When, at forthcoming of the Lord of Day,
The Orient, like a shrine,
Kindles as it receives the rising ray,
And heralding his way,
Proclaims the presence of the power divine.
5.
Thus glorious were the wings
Of that celestial Spirit, as he went
Disporting through his native element.
Nor these alone
The gorgeous beauties that they gave to view:
Through the broad membrane branch’d a pliant bone
Spreading like fibres from their parent stem,
Its veins like interwoven silver shone,
Or as the chaster hue
Of pearls that grace some Sultan’s diadem.
Now with slow stroke and strong, behold him smite
The buoyant air, and now in gentler flight,
On motionless wing expanded, shoot along.
6.
Through air and sunshine sails the Ship of Heaven.
Far far beneath them lies
The gross and heavy atmosphere of earth;
And with the Swerga gales,
The Maid of mortal birth
At every breath a new delight inhales.
And now toward its port the Ship of Heaven,
Swift as a falling meteor, shapes its flight,
Yet gently as the dews of night that gem,
And do not bend the hare-bell’s slenderest stem.
Daughter of Earth, Ereenia cried, alight,
This is thy place of rest, the Swerga this,
Lo, here my Bower of Bliss!
7.
He furl’d his azure wings, which round him fold
Graceful as robes of Grecian chief of old.
The happy Kailyal knew not where to gaze:
Her eyes around in joyful wonder roam,
Now turn’d upon the lovely Glendoveer,
Now on his heavenly home.
EREENIA.
Here, Maiden, rest in peace,
And I will guard thee, feeble as I am.
The Almighty Rajah shall not harm thee here,
While Indra keeps his throne.
KAILYAL.
Alas, thou fearest him!
Immortal as thou art, thou fearest him!
I thought that death had sav’d me from his power;
Not even the dead are safe.
EREENIA.
Long years of life and happiness,
O Child of Earth, be thine!
From death I sav’d thee, and from all thy foes
Will save thee, while the Swerga is secure.
KAILYAL.
Not me alone, O gentle Deveta!
I have a father suffering upon earth,
A persecuted, wretched, poor, good man,
For whose strange misery
There is no human help,
And none but I dare comfort him
Beneath Kehama’s curse.
O gentle Deveta, protect him too!
EREENIA.
Come, plead thyself to Indra! words like thine
May win their purpose, rouse his slumbering heart,
And make him yet put forth his arm to wield
The thunder, while the thunder is his own.
8.
Then to the garden of the Deity
Ereenia led the maid.
In the mid garden tower’d a giant Tree;
Rock-rooted on a mountain-top, it grew,
Rear’d its unrivall’d head on high,
And stretch’d a thousand branches o’er the sky,
Drinking with all its leaves celestial dew.
Lo! where from thence as from a living well
A thousand torrents flow!
For still in one perpetual shower,
Like diamond drops, etherial waters fell
From every leaf of all its ample bower.
Rolling adown the steep
From that aerial height,
Through the deep shade of aromatic trees,
Half-seen, the cataracts shoot their gleams of light,
And pour upon the breeze
Their thousand voices; far away the roar,
In modulations of delightful sound,
Half-heard and ever varying, floats around.
Below, an ample Lake expanded lies,
Blue as the o’er-arching skies;
Forth issuing from that lovely Lake,
A thousand rivers water Paradise.
Full to the brink, yet never overflowing,
They cool the amorous gales, which, ever blowing,
O’er their melodious surface love to stray;
Then winging back their way,
Their vapours to the parent Tree repay;
And ending thus where they began,
And feeding thus the source from whence they came,
The eternal rivers of the Swerga ran,
For ever renovate, yet still the same.
9.
On that etherial Lake whose waters lie
Blue and transpicuous, like another sky,
The Elements had rear’d their King’s abode.
A strong controuling power their strife suspended,
And there their hostile essences they blended,
To form a Palace worthy of the God.
Built on the Lake the waters were its floor;
And here its walls were water arch’d with fire,
And here were fire with water vaulted o’er;
And spires and pinnacles of fire
Round watery cupolas aspire,
And domes of rainbow rest on fiery towers;
And roofs of flame are turreted around
With cloud, and shafts of cloud with flame are bound.
Here, too, the Elements for ever veer,
Ranging around with endless interchanging;
Pursued in love, and so in love pursuing,
In endless revolutions here they roll;
For ever their mysterious work renewing,
The parts all shifting, still unchanged the whole.
Even we on earth, at intervals, descry
Gleams of the glory, streaks of flowing light,
Openings of heaven, and streams that flash at night
In fitful splendour, through the northern sky.
10.
Impatient of delay, Ereenia caught
The Maid aloft, and spread his wings abroad,
And bore her to the presence of the God.
There Indra sate upon his throne reclin’d,
Where Devetas adore him;
The lute of Nared, warbling on the wind,
All tones of magic harmony combin’d
To sooth his troubled mind,
While the dark-eyed Apsaras danced before him.
In vain the God-musician played,
In vain the dark-eyed Nymphs of Heaven essay’d
To charm him with their beauties in the dance;
And when he saw the mortal Maid appear,
Led by the heroic Glendoveer,
A deeper trouble fill’d his countenance.
What hast thou done, Ereenia, said the God,
Bringing a mortal here?
And while he spake his eye was on the Maid.
The look he gave was solemn, not severe;
No hope to Kailyal it convey’d,
And yet it struck no fear;
There was a sad displeasure in his air,
But pity, too, was there.
EREENIA.
Hear me, O lndra! On the lower earth
I found this child of man, by what mishap
I know not, lying in the lap of death.
Aloft I bore her to our Father’s grove;
Not having other thought, than when the gales
Of bliss had heal’d her, upon earth again
To leave its lovely daughter. Other thoughts
Arose, when Casyapa declar’d her fate;
For she is one who groans beneath the power
&n
bsp; Of the dread Rajah, terrible alike
To men and Gods. His son, dead Arvalan,
Arm’d with a portion, Indra, of thy power
Already wrested from thee, persecutes
The Maid, the helpless one, the innocent.
What then behov’d me but to waft her here
To my own Bower of Bliss? what other choice?
The spirit of foul Arvalan, not yet
Hath power to enter here; here thou art yet
Supreme, and yet the Swerga is thine own.
INDRA.
No child of man, Ereenia, in the Bowers
Of Bliss may sojourn, till he hath put off
His mortal part; for on mortality
Time and Infirmity and Death attend,
Close followers they, and in their mournful train
Sorrow and Pain and Mutability:
Did they find entrance here, we should behold
Our joys, like earthly summers, pass away.
Those joys perchance may pass; a stronger hand
May wrest my sceptre, and unparadise
The Swerga;... but, Ereenia, if we fall,
Let it be Fate’s own arm that casts us down,
We will not rashly hasten and provoke
The blow, nor bring ourselves the ruin on.
EREENIA,
Fear courts the blow, Fear brings the ruin on.
Needs must the chariot-wheels of Destiny
Crush him who throws himself before their track,
Patient and prostrate.
INDRA.
All may yet be well.
Who knows but Veeshnoo will descend, and save,
Once more incarnate?
EREENIA;
Look not there for help,
Nor build on unsubstantial hope thy trust!
Our Father Casyapa hath said he turns
His doubtful eyes to Seeva, even as thou
Dost look to him for aid. But thine own strength
Should for thine own salvation be put forth;
Then might the higher powers approving see
And bless the brave resolve... Oh, that my arm
Could wield yon lightnings which play idly there,
In inoffensive radiance, round thy head!
The Swerga should not need a champion now,
Nor Earth implore deliverance still in vain!
INDRA.
Thinkest thou I want the will? rash Son of Heaven,
What if my arm be feeble as thine own
Against the dread Kehama? He went on
Conquering in irresistible career,
Till his triumphant car had measur’d o’er
The insufficient earth, and all the kings
Of men received his yoke; then had he won
His will, to ride upon their necks elate,
And crown his conquests with the sacrifice
That should, to men and gods, proclaim him Lord
And Sovereign Master of the vassal World,
Sole Rajah, the Omnipotent below.
The steam of that portentous sacrifice
Arose to Heaven. Then was the hour to strike.
Then in the consummation of his pride,
His height of glory, then the thunder-bolt
Should have gone forth, and hurl’d him from his throne
Down to the fiery floor of Padalon,
To everlasting burnings, agony
Eternal, and remorse which knows no end.
That hour went by: grown impious in success,
By prayer and penances he wrested now
Such power from Fate, that soon, if Seeva turn not
His eyes on earth, and no Avatar save,
Soon will he seize the Swerga for his own,
Roll on through Padalon his chariot wheels,
Tear up the adamantine bolts which lock
The accurst Asuras to its burning floor,
And force the drink of Immortality
From Yamen’s charge...Vain were it now to strive;
My thunder cannot pierce the sphere of power
Wherewith, as with a girdle, he is bound.
KAILYAL.
Take me to earth, O gentle Deveta!
Take me again to earth 1 This is no place
Of hope for me!... my Father still must bear
His curse... he shall not bear it all alone;
Take me to earth, that 1 may follow him!...
I do not fear the Almighty Man! the Gods
Are feeble here; but there are higher powers
Who will not turn their eyes from wrongs like ours;
Take me to earth, O gentle Deveta!...
11.
Saying thus she knelt, and to his knees she clung,
And bow’d her head, in tears and silence praying.
Rising anon, around his neck she flung
Her arms, and there with folded hands she hung,
And fixing on the guardian Glendoveer
Her eyes, more eloquent than Angel’s tongue,
Again she cried, There is no comfort here!
I must be with my Father in his pain...
Take me to earth, O Deveta, again!
12.
Indra with admiration heard the maid.
O Child of Earth, he cried,
Already in thy spirit thus divine,
Whatever weal or woe betide,
Be that high sense of duty still thy guide,
And all good Powers will aid a soul like thine.
Then turning to Ereenia, thus he said,
Take her where Ganges hath its second birth,
Below our sphere; and yet above the earth:
There may Ladurlad rest beyond the power
Of the dread Rajah, till the fated hour.
VIII. THE SACRIFICE.
1.
Dost thou tremble, O Indra, O God of the Sky,
Why slumber those thunders of thine
Dost thou tremble on high,...
Wilt thou tamely the Swerga resign,...
Art thou smitten, O Indra, with dread?
Or seest thou not, seest thou not, Monarch divine,
How many a day to Seeva’s shrine
Kehama his victim hath led?
Nine and ninety days are fled,
Nine and ninety steeds have bled;
One more, the rite will be complete,
One victim more, and this the dreadful day!
Then will the impious Rajah seize thy seat,
And wrest the thunder-sceptre from thy sway.
Along the mead the hallowed steed
Yet bends at liberty his way;
At noon his consummating blood will flow.
O day of woe! above, below,
That blood confirms the Almighty Tyrant’s reign!
Thou tremblest, O Indra, O God of the Sky,
Thy thunder is vain!
Thou tremblest on high for thy power!
But where is Veeshnoo at this hour?
But where is Seeva’s eye?
Is the Destroyer blind?
Is the Preserver careless for mankind?
2.
Along the mead the hallowed Steed
Still wanders wheresoe’er he will,
O’er hill, or dale, or plain;
No human hand hath trick’d that mane
From which he shakes the morning dew;
His mouth has never felt the rein,
His lips have never froth’d the chain;
For pure of blemish and of stain,.
His neck unbroke to mortal yoke,
Like Nature free the Steed must be,
Fit offering for the Immortals he.
A year and day the Steed must stray
Wherever chance may guide his way,
Before he fall at Seeva’s shrine;
The year and day have past away,
Nor touch of man hath marr’d the rite divine.
And now at noon the Steed must bleed;
The perfect rite to-day must fo
rce the meed
Which Fate reluctant shudders to bestow;
Then must the Swerga-God
Yield to the Tyrant of the World below;
Then must the Devetas obey
The Rajah’s rod, and groan beneath his hateful sway.
3.
The Sun rides high; the hour is nigh;
The multitude who long,
Lest aught should mar the rite,
In circle wide on every side,
Have kept the Steed in sight,
Contract their circle now, and drive him on.
Drawn in long files before the Temple-court,
The Rajah’s archers flank an ample space;
Here, moving onward still, they drive him near,
Then, opening, give him way to enter here.
4.
Behold him, how he starts and flings his head!
On either side in glittering order spread,
The archers ranged in narrowing lines appear;
The multitude behind close up the rear
With moon-like bend, and silently await
The awful end,
The rite that shall from Indra wrest his power.
In front, with far-stretch’d walls, and many a tower
Turret and dome and pinnacle elate,
The huge Pagoda seems to load the land:
And there before the gate
The Bramin band expectant stand,
The axe is ready for Kehama’s hand.
5.
Hark! at the Golden Palaces
The Bramin strikes the time!
One, two, three, four, a thrice-told chime,
And then again, one, two.
The bowl that in its vessel floats, anew
Must fill and sink again,
Then will the final stroke be due.
The Sun rides high, the noon is nigh,
And silently, as if spell-bound,
The multitude expect the sound.
6.
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,
Complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey Page 145