V.

THE SEPARATION.

Evening comes on: arising from the stream, Homeward the tall flamingo wings his flight; And where he sails athwart the setting beam, His scarlet plumage glows with deeper light. The watchman, at the wish'd approach of night, Gladly forsakes the field, where he all day, To scare the winged plunderers from their prey, With shout and sling, on yonder clay-built height, Hath borne the sultry ray.

Hark! at the Golden Palaces,

The Bramin strikes the hour.

For leagues and leagues around, the brazen sound Rolls through the stillness of departing day, Like thunder far away.

Behold them wandering on their hopeless way,
Unknowing where they stray,

Yet sure where'er they stop to find no rest.
The evening gale is blowing,

It plays among the trees;

Like plumes upon a warrior's crest,
They see yon cocoas tossing to the breeze.

Ladurlad views them with impatient mind,
Impatiently he hears

The gale of evening blowing,

The sound of waters flowing,

As if all sights and sounds combin'd,
To mock his irremediable woe;

For not for him the blessed waters flow,

For not for him the gales of evening blow,
A fire is in his heart and brain,

And Nature hath no healing for his pain.

The Moon is up, still pale

Amid the lingering light.

A cloud ascending in the eastern sky

Sails slowly o'er the vale,

And darkens round and closes-in the night.

No hospitable house is nigh,

No traveller's home the wanderers to invite. Forlorn, and with long watching overworn, The wretched father and the wretched child Lie down amid the wild.

Before them full in sight,

A white flag flapping to the winds of night, Marks where the tiger seiz'd his human prey. Far, far away with natural dread,

Shunning the perilous spot,

At other times abhorrent had they fled;

But now they heed it not.

Nothing they care; the boding death-flag now

In vain for them may gleam and flutter there.

Despair and agony in him,

Prevent all other thought;

And Kailyal hath no heart or sense for ought,

Save her dear father's strange and miserable lot. There in the woodland shade,

Upon the lap of that unhappy maid,

His head Ladurlad laid,

And never word he spake ;

Nor heav'd he one complaining sigh,

Nor groan'd he with his misery,
But silently for her dear sake
Endur'd the raging pain.

And now the moon was hid on high,

No stars were glimmering in the sky;
She could not see her father's eye,
How red with burning agony.

Perhaps he may be cooler now;

She hoped, and long'd to touch his brow
With gentle hand, yet did not dare

To lay the painful pressure there.

Now forward from the tree she bent,

And anxiously her head she leant,

And listened to his breath.

Ladurlad's breath was short and quick,
Yet regular it came,

And like the slumber of the sick,
In pantings still the same.
Oh if he sleeps!... her lips unclose,
Intently listening to the sound,
That equal sound so like repose.
Still quietly the sufferer lies,

Bearing his torment now with resolute will;
He neither moves, nor groans, nor sighs.

Doth satiate cruelty bestow

This little respite to his woe,

She thought, or are there Gods who look below!

Perchance, thought Kailyal, willingly deceiv'd, Our Marriataly hath his pain reliev'd,

And she hath bade the blessed sleep assuage

His agony, despite the Rajah's rage.