His daughter, holding still with senseless hand The saving Goddess; there upon the sand He laid the livid maid; Raised up against his knees her drooping head; Bent to her lips, her lips as pale as death, If he might feel her breath, His own the while in hope and dread suspended; 7. Soon did his touch perceive, or fancy, there He chafes her feet, and lays them bare Relapsing, as it seemed, to dead repose. 8. So in her father's arms thus languidly, While over her with earnest gaze he hung, Silent and motionless she lay, And painfully and slowly writhed at fits; At fits, to short, convulsive starts was stung. Till, when the struggle and strong agony Had left her, quietly she lay reposed; Her eyes now resting on Ladurlad's face, Relapsing now, and now again unclosed. The look she fixed upon his face implies Nor thought nor feeling: senselessly she lies, Composed like one who sleeps with open eyes. 66 9. Long he leaned over her, In silence and in fear. 'Kailyal!" at length he cried, in such a tone As a poor mother ventures who draws near, With silent footstep, to her child's sick-bed. "My Father!" cried the maid, and raised her head, Awakening then to life and thought; "thou here?" For, when his voice she heard, The dreadful past recurred, Which dimly, like a dream of pain, Till now with troubled sense confused her brain. 10. "And hath he spared us, then?" she cried, For hope and joy the sudden strength supplied: "Oh! he hath laid a Curse upon my life, - “Hath sent a fire into my heart and brain, A burning fire, for ever there to be! - The Winds of Heaven must never breathe on me; The Rains and Dews must never fall on me; Water must mock my thirst, and shrink from me; The common Earth must yield no fruit to me; Sleep, blessed Sleep! must never light on me; And Death, who comes to all, must fly from me, And never, never, set Ladurlad free." 11. This is a dream!" exclaimed the incredulous maid, As though it were an enemy's blow; he smote Her eye glanced down; his mantle she espied, And caught it up. "Oh misery!" Kailyal cried; "He bore me from the river-depths, and yet His garment is not wet!" IV. THE DEPARTURE. 1. RECLINED beneath a Cocoa's feathery shade, And Kailyal on his lap her head hath laid, The boatman, sailing on his easy way, With envious eye beheld them where they lay: For every herb and flower Was fresh and fragrant with the early dew; Sweet sung the birds in that delicious hour; And the cool gale of morning as it blew, Not yet subdued by day's increasing power, Ruffling the surface of the silvery stream, Swept o'er the moistened sand, and raised no shower Telling their tale of love, The boatman thought they lay At that lone hour, and who so blest as they! 2. But now the Sun in heaven is high: To catch the passing air; They hear it not, they feel it not, It murmurs not, it moves not. The boatman, as he looks to land, Admires what men so mad to linger there; For yonder Cocoa's shade behind them falls, A single spot upon the burning sand. 3. There all the morning was Ladurlad laid, The man was still; pondering with steady mind, Scanning it o'er and o'er in busy thought, As though it were a last-night's tale of woe, Before the cottage-door By some old beldam sung, While young and old, assembled round, Listened, as if by witchery bound, In fearful pleasure to her wondrous tongue. 4. Musing so long he lay, that all things seem Unreal to his sense, even like a dream, A monstrous dream of things which could not be. That beating, burning brow, — why, it was now The height of noon, and he was lying there In the broad sun, all bare! What if he felt no wind; the air was still · |