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Title: The Curse of Kehama, Volume 2 (of 2) - Volume the Second
Author: Southey, Robert
Language: English
As this book started as an ASCII text book there are no pictures available.
Copyright Status: Not copyrighted in the United States. If you live elsewhere check the laws of your country before downloading this ebook. See comments about copyright issues at end of book.

*** Start of this Doctrine Publishing Corporation Digital Book "The Curse of Kehama, Volume 2 (of 2) - Volume the Second" ***

This book is indexed by ISYS Web Indexing system to allow the reader find any word or number within the document.

  Curse of Kehama:
  Robert Southey.

  Καταραι, ως και τα αλεκτρυονονεοττα, οικον αει, οψε κεν επανηξαν
                      Αποφθ. Ανεκ. του Γυλιελ. του Μητ.





This book was originally digitized by Google and is intended for
personal, non-commercial use only.

Original page numbers are given in curly brackets. Footnotes have been
relocated to the end of the book. Passages originally rendered in
small-caps have been changed to all-caps in the text version of this

Alteration: [p. 147] change "gross" to "grass".


  13. The Retreat
  14. Jaga-Naut
  15. The City of Baly
  16. The Ancient Sepulchres
  17. Baly
  18. Kehama's Descent
  19. Mount Calasay
  20. The Embarkation
  21. The World's End
  22. The Gate of Padalon
  23. Padalon
  24. The Amreeta





 Around her Father's neck the Maiden lock'd
 Her arms, when that portentous blow was given;
 Clinging to him she heard the dread uproar,
 And felt the shuddering shock which ran through Heaven.
 Earth underneath them rock'd,
 Her strong foundations heaving in commotion,
 Such as wild winds upraise in raving Ocean,
 As though the solid base were rent asunder.
 And lo! where, storming the astonish'd sky,
 Kehama and his evil host ascend!
 Before them rolls the thunder,
 Ten thousand thousand lightnings round them fly,
 Upward the lengthening pageantries aspire,
 Leaving from Earth to Heaven a widening wake of fire.

 When the wild uproar was at length allay'd,
 And Earth, recovering from the shock, was still,
 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 shar'd,
 And must not cease to share, . .
 One boon I supplicate in this dread hour,
 One consolation in this hour of woe!
 Thou hast it in thy power, refuse not thou
 The only comfort now
 That my poor heart can know.

 O dearest, dearest Kailyal! with a smile
 Of tenderness and sorrow, he replied,
 O best belov'd, and to be lov'd 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 strengthen'd to endure its pain;
 Be thou, in all my wanderings, still my guide;
 Be thou, in all my sufferings, at my side.

 The Maiden, at those welcome words, imprest
 A passionate kiss upon her father's cheek:
 They look'd around them, then, as if to seek
 Where they should turn, North, South, or East or West,
 Wherever to their vagrant feet seem'd 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 sequester'd 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.


 '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 propt 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 crost 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, unmov'd, were hung
 Like stone-drops from the cavern's fretted height.
 Beneath was smooth and fair to sight,
 Nor weeds nor briars deform'd the natural floor,
 And through the leafy cope which bower'd it o'er
 Came gleams of checquered light.
 So like a temple did it seem, that there
 A pious heart's first impulse would be prayer.


 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 join'd
 And swell'd the passing stream. Like burnish'd 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 gentlest waving rock'd, 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.

 They built them here a bower; of jointed cane,
 Strong for the needful use, and light and long
 Was the slight frame-work rear'd, with little pain;
 Lithe creepers, then, the wicker-sides supply,
 And the tall jungle-grass fit roofing gave
 Beneath that 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 pour'd 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,
 Pour'd her melodious lays
 Upon the gales of even,
 And gliding in religious dance along,
 Mov'd, graceful as the dark-eyed Nymphs of Heaven,
 Such harmony to all her steps was given,

 Thus ever, in her Father's doting eye,
 Kailyal perform'd the customary rite;
 He, patient of his burning pain the while,
 Beheld her, and approv'd 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, or rice,
 Flower-crown, or blood; but of a heart subdued,
 A resolute, unconquer'd fortitude,
 An agony represt, a will resign'd,
 To her, who, on her secret throne reclin'd,
 Amid the milky Sea, by Veeshnoo'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.

 O force of faith! O 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 fram'd unto itself
 A second nature, to exist in pain
 As in its own allotted element.

 Such strength the will reveal'd 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 crouch'd before the heavenly maid,
 And offered to her touch his speckled side;
 Or with arch'd back erect, and bending head,
 And eyes half-clos'd for pleasure, would he stand,
 Courting the pressure of her gentle hand.

 Trampling his path through wood and brake,
 And canes which crackling fall 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 upturn'd, aloft he flings
 The grateful shower; and now
 Plucking the broad-leav'd bough
 Of yonder plane, with waving 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, bath'd with sudden dews,
 Their fragrance of delight and love diffuse.

 Lo! as the voice melodious floats around,
 The Antelope draws near,
 The Tygress 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 Monkies, whose wild gambols late,
 When not a breeze wav'd the tall jungle-grass,
 Shook the whole wood, are hush'd, and silently
 Hang on the cluster'd trees.
 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.

 Well might they thus adore that heavenly Maid!
 For never Nymph of Mountain,
 Or Grove, or Lake, or Fountain,
 With a diviner presence fill'd the shade.
 No idle ornaments deface
 Her natural grace,
 Musk-spot, nor sandal-streak, nor scarlet stain,
 Ear-drop nor chain, nor arm nor ankle-ring,
 Nor trinketry on front, or neck, or breast,
 Marring the perfect form: she seem'd a thing
 Of Heaven's prime uncorrupted work, a child
 Of early Nature undefil'd,
 A daughter of the years of innocence.
 And therefore all things lov'd her. When she stood
 Beside the glassy pool, the fish, that flies
 Quick as an arrow from all other eyes,
 Hover'd to gaze on her. The mother bird,
 When Kailyal's steps 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.

 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 extasies, 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 languidly averts her mournful sight.
 Why ever else, at morn, 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 represt,
 Yet riseth still within her troubled breast,
 That she no more shall see the Glendoveer!

 Hath he forgotten me? The wrongful thought
 Would stir within her, and, though still repell'd
 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 farther 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 entwin'd 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 fix'd her sight,
 And laid her wiles, to aid
 Foul Arvalan when he shall next appear;
 For well she ween'd 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 will of Fate.

 Fate work'd its own the while. A band
 Of Yoguees, as they roam'd the land,
 Seeking a spouse for Jaga-Naut their God,
 Stray'd to this solitary glade,
 And reach'd the bower wherein the Maid abode.
 Wondering at form so fair, they deem'd the power
 Divine had led them to his chosen bride,
 And seiz'd and bore her from her father's side.


 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;
 Search'd 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 breath'd 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.

 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, . .
 The Mighty One 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!


 Uprear'd on twenty wheels elate,
 Huge as a Ship, the bridal car appear'd;
 Loud creak its ponderous wheels, as through the gate
 A thousand Bramins drag the enormous load.
 There, thron'd aloft in state,
 The image of the seven-headed God
 Came forth from his abode; and at his side
 Sate Kailyal like a bride;
 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 liv'd within her still.

 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 dimm'd 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.


 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 blood 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.

 Pale grows the Maid at this accursed sight;
 The yells which round her rise
 Have rous'd her with affright,
 And fear hath given to her dilated eyes
 A wilder light.
 Where shall those eyes be turn'd? 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,
 And the startling burst of the trumpet's blare;
 And the gong, that seems, with its thunders dread,
 To stun the living, and waken the dead.
 The ear-strings throb as if they were broke,
 And the eye-lids drop at the weight of its stroke.
 Fain would the Maid have kept them fast,
 But open they start at the crack of the blast.

 Where art thou, Son of Heaven, Ereenia! where
 In this dread hour of horror and despair?
 Thinking on him, she strove her fear to quell,
 If he be near me, then will all be well;
 And, if he reck not for my misery,
 Let come the worst, it matters not to me.
 Repel that wrongful thought,
 O Maid! thou feelest, but believ'st it not;
 It is thine own imperfect nature's fault
 That lets one doubt of him arise within.
 And this the Virgin knew; and, like a sin,
 Repell'd the thought, and still believ'd him true;
 And summoned up her spirit to endure
 All forms of fear, in that firm trust secure.

 She needs that faith, she needs that consolation,
 For now the Car hath measured back its track
 Of death, and hath re-entered now its station.
 There, in the Temple-court, with song and dance,
 A harlot-band, to meet the Maid, advance.
 The drum hath ceas'd its peals; the trump and gong
 Are still; the frantic crowd forbear their yells;
 And sweet it was to hear the voice of song,
 And the sweet music of their girdle-bells,
 Armlets and anklets, that, with chearful sounds
 Symphonious tinkled as they wheel'd around.

 They sung a bridal measure,
 A song of pleasure,
 A hymn of joyaunce and of gratulation.
 Go, chosen One, they cried,
 Go, happy bride!
 For thee the God descends in expectation;
 For thy dear sake
 He leaves his heaven, O Maid of matchless charms.
 Go, happy One, the bed divine partake,
 And fill his longing arms!
 Thus to the inner fane,
 With circling dance and hymeneal strain,
 The astonish'd Maid they led,
 And there they laid her on the bridal bed.
 Then forth they went, and clos'd the Temple-gate,
 And left the wretched Kailyal to her fate.

 Where art thou, Son of Heaven, Ereenia, where?
 From the loathed bed she starts, and in the air
 Looks up, as if she thought to find him there!
 Then, in despair,
 Anguish and agony, and hopeless prayer,
 Prostrate she laid herself upon the floor.
 There, trembling as she lay,
 The Bramin of the fane advanced
 And came to seize his prey.

 But as the Priest drew nigh,
 A power invisible opposed his way;
 Starting, he uttered wildly a death-cry,
 And fell. At that the Maid all eagerly
 Lifted in hope her head;
 She thought her own deliverer had been near;
 When lo! with other life re-animate,
 She saw the dead arise,
 And in the fiendish joy within his eyes,
 She knew the hateful Spirit who look'd through
 Their specular orbs, . . cloth'd in the flesh of man
 She knew the accursed soul of Arvalan.

 But not in vain, with the sudden shriek of fear,
 She calls Ereenia now; the Glendoveer
 Is here! Upon the guilty sight he burst
 Like lightning from a cloud, and caught the accurst,
 Bore him to the roof aloft, and on the floor
 With vengeance dash'd him, quivering there in gore.


 Lo! from the pregnant air, . . heart-withering sight!
 There issued forth the dreadful Lorrinite,
 Seize him! the Enchantress cried;
 A host of Demons at her word appear,
 And like tornado winds, from every side
 At once, they rush upon the Glendoveer.
 Alone against a legion, little here
 Avails his single might,
 Nor that celestial faulchion, which in fight
 So oft had put the rebel race to flight.
 There are no Gods on earth to give him aid;
 Hemm'd round, he is overpower'd, beat down, and bound,
 And at the feet of Lorrinite is laid.

 Meantime the scattered members of the slain,
 Obedient to her mighty voice, assum'd
 Their vital form again,
 And that foul Spirit, upon vengeance bent,
 Fled to the fleshly tenement.
 Lo! here, quoth Lorrinite, thou seest thy foe!
 Him in the Ancient Sepulchres, below
 The billows of the Ocean, will I lay;
 Gods are there none to help him now, and there
 For Man there is no way.
 To that dread scene of durance and despair,
 Asuras, bear your enemy! I go
 To chain him in the Tombs. Meantime do thou,
 Freed from thy foe, and now secure from fear,
 Son of Kehama, take thy pleasure here.

 Her words the accursed race obey'd;
 Forth with a sound like rushing winds they fled,
 And of all aid from Earth or Heaven bereft,
 Alone with Arvalan the Maid was left.
 But in that hour of agony, the Maid
 Deserted not herself; her very dread
 Had calm'd her; and her heart
 Knew the whole horror, and its only part.
 Yamen, receive me undefil'd! she said,
 And seiz'd a torch, and fir'd the bridal bed.
 Up ran the rapid flames; on every side
 They find their fuel wheresoe'er they spread,
 Thin hangings, fragrant gums, and odorous wood,
 That pil'd like sacrificial altars stood.
 Around they run, and upward they aspire,
 And, lo! the huge Pagoda lin'd with fire.


 The wicked Soul, who had assum'd again
 A form of sensible flesh, for his foul will,
 Still bent on base revenge, and baffled still,
 Felt that corporeal shape alike to pain
 Obnoxious as to pleasure; forth he flew,
 Howling and scorch'd by the devouring flame;
 Accursed Spirit! still condemn'd to rue,
 The act of sin and punishment the same.
 Freed from his loathsome touch, a natural dread
 Came on the self-devoted, and she drew
 Back from the flames, which now toward her spread,
 And, like a living monster, seem'd to dart
 Their hungry tongues toward their shrinking prey.
 Soon she subdued her heart;
 O Father! she exclaim'd, there was no way
 But this! and thou, Ereenia, who for me
 Sufferest, my soul shall bear thee company.

 So having said, she knit
 Her body up to work her soul's desire,
 And rush at once amid the thickest fire.
 A sudden cry withheld her, . . Kailyal, stay!
 Child! Daughter! I am here! the voice exclaims,
 And from the gate, unharm'd, through smoke and flames
 Like as a God, Ladurlad made his way;
 Wrapt his preserving arms around, and bore
 His Child, uninjur'd, o'er the burning floor.




 Nay, let no reproachful thought
 Wrong his heroic heart! The Evil Powers
 Have the dominion o'er this wretched World,
 And no good Spirit now can venture here.

 Alas, my Father! he hath ventur'd here,
 And sav'd me from one horror. But the Powers
 Of Evil beat him down, and bore away
 To some dread scene of durance and despair,
 The Ancient Tombs, methought their Mistress said,
 Beneath the ocean-waves: no way for Man
 Is there; and Gods, she boasted, there are none
 On Earth to help him now.

 Is that her boast?
 And hath she laid him in the Ancient Tombs,
 Relying that the Waves will guard him there?
 Short-sighted are the eyes of Wickedness,
 And all its craft but folly. O, my child!
 The Curses of the Wicked are upon me,
 And the immortal Deities, who see
 And suffer all things for their own wise end,
 Have made them blessings to us!

 Then thou knowest
 Where they have borne him?

 To the Sepulchres
 Of the Ancient Kings, which Baly, in his power,
 Made in primeval times; and built above them
 A City, like the Cities of the Gods,
 Being like a God himself. For many an age
 Hath Ocean warr'd against his Palaces,
 Till overwhelm'd, they lie beneath the waves,
 Not overthrown, so well the Mighty One
 Had laid their deep foundations. Rightly said
 The Accursed, that no way for Man was there,
 But not like Man am I!

 Up from the ground the Maid exultant sprung,
 And clapp'd her happy hands, in attitude
 Of thanks, to Heaven, and flung
 Her arms around her Father's neck, and stood
 Struggling awhile for utterance, with excess
 Of hope and pious thankfulness.
 Come . . come! she cried, O let us not delay, . .
 He is in torments there, . . away! . . away!

 Long time they travell'd on; at dawn of day
 Still setting forward with the earliest light,
 Nor ceasing from their way
 Till darkness clos'd the night.
 Short refuge from the noontide heat,
 Reluctantly compell'd, the Maiden took;
 And ill her indefatigable feet
 Could that brief tarriance brook.
 Hope kept her up, and her intense desire
 Supports that heart which ne'er at danger quails,
 Those feet which never tire,
 That frame which never fails.

 Their talk was of the City of the days
 Of old, Earth's wonder once; and of the fame
 Of Baly its great founder, . . he whose name
 In ancient story, and in poet's praise,
 Liveth and flourisheth for endless glory,
 Because his might
 Put down the wrong, and aye upheld the right.
 Till for ambition, as old sages tell,
 The mighty Monarch fell:
 For he too, having made the World his own,
 Then, in his pride, had driven
 The Devetas from Heaven,
 And seiz'd triumphantly the Swerga throne.
 The Incarnate came before the Mighty One,
 In dwarfish stature, and in mien obscure;
 The sacred cord he bore,
 And ask'd, for Brama's sake, a little boon,
 Three steps of Baly's ample reign, no more.
 Poor was the boon requir'd, and poor was he
 Who begg'd, . . a little wretch it seem'd to be;
 But Baly ne'er refus'd a suppliant's prayer.
 A glance of pity, in contemptuous mood,
 He on the Dwarf cast down,
 And bade him take the boon,
 And measure where he would.

 Lo, Son of giant birth,
 I take my grant! the Incarnate power replies.
 With his first step he measur'd o'er the Earth,
 The second spann'd the skies.
 Three paces thou hast granted,
 Twice have I set my footstep, Veeshnoo cries,
 Where shall the third be planted?

 Then Baly knew the God, and at his feet,
 In homage due, he laid his humbled head.
 Mighty art thou, O Lord of Earth and Heaven,
 Mighty art thou! he said,
 Be merciful, and let me be forgiven.
 He ask'd for mercy of the merciful,
 And mercy for his virtue's sake was shown.
 For though he was cast down to Padalon,
 Yet there, by Yamen's throne,
 Doth Baly sit in majesty and might,
 To judge the dead, and sentence them aright.
 And forasmuch as he was still the friend
 Of righteousness, it is permitted him,
 Yearly, from those drear regions to ascend,
 And walk the Earth, that he may hear his name
 Still hymn'd and honour'd, by the grateful voice
 Of humankind, and in his fame rejoice.

 Such was the talk they held upon their way,
 Of him to whose old City they were bound;
 And now, upon their journey, many a day
 Had risen and clos'd, and many a week gone round,
 And many a realm and region had they past,
 When now the Ancient Towers appear'd at last.


 Their golden summits, in the noon-day light,
 Shone o'er the dark-green deep that roll'd between;
 For domes, and pinnacles, and spires were seen
 Peering above the sea, . . a mournful sight!
 Well might the sad beholder ween from thence
 What works of wonder the devouring wave
 Had swallowed there, when monuments so brave
 Bore record of their old magnificence.
 And on the sandy shore, beside the verge
 Of Ocean, here and there, a rock-hewn fane
 Resisted in its strength the surf and surge
 That on their deep foundations beat in vain.
 In solitude the Ancient Temples stood,
 Once resonant with instrument and song,
 And solemn dance of festive multitude;
 Now as the weary ages pass along,
 No voice they hear, save of the Ocean flood,
 Which roars for ever on the restless shores;
 Or, visiting their solitary caves,
 The lonely sound of Winds, that moan around
 Accordant to the melancholy waves.

 With reverence did the travellers see
 The works of ancient days, and silently
 Approach the shore. Now on the yellow sand,
 Where round their feet the rising surges part,
 They stand. Ladurlad's heart
 Exulted in his wonderous destiny.
 To Heaven he rais'd his hand
 In attitude of stern heroic pride;
 Oh what a power, he cried,
 Thou dreadful Rajah, doth thy Curse impart!
 I thank thee now! . . Then turning to the Maid,
 Thou see'st how far and wide
 Yon Towers extend, he said,
 My search must needs be long. Meantime the flood
 Will cast thee up thy food, . .
 And in the Chambers of the Rock by night,
 Take thou thy safe abode,
 No prowling beast to harm thee, or affright,
 Can enter there; but wrap thyself with care
 From the foul Bird obscene that thirsts for blood;
 For in such caverns doth the Bat delight
 To have its haunts. Do thou with stone and shout,
 Ere thou liest down at evening, scare them out,
 And in this robe of mine involve thy feet.
 Duly commend us both to Heaven in prayer,
 Be of good heart, and let thy sleep be sweet.

 So saying, he put back his arm, and gave
 The cloth which girt his loins, and prest her hand
 With fervent love, then down the sloping sand
 Advanced into the sea: the coming Wave,
 Which knew Kehama's Curse, before his way
 Started, and on he went as on dry land,
 And still around his path the waters parted.
 She stands upon the shore, where sea-weeds play,
 Lashing her polish'd ankles, and the spray
 Which off her Father, like a rainbow, fled,
 Falls on her like a shower; there Kailyal stands,
 And sees the billows rise above his head.
 She, at the startling sight, forgot the power
 The Curse had given him, and held forth her hands
 Imploringly, . . . her voice was on the wind,
 And the deaf Ocean o'er Ladurlad clos'd.
 Soon she recall'd his destiny to mind,
 And, shaking off that natural fear, compos'd
 Her soul with prayer, to wait the event resign'd.

 Alone, upon the solitary strand,
 The lovely one is left; behold her go,
 Pacing with patient footsteps, to and fro,
 Along the bending sand.
 Save her, ye Gods! from Evil Powers, and here
 From man she need not fear;
 For never Traveller comes near
 These awful ruins of the days of yore,
 Nor fisher's bark, nor venturous mariner,
 Approach the sacred shore.
 All day she walk'd the beach, at night she sought
 The Chamber of the Rock; with stone and shout
 Assail'd the Bats obscene, and scar'd them out;
 Then in her Father's robe involv'd her feet,
 And wrapt her mantle round to guard her head,
 And laid her down: the rock was Kailyal's bed,
 Her chamber-lamps were in the starry sky,
 The winds and waters were her lullaby.

 Be of good heart, and let thy sleep be sweet,
 Ladurlad said, . . Alas! that cannot be
 To one whose days are days of misery.
 How often did she stretch her hands to greet
 Ereenia, rescued in the dreams of night!
 How oft amid the vision of delight,
 Fear in her heart all is not as it seems;
 Then from unsettled slumber start, and hear
 The Winds that moan above, the Waves below!
 Thou hast been call'd, O Sleep! the friend of Woe,
 But 'tis the happy who have call'd thee so.

 Another day, another night are gone,
 A second passes, and a third wanes on.
 So long she paced the shore,
 So often on the beach she took her stand,
 That the wild Sea-Birds knew her, and no more
 Fled, when she past beside them on the strand.
 Bright shine the golden summits in the light
 Of the noon-sun, and lovelier far by night
 Their moonlight glories o'er the sea they shed:
 Fair is the dark-green deep; by night and day
 Unvex'd with storms, the peaceful billows play,
 As when they clos'd upon Ladurlad's head:
 The firmament above is bright and clear;
 The sea-fowl, lords of water, air, and land,
 Joyous alike upon the wing appear,
 Or when they ride the waves, or walk the sand;
 Beauty and light and joy are every-where;
 There is no sadness and no sorrow here,
 Save what that single human breast contains,
 But oh! what hopes, and fears, and pains are there!

 Seven miserable days the expectant Maid,
 From earliest dawn till evening, watch'd the shore;
 Hope left her then; and in her heart she said,
 Never shall I behold my Father more!



 When the broad Ocean on Ladurlad's head
 Had clos'd and arch'd him o'er,
 With steady tread he held his way
 Adown the sloping shore.
 The dark-green waves, with emerald hue,
 Imbue the beams of day,
 And on the wrinkled sand below,
 Rolling their mazy network to and fro,
 Light shadows shift and play.
 The hungry Shark, at scent of prey,
 Toward Ladurlad darted;
 Beholding then that human form erect,
 How like a God the depths he trod,
 Appall'd the monster started,
 And in his fear departed.
 Onward Ladurlad went with heart elate,
 And now hath reach'd the Ancient City's gate.

 Wondering, he stood awhile to gaze
 Upon the works of elder days.
 The brazen portals open stood,
 Even as the fearful multitude
 Had left them, when they fled
 Before the rising flood.
 High over-head, sublime,
 The mighty gateway's storied roof was spread,
 Dwarfing the puny piles of younger time.
 With the deeds of days of yore
 That ample roof was sculptur'd o'er,
 And many a godlike form there met his eye,
 And many an emblem dark of mystery.
 Through these wide portals oft had Baly rode
 Triumphant from his proud abode,
 When, in his greatness, he bestrode
 The Aullay, hugest of four-footed kind,
 The Aullay-Horse, that in his force,
 With elephantine trunk, could bind
 And lift the elephant, and on the wind
 Whirl him away, with sway and swing,
 Even like a pebble from the practis'd sling.

 Those streets which never, since the days of yore,
 By human footstep had been visited;
 Those streets; which never more
 A human foot shall tread,
 Ladurlad trod. In sun-light, and sea-green,
 The thousand palaces were seen
 Of that proud city, whose superb abodes
 Seem'd rear'd by Giants for the immortal Gods.
 How silent and how beautiful they stand,
 Like things of Nature! the eternal rocks
 Themselves not firmer. Neither hath the sand
 Drifted within their gates, and choak'd their doors,
 Nor slime defil'd their pavements and their floors.
 Did then the Ocean wage
 His war for love and envy, not in rage,
 O thou fair City, that he spares thee thus?
 Art thou Varounin's capital and court,
 Where all the Sea-Gods for delight resort,
 A place too godlike to be held by us,
 The poor degenerate children of the Earth?
 So thought Ladurlad, as he look'd around,
 Weening to hear the sound
 Of Mermaid's shell, and song
 Of choral throng from some imperial hall,
 Wherein the Immortal Powers, at festival,
 Their high carousals keep.
 But all is silence dread,
 Silence profound and dead,
 The everlasting stillness of the Deep.

 Through many a solitary street,
 And silent market-place, and lonely square,
 Arm'd with the mighty Curse, behold him fare.
 And now his feet attain that royal fane
 Where Baly held of old his awful reign.
 What once had been the Garden spread around,
 Fair Gardens, once which wore perpetual green,
 Where all sweet flowers through all the year were found,
 And all fair fruits were through all seasons seen;
 A place of Paradise, where each device
 Of emulous Art with Nature strove to vie;
 And Nature, on her part,
 Call'd forth new powers wherewith to vanquish Art.
 The Swerga-God himself, with envious eye,
 Survey'd those peerless gardens in their prime;
 Nor ever did the Lord of Light,
 Who circles Earth and Heaven upon his way,
 Behold from eldest time a goodlier sight
 Than were the groves which Baly, in his might,
 Made for his chosen place of solace and delight.

 It was a Garden still beyond all price,
 Even yet it was a place of Paradise;
 For where the mighty Ocean could not spare,
 There had he, with his own creation,
 Sought to repair his work of devastation.
 And here were coral bowers,
 And grots of madrepores,
 And banks of spunge, as soft and fair to eye
 As e'er was mossy bed
 Whereon the Wood Nymphs lie
 With languid limbs in summer's sultry hours.
 Here, too, were living flowers
 Which, like a bud compacted,
 Their purple cups contracted,
 And now in open blossom spread,
 Stretch'd like green anthers many a seeking head.
 And arborets of jointed stone were there,
 And plants of fibres fine, as silkworm's thread;
 Yea, beautiful as Mermaid's golden hair
 Upon the waves dispread:
 Others that, like the broad banana growing,
 Rais'd their long wrinkled leaves of purple hue,
 Like streamers wide out-flowing.
 And whatsoe'er the depths of Ocean hide
 From human eyes, Ladurlad there espied,
 Trees of the deep, and shrubs and fruits and flowers,
 As fair as ours,
 Wherewith the Sea-Nymphs love their locks to braid,
 When to their father's hall, at festival
 Repairing, they, in emulous array,
 Their charms display,
 To grace the banquet, and the solemn day.

 The golden fountains had not ceas'd to flow,
 And, where they mingled with the briny Sea,
 There was a sight of wonder and delight,
 To see the fish, like birds in air,
 Above Ladurlad flying.
 Round those strange waters they repair,
 Their scarlet fins outspread and plying,
 They float with gentle hovering there;
 And now upon those little wings,
 As if to dare forbidden things,
 With wilful purpose bent,
 Swift as an arrow from a bow
 They dash across, and to and fro,
 In rapid glance, like lightning go
 Through that unwonted element.
 Almost in scenes so wonderous fair,
 Ladurlad had forgot
 The mighty cause which led him there;
 His busy eye was every where,
 His mind had lost all thought;
 His heart, surrendered to the joys
 Of sight, was happy as a boy's.
 But soon the awakening thought recurs
 Of him who, in the Sepulchres,
 Hopeless of human aid, in chains is laid;
 And her who, on the solitary shore,
 By night and day her weary watch will keep,
 Till she shall see them issuing from the deep.

 Now hath Ladurlad reach'd the Court
 Of the great Palace of the King; its floor
 Was of the marble rock; and there before
 The imperial door,
 A mighty Image on the steps was seen,
 Of stature huge, of countenance serene.
 A crown and sceptre at his feet were laid;
 One hand a scroll display'd,
 The other pointed there, that all might see;
 My name is Death, it said,
 In mercy have the Gods appointed me.
 Two brazen gates beneath him, night and day
 Stood open; and within them you behold
 Descending steps, which in the living stone
 Were hewn, a spacious way
 Down to the Chambers of the Kings of old.

 Trembling with hope, the adventurous man descended
 The sea-green light of day
 Not far along the vault extended;
 But where the slant reflection ended,
 Another light was seen
 Of red and fiery hue,
 That with the water blended,
 And gave the secrets of the Tombs to view.

 Deep in the marble rock, the Hall
 Of Death was hollowed out, a chamber wide,
 Low-roof'd, and long; on either side,
 Each in his own alcove, and on his throne,
 The Kings of old were seated: in his hand
 Each held the sceptre of command,
 From whence, across that scene of endless night,
 A carbuncle diffused its everlasting light.

 So well had the embalmers done their part
 With spice and precious unguents, to imbue
 The perfect corpse, that each had still the hue
 Of living man, and every limb was still
 Supple and firm and full, as when of yore
 Its motion answered to the moving will.
 The robes of royalty which once they wore,
 Long since had mouldered off and left them bare:
 Naked upon their thrones behold them there,
 Statues of actual flesh, . . a fearful sight!
 Their large and rayless eyes
 Dimly reflecting to that gem-born light,
 Glaz'd, fix'd, and meaningless, . . . yet, open wide,
 Their ghastly balls belied
 The mockery of life in all beside.

 But if, amid these Chambers drear,
 Death were a sight of shuddering and of fear,
 Life was a thing of stranger horror here.
 For at the farther end, in yon alcove,
 Where Baly should have lain, had he obey'd
 Man's common lot, behold Ereenia laid.
 Strong fetters link him to the rock; his eye
 Now rolls and widens, as with effort vain
 He strives to break the chain,
 Now seems to brood upon his misery.
 Before him couch'd there lay
 One of the mighty monsters of the deep,
 Whom Lorrinite encountering on the way,
 There station'd, his perpetual guard to keep;
 In the sport of wanton power, she charm'd him there,
 As if to mock the Glendoveer's despair.
 Upward his form was human, save that here
 The skin was cover'd o'er with scale on scale
 Compact, a panoply of natural mail.
 His mouth, from ear to ear,
 Weapon'd with triple teeth, extended wide,
 And tusks on either side;
 A double snake below, he roll'd
 His supple lengths behind in many a sinuous fold.

 With red and kindling eye, the Beast beholds
 A living man draw nigh,
 And, rising on his folds,
 In hungry joy awaits the expected feast,
 His mouth half-open, and his teeth unsheath'd.
 Then on he sprung, and in his scaly arms
 Seiz'd him, and fasten'd on his neck, to suck,
 With greedy lips, the warm life-blood: and sure
 But for the mighty power of magic charms,
 As easily as, in the blithesome hour
 Of spring, a child doth crop the meadow flower,
 Piecemeal those claws
 Had rent their victim, and those armed jaws
 Snapt him in twain. Naked Ladurlad stood,
 Yet fearless and unharm'd in this dread strife,
 So well Kehama's Curse had charm'd his fated life.

 He too, . . . for anger, rising at the sight
 Of him he sought, in such strange thrall confin'd.
 With desperate courage fir'd Ladurlad's mind, . . .
 He, too, unto the fight himself addrest,
 And grappling breast to breast,
 With foot firm-planted stands,
 And seiz'd the monster's throat with both his hands.
 Vainly, with throttling grasp, he prest
 The impenetrable scales;
 And lo! the guard rose up, and round his foe,
 With gliding motion, wreath'd his lengthening coils,
 Then tighten'd all their folds with stress and strain.
 Nought would the raging Tyger's strength avail
 If once involv'd within those mighty toils;
 The arm'd Rhinoceros, so clasp'd, in vain
 Had trusted to his hide of rugged mail,
 His bones all broken, and the breath of life
 Crush'd from the lungs, in that unequal strife.
 Again, and yet again, he sought to break
 The impassive limbs; but when the monster found
 His utmost power was vain,
 A moment he relax'd in every round,
 Then knit his coils again with closer strain,
 And, bearing forward, forced him to the ground.

 Ereenia groan'd in anguish at the sight
 Of this dread fight: once more the Glendoveer
 Essay'd to break his bonds, and fear
 For that brave spirit who had sought him here,
 Stung him to wilder strugglings. From the rock
 He rais'd himself half up, . . with might and main
 Pluck'd at the adamantine chain;
 And now, with long and unrelaxing strain,
 In obstinate effort of indignant strength,
 Labour'd and strove in vain;
 Till his immortal sinews fail'd at length;
 And yielding, with an inward groan, to fate,
 Despairingly, he let himself again
 Fall prostrate on his prison-bed of stone,
 Body and chain alike with lifeless weight.


 Struggling they lay in mortal fray
 All day, while day was in our upper sphere,
 For light of day,
 And natural darkness never entered here;
 All night, with unabated might,
 They waged the unremitting fight.
 A second day, a second night,
 With furious will they wrestled still.
 The third came on, the fourth is gone;
 Another comes, another goes,
 And yet no respite, no repose;
 But day and night, and night and day,
 Involv'd in mortal strife they lay;
 Six days and nights have past away,
 And still they wage, with mutual rage,
 The unremitting fray.
 With mutual rage their war they wage,
 But not with mutual will;
 For when the seventh morning came,
 The monster's worn and wearied frame
 In this strange contest fails;
 And weaker, weaker, every hour
 He yields beneath strong Nature's power,
 For now the Curse prevails.

 Sometimes the Beast sprung up to bear
 His foe aloft; and, trusting there
 To shake him from his hold,
 Relax'd the rings that wreath'd him round;
 But on his throat Ladurlad hung,
 And weigh'd him to the ground;
 And if they sink, or if they float,
 Alike with stubborn clasp he clung,
 Tenacious of his grasp;
 For well he knew with what a power,
 Exempt from Nature's laws,
 The Curse had arm'd him for this hour;
 And in the monster's gasping jaws,
 And in his hollow eye,
 Well could Ladurlad now descry
 The certain signs of victory.

 And now the guard no more can keep
 His painful watch; his eyes, opprest,
 Are fainting for their natural sleep;
 His living flesh and blood must rest,
 The Beast must sleep or die.
 Then he, full faint and languidly,
 Unwreathes his rings and strives to fly,
 And still retreating, slowly trails
 His stiff and heavy length of scales.
 But that unweariable foe,
 With will relentless, follows still;
 No breathing time, no pause of fight
 He gives, but presses on his flight;
 Along the vaulted chambers, and the ascent
 Up to the emerald-tinted light of day,
 He harasses his way,
 Till lifeless, underneath his grasp,
 The huge Sea-Monster lay.

 That obstinate work is done! Ladurlad cried,
 One labour yet remains!
 And thoughtfully he eyed
 Ereenia's ponderous chains;
 And with vain effort, half-despairing, tried
 The rivets deep in-driven. Instinctively,
 As if in search of aid, he look'd around:
 Oh, then, how gladly, in the near alcove,
 Fallen on the ground its lifeless Lord beside,
 The crescent scymitar he spied,
 Whose cloudy blade, with potent spells imbued,
 Had lain so many an age unhurt in solitude.

 Joyfully springing there
 He seiz'd the weapon, and with eager stroke
 Hew'd at the chain; the force was dealt in vain,
 For not as if through yielding air
 Past the descending scymitar,
 Its deaden'd way the heavy water broke;
 Yet it bit deep. Again, with both his hands,
 He wields the blade, and dealt a surer blow.
 The baser metal yields
 To that fine edge, and lo! the Glendoveer
 Rises and snaps the half-sever'd links, and stands
 Freed from his broken bands.



 This is the appointed night,
 The night of joy and consecrated mirth,
 When, from his judgement-seat in Padalon,
 By Yamen's throne,
 Baly goes forth, that he may walk the Earth
 Unseen, and hear his name
 Still hymn'd and honour'd by the grateful voice
 Of humankind, and in his fame rejoice.
 Therefore from door to door, and street to street,
 With willing feet,
 Shaking their firebrands, the glad children run;
 Baly! great Baly! they acclaim,
 Where'er they run they bear the mighty name;
 Where'er they meet,
 Baly! great Baly! still their choral tongues repeat.
 Therefore at every door the votive flame
 Through pendant lanthorns sheds its painted light,
 And rockets hissing upward through the sky,
 Fall like a shower of stars
 From Heaven's black canopy.
 Therefore, on yonder mountain's templed height,
 The brazen cauldron blazes through the night.
 Huge as a Ship that travels the main sea
 Is that capacious brass; its wick as tall
 As is the mast of some great admiral.
 Ten thousand votaries bring
 Camphor and ghee to feed the sacred flame;
 And while, through regions round, the nations see
 Its fiery pillar curling high in heaven,
 Baly! great Baly! they exclaim,
 For ever hallowed be his blessed name!
 Honour and praise to him for ever more be given!

 Why art not thou among the festive throng,
 Baly, O Mighty One! to hear thy fame?
 Still as of yore, with pageantry and song
 The glowing streets along,
 They celebrate thy name;
 Baly! great Baly! still
 The grateful habitants of Earth acclaim,
 Baly! great Baly! still
 The ringing walls and echoing towers proclaim.
 From yonder mountain the portentous flame
 Still blazes to the nations as before;
 All things appear to human eyes the same,
 As perfect as of yore;
 To human eyes, . . but how unlike to thine!
 Thine which were wont to see
 The Company divine,
 That with their presence came to honour thee!
 For all the blessed ones of mortal birth
 Who have been cloth'd with immortality,
 From the eight corners of the Earth,
 From the Seven Worlds assembling, all
 Wont to attend thy solemn festival.
 Then did thine eyes behold
 The wide air peopled with that glorious train,
 Now may'st thou seek the blessed ones in vain,
 For Earth and Air are now beneath the Rajah's reign.

 Therefore the Mighty One hath walk'd the Earth
 In sorrow and in solitude to-night.
 The sound of human mirth
 To him is no delight;
 He turns away from that ungrateful sight,
 Hallowed not now by visitants divine,
 And there he bends his melancholy way
 Where, in yon full-orb'd Moon's refulgent light,
 The Golden Towers of his old City shine
 Above the silver sea. The mighty Chief
 There bent his way in grief,
 As if sad thoughts indulged would work their own relief.

 There he beholds upon the sand
 A lovely Maiden in the moonlight stand.
 The land-breeze lifts her locks of jet,
 The waves around her polish'd ancles play,
 Her bosom with the salt sea-spray is wet;
 Her arms are crost, unconsciously, to fold
 That bosom from the cold,
 While statue-like she seems her watch to keep,
 Gazing intently on the restless deep.

 Seven miserable days had Kailyal there,
 From earliest dawn till evening, watch'd the deep;
 Six nights within the chamber of the rock,
 Had laid her down, and found in prayer
 That comfort which she sought in vain from sleep.
 But when the seventh night came,
 Never should she behold her Father more,
 The wretched Maiden said in her despair;
 Yet would not quit the shore,
 Nor turn her eyes one moment from the sea:
 Never before
 Had Kailyal watch'd it so impatiently,
 Never so eagerly had hop'd before,
 As now when she believ'd, and said, all hope was o'er.

 Beholding her, how beautiful she stood,
 In that wild solitude,
 Baly from his invisibility
 Had issued then, to know her cause of woe;
 But that, in the air beside her, he espied
 Two Powers of Evil for her hurt allied,
 Foul Arvalan and dreadful Lorrinite.
 The Mighty One they could not see,
 And marking with what demon-like delight
 They kept their innocent prey in sight,
 He waits, expecting what the end may be.

 She starts; for lo! where floating many a rood,
 A Monster, hugest of the Ocean brood,
 Weltering and lifeless, drifts toward the shore.
 Backward she starts in fear before the flood,
 And, when the waves retreat,
 They leave their hideous burthen at her feet.

 She ventures to approach with timid tread,
 She starts, and half draws back in fear,
 Then stops, and stretches on her head,
 To see if that huge beast indeed be dead.
 Now growing bold, the Maid advances near,
 Even to the margin of the ocean-flood.
 Rightly she reads her Father's victory,
 And lifts her joyous hands, exultingly,
 To Heaven in gratitude.
 Then spreading them toward the Sea,
 While pious tears bedim her streaming eyes,
 Come! come! my Father, come to me!
 Ereenia, come! she cries.
 Lo! from the opening deep they rise,
 And to Ladurlad's arms the happy Kailyal flies.

 She turn'd from him, to meet, with beating heart,
 The Glendoveer's embrace.
 Now turn to me, for mine thou art!
 Foul Arvalan exdaim'd; his loathsome face
 Came forth, and from the air,
 In fleshly form, he burst.
 Always in horror and despair,
 Had Kailyal seen that form and face accurst,
 But yet so sharp a pang had ne'er
 Shot with a thrill like death through all her frame,
 As now when on her hour of joy the Spectre came.

 Vain is resistance now,
 The fiendish laugh of Lorrinite is heard;
 And, at her dreadful word,
 The Asuras once again appear,
 And seize Ladurlad and the Glendoveer.

 Hold your accursed hands!
 A Voice exclaim'd, whose dread commands
 Were fear'd through all the vaults of Padalon;
 And there among them, in the midnight air,
 The presence of the mighty Baly shone.
 He, making manifest his mightiness,
 Put forth on every side an hundred arms,
 And seiz'd the Sorceress; maugre all her charms,
 Her and her fiendish ministers he caught
 With force as uncontroulable as fate;
 And that unhappy Soul, to whom
 The Almighty Rajah's power availeth not
 Living to avert, nor dead to mitigate
 His righteous doom.

 Help, help, Kehama! Father, help! he cried;
 But Baly tarried not to abide
 That mightier Power; with irresistible feet
 He stampt and cleft the Earth; it opened wide,
 And gave him way to his own judgement-seat.
 Down, like a plummet, to the World below
 He sunk, and bore his prey
 To righteous punishment, and endless woe.



 The Earth, by Baly's feet divided,
 Clos'd o'er his way as to the judgement-seat
 He plunged and bore his prey.
 Scarce had the shock subsided,
 When, darting from the Swerga's heavenly heights,
 Kehama, like a thunderbolt, alights.
 In wrath he came, a bickering flame
 Flash'd from his eyes which made the moonlight dim,
 And passion forcing way from every limb,
 Like furnace-smoke, with terrors wrapt him round.
 Furious he smote the ground;
 Earth trembled underneath the dreadful stroke,
 Again in sunder riven;
 He hurl'd in rage his whirling weapon down.
 But lo! the fiery sheckra to his feet
 Return'd, as if by equal force re-driven,
 And from the abyss the voice of Baly came:
 Not yet, O Rajah, hast thou won
 The realms of Padalon!
 Earth and the Swerga are thine own,
 But, till Kehama shall subdue the throne
 Of Hell, in torments Yamen holds his son.

 Fool that he is! . . in torments let him lie!
 Kehama, wrathful at his son, replied.
 But what am I
 That thou should'st brave me? . . kindling in his pride
 The dreadful Rajah cried.
 Ho! Yamen! hear me. God of Padalon,
 Prepare thy throne,
 And let the Amreeta cup
 Be ready for my lips, when I anon
 Triumphantly shall take my seat thereon,
 And plant upon thy neck my royal feet.


 In voice like thunder thus the Rajah cried,
 Impending o'er the abyss, with menacing hand
 Put forth, as in the action of command,
 And eyes that darted their red anger down.
 Then drawing back he let the earth subside,
 And, as his wrath relax'd, survey'd,
 Thoughtful and silently, the mortal Maid.
 Her eye the while was on the farthest sky,
 Where up the etherial height
 Ereenia rose and past away from sight.
 Never had she so joyfully
 Beheld the coming of the Glendoveer,
 Dear as he was and he deserv'd to be,
 As now she saw him rise and disappear.
 Come now what will, within her heart said she,
 For thou art safe, and what have I to fear?

 Meantime the Almighty Rajah, late
 In power and majesty and wrath array'd,
 Had laid his terrors by
 And gaz'd upon the Maid.
 Pride could not quit his eye,
 Nor that remorseless nature from his front
 Depart; yet whoso had beheld him then
 Had felt some admiration mix'd with dread,
 And might have said
 That sure he seem'd to be the King of Men;
 Less than the greatest that he could not be,
 Who carried in his port such might and majesty.

 In fear no longer for the Glendoveer,
 Now toward the Rajah Kailyal turn'd her eyes
 As if to ask what doom awaited her.
 But then surprise,
 Even as with fascination, held them there,
 So strange a thing it seem'd to see the change
 Of purport in that all-commanding brow,
 That thoughtfully was bent upon her now.
 Wondering she gaz'd, the while her Father's eye
 Was fix'd upon Kehama haughtily;
 It spake defiance to him, high disdain,
 Stern patience, unsubduable by pain,
 And pride triumphant over agony.

 Ladurlad, said the Rajah, thou and I
 Alike have done the work of Destiny,
 Unknowing each to what the impulse tended;
 But now that over Earth and Heaven my reign
 Is stablish'd, and the ways of Fate are plain
 Before me, here our enmity is ended.
 I take away thy Curse. . . As thus he said,
 The fire which in Ladurlad's heart and brain
 Was burning, fled, and left him free from pain.
 So rapidly his torments were departed,
 That at the sudden ease he started,
 As with a shock, and to his head
 His hands up-fled,
 As if he felt through every failing limb
 The power and sense of life forsaking him.

 Then turning to the Maid, the Rajah cried,
 O Virgin, above all of mortal birth
 Favour'd alike in beauty and in worth,
 And in the glories of thy destiny,
 Now let thy happy heart exult with pride,
 For Fate hath chosen thee
 To be Kehama's bride,
 To be the Queen of Heaven and Earth,
 And of whatever Worlds beside
 Infinity may hide . . . For I can see
 The writing which, at thy nativity,
 All-knowing Nature wrought upon thy brain,
 In branching veins, which to the gifted eye
 Map out the mazes of futurity.
 There is it written, Maid, that thou and I,
 Alone of human kind a deathless pair,
 Are doom'd to share
 The Amreeta-drink divine
 Of immortality. Come, Maiden mine!
 High-fated One, ascend the subject sky,
 And by Kehama's side
 Sit on the Swerga throne, his equal bride.

 Oh never, . . never . . Father! Kailyal cried;
 It is not as he saith, . . it cannot be!
 I! . . I, his bride!
 Nature is never false; he wrongeth her!
 My heart belies such lines of destiny.
 There is no other true interpreter!

 At that reply Kehama's darkening brow
 Bewray'd the anger which he yet supprest.
 Counsel thy daughter; tell her thou art now
 Free from thy Curse, he said, and bid her bow
 In thankfulness to Fate's benign behest.
 Bid her her stubborn will restrain,
 For Destiny at last must be obey'd,
 And tell her, while obedience is delay'd,
 Thy Curse will burn again.

 She needeth not my counsel, he replied,
 And idly, Rajah, dost thou reason thus
 Of Destiny! for though all other things
 Were subject to the starry influencings,
 And bow'd submissive to thy tyranny,
 The virtuous heart, and resolute will are free.
 Thus in their wisdom did the Gods decree
 When they created man. Let come what will,
 This is our rock of strength; in every ill,
 Sorrow, oppression, pain and agony,
 The spirit of the good is unsubdued,
 And, suffer as they may, they triumph still.

 Obstinate fools! exclaim'd the Mighty One,
 Fate and my pleasure must be done,
 And ye resist in vain!
 Take your fit guerdon till we meet again!
 So saying, his vindictive hand he flung
 Towards them, fill'd with curses; then on high
 Aloft he sprung, and vanish'd through the Sky.



 The Rajah, scattering curses as he rose,
 Soar'd to the Swerga, and resum'd his throne.
 Not for his own redoubled agony,
 Which now through heart and brain,
 With renovated pain,
 Rush'd to its seat, Ladurlad breathes that groan,
 That groan is for his child; he groan'd to see
 The lovely one defil'd with leprosy,
 Which, as the enemy vindictive fled,
 O'er all her frame with quick contagion spread.
 She, wondering at events so passing strange,
 And fill'd with hope and fear,
 And joy to see the Tyrant disappear,
 And glad expectance of her Glendoveer,
 Perceiv'd not in herself the hideous change.
 His burning pain, she thought, had forced the groan
 Her father breath'd; his agonies alone
 Were present to her mind; she claspt his knees,
 Wept for his Curse, and did not feel her own.

 Nor when she saw her plague, did her good heart,
 True to itself, even for a moment fail.
 Ha, Rajah! with disdainful smile she cries,
 Mighty and wise and wicked as thou art,
 Still thy blind vengeance acts a friendly part.
 Shall I not thank thee for this scurf and scale
 Of dire deformity, whose loathsomeness,
 Surer than panoply of strongest mail,
 Arms me against all foes? Oh, better so,
 Better such foul disgrace,
 Than that this innocent face
 Should tempt thy wooing! That I need not dread;
 Nor ever impious foe
 Will offer outrage now, nor farther woe
 Will beauty draw on my unhappy head;
 Safe through the unholy world may Kailyal go.

 Her face in virtuous pride
 Was lifted to the skies,
 As him and his poor vengeance she defied;
 But earthward, when she ceas'd, she turn'd her eyes,
 As if she sought to hide
 The tear which in her own despite would rise.
 Did then the thought of her own Glendoveer
 Call forth that natural tear?
 Was it a woman's fear,
 A thought of earthly love, which troubled her?
 Like yon thin cloud amid the moonlight sky
 That flits before the wind
 And leaves no trace behind,
 The womanly pang past over Kailyal's mind.
 This is a loathsome sight to human eye,
 Half-shrinking at herself, the Maiden thought,
 Will it be so to him? Oh surely not!
 The immortal Powers, who see
 Through the poor wrappings of mortality,
 Behold the soul, the beautiful soul, within,
 Exempt from age and wasting malady,
 And undeform'd, while pure and free from sin.
 This is a loathsome sight to human eye,
 But not to eyes divine,
 Ereenia, Son of Heaven, oh not to thine!

 The wrongful thought of fear, the womanly pain
 Had past away, her heart was calm again.
 She rais'd her head, expecting now to see
 The Glendoveer appear;
 Where hath he fled, quoth she,
 That he should tarry now? Oh had she known
 Whither the adventurous Son of Heaven was flown,
 Strong as her spirit was, it had not borne
 The awful thought, nor dar'd to hope for his return.

 For he in search of Seeva's throne was gone,
 To tell his tale of wrong;
 In search of Seeva's own abode
 The daring one began his heavenly road.
 O wild emprize! above the farthest skies
 He hop'd to rise!
 Him who is thron'd beyond the reach of thought,
 The Alone, the Inaccessible, he sought.
 O wild emprize! for when in days of yore,
 For proud pre-eminence of power,
 Brama and Veeshnoo, wild with rage, contended,
 And Seeva, in his might,
 Their dread contention ended;
 Before their sight
 In form a fiery column did he tower,
 Whose head above the highest height extended,
 Whose base below the deepest depth descended.
 Downward, its depth to sound,
 Veeshnoo a thousand years explor'd
 The fathomless profound,
 And yet no base he found:
 Upward, to reach its head,
 Ten myriad years the aspiring Brama soar'd,
 And still, as up he fled,
 Above him still the Immeasurable spread.
 The rivals own'd their lord,
 And trembled and ador'd.
 How shall the Glendoveer attain
 What Brama and what Veeshnoo sought in vain?


 Ne'er did such thought of lofty daring enter
 Celestial Spirit's mind. O wild adventure
 That throne to find, for he must leave behind
 This World, that in the centre,
 Within its salt-sea girdle, lies confin'd;
 Yea the Seven Earths that, each with its own ocean,
 Ring clasping ring, compose the mighty round.
 What power of motion,
 In less than endless years shall bear him there,
 Along the limitless extent,
 To the utmost bound of the remotest spheres?
 What strength of wing
 Suffice to pierce the Golden Firmament
 That closes all within?
 Yet he hath past the measureless extent,
 And pierced the Golden Firmament;
 For Faith hath given him power, and Space and Time
 Vanish before that energy sublime.
 Nor doth Eternal Night,
 And outer Darkness, check his resolute flight;
 By strong desire through all he makes his way,
 Till Seeva's Seat appears, . . behold Mount Calasay!


 Behold the Silver Mountain! round about
 Seven ladders stand, so high, the aching eye,
 Seeking their tops in vain amid the sky,
 Might deem they led from earth to highest heaven.
 Ages would pass away,
 And Worlds with age decay,
 Ere one whose patient feet from ring to ring
 Must win their upward way,
 Could reach the summit of Mount Calasay.
 But that strong power that nerv'd his wing,
 That all-surmounting will,
 Intensity of faith and holiest love,
 Sustain'd Ereenia still,
 And he hath gain'd the plain, the sanctuary above.

 Lo, there the Silver Bell,
 That, self-sustain'd, hangs buoyant in the air!
 Lo! the broad Table there, too bright
 For mortal sight,
 From whose four sides the bordering gems unite
 Their harmonizing rays,
 In one mid fount of many-colour'd light.
 The stream of splendour, flashing as it flows,
 Plays round, and feeds the stem of yon celestial Rose.
 Where is the Sage whose wisdom can declare
 The hidden things of that mysterious flower,
 That flower which serves all mysteries to bear?
 The sacred triangle is there,
 Holding the Emblem which no tongue may tell.
 Is this the Heaven of Heavens, where Seeva's self doth dwell?

 Here first the Glendoveer
 Felt his wing flag, and paus'd upon his flight.
 Was it that fear came over him, when here
 He saw the imagin'd throne appear?
 Not so, for his immortal sight
 Endur'd the Table's light;
 Distinctly he beheld all things around,
 And doubt and wonder rose within his mind
 That this was all he found.
 Howbeit he lifted up his voice and spake.
 There is oppression in the World below;
 Earth groans beneath the yoke; yea, in her woe,
 She asks if the Avenger's eye is blind?
 Awake, O Lord, awake!
 Too long thy vengeance sleepeth. Holy One!
 Put thou thy terrors on for mercy's sake,
 And strike the blow, in justice to mankind!

 So as he pray'd, intenser faith he felt,
 His spirit seem'd to melt
 With ardent yearnings of increasing love;
 Upward he turn'd his eyes
 As if there should be something yet above;
 Let me not, Seeva! seek in vain! he cries,
 Thou art not here, . . for how should these contain thee?
 Thou art not here, . . for how should I sustain thee?
 But thou, where'er thou art,
 Canst hear the voice of prayer,
 Canst hear the humble heart.
 Thy dwelling who can tell,
 Or who, O Lord, hath seen thy secret throne?
 But thou art not alone,
 Not unapproachable!
 O all-containing Mind,
 Thou who art every where,
 Whom all who seek shall find,
 Hear me, O Seeva! hear the suppliant's prayer!


 So saying, up he sprung,
 And struck the Bell, which self-suspended, hung
 Before the mystic Rose.
 From side to side the silver tongue
 Melodious swung, and far and wide
 Soul-thrilling tones of heavenly music rung.
 Abash'd, confounded,
 It left the Glendoveer; . . yea all astounded
 In overpowering fear and deep dismay;
 For when that Bell had sounded,
 The Rose, with all the mysteries it surrounded,
 The Bell, the Table, and Mount Calasay,
 The holy Hill itself, with all thereon,
 Even as a morning dream before the day
 Dissolves away, they faded and were gone.

 Where shall he rest his wing, where turn for flight,
 For all around is Light,
 Primal, essential, all-pervading Light!
 Heart cannot think, nor tongue declare,
 Nor eyes of Angel bear
 That Glory unimaginably bright;
 The Sun himself had seem'd
 A speck of darkness there,
 Amid that Light of Light!

 Down fell the Glendoveer,
 Down through all regions, to our mundane sphere
 He fell; but in his ear
 A voice, which from within him came, was heard,
 The indubitable word
 Of Him to whom all secret things are known:
 Go, ye who suffer, go to Yamen's throne.
 He hath the remedy for every woe;
 He setteth right whate'er is wrong below.



 Down from the Heaven of Heavens Ereenia fell
 Precipitate, yet imperceptible
 His fall, nor had he cause nor thought of fear;
 And when he came within this mundane sphere,
 And felt that Earth was near,
 The Glendoveer his azure wings expanded,
 And, sloping down the sky
 Toward the spot from whence he sprung on high,
 There on the shore he landed.

 Kailyal advanced to meet him,
 Not moving now as she was wont to greet him;
 Joy in her eye and in her eager pace;
 With a calm smile of melancholy pride
 She met him now, and, turning half aside,
 Her warning hand repell'd the dear embrace.
 Strange things, Ereenia, have befallen us here,
 The Virgin said; the Almighty Man hath read
 The lines which, traced by Nature on my brain,
 There to the gifted eye
 Make all my fortunes plain,
 Mapping the mazes of futurity.
 He sued for peace, for it is written there
 That I with him the Amreeta cup must share;
 Wherefore he bade me come, and by his side
 Sit on the Swerga-throne, his equal bride.
 I need not tell thee what reply was given;
 My heart, the sure interpreter of Heaven,
 His impious words belied.
 Thou seest his poor revenge! So having said,
 One look she glanced upon her leprous stain
 Indignantly, and shook
 Her head in calm disdain.

 O Maid of soul divine!
 O more than ever dear,
 And more than ever mine,
 Replied the Glendoveer;
 He hath not read, be sure, the mystic ways
 Of Fate; almighty as he is, that maze
 Hath mock'd his fallible sight.
 Said he the Amreeta-cup? So far aright
 The Evil One may see; for Fate displays
 Her hidden things in part, and part conceals,
 Baffling the wicked eye
 Alike with what she hides, and what reveals,
 When with unholy purpose it would pry
 Into the secrets of futurity.
 So may it be permitted him to see
 Dimly the inscrutable decree;
 For to the world below,
 Where Yamen guards the Amreeta, we must go;
 Thus Seeva hath exprest his will, even he
 The Holiest hath ordain'd it; there, he saith,
 All wrongs shall be redrest
 By Yamen, by the righteous Power of Death.

 Forthwith the Father and the fated Maid,
 And that heroic Spirit, who for them
 Such flight had late essay'd,
 The will of Heaven obey'd.
 They went their way along the road
 That leads to Yamen's dread abode.

 Many a day hath past away
 Since they began their arduous way,
 Their way of toil and pain;
 And now their weary feet attain
 The Earth's remotest bound
 Where outer Ocean girds it round.
 But not like other Oceans this,
 Rather it seem'd a drear abyss,
 Upon whose brink they stood.
 Oh, scene of fear! the travellers hear
 The raging of the flood;
 They hear how fearfully it roars,
 But clouds of darker shade than night
 For ever hovering round those shores,
 Hide all things from their sight.
 The Sun upon that darkness pours
 His unavailing light;
 Nor ever Moon nor Stars display,
 Through the thick shade, one guiding ray
 To shew the perils of the way.

 There, in a creek, a vessel lay.
 Just on the confines of the day,
 It rode at anchor in its bay,
 These venturous pilgrims to convey
 Across that outer Sea.
 Strange vessel sure it seem'd to be,
 And all unfit for such wild sea!
 For through its yawning side the wave
 Was oozing in; the mast was frail,
 And old and torn its only sail.
 How shall that crazy vessel brave
 The billows, that in wild commotion
 For ever roar and rave?
 How hope to cross the dreadful Ocean,
 O'er which eternal shadows dwell,
 Whose secrets none return to tell!

 Well might the travellers fear to enter!
 But summon'd once on that adventure,
 For them was no retreat.
 Nor boots it with reluctant feet
 To linger on the strand;
 Aboard! aboard!
 An awful voice, that left no choice,
 Sent forth its stern command,
 Aboard! aboard!
 The travellers hear that voice in fear,
 And breathe to Heaven an inward prayer,
 And take their seats in silence there.

 Self-hoisted then, behold the sail
 Expands itself before the gale;
 Hands, which they cannot see, let slip
 The cable of that fated ship;
 The land breeze sends her on her way,
 And lo! they leave the living light of day!



 Swift as an arrow in its flight
 The Ship shot through the incumbent night;
 And they have left behind
 The raging billows and the roaring wind,
 The storm, the darkness, and all mortal fears;
 And lo! another light
 To guide their way appears,
 The light of other spheres.

 That instant, from Ladurlad's heart and brain
 The Curse was gone; he feels again
 Fresh as in Youth's fair morning, and the Maid
 Hath lost her leprous stain.
 The dreadful Man hath no dominion here,
 Starting she cried; O happy, happy hour!
 We are beyond his power!
 Then raising to the Glendoveer,
 With heavenly beauty bright, her angel face,
 Turn'd not reluctant now, and met his dear embrace.

 Swift glides the Ship, with gentle motion,
 Across that calm and quiet ocean;
 That glassy sea, which seem'd to be
 The mirror of tranquillity.
 Their pleasant passage soon was o'er,
 The Ship hath reach'd its destin'd shore;
 A level belt of ice which bound,
 As with an adamantine mound,
 The waters of the sleeping Ocean round.
 Strange forms were on the strand
 Of earth-born spirits slain before their time;
 Who, wandering over sea and sky and land,
 Had so fulfill'd their term; and now were met
 Upon this icy belt, a motley band,
 Waiting their summons, at the appointed hour
 When each before the judgement-seat must stand,
 And hear his doom from Baly's righteous power.

 Foul with habitual crimes, a hideous crew
 Were there, the race of rapine and of blood.
 Now, having overpast the mortal flood,
 Their own deformity they knew,
 And knew the meed that to their deeds was due.
 Therefore in fear and agony they stood,
 Expecting when the evil Messenger
 Among them should appear. But with their fear
 A hope was mingled now;
 O'er the dark shade of guilt a deeper hue
 It threw, and gave a fiercer character
 To the wild eye and lip and sinful brow.
 They hop'd that soon Kehama would subdue
 The inexorable God, and seize his throne,
 Reduce the infernal World to his command,
 And, with his irresistible right hand,
 Redeem them from the vaults of Padalon.


 Apart from these a milder company,
 The victims of offences not their own,
 Look'd when the appointed Messenger should come;
 Gathered together some, and some alone
 Brooding in silence on their future doom.
 Widows whom, to their husbands' funeral fire,
 Force or strong error led, to share the pyre,
 As to their everlasting marriage-bed:
 And babes, by sin unstain'd,
 Whom erring parents vow'd
 To Ganges, and the holy stream profan'd
 With that strange sacrifice, rite unordain'd
 By Law, by sacred Nature unallow'd:
 Others more hapless in their destiny,
 Scarce having first inhaled this vital breath,
 Whose cradles from some tree
 Unnatural hands suspended,
 Then left, till gentle Death,
 Coming like Sleep, their feeble moanings ended;
 Or for his prey the ravenous Kite descended;
 Or, marching like an army from their caves,
 The Pismires blacken'd o'er, then bleach'd and bare
 Left their unharden'd bones to fall asunder there.

 Innocent Souls! thus set so early free
 From sin and sorrow and mortality,
 Their spotless spirits all-creating Love
 Receiv'd into its universal breast.
 Yon blue serene above
 Was their domain; clouds pillowed them to rest;
 The Elements on them like nurses tended,
 And with their growth etherial substance blended.
 Less pure than these is that strange Indian bird
 Who never dips in earthly streams her bill,
 But, when the sound of coming showers is heard,
 Looks up, and from the clouds receives her fill.
 Less pure the footless fowl of Heaven, that never
 Rest upon earth, but on the wing for ever
 Hovering o'er flowers, their fragrant food inhale,
 Drink the descending dew upon its way,
 And sleep aloft while floating on the gale.
 And thus these innocents in yonder sky
 Grow and are strengthen'd, while the allotted years
 Perform their course, then hitherward they fly,
 Being free from mortal taint, so free from fears,
 A joyous band, expecting soon to soar
 To Indra's happy spheres,
 And mingle with the blessed company
 Of heavenly spirits there for evermore.

 A Gulph profound surrounded
 This icy belt; the opposite side
 With highest rocks was bounded;
 But where their heads they hide,
 Or where their base is founded,
 None could espy. Above all reach of sight
 They rose, the second Earth was on their height,
 Their feet were fix'd in everlasting night.

 So deep the Gulph, no eye
 Could plum its dark profundity,
 Yet all its depth must try; for this the road
 To Padalon, and Yamen's dread abode.
 And from below continually
 Ministrant Demons rose and caught
 The Souls whose hour was come;
 Then, with their burthen fraught,
 Plunged down, and bore them to receive their doom.

 Then might be seen who went in hope, and who
 Trembled to meet the meed
 Of many a foul misdeed, as wild they threw
 Their arms retorted from the Demons' grasp,
 And look'd around, all eagerly, to seek
 For help, where help was none; and strove for aid
 To clasp the nearest shade;
 Yea, with imploring looks and horrent shriek,
 Even from one Demon to another bending,
 With hands extending,
 Their mercy they essay'd.
 Still from the verge they strain,
 And from the dreadful gulph avert their eyes,
 In vain; down plunge the Demons, and their cries
 Feebly, as down they sink, from that profound arise.

 What heart of living man could, undisturb'd,
 Bear sight so sad as this! What wonder there
 If Kailyal's lip were blanch'd with inmost dread!
 The chill which from that icy belt
 Struck through her, was less keen than what she felt
 With her heart's-blood through every limb dispread.
 Close to the Glendoveer she clung,
 And clasping round his neck her trembling hands,
 She clos'd her eyes, and there in silence hung.

 Then to Ladurlad said the Glendoveer,
 These Demons, whom thou seest, the ministers
 Of Yamen, wonder to behold us here;
 But for the dead they come, and not for us:
 Therefore, albeit they gaze upon thee thus,
 Have thou no fear.
 A little while thou must be left alone,
 Till I have borne thy Daughter down,
 And placed her safely by the throne
 Of him who keeps the Gate of Padalon.

 Then taking Kailyal in his arms, he said,
 Be of good heart, Beloved! it is I
 Who bear thee. Saying this, his wings he spread,
 Sprung upward in the sky, and pois'd his flight,
 Then plunged into the Gulph, and sought the World of Night.



 The strong foundations of this inmost Earth
 Rest upon Padalon. That icy Mound
 Which girt the mortal Ocean round,
 Reach'd the profound, . .
 Ice in the regions of the upper air,
 Crystal midway, and adamant below,
 Whose strength sufficed to bear
 The weight of all this upper World of ours,
 And with its rampart clos'd the Realm of Woe.
 Eight gates hath Padalon; eight heavenly Powers
 Have them in charge, each alway at his post,
 Lest, from their penal caves, the accursed host,
 Maugre the might of Baly and the God,
 Should break, and carry ruin all abroad.

 Those gates stand ever open, night and day,
 And Souls of mortal men
 For ever throng the way.
 Some from the dolorous den,
 Children of sin and wrath, return no more:
 They, fit companions of the Spirits accurst,
 Are doom'd, like them in baths of fire immerst,
 Or weltering upon beds of molten ore,
 Or, stretch'd upon the brazen floor,
 Are fasten'd down with adamantine chains;
 While on their substance inconsumable,
 Leeches of fire for ever hang and pull,
 And worms of fire for ever gnaw their food,
 That, still renew'd,
 Freshens for ever their perpetual pains.

 Others there were whom Baly's voice condemned,
 By long and painful penance, to atone
 Their fleshly deeds. Them, from the Judgement-Throne,
 Dread Azyoruca, where she sat involv'd
 In darkness as a tent, receiv'd, and dealt
 To each the measure of his punishment;
 Till, in the central springs of fire, the Will
 Impure is purged away; and the freed soul,
 Thus fitted to receive its second birth,
 Embodied once again, revisits Earth.

 But they whom Baly's righteous voice absolv'd,
 And Yamen, viewing with benignant eye,
 Dismiss'd to seek their heritage on high,
 How joyfully they leave this gloomy bourne,
 The dread sojourn
 Of Guilt and twin-born Punishment and Woe,
 And wild Remorse, here link'd with worse Despair!
 They to the eastern Gate rejoicing go:
 The Ship of Heaven awaits their coming there,
 And on they sail, greeting the blessed light,
 Through realms of upper air,
 Bound for the Swerga once; but now no more
 Their voyage rests upon that happy shore;
 Since Indra, by the dreadful Rajah's might
 Compell'd, hath taken flight,
 On to the second World their way they wend,
 And there, in trembling hope, await the doubtful end.

 For still in them doth hope predominate,
 Faith's precious privilege, when higher Powers
 Give way to fear in these portentous hours.
 Behold the Wardens eight,
 Each silent at his gate
 Expectant stands; they turn their anxious eyes
 Within, and, listening to the dizzy din
 Of mutinous uproar, each in all his hands
 Holds all his weapons, ready for the fight.
 For, hark! what clamorous cries
 Upon Kehama for deliverance call!
 Come, Rajah! they exclaim, too long we groan
 In torments. Come, Deliverer! yonder throne
 Awaits thee . . . Now, Kehama! Rajah, now!
 Earthly Almighty, wherefore tarriest thou? . .
 Such were the sounds that rung, in wild uproar,
 O'er all the echoing vaults of Padalon;
 And as the Asuras from the brazen floor,
 Struggling against their fetters, strove to rise,
 Their clashing chains were heard, and shrieks and cries,
 With curses mix'd, against the Fiends who urge,
 Fierce on their rebel limbs, the avenging scourge.

 These were the sounds which, at the southern gate,
 Assail'd Ereenia's ear; alighting here
 He laid before Neroodi's feet the Maid,
 Who, pale and cold with fear,
 Hung on his neck, well-nigh a lifeless weight.

 Who and what art thou? cried the Guardian Power,
 Sight thus unwonted wondering to behold, . .
 O Son of Light!
 Who comest here at this portentous hour,
 When Yamen's throne
 Trembles, and all our might can scarce keep down
 The rebel race from seizing Padalon: . . .
 Who and what art thou? and what wild despair,
 Or wilder hope, from realms of upper air,
 Tempts thee to bear
 This mortal Maid to our forlorn abodes?
 Fitter for her, I ween, the Swerga bowers,
 And sweet society of heavenly Powers,
 Than this, . . a doleful scene,
 Even in securest hours.
 And whither would ye go?
 Alas! can human or celestial ear,
 Unmadden'd, hear
 The shrieks and yellings of infernal woe?
 Can living flesh and blood
 Endure the passage of the fiery flood?

 Lord of the Gate, replied the Glendoveer,
 We come obedient to the will of Fate;
 And haply doom'd to bring
 Hope and salvation to the Infernal King,
 For Seeva sends us here.
 Even He to whom futurity is known,
 The Holiest, bade us go to Yamen's throne.
 Thou seest my precious charge;
 Under thy care, secure from harm, I leave her,
 While I ascend to bear her father down.
 Beneath the shelter of thine arm receive her!

 Then quoth he to the Maid,
 Be of good cheer, my Kailyal! dearest dear,
 In faith subdue thy dread,
 Anon I shall be here. So having said,
 Aloft, with vigorous bound, the Glendoveer
 Sprung in celestial might,
 And soaring up, in spiral circles, wound
 His indefatigable flight.

 But, as he thus departed,
 The Maid, who at Neroodi's feet was lying,
 Like one entranced or dying,
 Recovering strength from sudden terror, started;
 And gazing after him with straining sight,
 And straining arms, she stood,
 As if in attitude
 To win him back from flight.
 Yea, she had shap'd his name
 For utterance, to recall and bid him stay,
 Nor leave her thus alone; but virtuous shame
 Represt the unbidden sounds upon their way;
 And calling faith to aid,
 Even in this fearful hour, the pious Maid
 Collected courage, till she seem'd to be
 Calm and in hope, such power had piety.
 Before the Giant Keeper of the Gate
 She crost her patient arms, and at his feet,
 Prepar'd to meet
 The awful will of Fate with equal mind,
 She took her seat resign'd.

 Even the stern trouble of Neroodi's brow
 Relax'd as he beheld the valiant Maid.
 Hope, long unfelt till now,
 Rose in his heart reviving, and a smile
 Dawn'd in his brightening countenance, the while
 He gaz'd on her with wonder and delight.
 The blessing of the Powers of Padalon,
 Virgin, be on thee! cried the admiring God;
 And blessed be the hour that gave thee birth,
 Daughter of Earth,
 For thou to this forlorn abode hast brought
 Hope, who too long hath been a stranger here.
 And surely for no lamentable lot,
 Nature, who erreth not,
 To thee that heart of fortitude hath given,
 Those eyes of purity, that face of love: . .
 If thou beest not the inheritrix of Heaven,
 There is no truth above.

 Thus as Neroodi spake, his brow severe
 Shone with an inward joy; for sure he thought
 When Seeva sent so fair a creature here,
 In this momentous hour,
 Ere long the World's deliverance would be wrought,
 And Padalon escape the Rajah's power.
 With pious mind the Maid, in humble guise
 Inclin'd, received his blessing silently,
 And rais'd her grateful eyes
 A moment, then again
 Abas'd them at his presence. Hark! on high
 The sound of coming wings! . . her anxious ears
 Have caught the distant sound. Ereenia brings
 His burthen down! Upstarting from her seat,
 How joyfully she rears
 Her eager head! and scarce upon the ground
 Ladurlad's giddy feet their footing found,
 When, with her trembling arms, she claspt him round.
 No word of greeting,
 Nor other sign of joy at that strange meeting.
 Expectant of their fate,
 Silent, and hand in hand,
 Before the Infernal Gate,
 The Father and his heavenly Daughter stand.

 Then to Neroodi said the Glendoveer,
 No Heaven-born Spirit e'er hath visited
 This region drear and dread; but I, the first
 Who tread your World accurst.
 Lord of the Gate, to whom these realms are known,
 Direct our fated way to Yamen's throne.

 Bring forth my Chariot, Carmala! quoth then
 The Keeper of the way.
 It was the Car wherein
 On Yamen's festal day,
 When all the Powers of Hell attend their King,
 Yearly to Yamenpur did he repair
 To pay his homage there.
 Pois'd on a single wheel, it mov'd along,
 Instinct with motion; by what wonderous skill
 Compact, no human tongue could tell,
 Nor human wit devise; but on that wheel
 Moving or still,
 As if an inward life sustain'd its weight,
 Supported, stood the Car of miracle.

 Then Carmala brought forth two mantles, white
 As the swan's breast, and bright as mountain snow,
 When from the wintry sky
 The sun, late-rising, shines upon the height,
 And rolling vapours fill the vale below.
 Not without pain the unaccustom'd sight
 That brightness could sustain;
 For neither mortal stain,
 Nor parts corruptible, remain,
 Nor aught that time could touch, or force destroy,
 In that pure web whereof the robes were wrought;
 So long had it in ten-fold fires been tried,
 And blanch'd, and to that brightness purified.
 Apparel'd thus, alone,
 Children of Earth, Neroodi cried,
 In safety may ye pass to Yamen's throne.
 Thus only can your living flesh and blood
 Endure the passage of the fiery flood.


 Of other frame, O Son of Heaven, art thou!
 Yet hast thou now to go
 Through regions which thy heavenly mould will try.
 Glories unutterably bright, I know,
 And beams intense of empyrean light,
 Thine eye divine can bear: but fires of woe,
 The sight of torments, and the cry
 Of absolute despair,
 Might not these things dismay thee on thy flight,
 And thy strong pennons flag and fail thee there?
 Trust not thy wings, celestial though thou art;
 Nor thy good heart, which horror might assail
 And pity quail,
 Pity in these abodes of no avail;
 But take thy seat this mortal pair beside,
 And Carmala the infernal Car will guide.
 Go, and may happy end your way betide!
 So as he spake, the self-mov'd Car roll'd on,
 And lo! they pass the Gate of Padalon.



 Whoe'er hath lov'd with venturous step to tread
 The chambers dread
 Of some deep cave, and seen his taper's beam
 Lost in the arch of darkness overhead,
 And mark'd its gleam,
 Playing afar upon the sunless stream,
 Where, from their secret bed,
 And course unknown and inaccessible,
 The silent waters well;
 Whoe'er hath trod such caves of endless night,
 He knows, when measuring back the gloomy way,
 With what delight refresh'd, his eye
 Perceives the shadow of the light of day,
 Through the far portal slanting, where it falls
 Dimly reflected on the watry walls;
 How heavenly seems the sky,
 And how, with quicken'd feet, he hastens up,
 Eager again to greet
 The living World, and blessed sunshine there,
 And drink, as from a cup
 Of joy, with thirsty lips, the open air.

 Far other light than that of day there shone
 Upon the travellers, entering Padalon.
 They, too, in darkness entered on their way,
 But, far before the Car,
 A glow, as of a fiery furnace light,
 Fill'd all before them. 'Twas a light which made
 Darkness itself appear
 A thing of comfort, and the sight, dismay'd,
 Shrunk inward from the molten atmosphere.
 Their way was through the adamantine rock
 Which girt the World of Woe; on either side
 Its massive walls arose, and overhead
 Arch'd the long passage; onward as they ride,
 With stronger glare the light around them spread,
 And lo! the regions dread,
 The World of Woe before them, opening wide.

 There rolls the fiery flood,
 Girding the realms of Padalon around.
 A sea of flame it seem'd to be,
 Sea without bound;
 For neither mortal, nor immortal sight,
 Could pierce across through that intensest light.
 A single rib of steel,
 Keen as the edge of keenest scymitar,
 Spann'd this wide gulph of fire. The infernal Car
 Roll'd to the Gulph, and on its single wheel
 Self-balanced; rose upon that edge of steel.
 Red-quivering float the vapours overhead;
 The fiery gulph beneath them spread,
 Tosses its billowing blaze with rush and roar;
 Steady and swift the self-mov'd Chariot went,
 Winning the long ascent,
 Then, downward rolling, gains the farther shore.


 But, oh! what sounds and sights of woe,
 What sights and sounds of fear,
 Assail the mortal travellers here!
 Their way was on a causey straight and wide,
 Where penal vaults on either side were seen,
 Ranged like the cells wherein
 Those wonderous winged alchemists infold
 Their stores of liquid gold.
 Thick walls of adamant divide
 The dungeons; and from yonder circling flood,
 Off-streams of fire through secret channels glide,
 And wind among them, and in each provide
 An everlasting food
 Of righteous torments for the accursed brood.

 These were the rebel race, who, in their might
 Confiding impiously, would fain have driven
 The Deities supreme from highest Heaven;
 But by the Suras, in celestial fight,
 Oppos'd and put to flight,
 Here, in their penal dens, the accursed crew,
 Not for its crime, but for its failure, rue
 Their wild ambition. Yet again they long
 The contest to renew,
 And wield their arms again in happier hour;
 And with united power,
 Following Kehama's triumph, to press on
 From World to World, and Heaven to Heaven, and Sphere
 To Sphere, till Hemakoot shall be their own,
 And Meru Mount, and Indra's Swerga-Bowers,
 And Brama's region, where the heavenly Hours
 Weave the vast circle of his age-long day.
 Even over Veeshnoo's empyreal seat
 They trust the Rajah shall extend their sway,
 And that the seven-headed Snake, whereon
 The strong Preserver sets his conquering feet,
 Will rise and shake him headlong from his throne,
 When, in their irresistible array,
 Amid the Milky Sea they force their way.
 Even higher yet their frantic thoughts aspire;
 Yea, on their beds of torment as they lie,
 The highest, holiest Seeva, they defy,
 And tell him they shall have anon their day,
 When they will storm his realm, and seize Mount Calasay.


 Such impious hopes torment
 Their raging hearts, impious and impotent;
 And now, with unendurable desire
 And lust of vengeance, that, like inward fire,
 Doth aggravate their punishment, they rave
 Upon Kehama; him the accursed rout
 Acclaim; with furious cries and maddening shout
 They call on him to save;
 Kehama! they exclaim;
 Thundering, the dreadful echo rolls about,
 And Hell's whole vault repeats Kehama's name.

 Over these dens of punishment, the host
 Of Padalon maintain eternal guard,
 Keeping upon the walls their vigilant ward.
 At every angle stood
 A watch-tower, the decurion Demon's post,
 Where, rais'd on high, he view'd with sleepless eye
 His trust, that all was well. And over these,
 Such was the perfect discipline of Hell,
 Captains of fifties and of hundreds held
 Authority, each in his loftier tower;
 And chiefs of legions over them had power;
 And thus all Hell with towers was girt around.
 Aloft the brazen turrets shone
 In the red light of Padalon,
 And on the walls between,
 Dark moving, the infernal Guards were seen,
 Gigantic Demons pacing to and fro;
 Who ever and anon,
 Spreading their crimson pennons, plunged below,
 Faster to rivet down the Asuras' chains;
 And with the snaky scourge and fiercer pains,
 Repress their rage rebellious. Loud around,
 In mingled sound, the echoing lash, the clash
 Of chains, the ponderous hammer's iron stroke,
 With execrations, groans, and shrieks and cries
 Combin'd, in one wild dissonance, arise;
 And through the din there broke,
 Like thunder heard through all the warring winds,
 The dreadful name. Kehama, still they rave,
 Hasten and save!
 Now, now, Deliverer! now, Kehama, now!
 Earthly Almighty, wherefore tarriest thou!

 Oh, if that name abhorr'd,
 Thus utter'd, could well nigh
 Dismay the Powers of Hell, and daunt their Lord,
 How fearfully to Kailyal's ear it came!
 She, as the Car roll'd on its rapid way,
 Bent down her head, and clos'd her eyes for dread;
 And deafening, with strong effort from within,
 Her ears against the din,
 Cover'd and prest them close with both her hands.
 Sure if the mortal Maiden had not fed
 On heavenly food, and long been strengthened
 With heavenly converse for such end vouchsaf'd,
 Her human heart had fail'd, and she had died
 Beneath the horrors of this awful hour.
 But heaven supplied a power
 Beyond her earthly nature, to the measure
 Of need infusing strength;
 And Fate, whose secret and unerring pleasure
 Appointed all, decreed
 An ample meed and recompence at length.
 High-fated Maid, the righteous hour is nigh!
 The all-embracing Eye
 Of Retribution still beholdeth thee;
 Bear onward to the end, O Maid, courageously!


 On roll'd the Car, and lo! afar
 Upon its height the Towers of Yamenpur
 Rise on the astonish'd sight.
 Behold the infernal City, Yamen's seat
 Of empire, in the midst of Padalon,
 Where the eight causeys meet.
 There on a rock of adamant it stood,
 Resplendent far and wide,
 Itself of solid diamond edified,
 And all around it roll'd the fiery flood.
 Eight bridges arch'd the stream; huge piles of brass
 Magnificent, such structures as beseem
 The Seat and Capital of such great God,
 Worthy of Yamen's own august abode.
 A brazen tower and gateway at each end
 Of each was rais'd, where Giant Wardens stood,
 Station'd in arms the passage to defend,
 That never foe might cross the fiery flood.

 Oh what a gorgeous sight it was to see
 The Diamond City blazing on its height
 With more than mid-sun splendour, by the light
 Of its own fiery river!
 Its towers and domes and pinnacles and spires,
 Turrets and battlements, that flash and quiver
 Through the red restless atmosphere for ever.
 And hovering over head,
 The smoke and vapours of all Padalon,
 Fit firmament for such a world, were spread,
 With surge and swell, and everlasting motion,
 Heaving and opening like tumultuous ocean.

 Nor were there wanting there
 Such glories as beseem'd such region well;
 For though with our blue heaven and genial air
 The firmament of Hell might not compare,
 As little might our earthly tempests vie
 With the dread storms of that infernal sky,
 Whose clouds of all metallic elements
 Sublim'd were full. For, when its thunder broke,
 Not all the united World's artillery,
 In one discharge, could equal that loud stroke;
 And though the Diamond Towers and Battlements
 Stood firm upon their adamantine rock,
 Yet, while it vollied round the vault of Hell,
 Earth's solid arch was shaken with the shock,
 And Cities in one mighty ruin fell.
 Through the red sky terrific meteors scour;
 Huge stones come hailing down; or sulphur-shower,
 Floating amid the lurid air like snow,
 Kindles in its descent,
 And with blue fire-drops rains on all below.
 At times the whole supernal element
 Igniting, burst in one vast sheet of flame,
 And roar'd as with the sound
 Of rushing winds, above, below, around;
 Anon the flame was spent, and overhead
 A heavy cloud of moving darkness spread.

 Straight to the brazen bridge and gate
 The self-mov'd Chariot bears its mortal load.
 At sight of Carmala,
 On either side the Giant guards divide,
 And give the chariot way.
 Up yonder winding road it rolls along,
 Swift as the bittern soars on spiral wing,
 And lo! the Palace of the Infernal King!


 Two forms inseparable in unity
 Hath Yamen; even as with hope or fear
 The Soul regardeth him doth he appear;
 For hope and fear,
 At that dread hour, from ominous conscience spring,
 And err not in their bodings. Therefore some,
 They who polluted with offences come,
 Behold him as the King
 Of Terrors, black of aspect, red of eye;
 Reflecting back upon the sinful mind,
 Heighten'd with vengeance, and with wrath divine,
 Its own inborn deformity.
 But to the righteous Spirit how benign
 His awful countenance,
 Where, tempering justice with parental love,
 Goodness and heavenly grace
 And sweetest mercy shine! Yet is he still
 Himself the same, one form, one face, one will;
 And these his twofold aspects are but one;
 And change is none
 In him, for change in Yamen could not be,
 The Immutable is he.


 He sate upon a marble sepulchre
 Massive and huge, where, at the Monarch's feet,
 The righteous Baly had his judgement-seat.
 A Golden Throne before them vacant stood;
 Three human forms sustain'd its ponderous weight,
 With lifted hands outspread, and shoulders bow'd
 Bending beneath their load.
 A fourth was wanting. They were of the hue
 Of coals of fire; yet were they flesh and blood,
 And living breath they drew;
 And their red eye-balls roll'd with ghastly stare,
 As thus, for their misdeeds, they stood tormented there.

 On steps of gold those fiery Statues stood,
 Who bore the Golden Throne. A cloud behind
 Immoveable was spread; not all the light
 Of all the flames and fires of Padalon
 Could pierce its depth of night.
 There Azyoruca veil'd her awful form
 In those eternal shadows: there she sate,
 And as the trembling Souls, who crowd around
 The Judgement-Seat, received the doom of fate,
 Her giant arms, extending from the cloud,
 Drew them within the darkness. Moving out,
 To grasp and bear away the innumerous rout,
 For ever and for ever thus were seen
 The thousand mighty arms of that dread Queen.

 Here, issuing from the car, the Glendoveer
 Did homage to the God, then rais'd his head.
 Suppliants we come, he said,
 I need not tell thee by what wrongs opprest,
 For nought can pass on earth to thee unknown;
 Sufferers from tyranny we seek for rest,
 And Seeva bade us go to Yamen's throne;
 Here, he hath said, all wrongs shall be redrest.
 Yamen replied, Even now the hour draws near,
 When Fate its hidden ways will manifest.
 Not for light purpose would the Wisest send
 His suppliants here, when we, in doubt and fear,
 The awful issue of the hour attend.
 Wait ye in patience and in faith the end!



 So spake the King of Padalon, when, lo!
 The voice of lamentation ceas'd in Hell,
 And sudden silence all around them fell,
 Silence more wild and terrible
 Than all the infernal dissonance before.
 Through that portentous stillness, far away,
 Unwonted sounds were heard, advancing on,
 And deepening on their way;
 For now the inexorable hour
 Was come, and in the fullness of his power,
 Now that the dreadful rites had all been done,
 Kehama from the Swerga hastened down,
 To seize upon the throne of Padalon.

 He came in all his might and majesty,
 With all his terrors clad, and all his pride;
 And, by the attribute of Deity,
 Which he had won from Heaven, self-multiplied,
 The dreadful One appear'd on every side.
 In the same indivisible point of time,
 At the eight Gates he stood at once, and beat
 The Warden-Gods of Hell beneath his feet;
 Then, in his brazen Cars of triumph, straight,
 At the same moment, drove through every gate.
 By Aullays, hugest of created kind,
 Fiercest, and fleeter than the viewless wind,
 His Cars were drawn, ten yokes of ten abreast, . .
 What less sufficed for such almighty weight?
 Eight bridges from the fiery flood arose
 Growing before his way; and on he goes,
 And drives the thundering Chariot-wheels along,
 At once o'er all the roads of Padalon.


 Silent and motionless remain
 The Asuras on their bed of pain,
 Waiting, with breathless hope, the great event.
 All Hell was hush'd in dread,
 Such awe that omnipresent coming spread;
 Nor had its voice been heard, though all its rout
 Innumerable had lifted up one shout;
 Nor if the infernal firmament
 Had, in one unimaginable burst,
 Spent its collected thunders, had the sound
 Been audible, such louder terrors went
 Before his forms substantial. Round about
 The presence scattered lightnings far and wide,
 That quench'd on every side,
 With their intensest blaze, the feebler fire
 Of Padalon, even as the stars go out,
 When, with prodigious light,
 Some blazing meteor fills the astonish'd night.

 The Diamond City shakes;
 The adamantine Rock
 Is loosen'd with the shock;
 From its foundation mov'd, it heaves and quakes;
 The brazen portals crumbling fall to dust;
 Prone fall the Giant Guards
 Beneath the Aullays crush'd.
 On, on, through Yamenpur, their thundering feet
 Speed from all points to Yamen's judgement-seat.
 And lo! where multiplied,
 Behind, before him, and on every side,
 Wielding all weapons in his countless hands,
 Around the Lord of Hell Kehama stands!
 Then, too, the Lord of Hell put forth his might:
 Thick darkness, blacker than the blackest night,
 Rose from their wrath, and veil'd
 The unutterable fight.
 The power of Fate and Sacrifice prevail'd,
 And soon the strife was done.
 Then did the Man-God re-assume
 His unity, absorbing into one
 The consubstantiate shapes; and as the gloom
 Opened, fallen Yamen on the ground was seen,
 His neck beneath the conquering Rajah's feet,
 Who on the marble tomb
 Had his triumphal seat.


 Silent the Man-Almighty sate; a smile
 Gleam'd on his dreadful lips, the while
 Dallying with power, he paus'd from following up
 His conquest, as a man in social hour
 Sips of the grateful cup,
 Again and yet again, with curious taste,
 Searching its subtle flavour ere he drink.
 Even so Kehama now forbore his haste;
 Having within his reach whate'er he sought,
 On his own haughty power he seem'd to muse,
 Pampering his arrogant heart with silent thought.
 Before him stood the Golden Throne in sight,
 Right opposite; he could not chuse but see,
 Nor seeing chuse but wonder. Who are ye
 Who bear the Golden Throne, tormented there?
 He cried; for whom doth Destiny prepare
 The imperial seat? and why are ye but Three?

 I of the Children of Mankind was first,
 Me miserable! who, adding store to store,
 Heapt up superfluous wealth; and now accurst,
 For ever I the frantic crime deplore.


 I o'er my Brethren of Mankind the first
 Usurping power, set up a throne sublime,
 A King and Conqueror: therefore thus accurst,
 For ever I in vain repent the crime.

 I on the Children of Mankind the first,
 In God's most holy name, impos'd a tale
 Of impious falsehood; therefore thus accurst,
 For ever I in vain the crime bewail.

 Even as thou here beholdest us,
 Here we have stood, tormented thus,
 Such countless ages, that they seem to be
 Long as eternity,
 And still we are but Three.
 A Fourth will come to share
 Our pain, at yonder vacant corner bear
 His portion of the burthen, and compleat
 The golden Throne for Yamen's judgement-seat.
 Thus hath it been appointed: he must be
 Equal in guilt to us, the guilty Three.
 Kehama, come! too long we wait for thee!

 Thereat, with one accord,
 The Three took up the word, like choral song,
 Come, Rajah! Man-God! Earth's Almighty Lord!
 Kehama, come! we wait for thee too long.

 A short and sudden laugh of wondering pride
 Burst from him in his triumph: to reply
 Scornful he deign'd not; but with alter'd eye,
 Wherein some doubtful meaning seem'd to lie,
 He turn'd to Kailyal. Maiden, thus he cried,
 I need not bid thee see
 How vain it is to strive with Fate's decree,
 When hither thou hast fled to fly from me,
 And lo! even here thou find'st me at thy side.
 Mine thou must be, being doom'd with me to share
 The Amreeta-cup of immortality;
 Yea, by Myself I swear
 It hath been thus appointed. Joyfully
 Join then thy hand and heart and will with mine,
 Nor at such glorious destiny repine,
 Nor in thy folly more provoke my wrath divine.

 She answer'd; I have said. It must not be!
 Almighty as thou art,
 Thou hast put all things underneath thy feet,
 But still the resolute heart
 And virtuous will are free.
 Never, oh! never, . . never . . can there be
 Communion, Rajah, between thee and me.

 Once more, quoth he, I urge, and once alone.
 Thou seest yon Golden Throne,
 Where I anon shall set thee by my side;
 Take thou thy seat thereon,
 Kehama's willing bride,
 And I will place the Kingdoms of the World
 Beneath thy Father's feet,
 Appointing him the King of mortal men:
 Else underneath that Throne,
 The Fourth supporter, he shall stand and groan;
 Prayers will be vain to move my mercy then.


 Again the Virgin answer'd, I have said!
 Ladurlad caught her in his proud embrace,
 While on his neck she hid
 In agony her face.

 Bring forth the Amreeta-cup! Kehama cried
 To Yamen, rising sternly in his pride.
 It is within the Marble Sepulchre,
 The vanquish'd Lord of Padalon replied,
 Bid it be opened. . . . Give thy treasure up!
 Exclaim'd the Man-Almighty to the Tomb.
 And at his voice and look
 The massy fabric shook, and opened wide.
 A huge Anatomy was seen reclin'd
 Within its marble womb. Give me the Cup!
 Again Kehama cried; no other charm
 Was needed than that voice of stern command.
 From his repose the ghastly form arose,
 Put forth his bony and gigantic arm,
 And gave the Amreeta to the Rajah's hand.
 Take! drink! with accents dread the Spectre said,
 For thee and Kailyal hath it been assign'd,
 Ye only of the Children of Mankind.

 Then was the Man-Almighty's heart elate;
 This is the consummation! he exclaim'd,
 Thus have I triumphed over Death and Fate.
 Now, Seeva! look to thine abode!
 Henceforth, on equal footing we engage,
 Alike immortal now, and we will wage
 Our warfare, God to God!
 Joy fill'd his impious soul,
 And to his lips he rais'd the fatal bowl.

 Thus long the Glendoveer had stood,
 Watching the wonders of the eventful hour,
 Amaz'd but undismay'd; for in his heart
 Faith, overcoming fear, maintain'd its power.
 Nor had that faith abated, when the God
 Of Padalon was beaten down in fight;
 For then he look'd to see the heavenly might
 Of Seeva break upon them. But when now
 He saw the Amreeta in Kehama's hand,
 An impulse which denied all self-command
 In that extremity
 Stung him, and he resolved to seize the cup,
 And dare the Rajah's force in Seeva's sight.
 Forward he sprung to tempt the unequal fray,
 When lo! the Anatomy,
 With warning arm, withstood his desperate way,
 And from the Golden Throne the fiery Three
 Again, in one accord, renew'd their song,
 Kehama, come! we wait for thee too long.

 O fool of drunken hope and frantic vice!
 Madman! to seek for power beyond thy scope
 Of knowledge, and to deem
 Less than omniscience could suffice
 To wield omnipotence! O fool, to dream
 That immortality could be
 The meed of evil! . . yea thou hast it now,
 Victim of thine own wicked heart's device,
 Thou hast thine object now, and now must pay the price.

 He did not know the awful mystery
 Of that divinest cup, that as the lips
 Which touch it, even such its quality,
 Good or malignant: Madman! and he thinks
 The blessed prize is won, and joyfully he drinks.

 Then Seeva opened on the Accursed One
 His Eye of Anger: upon him alone
 The wrath-beam fell. He shudders . . . but too late;
 The deed is done,
 The dreadful liquor works the will of Fate.
 Immortal he would be,
 Immortal he remains; but through his veins
 Torture at once and immortality,
 A stream of poison doth the Amreeta run,
 Infinite everlasting agony.
 And while within the burning anguish flows,
 His outward body glows
 Like molten ore beneath the avenging eye,
 Doom'd thus to live and burn eternally.
 The fiery Three,
 Beholding him, set up a fiendish cry,
 A song of jubilee:
 Come, Brother, come! they sung; too long
 We in our torments have expected thee;
 Come, Brother, come! henceforth we bear no more
 The unequal weight; Come, Brother, we are Four!

 Vain his almightiness, for mightier pain
 Subdued all power; pain ruled supreme alone.
 And yielding to the bony hand
 The unemptied cup, he mov'd toward the throne,
 And at the vacant corner took his stand.
 Behold the Golden Throne at length compleat,
 And Yamen silently ascends the Judgement-Seat.

 For two alone, of all mankind, to me
 The Amreeta-Cup was given,
 Then said the Anatomy;
 The Man hath drank, the Woman's turn is next.
 Come, Kailyal, come, receive thy doom,
 And do the Will of Heaven! . .
 Wonder, and Fear, and Awe at once perplext
 The mortal Maiden's heart, but over all
 Hope rose triumphant. With a trembling hand,
 Obedient to his call,
 She took the fated Cup; and, lifting up
 Her eyes, where holy tears began to swell,
 Is it not your command,
 Ye heavenly Powers? as on her knees she fell,
 The pious Virgin cried;
 Ye know my innocent will, my heart sincere,
 Ye govern all things still,
 And wherefore should I fear!

 She said, and drank. The Eye of Mercy beam'd
 Upon the Maid: a cloud of fragrance steam'd
 Like incense-smoke, as all her mortal frame
 Dissolved beneath the potent agency
 Of that mysterious draught; such quality,
 From her pure touch, the fated Cup partook.
 Like one entranced she knelt,
 Feeling her body melt
 Till all but what was heavenly past away:
 Yet still she felt
 Her spirit strong within her, the same heart,
 With the same loves, and all her heavenly part,
 Unchanged, and ripen'd to such perfect state,
 In this miraculous birth, as here on Earth,
 Dimly our holiest hopes anticipate.


 Mine! mine! with rapturous joy Ereenia cried,
 Immortal now, and yet not more divine;
 Mine, mine. . . for ever mine!
 The immortal Maid replied,
 For ever, ever, thine!

 Then Yamen said, O thou to whom, by Fate,
 Alone of all mankind, this lot is given,
 Daughter of Earth, but now the Child of Heaven
 Go with thy heavenly Mate,
 Partaker now of his immortal bliss;
 Go to the Swerga Bowers,
 And there recall the hours
 Of endless happiness.

 But that sweet Angel, for she still retain'd
 Her human loves and human piety,
 As if reluctant at the God's commands,
 Linger'd, with anxious eye
 Upon her father fix'd, and spread her hands
 Toward him wistfully.
 Go! Yamen cried, nor cast that look behind
 Upon Ladurlad at this parting hour,
 For thou shalt find him in thy Mother's Bower.

 The Car, as Carmala his word obey'd,
 Mov'd on, and bore away the Maid,
 While from the Golden Throne the Lord of Death
 With love benignant, on Ladurlad smil'd,
 And gently on his head his blessing laid.
 As sweetly as a child,
 Whom neither thought disturbs nor care encumbers,
 Tir'd with long play, at close of summer day,
 Lies down and slumbers,
 Even thus as sweet a boon of sleep partaking,
 By Yamen blest, Ladurlad sunk to rest.
 Blessed that sleep! more blessed was the waking!
 For on that night a heavenly morning broke,
 The light of heaven was round him when he woke,
 And in the Swerga, in Yedillian's Bower,
 All whom he lov'd he met, to part no more.




  _The Banian Tree._--XIII. p. 4.

The _Burghut_, or Banian, often measures from twenty-four to thirty feet
in girth. It is distinguished from every other tree hitherto known, by
the very peculiar circumstance of throwing out roots from all its
branches. These, being pendant, and perfectly lax, in time reach the
ground, which they penetrate, and ultimately become substantial props to
the very massy horizontal boughs, which, but for such a support, must
either be stopt in their growth, or give way, from their own weight.
Many of these _quondam_ roots, changing their outward appearance from a
brown rough rind to a regular bark, not unlike that of the beech,
increase to a great diameter. They may be often seen from four to five
feet in circumference, and {142} in a true perpendicular line. An
observer, ignorant of their nature, might think them artificial, and
that they had been placed for the purpose of sustaining the boughs from
which they originated. They proceed from all the branches
indiscriminately, whether near or far removed from the ground. They
appear like new swabs, such as are in use on board ships: however, few
reach sufficiently low to take a hold of the soil, except those of the
lower branches. I have seen some do so from a great height, but they
were thin, and did not promise well. Many of the ramifications pendant
from the higher boughs are seen to turn round the lower branches, but
without any obvious effect on either; possibly, however, they may derive
sustenance, even from that partial mode of communication. The height of
a full-grown Banian may be from sixty to eighty feet; and many of them,
I am fully confident, cover at least two acres. Their leaves are similar
to, but rather larger than those of the laurel. The wood of the trunk is
used only for fuel; it is light and brittle; but the pillars formed by
the roots are valuable, being extremely elastic and light, working with
ease, and possessing great toughness: it resembles a good kind of
ash.--_Oriental Field Sports_, vol. ii. p. 113.


  ----_The Well_
  _Which they, with sacrifice of rural pride,_
  _Have wedded to the Cocoa-Grove beside._--XIII. p. 5.

It is a general practice, that, when a plantation is made, a well should
be dug at one of its sides. The well and the tope are married; a
ceremony at which all the village attends, and in which often much money
is expended. The well is considered as the husband, as its waters, which
are copiously furnished to the young trees during the first hot season,
are supposed to cherish and impregnate them. Though vanity and
superstition are evidently the basis of these institutions, yet we
cannot help admiring their effects, so beautifully ornamenting a torrid
country, and affording such general convenience.--_Oriental Sports_, p.

  _Tanks._--XIII. p. 5.

Some of these tanks are of very great extent, often covering eight or
ten acres; and, besides having steps of masonry, perhaps fifty or sixty
feet in breadth, are faced with brick-work, plastered in the most
substantial manner. The corners are generally ornamented with round or
polygon pavilions of a neat appearance.--_Oriental Sports_, vol. ii. p.


There are two kinds of tanks, which we confound under one common name,
though nothing can be more different. The first is the _Eray_, which is
formed by throwing a mound or bank across a valley or hollow ground, so
that the rain water collects in the upper part of the valley, and is let
out on the lower part by sluices, for the purposes of cultivation. The
other kind is the _Culam_, which is formed by digging out the earth, and
is destined for supplying the inhabitants with water for domestic
purposes. The _Culams_ are very frequently lined on all the four sides
with cut stone, and are the most elegant works of the

Where there are no springs or rivers to furnish them with water, as it
is in the northern parts, where there are but two or three springs, they
supply this defect by saving of rain water; which they do by casting up
great banks in convenient places, to stop and contain the rains that
fall, and so save it till they have occasion to let it out into the
fields: They are made rounding, like a C, or half-moon. Every town has
one of these ponds, which, if they can get but filled with water, they
count their corn is as good as in the barn. It was no small work to the
ancient inhabitants to make all these banks, of which there is a great
number, being some two, some three fathoms in height, and in length some
above a mile, some {145} less, not all of a size. They are now grown
over with great trees, and so seem natural hills. When they would use
the water, they cut a gap in one end of the bank, and so draw the water
by little and little, as they have occasion, for the watering their

These ponds, in dry weather, dry up quite. If they should dig these
ponds deep, it would not be so convenient for them. It would indeed
contain the water well, but would not so well, nor in such plenty, empty
out itself into their grounds. In these ponds are alligators, which,
when the water is dried up, depart into the woods, and down to the
rivers, and, in the time of rains, come up again into the ponds. They
are but small, nor do use to catch people, nevertheless they stand in
some fear of them.

The corn they sow in these parts is of that sort that is soonest ripe,
fearing lest their waters should fail. As the water dries out of these
ponds, they make use of them for fields, treading the mud with
buffaloes, and then sowing rice thereon, and frequently casting up water
with scoops on it.--KNOX, p. 9.

  _The Lotus._--XIII. p. 5.

The lotus abounds in the numerous lakes and ponds of the province of
Garah; and we had the pleasure of comparing {146} several varieties;
single and full, white, and tinged with deep or with faint tints of red.
To a near view, the simple elegance of the white lotus gains no
accession of beauty from the multiplication of its petals, nor from the
tinge of gaudy hue; but the richest tint is most pleasing, when a lake,
covered with full-blown lotas, is contemplated.--_Journey from Mirzapur
to Nagpur_.--Asiatic Annual Register, 1806.

  _They built them up a Bower, &c._--XIII. p. 5.

The materials of which these houses are made are always easy to be
procured, and the structure is so simple, that a spacious, and by no
means uncomfortable dwelling, suited to the climate, may be erected in
one day. Our habitation, consisting of three small rooms, and a hall
open to the north, in little more than four hours was in readiness for
our reception; fifty or sixty labourers completed it in that time, and
on emergency could perform the work in much less. Bamboos, grass for
thatching, and the ground rattan, are all the materials requisite: not a
nail is used in the whole edifice: A row of strong bamboos, from eight
to ten feet high, are fixed firm in the ground, which describe the
outline, and are the supporters of the building: smaller bamboos are
then tied horizontally, by strips of the ground rattan, to these upright
posts: {147} The walls, composed of bamboo mats, are fastened to the
sides with similar ligatures: bamboo rafters are quickly raised, and a
roof formed, over which thatch is spread in regular layers, and bound to
the roof by filaments of rattan. A floor of bamboo grating is next laid
in the inside, elevated two or three feet above the ground: this grating
is supported on bamboos, and covered with mats and carpets. Thus ends
the process, which is not more simple than effectual. When the workmen
take pains, a house of this sort is proof against very inclement
weather. We experienced, during our stay at Meeday, a severe storm of
wind and rain, but no water penetrated, nor thatch escaped: and if the
tempest should blow down the house, the inhabitants would run no risk of
having, their brains knocked out, or their bones broken; the fall of the
whole fabric would not crush a lady's lap-dog.--SYMES's _Embassy to

  _Jungle-grass._--XIII. p. 6.

In this district the long grass called jungle is more prevalent than I
ever yet noticed. It rises to the height of seven or eight feet, and is
topped with a beautiful white down, resembling a swan's feather. It is
the mantle with which nature here covers all the uncultivated ground,
and at once veils the indolence of the people and the nakedness {148} of
their land. It has a fine shewy appearance, as it undulates in the wind,
like the waves of the sea. Nothing but the want of greater variety to
its colour prevents it from being one of the finest and most beautiful
objects in that rich store of productions with which nature
spontaneously supplies the improvident natives.--TENNANT.

  _In such libations, pour'd in open glades,_
  _Beside clear streams and solitary shades,_
  _The Spirits of the virtuous dead delight._--XIII. p. 6.

The Hindoos are enjoined by the _Veds_ to offer a cake, which is called
_Peenda_, to the ghosts of their ancestors, as far back as the third
generation. This ceremony is performed on the day of the new moon in
every month. The offering of water is in like manner commanded to be
performed daily; and this ceremony is called _Tarpan_, to satisfy, to
appease. The souls of such men as have left children to continue their
generation, are supposed to be transported, immediately upon quitting
their bodies, into a certain region called the _Peetree Log_, where they
may continue in proportion to their former virtues, provided these
ceremonies be not neglected; otherwise they are precipitated into
_Nark_, and doomed to be born again in the bodies of unclean beasts; and
until, by repeated {149} regenerations, all their sins are done away,
and they attain such a degree of perfection as will entitle them to what
is called _Mooktee_, eternal salvation, by which is understood a release
from future transmigration, and an absorption in the nature of the
godhead, who is called Brahm.--WILKINS. _Note to the Bhagvat Geeta_.

The divine names are always pleased with an oblation in empty glades,
naturally clean, on the banks of rivers, and in solitary spots.--_Inst.
of Menu_.

  _Voomdavee._--XIII. p. 7.

This wife of Veeshnoo is the Goddess of the Earth and of Patience. No
direct adoration is paid her; but she is held to be a silent and
attentive spectator of all that passes in the world.--KINDERSLEY.

  _Tassel Grass._--XIII. p. 8.

The _Surput_, or tassel-grass, which is much the same as the
guinea-grass, grows to the height of twelve or fourteen feet. Its stem
becomes so thick as to resemble in some measure a reed. It is very
strong, and grows very luxuriantly: it is even used as a fence against
cattle; for which purpose it is often planted on banks, excavated from
ditches, to enclose fields of corn, &c. It grows wild in all the
uncultivated parts of India, but especially in the {150} lower
provinces, in which it occupies immense tracts; sometimes mixing with,
and rising above coppices; affording an asylum for elephants,
rhinoceroses, tygers, &c. It frequently is laid by high winds, of which
breeding sows fail not to take advantage, by forming their nests, and
concealing their young under the prostrate grass.--_Oriental Sports_,
vol. i. p. 32.

  _Lo, from his trunk, upturn'd, aloft he flings_
  _The grateful shower, and now,_
  _Plucking the broad-leav'd bough_
  _Of yonder plane,--he moves it to and fro._--XIII. p. 9.

Nature has provided the elephant with means to cool its heated surface,
by enabling it to draw from its throat, by the aid of its trunk, a
copious supply of saliva, which the animal spurts with force very
frequently all over its skin. It also sucks up dust, and blows it over
its back and sides, to keep off the flies, and may often be seen fanning
itself with a large bough, which it uses with great ease and
dexterity.--_Oriental Sports_, vol. i. p. 100.

  _Till his strong temples, bathed with sudden dews,_
  _Their fragrance of delight and love diffuse._--XIII p. 9.

The Hindoo poets frequently allude to the fragrant juice which oozes, at
certain seasons, from small ducts {151} in the temples of the male
elephant, and is useful in relieving him from the redundant moisture,
with which he is then oppressed; and they even describe the bees as
allured by the scent, and mistaking it for that of the sweetest flowers.
When Crishna visited Sanc'ha-dwip, and had destroyed the demon who
infested that delightful country, he passed along the bank of a river,
and was charmed with a delicious odour, which its waters diffused in
their course: He was eager to view the source of so fragrant a stream,
but was informed by the natives that it flowed from the temples of an
elephant, immensely large, milk-white, and beautifully formed; that he
governed a numerous race of elephants; and that the odoriferous fluid
which exuded from his temples in the season of love had formed the
river; that the Devas, or inferior gods, and the Apsarases, or nymphs,
bathed and sported in its waters, impassioned and intoxicated with the
liquid perfume.--WILFORD. _Asiatic Researches_.

  _The antic monkeys, whose wild gambols late_
  _Shook the whole wood._--XIII. p. 10.

They are so numerous on the island of Bulama, says Captain Beaver in his
excellent book, that I have seen, on a calm evening, when there was not
an air sufficiently strong to agitate a leaf, the whole surrounding wood
{152} in as much motion, from their playful gambols among its branches,
as if it had blown a strong wind.

  _Not that in emulous skill that sweetest bird_
  _Her rival strain would try._--XIII. p. 10.

I have been assured, by a credible eye-witness, that two wild antelopes
used often to come from their woods to the place where a more savage
beast, Sirajuddaulah, entertained himself with concerts, and that they
listened to the strains with an appearance of pleasure, till the
monster, in whose soul there was no music, shot one of them, to display
his archery. A learned native of this country told me that he had
frequently seen the most venomous and malignant snakes leave their
holes, upon hearing tunes on a flute, which, as he supposed, gave them
peculiar delight. An intelligent Persian, who repeated his story again
and again, and permitted me to write it down from his lips, declared, he
had more than once been present when a celebrated lutanist, _Mirza
Mohammed_, surnamed _Bulbul_, was playing to a large company, in a grove
near _Shiraz_, where he distinctly saw the nightingales trying to vie
with the musician; sometimes warbling on the trees, sometimes fluttering
from branch to branch, as if they wished to approach the instrument
whence the melody proceeded, and at length dropping on {153} the ground,
in a kind of ecstacy, from which they were soon raised, he assured me,
by a change of the mode. I hardly know, says Sir William Jones, how to
disbelieve the testimony of men who had no system of their own to
support, and could have no interest in deceiving me.--_Asiatic

  _No idle ornaments deface_
  _Her natural grace._--XIII. p. 10.

The Hindoo Wife, in Sir William Jones's poem, describes her own

  Nor were my night thoughts, I confess,
  Free from solicitude for dress;
  How best to bind my flowing hair
  With art, yet with an artless air,--
  My hair, like musk in scent and hue,
  Oh! blacker far, and sweeter too!
  In what nice braid, or glossy curl,
  To fix a diamond or a pearl,
  And where to smooth the love-spread toils
  With nard or jasmin's fragrant oils;
  How to adjust the golden _Teic_,[30]
  And most adorn my forehead sleek;
  What _Condals_[31] should emblaze my ears,
  Like _Seita's_[32] waves, or _Seita's_[33] tears;
  How elegantly to dispose
  Bright circlets for my well-form'd nose;
  With strings of rubies how to deck,
  Or emerald rows, my stately neck;
  While some that ebon tower embraced,
  Some pendent sought my slender waist;
  How next my purfled veil to chuse
  From silken stores of varied hues,
  Which would attract the roving view,
  Pink, violet, purple, orange, blue;
  The loveliest mantle to select,
  Or unembellished or bedeck'd;
  And how my twisted scarf to place
  With most inimitable grace,
  (Too thin its warp, too fine its woof,
  For eyes of males not beauty-proof;)
  What skirts the mantle best would suit,
  Ornate, with stars, or tissued fruit,
  The flower-embroidered or the plain,
  With silver or with golden vein;
  The _Chury_[34] bright, which gayly shows
  Fair objects aptly to compose;
  How each smooth arm, and each soft wrist,
  By richest _Cosees_[35] might be kiss'd,
  While some my taper ankles round,
  With sunny radiance tinged the ground.

See how he kisses the lip of my rival, and imprints on her forehead an
ornament of pure musk, black as the young antelope on the lunar orb!
Now, like the husband of _Reti_, he fixes white blossoms on her dark
locks, where they gleam like flashes of lightning among the curled
clouds. On her breasts, like two firmaments, he places a string of gems
like a radiant constellation; he binds on her arms, graceful as the
stalks of the water-lily, and adorned with hands glowing like the petals
of its flower, a bracelet of sapphires, which resemble a cluster of
bees. Ah! see how he ties round her waist a rich girdle illumined with
golden bells, which seem to laugh as they tinkle, at the inferior
brightness of the leafy garlands which lovers hang on their bowers, to
propitiate the god of {156} desire. He places her soft foot, as he
reclines by her side, on his ardent bosom, and stains it with the ruddy
hue of Yavaca.--_Songs of Jayadeva_.

  _Sandal-streak._--XIII. p. 10.

The Hindoos, especially after bathing, paint their faces with ochres and
sandal-wood ground very fine into a pulp.

The custom is principally confined to the male sex, though the women
occasionally wear a round spot, either of sandal, which is of a light
dun colour, or of _singuiff_, that is, a preparation of vermilion,
between the eye-brows, and a stripe of the same running up the front of
the head, in the furrow made according to the general practice of
dividing all the frontal hair equally to the right and left, where it is
rendered smooth, and glazed by a thick mucilage, made by steeping
lintseed for a while in water. When dry, the hair is all firmly matted
together, and will retain its form for many days together.--_Oriental
Sports_, vol. i. p. 271.

  _Nor arm, nor ankle-ring._--XIII. p. 10.

Glass rings are universally worn by the women of the Decan, as an
ornament on the wrists; and their applying closely to the arm is
considered as a mark of delicacy {157} and beauty, for they must of
course be past over the hand. In doing this a girl seldom escapes
without drawing blood, and rubbing part of the skin from her hand; and
as every well-dressed girl has a number of rings on each arm, and as
these are frequently breaking, the poor creatures suffer much from their
love of admiration.--BUCHANAN.

  _The dear retreat._--XIII. p. 11.

There is a beautiful passage in Statius, which may be quoted here: It is
in that poet's best manner:

  Qualis vicino volucris jam sedula partu,
  Jamque timens quâ fronde domum suspendat inanem,
  Providet hinc ventos, hinc anxia cogitat angues,
  Hinc homines; tandem dubiæ placet umbra, novisque
  Vix stetit in ramis, et protinus arbor amatur.
                             _Achil_. ii. 212.

  _Jaga-Naut._--XIV. p. 14.

This temple is to the Hindoos what Mecca is to the Mahommedans. It is
resorted to by pilgrims from every quarter of India. It is the chief
seat of Brahminical power, and a strong-hold of their superstition. At
the {158} annual festival of the Butt Jattra, seven hundred thousand
persons (as has been computed by the Pundits in College) assemble at
this place. The number of deaths in a single year, caused by voluntary
devotement, by imprisonment for non-payment of the demands of the
Brahmins, or by the scarcity of provisions for such a multitude, is
incredible. The precincts of the place are covered with

Many thousands of people are employed in carrying water from Hurdwar to
Juggernat, for the uses of that temple. It is there supposed to be
peculiarly holy, as it issues from what is called the Cow's Mouth. This
superstitious notion is the cause of as much lost labour as would long
since have converted the largest province of Asia into a garden. The
numbers thus employed are immense; they travel with two flasks of the
water slung over the shoulder by means of an elastic piece of bamboo.
The same quantity which employs, perhaps, fifteen thousand persons,
might easily be carried down the Ganges in a few boats annually. Princes
and families of distinction have this water carried to them in all parts
of Hindostan; it is drank at feasts, as well as upon religious

A small river near Kinouge is held by some as even more efficacious in
washing away moral defilement than {159} the Ganges itself. Dr Tennant
says, that a person in Ceylon drinks daily of this water, though at the
distance of, perhaps, three thousand miles, and at the expense of five
thousand rupees per month!

No distinction of casts is made at this temple, but all, like a nation
descended from one common stock, eat, drink, and make merry

  _The seven-headed Idol._--XIV. p. 15.

The idol of _Jaggenat_ is in shape like a serpent, with seven heads; and
on the cheeks of each head it hath the form of a wing upon each cheek,
which wings open and shut and flap as it is carried in a stately
chariot, and the idol in the midst of it; and one of the _moguls_
sitting behind it in the chariot, upon a convenient place, with a
canopy, to keep the sun from injuring of it.

When I, with horror, beheld these strange things, I called to mind the
eighteenth chapter of the _Revelations_, and the first verse, and
likewise the sixteenth and seventeenth verses of the said chapter, in
which places there is a beast, and such idolatrous worship, mentioned;
and those sayings in that text are herein truly accomplished in the
sixteenth verse; for the _Bramins_ are all marked in the forehead, and
likewise all that come to worship the {160} idol are marked also in
their foreheads.--BRUTON. _Churchill's Collection_,

  _The Chariot of the God._--XIV. p. 15.

The size of the chariot is not exaggerated. Speaking of other such,
Niecamp says, _Currus tam horrendæ magnitudinis sunt, ut vel mille
homines uni trahendo vix sufficiant._--i. 10. § 18.

They have built a great chariot, that goeth on sixteen wheels of a side,
and every wheel is five feet in height, and the chariot itself is about
thirty feet high. In this chariot, on their great festival days, at
night, they place their wicked god _Jaggarnat_; and all the _Bramins_,
being in number nine thousand, then attend this great idol, besides of
_ashmen_ and _fackeires_ some thousands, or more than a good many.

The chariot is most richly adorned with most rich and costly ornaments;
and the aforesaid wheels are placed very complete in a round circle, so
artificially, that every wheel doth its proper office without any
impediment; for the chariot is aloft, and in the centre betwixt the
wheels: they have also more than two thousand lights with them: And this
chariot, with the idol, is also drawn with the greatest and best men of
the town; and they are so eager and greedy to draw it, that whosoever,
{161} by shouldering, crowding, shoving, heaving, thrusting, or any
violent way, can but come to lay a hand upon the ropes, they think
themselves blessed and happy: and, when it is going along the city,
there are many that will offer themselves as a sacrifice to this idol,
and desperately lie down on the ground, that the chariot-wheels may run
over them, whereby they are killed outright; some get broken arms, some
broken legs; so that many of them are so destroyed, and by this means
they think to merit heaven.--BRUTON. _Churchill's Collection_.

They sometimes lie down in the track of this machine a few hours before
its arrival, and, taking a soporiferous draught, hope to meet death

  _A harlot-band._--XIV. p. 19.

There are in India common women, called Wives of the Idol. When a woman
has made a vow to obtain children, if she brings into the world a
beautiful daughter, she carries her to _Bod_, so their idol is called,
with whom she leaves her. This girl, when she is arrived at a proper
age, takes an apartment in the public place, hangs a curtain before the
door, and waits for those who are passing, as well Indians as those of
other sects among whom this debauchery is permitted. She prostitutes
{162} herself for a certain price, and all that she can thus acquire she
carries to the priest of the idol, that he may apply it to the service
of the temple. Let us, says the Mohammedan relater, bless the almighty
and glorious God, that he has chosen us, to exempt us from all the
crimes into which men are led by their unbelief.--_Anciennes Relations_.

Incited, unquestionably, says Mr. Maurice, by the hieroglyphic emblem of
vice so conspicuously elevated, and so strikingly painted in the temples
of Mahadeo, the priests of that deity industriously selected the most
beautiful females that could be found, and, in their tenderest years,
with great pomp and solemnity, consecrated them (as it is impiously
called) to the service of the presiding divinity of the pagoda. They
were trained up in every art to delude and to delight; and, to the
fascination of external beauty, their artful betrayers added the
attractions arising from mental accomplishments. Thus was an invariable
rule of the Hindoos, _that women have no concern with literature_,
dispensed with upon this infamous occasion. The moment these hapless
victims reached maturity, they fell victims to the lust of the Brahmins.
They were early taught to practise the most alluring blandishments, to
roll the expressive eye of wanton pleasure, and to invite to criminal
indulgence, by {163} stealing upon the beholder the tender look of
voluptuous languishing. They were instructed to mould their elegant and
airy forms into the most enticing attitudes and the most lascivious
gestures, while the rapid and graceful motion of their feet, adorned
with golden bells, and glittering with jewels, kept unison with the
exquisite melody of their voices. Every pagoda has a band of these young
syrens, whose business, on great festivals, is to dance in public before
the idol, to sing hymns in his honour, and in private to enrich the
treasury of that pagoda with the wages of prostitution. These women are
not, however, regarded in a dishonourable light; they are considered as
_wedded to the idol_, and they partake of the veneration paid to him.
They are forbidden even to desert the pagoda where they are educated,
and are never permitted to marry; but the offspring, if any, of their
criminal embraces are considered as sacred to the idol: the boys are
taught to play on the sacred instruments used at the festivals, and the
daughters are devoted to the abandoned occupations of their
mothers.--_Indian Antiquities_.

These impostors take a young maid, of the fairest they can meet with, to
be the bride, (as they speak and bear the besotted people in hand) of
_Jagannat_, and they leave her all night in the temple (whither they
{164} have carried her) with the idol, making her believe that
_Jagannat_ himself will come and embrace her, and appointing her to ask
him, whether it will be a fruitful year, what kind of processions,
feasts, prayers, and alms he demands to be made for it. In the mean time
one of these lustful priests enters at night by a little back-door into
the temple, deflowereth this young maid, and maketh her believe any
thing he pleaseth; and the next day, being transported from this temple
into another with the same magnificence, she was carried before upon the
chariot of triumph, on the side of _Jagannat_ her bridegroom: these
_Brahmans_ make her say aloud, before all the people, whatsoever she had
been taught of these cheats, as if she had learnt it from the very mouth
of _Jagannat._--BERNIER.

  _Baly._--XV. p. 26.

The fifth incarnation was in a Bramin dwarf, under the name of Vamen; it
was wrought to restrain the pride of the giant Baly. The latter, after
having conquered the gods, expelled them from Sorgon; he was generous,
true to his word, compassionate, and charitable. Vichenou, under the
form of a very little Bramin, presented himself before him while he was
sacrificing, and asked him for three paces of land to build a hut. Baly
ridiculed the {165} apparent imbecility of the dwarf, in telling him,
that he ought not to limit his demand to a bequest so trifling; that his
generosity could bestow a much larger donation of land. Vamen answered,
That, being of so small a stature, what he asked was more than
sufficient. The prince immediately granted his request, and, to ratify
his donation, poured water into his right hand; which was no sooner done
than the dwarf grew so prodigiously, that his body filled the universe!
He measured the earth with one pace, and the heavens with another, and
then summoned Baly to give him his word for the third. The prince then
recognised Vichenou, adored him, and presented his head to him; but the
god, satisfied with his submission, sent him to govern the Padalon, and
permitted him to return every year to the earth, the day of the full
moon, in the month of November.--SONNERAT's _Voyages_, vol. i. p. 24.

  _The sacred cord._--XV. p. 30.

The Brahmans who officiate at the temples generally go with their heads
uncovered, and the upper part of the body naked. The _Zennar_, or sacred
string, is hung round the body from the left shoulder; a piece of white
cotton cloth is wrapped round the loins, which descends under the knee,
but lower on the left side than on the {166} other; and in cold weather
they sometimes cover their bodies with a shawl, and their heads with a
red cap.--The _Zennar_ is made of a particular kind of perennial cotton,
called _Verma_: it is composed of a certain number of threads of a fixed
length: the _Zennar_ worn by the Khatries has fewer threads than that
worn by the Brahmans, and that worn by the Bhyse fewer than that worn by
the Khatries; but those of the Sodra cast are excluded from this
distinction, none of them being permitted to wear it.--CRAUFURD.

  _The City of Baly._--XV. p. 31.

  Ruins of Malâbalipûr, the City of the great Baly.

A rock, or rather hill of stone, is that which first engrosses the
attention on approaching the place; for as it rises abruptly out of a
level plain of great extent, consists chiefly of one single stone, and
is situated very near to the sea-beach, it is such a kind of object as
an inquisitive traveller would naturally turn aside to examine. Its
shape is also singular and romantic, and, from a distant view, has an
appearance like some antique and lofty edifice. On coming near to the
foot of the rock from the north, works of imagery and sculpture crowd so
thick upon the eye, as might seem to favour the idea of {167} a
petrified town, like those that have been fabled in different parts of
the world, by too credulous travellers. Proceeding on by the foot of the
hill, on the side facing the sea, there is a pagoda rising out of the
ground, of one solid stone, about sixteen or eighteen feet high, which
seems to have been cut upon the spot, out of a detached rock, that has
been found of a proper size for that purpose. The top is arched, and the
style of architecture according to which it is formed different from any
now used in those parts. A little further on, there appears, upon a huge
surface of stone, that juts out a little from the side of the hill, a
numerous group of human figures, in bass-relief, considerably larger
than life, representing the most remarkable persons whose actions are
celebrated in the Nahâbharit, each of them in an attitude, or with
weapons, or other insignia, expressive of his character, or of some one
of his most famous exploits. All these figures are doubtless much less
distinct than they were at first; for upon comparing these and the rest
of the sculptures that are exposed to the sea-air, with others at the
same place, whose situation has afforded them protection from that
element, the difference is striking; the former being every where much
defaced, while the others are fresh as recently finished. An excavation
in another part of the east side of the great rock appears {168} to have
been made on the same plan, and for the same purpose, that Chowltries
are usually built in that country, that is to say, for the accommodation
of travellers. The rock is hollowed out to the size of a spacious room,
and two or three rows of pillars are left, as a seeming support to the
mountainous mass of stone which forms the roof.

The ascent of the hill on the north is, from its natural shape, gradual
and easy at first, and is in other parts rendered more so, by very
excellent steps, cut out in several places where the communication would
be difficult or impracticable without them. A winding stair of this sort
leads to a kind of temple cut out of the solid rock, with some figures
of idols in high relief upon the walls, very well finished. From this
temple there are flights of steps, that seem to have led to some edifice
formerly standing upon the hill; nor does it seem absurd to suppose that
this may have been a palace, to which this temple may have appertained;
for, besides the small detached range of stairs that are here and there
cut in the rock, and seem as if they had once led to different parts of
one great building, there appear in many places small water channels cut
also in the rock, as if for drains to an house; and the whole top of the
hill is strewed with small round pieces of brick, which may be supposed,
{169} from their appearance, to have been worn down to their present
form during the lapse of many ages. On a plain surface of the rock,
which may once have served as the floor of some apartment, there is a
platform of stone, about 8 or 9 feet long, by 3 or 4 wide, in a
situation rather elevated, with two or three steps leading up to it,
perfectly resembling a couch or bed, and a lion very well executed at
the upper end of it, by way of pillow; the whole of one piece, being
part of the hill itself. This the Bramins, inhabitants of the place,
call the bed of Dhermarâjah, or Judishter, the eldest of the five
brothers, whose exploits are the leading subject in the Mahabhârit. And
at a considerable distance from this, at such a distance, indeed, as the
apartments of the women might be supposed to be from that of the men, is
a bath, excavated also from the rock, with steps in the inside, which
the Bramins call the Bath of Dropedy, the wife of Judishter and his
brothers. How much credit is due to this tradition, and whether this
stone couch may not have been anciently used as a kind of throne, rather
than a bed, is matter for future enquiry. A circumstance, however, which
may seem to favour this idea is, that a throne, in the Shanscrit and
other Hindoo languages, is called _Singhâsen_, which is compounded of
_Sing_, a lion, and _ásen_, a seat.


But though these works may be deemed stupendous, they are surpassed by
others that are to be seen at the distance of about a mile, or mile and
half, to the south of the hill. They consist of two pagodas, of about
30 feet long, by 20 feet wide, and about as many in height, cut out of
the solid rock, and each consisting originally of one single stone.
Their form is different from the style of architecture according to
which idol temples are now built in that country. These sculptures
approach nearer to the Gothic taste, being surmounted by arched roofs,
or domes, not semicircular, but composed of two segments of circles
meeting in a point at top. Near these also stand an elephant full as big
as life, and a lion much larger than the natural size, both hewn also
out of one stone.

The great rock is about 50 or 100 yards from the sea; but close to the
sea are the remains of a pagoda built of brick, and dedicated to Sîb,
the greatest part of which has evidently been swallowed up by that
element; for the door of the innermost apartment, in which the idol is
placed, and before which there are always two or three spacious courts
surrounded with walls, is now washed by the waves, and the pillar used
to discover the meridian at the time of founding the pagoda is seen
standing at some distance in the sea. In the neighbourhood of {171} this
building there are some detached rocks, washed also by the waves, on
which there appear sculptures, though now much worn and defaced: And the
natives of the place declared to the writer of this account, that the
more aged people among them remembered to have seen the tops of several
pagodas far out in the sea, which, being covered with copper, (probably
gilt,) were particularly visible at sun-rise, as their shining surface
used then to reflect the sun's rays, but that now that effect was no
longer produced, as the copper had since become incrusted with mould and
verdigrease.--CHAMBERS. _Asiatic Researches_.

  _Thou hast been called, O Sleep! the friend of Woe,_
  _But 'tis the happy who have call'd thee so._--XV. p. 36.

Daniel has a beautiful passage concerning Richard II.--sufficiently
resembling this part of the poem to be inserted here:

   To _Flint_, from thence, unto a restless bed,
  That miserable night he comes convey'd;
  Poorly provided, poorly followed,
  Uncourted, unrespected, unobey'd;
  Where, if uncertain Sleep but hovered
  Over the drooping cares that heavy weigh'd,
  Millions of figures Fantasy presents
  Unto that sorrow wakened grief augments.

   His new misfortune makes deluded Sleep
  Say 'twas not so:--false dreams the truth deny:
  Wherewith he starts; feels waking cares do creep
  Upon his soul, and gives his dream the lie,
  Then sleeps again:--and then again as deep
  Deceits of darkness mock his misery.
              _Civil War_, Book II. st. 52, 53.

  _The Aullay._--XVI. p. 40.

This monster of Hindoo imagination is a horse with the trunk of an
elephant, but bearing about the same proportion to the elephant in size,
that the elephant itself does to a common sheep. In one of the prints to
Mr. Kindersley's "Specimens of Hindoo Literature," an aullay is
represented taking up an elephant with his trunk.

  _----Did then the Ocean wage_
  _His war for love and envy, not in rage,_
  _O thou fair City, that he spares thee thus?_--XVI. p. 40.

Malecheren, (which is probably another name for Baly), in an excursion
which he made one day alone, and in {173} disguise, came to a garden in
the environs of his city Mahâbalipoor, where was a fountain so
inviting, that two celestial nymphs had come down to bathe there. The
Rajah became enamoured of one of them, who condescended to allow of his
attachment to her; and she and her sister nymph used thenceforward to
have frequent interviews with him in that garden. On one of those
occasions they brought with them a male inhabitant of the heavenly
regions, to whom they introduced the Rajah; and between him and
Malecheren a strict friendship ensued; in consequence of which he
agreed, at the Rajah's earnest request, to carry him in disguise to see
the court of the divine Inder,--a favour never before granted to any
mortal. The Rajah returned from thence with new ideas of splendour and
magnificence, which he immediately adopted in regulating his court and
his retinue, and in beautifying his seat of government. By this means
Mahâbalipoor became soon celebrated beyond all the cities of the earth;
and on account of its magnificence having been brought to the gods
assembled at the court of Inder, their jealousy was so much excited at
it, that they sent orders to the God of the Sea to let loose his
billows, and overflow a place which impiously pretended to vie in
splendour with their celestial mansions. This {174} command he obeyed,
and the city was at once overflowed by that furious element, nor has it
ever since been able to rear its head.--CHAMBERS. _Asiat. Res._

  _Round those strange waters they repair._--XVI. p. 44.

In the Bahia dos Artifices, which is between the river Jagoarive and S.
Miguel, there are many springs of fresh water, which may be seen at low
tide, and these springs are frequented by fish and by the sea-cow, which
they say comes to drink there.--_Noticias do Brazil_. MSS. i. 8.

The inhabitants of the Feroe Islands seek for cod in places where there
is a fresh-water spring at the bottom.--LANDT.

  _The Sheckra._--XVII. p. 65.

This weapon, which is often to be seen in one of the wheel-spoke hands
of a Hindoo god, resembles a quoit: the external edge is sharp: it is
held in the middle, and, being whirled along, cuts wherever it strikes.

  _The writing which, at thy nativity,_
  _All-knowing Nature wrought upon thy brain._
  --XVIII. p. 69.

Brahma is considered as the immediate creator of all things, and
particularly as the disposer of each person's {175} fate, which he
inscribes within the skull of every created being, and which the gods
themselves cannot avert.--KINDERSLEY, p. 21. NIECAMP. vol. i. p. 10.
§ 7.

It is by the sutures of the skull that these lines of destiny are
formed. See also a note to Thalaba, (vol. i. p. 260, second edition,)
upon a like superstition of the Mahommedans.

_Quand on leur reproche quclque vice, ou qu'on les reprend d'une
mauvaise action, ils répondent froidement, que cela est écrit sur leur
tête, et qu'ils n'ont pu faire autrement. Si vous paroissez étonné de
ce langage nouveau, et que vous demandiez à voir oú cela est ecrit,
ils vous montrent les diverses jointures du crâne de leur tête,
prétendant que les sutures même sont les caracteres de cette écriture
mysterieuse. Si vous les pressez de dechiffrer ces caracteres, et de
vous faire connoitre ce qu'ils signifient, ils avouent qu'ils ne le
sçavent pas. Mais puisque vous ne sçavez pas lire cette ecriture,
disois-je quelquefois à ces gens entêtés, qui est-ce donc qui vous la
lit? qui estce qui vous en explique le sens, et qui vous fait connoitre
ce qu'elle contient? D'ailleurs ces pretendus caracteres etant les memes
sur la tête de tous les hommes, d' oú vient qu'ils agissent si
différemment, et qu'ils sont si contraires les uns aux autres dans
leurs vues, dans leurs desseins, et dans leurs projets?_


_Les Brames m'ecoutoient de sang froid, et sans s'inguieter ni des
contradictions oú ils tomboient, ni des consequences ridicules qu'ils
etoient obligés d'avouer, Enfin, lorsgu'ils se sentoient vivement
presses, toute leur ressource éloit de se retirer sans rien dire._--P.
MAUDUIT. Lettres Edifiantes, t. x. p. 248.

  _The Seven Earths._--XIX. p. 77.

The seas which surround these earths are, 1. of salt water, inclosing
our inmost earth; 2. of fresh water; 3. of _tyre_, curdled milk; 4. of
_ghee_, clarified butter; 5. of _cauloo_, a liquor drawn from the
_pullum_ tree; 6. of liquid sugar; 7. of milk. The whole system is
inclosed in one broad circumference of pure gold, beyond which reigns
impenetrable darkness.--KINDERSLEY.

I know not whether the following fable was invented to account for the
saltness of our sea:

"Agastya is recorded to have been very low in stature; and one day,
previously to the rectifying the too oblique posture of the earth,
walking with Veeshnu on the shore of the ocean, the insolent Deep asked
the God, who that dwarf was strutting by his side? Veeshnu replied, it
was the patriarch Agastya going to restore the earth to its true
balance. The sea, in utter contempt of his pigmy, form, dashed him with
his spray as he passed along; on, which the sage, greatly incensed at
the designed affront, {177} scooped up some of the water in the hollow
of his hand, and drank it off: he again and again repeated the draught,
nor desisted till he had drained the bed of the ocean of the entire
volume of its waters. Alarmed at this effect of his holy indignation,
and dreading an universal drought, the Devatas made intercession with
Agastya to relent from his anger, and again restore an element so
necessary to the existence of nature, both animate and inanimate.
Agastya, pacified, granted their request, and discharged the imbibed
fluid in a way becoming the histories of a gross physical people to
relate, but by no means proper for this page; away, however, that
evinced his sovereign power, while it marked his ineffable contempt for
the vain fury of an element, contending with a being armed with the
delegated power of the Creator of all things. After this miracle, the
earth being, by the same power, restored to its just balance, Agastya
and Veeshnu separated: when the latter, to prevent any similar accident
occurring, commanded the _great serpent_ (that is, of the sphere) to
wind its enormous folds round the seven continents, of which, according
to Sanscreet geography, the earth consists, and appointed, as perpetual
guardians, to watch over and protect it, the eight powerful genii, so
renowned in the Hindoo system of mythology, as presiding over the eight
points of the world."--MAURICE.


The Pauranics (said Ramachandra to Sir William Jones) will tell you that
our earth is a plane figure studded with eight mountains, and surrounded
by seven seas of milk, nectar, and other fluids; that the part which we
inhabit is one of seven islands, to which eleven smaller isles are
subordinate; that a god, riding on a huge elephant, guards each of the
eight regions; and that a mountain of gold rises and gleams in the
centre.--_Asiatic Researches_.

"Eight original mountains and seven seas, BRAHMA, INDRA, the SUN,
and RUDRA, _these are permanent;_ not thou, not I, not this or that
people. Wherefore then should anxiety be raised in our minds?"--_Asiatic

  _Mount Calasay._--XIX. p. 77.

The residence of _Ixoru_ is upon the silver mount _Calaja_, to the south
of the famous mountain _Mahameru_, being a most delicious place, planted
with all sorts of trees, that bear fruit all the year round. The roses
and other flowers send forth a most odoriferous scent; and the pond at
the foot of the mount is inclosed with pleasant walks of trees, that
afford an agreeable shade, whilst the peacocks and divers other birds
entertain the ear with their harmonious noise, as the beautiful women do
the eyes. The circumjacent woods are inhabited by a certain people {179}
called _Munis_, or _Rixis_, who, avoiding the conversation of others,
spend their time in offering daily sacrifices to their god.

It is observable, that though these pagans are generally black
themselves, they do represent these _Rixis_ to be of a fair complexion,
with long white beards, and long garments hanging cross-ways, from about
the neck down over the breast. They are in such high esteem among them,
they believe that whom they bless are blessed, and whom they curse are

Within the mountain lives another generation, called _Jexaquinnera_ and
_Quendra_, who are free from all trouble, spend their days in continual
contemplations, praises, and prayers to God. Round about the mountain
stand seven ladders, by which you ascend to a spacious plain, in the
middle whereof is a bell of silver, and a square table, surrounded with
nine precious stones, of divers colours. Upon this table lies a silver
rose, called _Tamora Pua_, which contains two women as bright and fair
as a pearl: one is called _Brigasiri_, i. e. _the Lady of the Mouth;_
the other _Tarasiri_, i.e. _the Lady of the Tongue_,--because they
praise God with the mouth and tongue. In the centre of this rose is the
_triangle_ of _Quivelinga_, which they say is the permanent residence of


  _O All-containing Mind,_
  _Thou who art every where!_--XIX. p. 80.

"Even I was even at first, not any other thing; that which exists,
unperceived, supreme: afterwards I am that which is; and he who must
remain, am I.

"Except the First Cause, whatever may appear, and may not appear, in the
mind, know that to be the mind's _Máyá_, or _delusion_, as light, as

"As the great elements are in various beings, entering, yet not
entering, (that is, pervading, not destroying,) thus am I in them, yet
not in them.

"Even thus far may inquiry be made by him who seeks to know the
principle of mind in union and separation, which must be _everywhere,
always_."--_Asiatic Researches_. Sir W. JONES, _from the Bhagavat_.

I am the creation and the dissolution of the whole universe. There is
not any thing greater than I, and all things hang on me, even as
precious gems upon a string. I am moisture in the water, light in the
sun and moon, invocation in the _Veds_, sound in the firmament, human
nature in mankind, sweet-smelling savour in the earth, glory in the
source of light: In all things I am life; and I am zeal in the zealous:
and know, O Arjoon! that I am the eternal seed of all nature. I am the
understanding {181} of the wise, the glory of the proud, the strength of
the strong, free from lust and anger; and in animals I am desire
regulated by moral fitness.--KREESHNA, _in the Bhagavat-Geeta_.

  _Heart cannot think, nor tongue declare,_
  _Nor eyes of angel bear_
  _That Glory, unimaginably bright._--XIX. p. 81.

Being now in the splendorous lustre of the divine bliss and glory, I
there saw in spirit the choir of the holy angels, the choir of the
prophets and apostles, who, with heavenly tongues and music, sing and
play around the throne of God; yet not in just such corporeal forms or
shapes as are those we _now_ bear and walk about in; no, but in shapes
all spiritual: the holy angels in the shape of a multitude of flames of
fire, the souls of believers in the shape of a multitude of glittering
or luminous sparkles; God's throne in the shape, or under the appearance
of a great splendour.--HANS ENGELBRECHT.

Something analogous to this unendurable presence of Seeva is found amid
the nonsense of Joanna Southcott. Apollyon is there made to say of the
Lord, "thou knowest it is written, he is a consuming fire, and who can
dwell in everlasting burnings? who could abide in devouring flames? Our
backs are not brass, nor our sinews {182} iron, to dwell with God in
heaven."--_Dispute between the Woman and the Powers of Darkness_.

  _The Sun himself had seem'd_
  _A speck of darkness there._--XIX. p. 82.

"There the sun shines not, nor the moon and stars: these lightnings
flash not in that place: how should even fire blaze there? God
irradiates all this bright substance, and by its effulgence the universe
is enlightened."--_From the Yajurveda. Asiat. Res._

  Hæc ait, et sese radiorum nocte suorum
  Claudit inaccessum.----CARRARA.

  _Whose cradles from some tree_
  _Unnatural hands suspended._--XXI. p. 92.

I heard a voice crying out under my window; I looked out, and saw a poor
young girl lamenting the unhappy case of her sister. On asking what was
the matter, the reply was, _Boot Laggeeosa_, a demon has seized her.
These unhappy people say _Boot Laggeeosa_, if a child newly born will
not suck; and they expose it to death in a basket, hung on the branch of
a tree. One day, as Mr. Thomas and I were riding out, we saw a basket
hung in a tree, in which an infant had been exposed, the skull of which
remained, {183} the rest having been devoured by ants.--_Periodical
Accounts of the Baptist Missionaries_.

  _That strange Indian Bird._--XXI. p. 93.

The Chatookee. They say it never drinks at the streams below, but,
opening its bill when it rains, it catches the drops as they fall from
the clouds.--_Periodical Accounts of the Baptist Missionaries_, vol. ii.
p. 309.

  _The footless fowl of Heaven._--XXI. p. 93.

There is a bird that falls down out of the air dead, and is found
sometimes in the Molucco Islands, that has no feet at all. The bigness
of her body and bill, as likewise the form of them, is much the same as
a swallow's; but the spreading out of her wings and tail has no less
compass than an eagle's. She lives and breeds in the air, comes not near
the earth but for her burial, for the largeness and lightness of her
wings and tail sustain her without lassitude. And the laying of her
eggs, and breeding of her young, is upon the back of the male, which is
made hollow, as also the breast of the female, for the more easy
incubation. Also two strings, like two shoemaker's ends, come from the
hinder parts of the male, wherewith it is conceived that he is fastened
closer to the female, while she hatches her eggs on the hollow of {184}
his back. The dew of heaven is appointed her for food, her region being
too far removed from the approach of flies and such like insects.

This is the entire story and philosophy of this miraculous bird in
_Cardan_, who professes himself to have seen it no less than thrice, and
to have described it accordingly. The contrivances whereof, if the
matter were certainly true, are as evident arguments of a Divine
Providence, as that copper-ring, with the Greek[36] inscription upon
it, was an undeniable monument of the artifice and finger of man.

But that the reproach of over-much credulity may not lie upon _Cardan_
alone, Scaliger, who lay at catch with him to take him tripping wherever
he could, cavils not with any thing in the whole narration but the
bigness of wings and the littleness of the body; which he undertakes to
correct from one of his own which was sent him by _Orvesanus_ from Java.
Nay, he confirms what his antagonist has wrote, partly by history and
partly by reason; affirming, that himself, in his own garden, found two
{185} little birds with membranaceous wings utterly devoid of legs,
their form was near to that of a bat's. Nor is he deterred from the
belief of the perpetual flying of the _Manucodiata_, by the gaping of
the feathers of her wings, which seem thereby less fit to sustain her
body, but further makes the narration probable by what he has observed
in kites hovering in the air, as he saith, for a whole hour together
without flapping of her wings, or changing place. And he has found also
how she may sleep in the air, from the example of fishes, which he has
seen sleeping in the water without sinking themselves to the bottom, and
without changing place, but lying stock still, _pinnulis tantum nescia
quid motiuncule meditantes_, only wagging a little their fins, as
heedlessly and unconcernedly as horses while they are asleep wag their
ears to displace the flies that sit upon them. Wherever Scaliger
admitting that the Menucodiata is perpetually on the wing in the air, he
must of necessity admit also that manner of incubation that Cardan
describes, else how could their generations continue?

Franciscus Hernandeo affirms the same with Cardan expressly in every
thing: As also Eusebius Nierembergius, who is so taken with the story of
this bird, that he could not abstain from celebrating her miraculous
properties in a short but elegant copy of verses; and does {186} after,
though confidently opposed, assert the main matter again in prose.

Such are the sufferages of Cardan, Scaliger, Hernandeo, Nierembergius.
But Aldrovandus rejects that fable of her feeding on the dew of heaven,
and of her incubiture on the back of the male, with much scorn and
indignation. And as for the former, his reasons are no ways
contemptible, he alledging that dew is a body not perfectly enough
mixed, or heterogenial enough for food, nor the hard bill of the bird
made for such easie uses as sipping this soft moisture.

To which I know not what Cardan and the rest would answer, unless this,
that they mean by dew the more unctuous moisture of the air, which as it
may not be alike every where, so these birds may be fitted with a
natural sagacity to find it out where it is. That there is dew in this
sense day and night, (as well as in the morning,) and in all seasons of
the year; and therefore a constant supply of moisture and spirits to
their perpetual flying, which they more copiously imbibe by reason of
their exercise: That the thicker parts of this moisture stick and
convert into flesh, and that the lightness of their feathers is so
great, that their pains in sustaining themselves are not over-much. That
what is homogeneal and simple to our sight is fit enough to be the
rudiments of generation, {187} all animals being generated of a kind of
clear crystalline liquor; and that, therefore, it may be also of
nutrition; that orpine and sea-house-leek are nourished and grow, being
hung in the air, and that dock-weed has its root no deeper than near the
upper parts of the water; and, lastly, that the bills of these birds are
for their better flying, by cutting the way, and for better ornament;
for the rectifying also and composing of their feathers, while they swim
in the air with as much ease as swans do in river.

To his great impatiency against their manner of incubation, they would
happily return this answer: That the way is not ridiculous; but it may
be rather necessary from what Aldrovandus himself not only acknowledges
but contends for, namely, that they have no feet at all. For hence it is
manifest, that they cannot light upon the ground, nor any where rest on
their bellies, and be able to get on wing again, because they cannot
creep out of holes of rocks, as swifts and such like short-footed birds
can, they having no feet at all to creep with. Besides, as Aristotle
well argues concerning the long legs of certain water-fowl, that they
were made so long, because they were to wade in the water and catch
fish, adding that excellent aphorism, τὰ γαρ ὄργανα
πρὸς τὸ ἔργον ἡ φύσις ποιεῖ ἀλλ᾽ ὐ
τὸ ἔργον πρὸς τὰ ὄργανα, so may we rationally
conclude, will they say, that as the long legs of these water-fowl {188}
imply a design of their haunting the water, so want of legs in these
Manucodiatas argue they are never to come down to the earth, because
they can neither stand there nor get off again. And if they never come
on the earth, or any other resting-place, where can their eggs be laid
or hatched but on the back of the male?

Besides that Cardan pleases himself with that Antiphonie in nature, that
as the Ostrich being a bird, yet never flies in the air, and never rests
upon the earth. And as for Aldrovandus, his presumption from the five
several Manucodiatas that he had seen, and in which he could observe no
such figuration of parts as implied a fitness for such a manner of
incubation, Cardan will answer, Myself has seen three, and Scaliger one,
who both agree against you.

However, you see that both Cardan, Aldrovandus, and the rest do jointly
agree in allowing the Manucodiata no feet, as also in furnishing her
with two strings, hanging at the hinder parts of her body, which
Aldrovandus will have to be in the female as well as in the male, though
Cardan's experience reacheth not so far.

But Pighafetta and Clusius will easily end this grand controversy
betwixt Cardan and Aldrovandus, if it be true which they report, and if
they speak of the same kind of Birds of Paradise. For they both affirm
that they {189} have feet a palm long, and that with all confidence
imaginable; but Nierembergius on the contrary affirms, that one that was
an eye witness, and that had taken up one of these birds newly dead,
told him that it had no feet at all. Johnston also gives his suffrage
with Nierembergius in this, though with Aldrovandus he rejects the
manner of their incubation.

But unless they can raise themselves from the ground by the stiffness of
some of the feathers of their wings, or rather by virtue of those
nervous strings which they may have a power to stiffen when they are
alive, by transfusing spirits into them, and making them serve as well
instead of legs to raise them from the ground as to hang upon the boughs
of trees, by a slight thing being able to raise or hold up their
light-feathered bodies in the air, as a small twig will us in the water,
I should rather incline to the testimony of Pighafetta and Clusius than
to the judgment of the rest, and believe those mariners that told him
that the legs are pulled off by them that take them, and extenterate
them and dry them in the sun for either their private use or sale.

Which conclusion would the best solve the credit of Aristotle,
who long since has so peremptorily pronounced ὄτι πτηνὸν μόνον
ὐδὲν ἐσιν ὥσπερ νευσικὸν μόνον ἐσιν ὶχθὸς. That there is not any
bird that only flies as the fish only swims.


But thus our Bird of Paradise is quite flown and vanished into a figment
or fable. But if any one will condole the loss of so convincing an
argument for a Providence that fits one thing to another, I must take
the freedom to tell him, that, unless he be a greater admirer of novelty
than a searcher into the indissoluble consequences of things, I shall
supply his meditation with what of this nature is as strongly
conclusive, and remind, that it will be his own reproach if he cannot
spy as clear an inference from an ordinary truth as from either an
uncertainty or a fiction. And in this regard, the bringing this doubtful
narration into play may not justly seem to no purpose, it carrying so
serious and castigatory a piece of pleasantry with it.

The manucodiata's living on the dew is no part of the convictiveness of
a Providence in this story: But the being excellently well provided of
wings and feathers, _tanta levitatis supellectile exornata_, as
Nierembergius speaks, being so well furnished with all advantages for
lightness, that it seems harder for her to sink down, as he conceits,
than to be borne up in the air; that a bird thus fitted for that region
should have no legs to stand on the earth, this would be a considerable
indication of a discriminating Providence, that on purpose avoids all
uselessness and superfluities.


The other remarkable, and it is a notorious one, is the cavity on the
back of the male and in the breast of the female, for incubation; and
the third and last, the use of those strings, as Cardan supposes, for
the better keeping them together in incubiture.

If these considerations of this strange story strike so strongly upon
thee as to convince thee of a Providence, think it humour and not
judgment, if what I put in lieu of them, and is but ordinary, have not
the same force with thee.

For is not the fish's wanting feet, (as we observed before,) she being
sufficiently supplied with fins in so thick an element as the water, as
great an argument for a Providence as so light a bird's wanting feet in
that thinner element of the air, the extream lightness of her furniture
being appropriated to the thinness of that element? And is not the same
Providence seen, and that as conspicuously, in allotting but very short
legs to those birds that are called Apodeo both in Plinie and Aristotle,
upon whom she has bestowed such large and strong wings, and a power of
flying so long and swift, as in giving no legs at all to the
manucodiata, who has still a greater power of wing and lightness of

And as for the cavities on the back of the male and in the breast of the
female, is that design of nature any more {192} certain and plain than
in the genital parts of the male and female in all kinds of animals?
What greater argument of counsel and purpose of fitting one thing for
another can there be than that? And if we should make a more inward
search into the contrivances of these parts in an ordinary hen, and
consider how or by what force an egg of so great a growth and bigness is
transmitted from the ovarium through the infundibulum into the processus
of the uterus, the membranes being go thin and the passage so very
small, to see to the principle of that motion cannot be thought less
than divine.

And if you would compare the protuberant paps of teats in the females of
beasts with that cavity in the breast of the she-manucodiata, whether of
them, think you, is the plainer pledge of a knowing and a designing

And, lastly, for the strings that are conceived to hold together the
male and female in their incubiture, what a toy is it, if compared with
those invisible links and ties that engage ordinary birds to sit upon
their eggs, they having no visible allurement to such a tedious
service?--HENRY MORE's _Antidote against Atheism_, book 2. ch. 11.


  _And Brama's region, where the heavenly hours_
  _Weave the vast circle of his age-long day._--XXIII. p. 113.

They who are acquainted with day and night know that the day of Brahma
is as a thousand revolutions of the _Yoogs_, and that his night
extendeth for a thousand more. On the coming of that day all things
proceed from invisibility to visibility; so, on the approach of night,
they are all dissolved away in that which is called invisible. The
universe, even, having existed, is again dissolved; and now again, on
the approach of day, by divine necessity, it is reproduced. That which,
upon the dissolution of all things else, is not destroyed, is superior
and of another nature from that visibility: it is invisible and eternal.
He who is thus called invisible and incorruptible is even he who is
called the Supreme Abode; which men having once obtained, they never
more return to earth: that is my mansion.--KREESHNA, _in the

The guess, that Brama and his wife Saraswadi may be Abraham and Sarah,
has more letters in its favour than are usually to be found in such
guesses.--NIECAMP, p. i, c. 10. § 2.

The true cause why there is no idol of Brama (except {194} the head,
which is his share in the Trimourter,) is probably to be found in the
conquest of his sect. A different reason, however, is implied in the
Veeda: "Of Him, it says, whose glory is so great there is no image:--He
is the incomprehensible Being which illumines all, delights all, whence
all proceeded;--that by which they live when born, and that to which all
must return."--MOOR's _Hindu Pantheon_, p. 4.

  _Yamen._--XXII. p. 99.

_Yama_ was a child of the Sun, and thence named _Vaivaswata_; another of
his titles was _Dhermaraja_, or King of Justice; and a third
_Pitripeti_, or Lord of the Patriarchs: but he is chiefly distinguished
as Judge of departed souls; for the Hindus believe, that, when a soul
leaves its body, it immediately repairs to _Yamapur_, or the city of
_Yama_, where it receives a just sentence from him, and thence either
ascends to _Swerga_, or the first Heaven; or is driven down to _Narac_,
the region of serpents; or assumes on earth the form of some animal,
unless its offence had been such, that it ought to be condemned to a
vegetable, or even to a mineral prison.--Sir W. JONES.

There is a story concerning Yamen which will remind the reader, in its
purport, of the fable of Love and Death.


"A famous penitent, _Morrugandumagarexi_ by name, had, during a long
series of years, served the gods with uncommon and most exemplary piety.
This very virtuous man having no children, was extremely desirous of
having one, and therefore daily besought the god Xiven (or Seeva) to
grant him one. At length the god heard his desire, but, before he
indulged it him, he asked him, whether he would have several children,
who should be long-lived and wicked, or one virtuous and prudent, who
should die in his sixteenth year? The penitent chose the latter: his
wife conceived, and was happily delivered of the promised son, whom they
named Marcandem. The boy, like his father, zealously devoted himself to
the worship of Xiven; but as soon as he had attained his sixteenth year,
the officers of Yhamen, god of death, were sent on the earth, to remove
him from thence.

"Young Marcandem being informed on what errand they were come, told
them, with a resolute air, that he was resolved not to die, and that
they might go back, if they pleased. They returned to their master, and
told him the whole affair. Yhamen immediately mounted his great buffle,
and set out. Being come, he told the youth that he acted very rashly in
refusing to leave the world, and it was unjust in him, for Xiven had
promised him a life only of sixteen years, and the term was expired. But
{196} this reason did not satisfy Marcandem, who persisted in his
resolution not to die; and, fearing lest the god of death should attempt
to take him away by force, he ran to his oratory, and taking the Lingam,
clasped it to his breast. Mean time Yhamen came down from his buffle,
threw a rope about the youth's neck, and held him fast therewith, as
also the Lingam, which Marcandem grasped with all his strength, and was
going to drag them both into hell, when Xiven issued out of the Lingam,
drove back the king of the dead, and gave him so furious a blow, that he
killed him on the spot.

"The god of death being thus slain, mankind multiplied so that the earth
was no longer able to contain them. The gods represented this to Xiven,
and he, at their entreaty, restored Yhamen to life, and to all the power
he had before enjoyed. Yhamen immediately dispatched a herald to all
parts of the world, to summon all the old men. The herald got drunk
before he set out, and, without staying till the fumes of the wine were
dispelled, mounted an elephant, and rode up and down the world, pursuant
to his commission; and, instead of publishing this order, he declared,
that it was the will and pleasure of Yamen, that, from this day forward,
all the leaves, fruits, and flowers, whether ripe or green, should fall
to the ground. This proclamation was no sooner {197} issued than men
began to yield to death: But before Yhamen was killed, only the old were
deprived of life, and now people of all ages are summoned

  _Two forms inseparable in unity,_
  _Hath Yamen._--XXIII. p. 120.

The _Dharma-Raja_, or king of justice, has two countenances; one is mild
and full of benevolence; those alone who abound with virtue see it. He
holds a court of justice, where are many assistants, among whom are many
just and pious kings: _Chitragupta_ acts as chief secretary. These holy
men determine what is _dharma_ and _adharma_, just and unjust. His
(_Dharma-Raja's_) servant is called _Carmala_: he brings the righteous
on celestial cars, which go of themselves, whenever holy men are to be
brought in, according to the directions of the _Dharma-Raja_, who is the
sovereign of the _Pitris_. This is called his _divine countenance_, and
the righteous alone do see it. His other _countenance_, or _form_, is
called _Yama_; this the wicked alone can see: It has large teeth and a
monstrous body, _Yama_ is the lord of _Patala_; there he orders some to
be beaten, some to be cut to pieces, some to be devoured by monsters,
&c. His servant is called _Cashmala_, who, with ropes round their necks,
drags the wicked over rugged {198} paths, and throws them headlong into
hell. He is unmerciful, and hard is his heart: every body trembles at
the sight of him.--WILFORD. _Asiatic Researches_.

  _Black of aspect, red of eye._--XXIII. p. 120.

Punishment is the Magistrate; Punishment is the Inspirer of Terror;
Punishment is the Defender from Calamity; Punishment is the Guardian of
those that sleep; Punishment, with a black aspect and a red eye, tempts
the guilty.--HALHED's _Gentoo Code_, ch. xxi. sect. 8.

  _Azyoruca._--XXIII. p. 121.

In Patala (or the infernal regions) resides the sovereign Queen of the
Nagas, (large snakes, or dragons:) she is beautiful, and her name is
Asyoruca. There, in a cave, she performed Taparya with such rigorous
austerity, that fire sprang from her body, and formed numerous
agnitiraths (places of sacred fire) in Patala. These fires, forcing
their way through the earth, waters, and mountains, formed various
openings or mouths, called from thence the flaming mouths, or juala
muihi. By Samudr, (Oceanus,) a daughter was born unto her, called
Rama-Devi. She is most beautiful; she is Lacshmi; and her name is
Asyotcarsha, or Asyotcrishta. Like a jewel she remains concealed in the
ocean.--WILFORD. _Asiat. Res_.


  _He came in all his might and majesty._--XXIV. p, 124.

What is this to the coming of Seeva, as given us by Mr. Maurice, from
the Seeva Paurana?

"In the place of the right wheel blazed the Sun, in the place of the
left was the Moon; instead of the brazen nails and bolts, which firmly
held the ponderous wheels, were distributed Bramans on the right hand,
and Reyshees on the left; in lieu of the canopy on the top of the
chariot was overspread the vault of Heaven; the counterpoise of the
wheels was on the east and west, and the four Semordres were instead of
the cushions and bolsters; the four Vedas were placed as the horses of
the chariot, and Saraswaty was for the bell; the piece of wood by which
the horses are driven was the three-lettered Mantra, while Brama himself
was the charioteer, and the Nacshatras and stars were distributed about
it by way of ornaments. Sumaru was in the place of a bow, the serpent
Seschanaga was stationed as the string, Veeshnu instead of an arrow, and
fire was constituted its point. Ganges and other rivers were appointed
its precursors; and the setting out of the chariot, with its appendages
and furniture, one would affirm to be the year of twelve months
gracefully moving forwards.

"When Seeva, with his numerous troops and prodigious {200} army, was
mounted, Brama drove so furiously, that thought itself, which, in its
rapid career, compasses Heaven and Earth, could not keep pace with it.
By the motion of the chariot Heaven and Earth were put into a tremor;
and, as the Earth was not able to bear up under this burthen, the Cow of
the Earth, Kam-deva, took upon itself to support the weight. Seeva went
with intention to destroy Treepoor; and the multitude of Devatas and
Reyshees and Apsaras who waited on his stirrup, opening their mouths, in
transports of joy and praise, exclaimed, Jaya! Jaya! so that Parvati,
not being able to bear his absence, set out to accompany Seeva, and, in
an instant, was up with him; while the light which brightened on his
countenance, on the arrival of Parvati, surpassed all imagination and
description. The Genii of the eight regions, armed with all kinds of
weapons, but particularly with _agnyastra_, or fire-darts, like moving
mountains, advanced in front of the army; and Eendra and other Devetas,
some of them mounted on elephants, some on horses, others on chariots,
or on camels or buffaloes, were stationed on each side, while all the
other order of Devetas, to the amount of some lacs, formed the centre.
The Munietuvaras, with long hair on their heads, like Saniassis, holding
their staves in their hands, danced as they went along; the Syddhyas,
who revolve about {201} the heavens, opening their mouths in praise of
Seeva, rained flowers upon his head; and the vaulted heaven, which is
like an inverted goblet, being appointed in the place of a drum, exalted
his dignity by its majestic resounding."

Throughout the Hindoo fables there is the constant mistake of bulk for

  _By the attribute of Deity_
  _The dreadful One appeared on every side._--XXIV. p. 124.

This more than polypus power was once exerted by Krishna, on a curious

It happened in _Dwarka_, a splendid city built by _Viswa-karma_, by
command of _Krishna_, on the sea-shore, in the province of _Gazerat_,
that his musical associate, _Nareda_, had no wife or substitute; and he
hinted to his friend the decency of sparing him one from his long
catalogue of ladies. _Krishna_ generously told him to win and wear any
one he chose, not immediately in requisition for himself. _Nareda_
accordingly went wooing to one house, but found his master there; to a
second--he was again forestalled; a third, the same; to a fourth, fifth,
the same: in fine, after the round of sixteen thousand of these
domiciliary visits, he was still forced to sigh and {202} keep single;
for _Krishna_ was in every house, variously employed, and so
domesticated, that each lady congratulated herself on her exclusive and
uninterrupted possession of the ardent deity.--MOOR's _Hindu
Pantheon_, p. 204.

Eight of the chief gods have each their _sacti_, or energy, proceeding
from them, differing from them in sex, but in every other respect
exactly like them, with the same form, the same decorations, the same
weapons, and the same vehicle.--_Asiat. Res_. 8vo, edit. vol. viii. p.
68. 82.

The manner in which this divine power is displayed by Kehama, in his
combat with Yamen, will remind some readers of the Irishman, who brought
in four prisoners, and being asked how he had taken them, replied, he
had surrounded them.

  _The Amreeta,_
  _Drink of Immortality._--XXIV. p. 129.

Mr Wilkins has given the genuine history of this liquor, which was
produced by churning the sea with a mountain.

"There is a fair and stately mountain, and its name is _Meroo_, a most
exalted mass of glory, reflecting the sunny {203} rays from the splendid
surface of its gilded horns. It is clothed in gold, and is the
respected haunt of _Dews_ and _Gandharvas_. It is inconceivable, and not
to be encompassed by sinful man; and it is guarded by dreadful serpents.
Many celestial medicinal plants adorn its sides; and it stands, piercing
the heaven with its aspiring summit, a mighty hill, inaccessible even by
the human mind. It is adorned with trees and pleasant streams, and
resoundeth with the delightful songs of various birds.

"The _Soors_, and all the glorious hosts of heaven, having ascended to
the summit of this lofty mountain, sparkling with precious gems, and for
eternal ages raised, were sitting in solemn synod, meditating the
discovery of the _Amreeta_, the Water of Immortality. The _Dew Narayan_
being also there, spoke unto _Brahma_, whilst the _Soors_ were thus
consulting together, and said, 'Let the Ocean, as a pot of milk, be
churned by the united labour of the _Soors_ and _Asoors_; and when the
mighty waters have been stirred up, the _Amreeta_ shall be found. Let
them collect together every medicinal herb, and every precious thing,
and let them stir the Ocean, and they shall discover the _Amreeta_.'

"There is also another mighty mountain, whose name is _Mandar_, and its
rocky summits are like towering {204} clouds. It is clothed in a net of
the entangled tendrils of the twining creeper, and resoundeth with the
harmony of various birds. Innumerable savage beasts infest its borders;
and it is the respected haunt of _Kennars_, _Dews_, and _Apsars_. It
standeth eleven thousand _Yojan_ above the earth, and eleven thousand
more below its surface.

"As the united bands of _Dews_ were unable to remove this mountain, they
went before _Veeshnoo_, who was sitting with _Brahma_, and addressed
them in these words: 'Exert, O masters! your most superior wisdom to
remove the mountain _Mandar_, and employ your utmost power for our

"_Veeshnoo_ and _Brahma_ having said, 'it shall be according to your
wish,' he with the lotus eye directed the King of Serpents to appear;
and Ananta arose, and was instructed in that work by Brahma, and
commanded by _Narayan_ to perform it. Then _Ananta_, by his power, took up
that king of mountains, together with all its forests and every
inhabitant thereof; and the _Soors_ accompanied him into the presence of
the Ocean, whom they addressed, saying, 'We will stir up thy waters to
obtain the _Amreeta_,' And the Lord of the Waters replied, 'Let me also
have a share, seeing I am to bear the violent agitation that will be
caused by the whirling of the {205} mountain!' Then the _Soors_ and
_Asoors_ spoke unto _Koorna-raj_, the King of the Tortoises, upon the
strand of the Ocean, and said, 'My lord is able to be the supporter of
this mountain.' The Tortoise replied, 'Be it so;' and it was placed upon
his back.

"So the mountain being set upon the back of the Tortoise, _Eendra_ began
to whirl it about as it were a machine. The mountain _Mandar_ served as
a churn, and the serpent _Vasoakee_ for the rope; and thus in former
days did the _Dews_, and _Asoors_, and the _Danoos_, begin to stir up
the waters of the ocean for the discovery of the _Amreeta_.

"The mighty _Asoors_ were employed on the side of the serpent's head,
whilst all the _Soors_ assembled about his tail. _Ananta_, that sovereign
_Dew_, stood near _Narayan_.

"They now pull forth the serpent's head repeatedly, and as often let it
go; whilst there issued from his mouth, thus violently drawing to and
fro by the _Soors_ and _Asoors_, a continual stream of fire and smoke
and wind, which ascending in thick clouds, replete with lightning, it
began to rain down upon the heavenly bands, who were already fatigued
with their labour; whilst a shower of flowers was shaken from the top of
the mountain, covering the heads of all, both _Soors_ and {206}
_Asoors_. In the mean time the roaring of the ocean, whilst violently
agitated with the whirling of the mountain _Mandar_ by the _Soors_ and
_Asoors_, was like the bellowing of a mighty cloud. Thousands of the
various productions of the waters were torn to pieces by the mountain,
and confounded with the briny flood; and every specific being of the
deep, and all the inhabitants of the great abyss which is below the
earth, were annihilated; whilst, from the violent agitation of the
mountain, the forest trees were dashed against each other, and
precipitated from its utmost height, with all the birds thereon; from
whose violent confrication a raging fire was produced, involving the
whole mountain with smoke and flame, as with a dark-blue cloud, and the
lightning's vivid flash. The lion and the retreating elephant are
overtaken by the devouring flames, and every vital being, and every
specific thing, are consumed in the general conflagration.

"The raging flames, thus spreading destruction on all sides, were at
length quenched by a shower of cloud-borne water, poured down by the
immortal Eendra. And now a heterogeneous stream of the concocted juices
of various trees and plants ran down into the briny flood.

"It was from this milk-like stream of juices, produced {207} from those
trees and plants and a mixture of melted gold, that the _Soors_ obtained
their immortality.

"The waters of the Ocean now being assimilated with those juices, were
converted into milk, and from that milk a kind of butter was presently
produced; when the heavenly bands went again into the presence of
_Brahma_, the granter of boons, and addressed him, saying, 'Except
_Narayan_, every other _Soor_ and _Asoor_ is fatigued with his labour,
and still the _Amreeta_ doth not appear; wherefore the churning of the
Ocean is at a stand.' Then _Brahma_ said unto _Narayan_, 'Endue them
with recruited strength, for thou art their support.' And _Narayan_
answered and said, 'I will give fresh vigour to such as co-operate in
the work. Let _Mandar_ be whirled about, and the bed of the ocean be
kept steady.'

"When they heard the words of _Narayan_, they all returned again to the
work, and began to stir about with great force that butter of the ocean,
when there presently arose from out the troubled deep, first the Moon,
with a pleasing countenance, shining with ten thousand beams of gentle
light; next followed _Sree_, the goddess of fortune, whose seat is the
white lily of the waters; then _Soora-Devee_, the goddess of wine, and
the white horse called _Oochisrava_. And after these there was produced
from the unctuous mass the jewel _Kowstoobh_, that glorious {208}
sparkling gem worn by Narayan on his breast; also _Pareejat_, the tree
of plenty, and _Soorabhee_, the cow that granted every heart's desire.

"The moon, _Soora-Devee_, the goddess of _Sree_, and the Horse, as swift
as thought, instantly marched away towards the _Dews_, keeping in the
path of the Sun.

"Then the _Dew Dhanwantaree_, in human shape, came forth, holding in his
hand a white vessel filled with the immortal juice _Amreeta_. When the
_Asoors_ beheld these wondrous things appear, they raised their
tumultuous voices for the _Amreeta_, and each of them clamorously
exclaimed, 'This of right is mine.'

"In the mean time _Travat_, a mighty elephant, arose, now kept by the
god of thunder; and as they continued to churn the ocean more than
enough, that deadly poison issued from its bed, burning like a raging
fire, whose dreadful fumes in a moment spread throughout the world,
confounding the three regions of the universe with the mortal stench,
until _Seev_, at the word of _Brahma_, swallowed the fatal drug, to save
mankind; which, remaining in the throat of that sovereign _Dew_ of magic
form, from that time he hath been called _Neel-Kant_, because his throat
was stained blue.

"When the _Asoors_ beheld this miraculous deed, they {209} became
desperate, and the _Amreeta_ and the goddess _Sree_ became the source of
endless hatred.

"Then _Narayan_ assumed the character and person of _Moheenee Maya_, the
power of enchantment, in a female form of wonderful beauty, and stood
before the _Asoors_, whose minds being fascinated by her presence, and
deprived of reason, they seized the _Amreeta_, and gave it unto her.

"The _Asoors_ now clothe themselves in costly armour, and, seizing their
various weapons, rush on together to attack the _Soors_. In the mean
time _Narayan_, in the female form, having obtained the _Amreeta_ from
the hands of their leader, the hosts of _Soors_, during the tumult and
confusion of the _Asoors_, drank of the living water.

"And it so fell out, that whilst the _Soors_ were quenching their thirst
for immortality, _Rahoo_, an _Asoor_, assumed the form of a _Soor_, and
began to drink also: And the water had but reached his throat, when the
Sun and Moon, in friendship to the _Soors_, discovered the deceit; and
instantly _Narayan_ cut off his head as he was drinking, with his
splendid weapon _Chakra_. And the gigantic head of the _Asoor_, emblem
of a mountain's summit, being thus separated from his body by the
_Chakra's_ edge, bounded into the heavens with a dreadful cry, whilst
his ponderous trunk fell, cleaving the ground asunder, and {210} shaking
the whole earth unto its foundation, with all its islands, rocks, and
forests: And from that time the head of Rahoo resolved an eternal
enmity, and continueth, even unto this day, at times to seize upon the
Sun and Moon.

"Now Narayan, having quitted the female figure he had assumed, began to
disturb the _Asoors_ with sundry celestial weapons: and from that
instant a dreadful battle was commenced, on the ocean's briny strand,
between the _Asoors_ and the _Soors_. Innumerable sharp and missile
weapons were hurled, and thousands of piercing darts and battle-axes
fell on all sides. The _Asoors_ vomit blood from the wounds of the
_Chakra_, and fall upon the ground pierced by the sword, the spear, and
spiked club. Heads, glittering with polished gold, divided by the
_Pattees'_ blade, drop incessantly; and mangled bodies, wallowing in
their gore, lay like fragments of mighty rocks, sparkling with gems and
precious ores. Millions of sighs and groans arise on every side; and the
sun is overcast with blood, as they clash their arms, and wound each
other with their dreadful instruments of destruction.

"Now the battle is fought with the iron-spiked club, and, as they close,
with clenched fist; and the din of war ascendeth to the heavens. They
cry 'Pursue! {211} strike! fell to the ground!' so that a horrid and
tumultuous noise is heard on all sides.

"In the midst of this dreadful hurry and confusion of the fight, _Nar_
and _Narayan_ entered the field together. _Narayan_, beholding a
celestial bow in the hand of _Nar_, it reminded him of his _Chakra_, the
destroyer of the _Asoors_. The faithful weapon, by name _Soodarsan_,
ready at the mind's call, flew down from heaven with direct and
refulgent speed, beautiful, yet terrible to behold: And being arrived,
glowing like the sacrificial flame, and spreading terror around,
_Narayan_, with his right arm formed like the elephantine trunk, hurled
forth the ponderous orb, the speedy messenger and glorious ruin of
hostile towns; who, raging like the final all-destroying fire, shot
bounding with desolating force, killing thousands of the _Asoors_ in his
rapid flight, burning and involving, like the lambent flame, and cutting
down all that would oppose him. Anon he climbeth the heavens, and now
again darteth into the field like a _Peesach_, to feast in blood.

"Now the dauntless _Asoors_ strive, with repeated strength, to crush the
_Soors_ with rocks and mountains, which, hurled in vast numbers into the
heavens, appeared like scattered clouds, and fell, with all the trees
thereon, in millions of fear-exciting torrents, striking {212} violently
against each other with a mighty noise; and in their fall the earth,
with all its fields and forests, is driven from its foundation: they
thunder furiously at each other as they roll along the field, and spend
their strength in mutual conflict.

"Now _Nar_, seeing the _Soors_ overwhelmed with fear, filled up the path
to Heaven with showers of golden-headed arrows, and split the mountain
summits with his unerring shafts; and the _Asoors_ finding themselves
again sore pressed by the _Soors_, precipitately flee; some rush
headlong into the briny waters of the ocean, and others hide themselves
within the bowels of the earth.

"The rage of the glorious _Chakra_, _Soodarsan_, which for a while burnt
like the oil-fed fire, now grew cool, and he retired into the heavens
from whence he came. And the _Soors_ having obtained the victory, the
mountain _Mandar_ was carried back to its former station with great
respect, whilst the waters also retired, filling the firmament and the
heavens with their dreadful roarings.

"The _Soors_ guarded the _Amreeta_ with great care, and rejoiced
exceedingly because of their success. And _Eendra_, with all his
immortal bands, gave the water of life into _Narayan_, to keep it for
their use."--MAHABHARAT.

Amrita, or Immortal, is, according to Sir William {213} Jones, the name
which the mythologists of Tibet apply to a celestial tree, bearing
ambrosial fruit, and adjoining to four vast rocks, from which as many
sacred rivers derive their several streams.



[30] Properly _Teica_, an ornament of gold placed above the nose.

[31] Pendents.

[32] _Seita Cund_, or the _Pool of Seita_, the wife of Rani,
is the name given to the wonderful spring at Mangeir, with boiling
water, of exquisite clearness and purity.

[33] Her tears, when she was made captive by the giant _Rawan_.

[34] A small mirror worn in a ring.

[35] Bracelets.

[36] The inscription runs thus: Εἰμι ἐκεῖνος ἰχθὸς ταύτη λίμνη
παντοπρωτος ἐπιτεθεὶς διὰ τῦ κοσμητῦ φεδηρίκυ β τὰς χεῖρας εν τὴ
έ. ἡμερα τῦ Ὁκτωζρίυ. α.σ.λ. This pike was taken about Hailprun,
the imperial city of Suevia, in the year 1497.--GESNER.


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