blood:

They rose, and through the covert went their way, Couched 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 surprised at finding he is there.

3.

Behold his lowly home,

By yonder broad-boughed 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 accustomed sights appear! How differently did each familiar sound Assail his altered ear!

Here stood the marriage-bower,

Reared 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 borrowed flower, Had then bedecked it, withering ere the night; But he who looked from that auspicious day For years of long delight,

And would not see the marriage-bower decay, There planted and nursed up, with daily care, The sweetest herbs that scent the ambient air,

And trained them round to live and flourish there. Nor when dread Yamen's will

Had called Yedillian from his arms away, Ceased he to tend the marriage-bower, but still, Sorrowing, had dressed 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 appeared 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: