Complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey
Page 149
Thus to her Father spake the imploring Maid:
“Oh! by the love which we so long have borne
Each other, and we ne’er shall cease to bear;
Oh! by the sufferings we have shared,
And must not cease to share,
One boon I supplicate in this dread hour,
One consolation in this hour of woe!
Father, thou hast it in thy power:
Thou wilt not, Father, sure refuse me now
The only comfort my poor heart can know.”
3.
“O dearest, dearest Kailyal!” with a smile
Of tenderness and anguish, he replied,
“O best beloved, and to be loved the best,
Best worthy! set thy duteous heart at rest.
I know thy wish; and, let what will betide,
Ne’er will I leave thee wilfully again.
My soul is strengthened to endure its pain:
Be thou, in all my wanderings, still my guide;
Be thou, in all my sufferings, at my side.”
4.
The Maiden, at those welcome words, impressed
A passionate kiss upon her Father’s cheek:
They looked around them then, as if to seek
Where they should turn, — North, South, or East, or West,
Wherever to their vagrant feet seemed best.
But, turning from the view her mournful eyes,
“Oh! whither should we wander?” Kailyal cries,
Or wherefore seek in vain a place of rest?
Have we not here the Earth beneath our tread, Heaven overhead,
A brook that winds through this sequestered glade,
And yonder woods to yield us fruit and shade?
The little all our wants require is nigh;
Hope WE have none: why travel on in fear?
We cannot fly from Fate, and Fate will find us here.”
5.
’Twas a fair scene wherein they stood,
A green and sunny glade amid the wood.
And in the midst an aged Banian grew.
It was a goodly sight to see
That venerable tree;
For o’er the lawn, irregularly spread,
Fifty straight columns propped its lofty head;
And many a long, depending shoot,
Seeking to strike its root,
Straight, like a plummet, grew towards the ground.
Some on the lower boughs which crossed their way,
Fixing their bearded fibres round and round,
With many a ring and wild contortion wound;
Some to the passing wind, at times, with sway
Of gentle motion swung;
Others, of younger growth, unmoved, were hung
Like stone-drops from the cavern’s fretted height:
Beneath was smooth and fair to sight,
Nor weeds nor briers deformed the natural floor.
And through the leafy cope which bowered it o’er
Came gleams of checkered light.
So like a temple did it seem, that there
A pious heart’s first impulse would be prayer.
6.
A brook, with easy current, murmured near:
Water so cool and clear
The peasants drink not from the humble well,
Which they, with sacrifice of rural pride,
Have wedded to the cocoa-grove beside;
Nor tanks of costliest masonry dispense
To those in towns who dwell.
The work of Kings, in their beneficence.
Fed by perpetual springs, a small lagoon,
Pellucid, deep, and still, in silence joined,
And swelled the passing stream. Like burnished steel
Glowing, it lay beneath the eye of noon;
And when the breezes, in their play,
Ruffled the darkening surface, then, with gleam
Of sudden light, around the lotus-stem
It rippled; and the sacred flowers, that crown
The lakelet with their roseate beauty, ride,
In easy waving rocked, from side to side;
And, as the wind upheaves
Their broad and buoyant weight, the glossy leaves
Flap on the twinkling waters, up and down.
7.
They built them here a bower, of jointed cane,
Strong for the needful use; and light and long
Was the slight framework reared, with little pain;
Lithe creepers, then, the wicker sides supply,
And the tall jungle-grass fit roofing gave
Beneath the genial sky.
And here did Kailyal, each returning day,
Pour forth libations from the brook, to pay
The Spirits of her Sires their grateful rite:
In such libations poured in open glades,
Beside clear streams and solitary shades,
The Spirits of the virtuous dead delight.
And duly here, to Marriataly’s praise,
The Maid, as with an angel’s voice of song,
Poured her melodious lays
Upon the gales of even,
And, gliding in religious dance along,
Moved graceful as the dark-eyed Nymphs of Heaven;
Such harmony to all her steps was given.
8.
Thus ever, in her Father’s doting eye,
Kailyal performed the customary rite:
He, patient of his burning pain the while,
Beheld her, and approved her pious toil;
And sometimes, at the sight,
A melancholy smile
Would gleam upon his awful countenance.
He too, by day and night, and every hour,
Paid to a higher Power his sacrifice;
An offering, not of ghee, or fruit, and rice,
Flower-crown, or blood; but of a heart subdued,
A resolute, unconquered fortitude,
An agony repressed, a will resigned
To her, who, on her secret throne reclined.
Amid the Sea of Milk, by Vishnu’s side,
Looks with an eye of mercy on mankind.
By the Preserver, with his power endued,
There Voomdavee beholds this lower clime,
And marks the silent sufferings of the good,
To recompense them in her own good time.
9.
Oh force of faith! oh strength of virtuous will!
Behold him in his endless martyrdom,
Triumphant still!
The Curse still burning in his heart and brain;
And yet doth he remain
Patient the while, and tranquil and content!
The pious soul hath framed unto itself
A second nature, to exist in pain
As in its own allotted element.
10.
Such strength the will revealed had given
This holy pair, such influxes of grace,
That to their solitary resting-place
They brought the peace of Heaven.
Yea, all around was hallowed! Danger, Fear,
Nor thought of evil, ever entered here.
A charm was on the Leopard when he came
Within the circle of that mystic glade:
Submiss he crouched before the heavenly Maid,
And offered to her touch his speckled side;
Or with arched back erect, and bending head,
And eyes half closed for pleasure, would he stand,
Courting the pressure of her gentle hand
11.
Trampling his path through wood and brake,
And canes which crackling fell before his way,
And tassel-grass, whose silvery feathers play,
O’ertopping the young trees,
On comes the Elephant to slake
His thirst at noon in yon pellucid springs.
Lo! from his trunk upturned, aloft he flings
The gratefu
l shower; and now,
Plucking the broad-leaved bough
Of yonder plane, with wavy motion slow,
Fanning the languid air,
He moves it to and fro.
But, when that form of beauty meets his sight,
The trunk its undulating motion stops,
From his forgetful hold the plane-branch drops;
Reverent he kneels, and lifts his rational eyes
To her as if in prayer;
And, when she pours her angel-voice in song,
Entranced he listens to the thrilling notes,
Till his strong temples, bathed with sudden dews,
Their fragrance of delight and love diffuse.
12.
Lo! as the voice melodious floats around,
The Antelope draws near;
The Tigress leaves her toothless cubs to hear;
The Snake comes gliding from the secret brake,
Himself in fascination forced along
By that enchanting song;
The antic Monkeys, whose wild gambols late,
When not a breeze waved the tall jungle-grass,
Shook the whole wood, are hushed, and silently
Hang on the clustered tree.
All things in wonder and delight are still;
Only at times the Nightingale is heard;
Not that in emulous skill that sweetest bird
Her rival strain would try,
A mighty songster, with the Maid to vie:
She only bore her part in powerful sympathy.
13.
Well might they thus adore that heavenly Maid!
For never Nymph of Mountain
Or Grove or Lake or Fountain
With a diviner presence filled the shade.
No idle ornaments deface
Her natural grace;
Musk-spot nor sandal-streak nor scarlet stain,
Eardrop nor chain, nor arm nor ankle-ring,
Nor trinketry on front or neck or breast,
Marring the perfect form: she seemed a thing
Of Heaven’s prime, uncorrupted work, a child
Of early nature undefiled,
A daughter of the years of innocence;
And therefore all things loved her. When she stood
Beside the glassy pool, the fish, that flies
Quick as an arrow from all other eyes,
Hovered to gaze on her; the mother-bird,
When Kailyal’s step she heard,
Sought not to tempt her from her secret nest,
But, hastening to the dear retreat, would fly
To meet and welcome her benignant eye.
14.
“Hope we have none,” said Kailyal to her Sire.
Said she aright? and had the mortal Maid
No thoughts of heavenly aid,
No secret hopes her inmost heart to move
With longings of such deep and pure desire
As Vestal Maids, whose piety is love,
Feel in their ecstasies, when, rapt above,
Their souls unto their heavenly Spouse aspire?
Why else so often doth that searching eye
Roam through the scope of sky?
Why, if she sees a distant speck on high,
Starts there that quick suffusion to her cheek?
’Tis but the Eagle in his heavenly height:
Reluctant to believe, she hears his cry,
And marks his wheeling flight,
Then pensively averts her mournful sight
Why ever else, at mom, that waking sigh,
Because the lovely form no more is nigh
Which hath been present to her soul all night;
And that injurious fear,
Which, ever as it riseth, is repressed,
Yet riseth still within her troubled breast,
That she no more shall see the Glendoveer?
15.
“Hath he forgotten me?” The wrongful thought
Would stir within her, and, though still repelled
With shame and self-reproaches, would recur.
Days after days unvarying come and go,
And neither friend nor foe
Approaches them in their sequestered bower.
Maid of strange destiny! but think not thou
Thou art forgotten now,
And hast no cause for further hope or fear:
High-fated Maid, thou dost not know
What eyes watch over thee for weal and woe!
Even at this hour,
Searching the dark decrees divine,
Kehama, in the fulness of his power,
Perceives his thread of fate in twine with thine.
The Glendoveer, from his far sphere,
With love that never sleeps, beholds thee here,
And in the hour permitted will be near.
Dark Lorrinite on thee hath fixed her sight,
And laid her wiles, to aid
Foul Arvalan when he shall next appear:
For well she weened his Spirit would renew
Old vengeance now with unremitting hate;
The Enchantress well that evil nature knew;
The accursed Spirit hath his prey in view;
And thus, while all their separate hopes pursue,
All work, unconsciously, the w ill of Fate.
16.
Fate worked its own the while. A band
Of Yoguees, as they roam the land,
Seeking a spouse for Jaga-Naut, their God,
Strayed to this solitary glade,
And reached the bower wherein the Maid abode.
Wondering at form so fair, they deemed the Power
Divine had led them to his chosen bride,
And seized and bore her from her Father’s side.
XIV. JAGA-NAUT.
1.
Joy 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:
Searched 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 breathed celestial air,
And heavenly food hath 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 Yoguees sought;
A fairer than the fairest have they brought,
A Maid of charms surpassing human thought,
A Maid divine.
2.
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,
Great Jaga-Naut 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!
3.
Upreared on twenty wheels elate,
Huge as a Ship, the Bridal Car appeared:
Loud creak its ponderous wheels, as through the gate
A thousand Bramins drag the enormous load.
There throned aloft in state,
The Image of the seven-headed God
Came forth from his abode; and at his side
Sate Kailyal like a bride.
&nbs
p; 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 lived within her still.
4.
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 dimmed 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!
5.
A thousand pilgrims strain
Arm, shoulder, breast, and thigh, with might and main,
To drag that sacred wain,
And scarce can draw along the enormous load.
Prone fall the frantic votaries in its road,
And, calling on the God,
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 flesh 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.
6.
Pale grows the Maid at this accursed sight:
The yells which round her rise
Have roused her with affright,
And fear hath given to her dilated eyes
A wilder light.
Where shall those eyes be turned? 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,