X.MOUNT MERU.1.Swift through the sky the vessel of the SurasSails up the fields of ether like an Angel.Rich is the freight, O Vessel, that thou bearest!Beauty and Virtue,Fatherly cares and filial veneration,Hearts which are prov’d and strengthen’d by affliction,Manly resentment, fortitude and action,Womanly goodness;All with which Nature halloweth her daughters,Tenderness, truth and purity and meekness,Piety, patience, faith and resignation,Love and devotement.Ship of the Gods! how richly art thou laden!Proud of the charge, thou voyagest rejoicing.Clouds float around to honour thee, and EveningLingers in heaven.2.A Stream descends on Meru mountain;None hath seen its secret fountain;It had its birth, so sages say,Upon the memorable dayWhen Parvati presumed to lay,In wanton play,Her hands, too venturous Goddess in her mirth,On Seeva’s eyes, the light and life of Earth.Thereat the heart of the Universe stood still;The Elements ceas’d their influences; the HoursStopt on the eternal round; Motion and Breath,Time, Change, and Life and Death,In sudden trance opprest, forgot their powers.A moment, and the dread eclipse was ended;But, at the thought of Nature thus suspended,The sweat on Seeva’s forehead stood,And Ganges thence upon the World descended,The Holy River, the Redeeming Flood.3.None hath seen its secret fountain;But on the top of Meru mountain,Which rises o’er the hills of earth,In light and clouds it hath its mortal birth.Earth seems that pinnacle to rearSublime above this worldly sphere,Its cradle, and its altar, and its throne;And there the new-born River liesOutspread beneath its native skies,As if it there would love to dwellAlone and unapproachable.Soon flowing forward, and resign’dTo the will of the Creating Mind,It springs at once, with sudden leap,Down from the immeasurable steep.From rock to rock, with shivering force rebounding,The mighty cataract rushes; Heaven around,Like-thunder, with the incessant roar resounding,And Meru’s summit shaking with the sound.Wide spreads the snowy foam, the sparkling sprayDances aloft; and ever there, at morning,The earliest, sun-beams haste to wing their way,With rain-bow wreaths the holy flood adorning;And duly the adoring Moon at nightSheds her white glory there,And in the watery airSuspends her halo-crowns of silver light.4.A mountain-valley in its blessed breastReceives the stream, which there delights to lie,Untroubled and at rest,Beneath the untainted sky.There in a lovely lake it seems to sleep,And thence, through many a channel dark and deep,Their secret way the holy Waters wind,Till, rising underneath the rootOf the Tree of Life on Himakoot,Majestic forth they flow to purify mankind.5.Toward this Lake, above the nether sphere,The living Bark, with angel eye,Directs its course along the obedient sky.Kehama hath not yet dominion here;And till the dreaded hour,When Indra by the Rajah shall be drivenDethron’d from Heaven,Here may Ladurlad rest beyond his power.The living Bark alights; the GlendoveerThen lays Ladurlad by the blessed Lake; . . .O happy Sire, and yet more happy Daughter!The etherial gales his agony aslake,His daughter’s tears are on his cheek,His hand is in the water;The innocent man, the man opprest,Oh joy! . . . hath found a place of restBeyond Kehama’s sway,His curse extends not here; his pains have past away.6.O happy Sire, and happy Daughter!Ye on the banks of that celestial waterYour resting place and sanctuary have found.What! hath not then their mortal taint defil’dThe sacred solitary ground?Vain thought! . . the Holy Valley smil’dReceiving such a sire and child;Ganges, who seem’d asleep to lie,Beheld them with benignant eye,And ripped round melodiously,And roll’d her little waves, to meetAnd welcome their beloved feet.The gales of Swerga thither fled,And heavenly odours there were shedAbout, below, and overhead;And Earth, rejoicing in their tread,Hath built them up a blooming Bower,Where every amaranthine flowerIts deathless blossom interweavesWith bright and undecaying leaves.7.Three happy beings are there here,The Sire, the Maid, the Glendoveer.A fourth approaches, . . . who is thisThat enters in the Bower of Bliss?No form so fair might painter findAmong the daughters of mankind;For death her beauties hath refin’d,And unto her a form hath given,Fram’d of the elements of Heaven;Pure dwelling-place for perfect mind.She stood and gaz’d on sire and child;Her tongue not yet had power to speak,The tears were streaming down her cheek;And when those tears her sight beguil’d,And still her faultering accents fail’d,The Spirit, mute and motionless,Spread out her arms for the caress,Made still and silent with excessOf love and painful happiness.8.The Maid that lovely form survey’d;Wistful she gaz’d, and knew her not;But Nature to her heart convey’dA sudden thrill, a startling thought,A feeling many a year forgot,Now like a dream anew recurring,As if again in every veinHer mother’s milk was stirring.With straining neck and earnest eyeShe stretch’d her hands imploringly,As if she fain would have her nigh,Yet fear’d to meet the wish’d embrace,At once with love and awe opprest,Not so, Ladurlad; he could trace,Though brighten’d with angelic grace,His own Yedillian’s earthly face;He ran and held her to his breast!Oh joy above all joys of Heaven,By Death alone to others given,This moment hath to him restor’dThe early-lost, the long-deplor’d.9.They sin who tell us love can die.With life all other passions fly,All others are but vanity.In Heaven Ambition cannot dwell,Nor Avarice in the vaults of Hell;Earthly these passions of the Earth,They perish where they have their birth;But Love is indestructible.Its holy flame for ever burneth,From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth;Too oft on Earth a troubled guest,At times deceiv’d, at times opprest,It here is tried and purified,Then hath in Heaven its perfect rest:It soweth here with toil and care,But the harvest-time of Love is there.Oh! when a Mother meets on highThe Babe she lost in infancy,Hath she not then, for pains and fears,The day of woe, the watchful night,For all her sorrow, all her tears,An over-payment of delight!10.A blessed family is thisAssembled in the Bower of Bliss!Strange woe, Ladurlad, hath been thine,And pangs beyond all human measure,And thy reward is now divine,A foretaste of eternal pleasure.He knew indeed there was a dayWhen all these joys would pass away,And he must quit this blest abode;And, taking up again the spell,Groan underneath the baleful load,And wander o’er the world againMost wretched of the sons of men:Yet was this brief repose, as whenA traveller in the Arabian sands,Half-fainting on his sultry road,Hath reach’d the water-place at last;And resting there beside the Well,Thinks of the perils he has past,And gazes o’er the unbounded plain,The plain which must be travers’d still,And drinks, . . . yet cannot drink his fill;Then girds his patient loins again.So to Ladurlad now was givenNew strength, and confidence in Heaven,And hope, and faith invincible.For often would Ereenia tellOf what in elder days befell,When other Tyrants, in their might,Usurp’d dominion o’er the earth;And Veeshnoo took a human birth,Deliverer of the Sons of men;And slew the huge Ermaccasen,And piece-meal rent, with lion force,Errenen’s accursed corse,And humbled Baly in his pride;And when the Giant RavanenHad borne triumphant, from his side,Sita, the earth-born God’s beloved bride,Then, from his island-kingdom, laugh’d to scornThe insulted husband, and his power defied;How to revenge the wrong in wrath he hied,Bridging the sea before his dreadful way,And met the hundred-headed foe,And dealt him the unerring blow;By Brama’s hand the righteous lance was given,And by that arm immortal driven,It laid the mighty Tyrant low;And Earth and Ocean, and high Heaven,Rejoiced to see his overthrow.Oh! doubt not thou, Yedillian cried,Such fate Kehama will betide;For there are Gods who look below. . . .Seeva, the Avenger, is not blind,Nor Veeshnoo careless for mankind.11.Thus was Ladurlad’s soul imbuedWith hope and holy fortitude;And Child and Sire, with pious mindAlike resolv’d, alike resign’d,Look’d onward to the evil day:Faith was their comfort, Faith their stay;They trusted woe would pass away,And Tyranny would sink subdued,And Evil yield to Good.12.Lovely wert thou, O Flower of Earth!Above all flowers of mortal birth;But foster’d in this blissful bowerFrom day to day, and hour to hour,Lovelier grew the lovely flower.O blessed, blessed company!When men and heavenly spirits greet,And they whom Death had severed meet,And hold again communion sweet; . . .O blessed, blessed company!The Sun, careering round the sky,Beheld them with rejoicing eye,And bade his willing CharioteerRelax their speed as they drew near;Arounin check’d the rainbow reins,The seven green coursers shook their manes,And brighter rays around them threw;The Car of glory in their viewMore radiant, more resplendent grew;And Surya, through his veil of light,Beheld the Bower, and blest the sight.The Lord of Night, as he sail’d by,Stay’d his pearly boat on high;And, while around the blissful BowerHe bade the softest moonlight flow,Lingered to see that earthly flower,Forgetful of his dragon foe,Who, mindful of their ancient feud,With open jaws of rage pursued.There all good Spirits of the air,Suras and Devetas repair,Aloft they love to hover thereAnd view the flower of mortal birth,Here, for her innocence and worth,Transplanted from the fields of earth; . . .And him who, on the dreadful dayWhen Heaven was fill’d with consternation,And Indra trembled with dismay,And, for the sounds of joy and mirth,Woe was heard and lamentation,Defied the Rajah in his pride,Though all in Heaven and Earth besideStood mute in dolorous expectation;And, rushing forward in that hour,Saved the Swerga from his power.Grateful for this they hover nigh,And bless the blessed company.13.One God alone, with wanton eye,Beheld them in their bower;O ye, he cried, who have defiedThe Rajah, will ye mock my power?’Twas Camdeo riding on his lory,’Twas the immortal youth of Love;If men below and Gods above,Subject alike, quoth he, have felt these darts,Shall ye alone, of all in story,Boast impenetrable hearts?Hover here, my gentle lory,Gently hover, while I seeTo whom hath Fate decreed the glory,To the Glendoveer or me.14.Then, in the dewy evening sky,The bird of gorgeous plumeryPois’d his wings and hover’d nigh.It chanced at that delightful hourKailyal sate before the Bower,On the green bank with amaranth sweet,Where Ganges warbled at her feet.Ereenia there, before the Maid,His sails of ocean-blue displayed;And sportive in her sight,Mov’d slowly o’er the lake with gliding flight;Anon, with sudden stroke and strong,In rapid course careering, swept along;Now shooting downward from his heavenly height,Plunged in the deep below,Then rising, soar’d again,And shook the sparkling waters off like rain,And hovering o’er the silver surface hung.At him young Camdeo bent the bow;With living bees the bow was strung,The fatal bow of sugar-cane,And flowers which would inflame the heartWith their petals barb’d the dart.15.The shaft, unerringly addrest,Unerring flew, and smote Ereenia’s breast.Ah, Wanton! cried the Glendoveer,Go aim at idler hearts,Thy skill is baffled here!A deeper love I bear that Maid divine,Sprung from a higher will,A holier power than thine!A second shaft, while thus Ereenia cried,Had Camdeo aim’d at Kailyal’s side,But, lo! the Bees which strung his bowBroke off, and took their flight.To that sweet Flower of earth they wing their way,Around her raven tresses play,And buzz about her with delight,As if, with that melodious sound,They strove to pay their willing dutyTo mortal purity and beauty.Ah, Wanton! cried the Glendoveer,No power hast thou for mischief here!Chuse thou some idler breast,For these are proof, by nobler thoughts possest.Go, to thy plains of Matra go,And string again thy broken bow!16.Rightly Ereenia spake; and ill had thoughtsOf earthly love beseem’d the sanctuaryWhere Kailyal had been wafted, that the SoulOf her dead mother there might strengthen her,Feeding her with the milk of heavenly lore;And influxes of Heaven imbue her heartWith hope and faith, and holy fortitude,Against the evil day. Here rest a whileIn peace, O Father! mark’d for miseryAbove all sons of men; O Daughter! doom’dFor sufferings and for trials above allOf women; . . . yet both favour’d, both belov’dBy all good Powers, here rest a while in peace.XI.THE ENCHANTRESS.1.When from the sword, by arm angelic driven,Foul Arvalan fled howling, wild in pain,His thin essential spirit, rent and rivenWith wounds, united soon and heal’d again;Backward the accursed turn’d his eye in flight,Remindful of revengeful thoughts even then,And saw where, gliding through the evening light,The Ship of Heaven sail’d upward through the sky,Then, like a meteor, vanish’d from his sight.Where should he follow? vainly might he tryTo trace through trackless air its rapid course;Nor dar’d he that; angelic arm defy,Still sore and writhing from its dreaded force.2.Should he the lust of vengeance lay aside?Too long had Arvalan in ill been train’d;Nurst up in power and tyranny and pride,His soul the ignominious thought disdain’d.Or to his mighty father should he go,Complaining of defeature twice sustain’d,And ask new powers to meet the immortal foe? . . .Repulse he fear’d not, but he fear’d rebuke,And sham’d to tell him of his overthrow.There dwelt a dread Enchantress in a nookObscure; old help-mate she to him had been,Lending her aid in many a secret sin;And there, for counsel, now his way he took.3.She was a woman whose unlovely youth,Even like a cankered rose, which none will cull,Had withered on the stalk; her heart was fullOf passions which had found no natural scope,Feelings which there had grown but ripened not;Desires unsatisfied, abortive hope,Repinings which provoked vindictive thought,These restless elements for ever wrought,Fermenting in her with perpetual stir,And thus her spirit to all evil mov’d;She hated men because they lov’d not her,And hated women because they were lov’d.And thus, in wrath and hatred and despair,She tempted Hell to tempt her; and resign’dHer body to the Demons of the Air,Wicked and wanton fiends who, where they will,Wander abroad, still seeking to do ill,And take whatever vacant form they find,Carcase of man or beast, that life hath left;Foul instrument for them of fouler mind.To these the Witch her wretched body gave,So they would wreak her vengeance on mankind,She thus at once their mistress and their slave;And they, to do such service nothing loth,Obeyed her bidding, slaves and masters both.4.So from this cursed intercourse she caughtContagious power of mischief, and was taughtSuch secrets as are damnable to guess.Is there a child whose little lovely waysMight win all hearts, . . . on whom his parents gazeTill they shed tears of joy and tenderness?Oh! hide him from that Witch’s withering sight!Oh! hide him from the eye of Lorrinite!Her look hath crippling in it, and her curseAll plagues which on mortality can light;Death is his doom if she behold, . . . or worse, . . .Diseases loathsome and incurable,And inward sufferings that no tongue can tell.Woe was to him, on whom that eye of hateWas bent; for, certain as the stroke of Fate,It did its mortal work; nor human artsCould save the unhappy wretch, her chosen prey;For gazing, she consum’d his vital parts,Eating his very core of life away.The wine which from yon wounded palm on highFills yonder gourd, as slowly it distills,Grows sour at once if Lorrinite pass by.The deadliest worm, from which all creatures fly,Fled from the deadlier venom of her eye;The babe unborn, within its mother’s womb,Started and trembled when the Witch came nigh,And in the silent chambers of the tombDeath shuddered her unholy tread to hear,And, from the dry and mouldering bones, did fearForce a cold sweat, when Lorrinite was near.5.Power made her haughty: by ambition fir’d,Ere long to mightier mischiefs she aspir’d.The Calis, who o’er Cities rule unseen,Each in her own domain a Demon Queen,And there ador’d with blood and human life,They knew her, and in their accurst employShe stirr’d up neighbouring states to mortal strife.Sani, the dreadful God, who rides abroadUpon the King of the Ravens, to destroyThe offending sons of men, when his four handsWere weary with their toil, would let her doHis work of vengeance upon guilty lands;And Lorrinite, at his commandment, knewWhen the ripe earthquake should be loos’d, and whereTo point its course. And in the baneful airThe pregnant seeds of death he bade her strew,All deadly plagues and pestilence to brew.The Locusts were her army, and their bands,Where’er she turn’d her skinny finger, flew;The floods in ruin roll’d at her commands;And when, in time of drought, the husbandmanBeheld the gathered rain about to fall,Her breath would drive it to the desert sands.While in the marshes parch’d and gaping soil,The rice-roots by the searching Sun were dried;And in lean groupes, assembled at the sideOf the empty tank, the cattle dropt and died;And Famine, at her bidding, wasted wideThe wretched land; till, in the public way,Promiscuous where the dead and dying lay,Dogs fed on human bones in the open light of day.6.Her secret cell the accursed Arvalan,In quest of vengeance, sought, and thus began.Mighty mother! mother wise!Revenge me on my enemies.Lorrinite.Com’st thou, son, for aid to me?Tell me who have injur’d thee,Where they are, and who they be;Of the Earth, or of the Sea,Or of the aerial company?Earth, nor Sea, nor Air is freeFrom the powers who wait on me,And my tremendous witchery.Arvalan.She for whom so ill I sped,Whom my Father deemeth dead,Lives, for Marriataly’s aidFrom the water sav’d the maid.In hatred I desire her still,And in revenge would have my will.A Deveta with, wings of blue,And sword whose edge even now I rue,In a Ship of Heaven on high,Pilots her along the sky.Where they voyage thou canst tell,Mistress of the mighty spell.7.At this the Witch, through shrivell’d lips and thin,Sent forth a sound half-whistle and half-hiss.Two winged Hands came in,Armless and bodyless,Bearing a globe of liquid crystal, setIn frame as diamond bright, yet black as jet.A thousand eyes were quench’d in endless night,To form that magic globe; for LorriniteHad, from their sockets, drawn the liquid sight,And kneaded it, with re-creating skill,Into this organ of her mighty will.Look in yonder orb, she cried,Tell me what is there descried.Arvalan.A mountain top, in clouds of lightEnvelop’d, rises on my sight;Thence a cataract rushes down,Hung with many a rainbow crown;Light and clouds conceal its head,Below, a silver Lake is spread;Upon its shores a Bower I see,Fit home for blessed company.See they come forward, . . . one, two, three, . . .The last a Maiden, . . . it is she!The foremost shakes his wings of blue,’Tis he whose sword even yet I rue;And in that other one I knowThe visage of my deadliest foe.Mother, let thy magic mightArm me for the mortal fight;Helm and shield and mail afford,Proof against his dreaded sword.Then will I invade their seat,Then shall vengeance be compleat.Lorrinite.Spirits, who obey my will,Hear him, and his wish fulfill.8.So spake the mighty one, nor farther spellNeeded. Anon a sound, like smother’d thunder,Was heard, slow rolling under;The solid pavement of the cellQuak’d, heav’d, and cleft asunder,And, at the feet of Arvalan display’d,Helmet and mail and shield and scymitar were laid.9.The Asuras, often put to flight,And scattered in the fields of light,By their foes’ celestial might,Forged this enchanted armour for the fight.’Mid fires intense did they anneal,In mountain furnaces, the quivering steel,Till trembling through each deepening hue,It settled in a midnight blue;Last they cast it, to aslake,In the penal icy lake.Then, they consign’d it to the Giant brood;And, while they forged the impenetrable arms,The Evil Powers, to oversee them, stood,And there imbuedThe work of Giant strength with magic charms.Foul Arvalan, with joy, survey’dThe crescent sabre’s cloudy blade,With deeper joy the impervious mail,The shield and helmet of avail.Soon did he himself array,And bade her speed him on his way.10.Then she led him to the den,Where her chariot, night and day,Stood harness’d, ready for the way.Two Dragons, yok’d in adamant, conveyThe magic car; from either collar sprungAn adamantine rib, which met in air,O’er-arch’d, and crost, and bent diverging there,And firmly in its arc upbore,Upon their brazen necks, thereat of power.Arvalan mounts the car, and in his handReceives the magic reins from Lorrinite;The dragons, long obedient to command,Their ample sails expand;Like steeds well-broken to fair lady’s hand,They feel the reins of might,And up the northern sky begin their flight.11.Son of the Wicked, doth thy soul delightTo think its hour of vengeance now is nigh?Lo! where the far-off lightOf Indra’s palace flashes on his sight,And Meru’s heavenly summit shines on high,With clouds of glory bright,Amid the dark-blue sky.Already, in his hope, doth he espyHimself secure in mail of tenfold charms,Ereenia writhing from the magic blade,The Father sent to bear his Curse, . . . the MaidResisting vainly in his impious arms.12.Ah, Sinner! whose anticipating soulIncurs the guilt even when the crime is spar’d!Joyous toward Meru’s summit on he far’d,While the twin Dragons, rising as he guides,With steady flight, steer northward for the pole.Anon, with irresistible controul,Force mightier far than his arrests their course;It wrought as though a Power unseen had caughtTheir adamantine yokes to drag them on.Straight on they bend their way, and now, in vain,Upward doth Arvalan direct the rein!The rein of magic might avails no more;Bootless its strength against that unseen PowerWhich, in their mid career,Hath seiz’d the Chariot and the Charioteer.With hands resisting, and down-pressing feetUpon their hold insisting,He struggles to maintain his difficult seat.Seeking in vain with that strange Power to vie,Their doubled speed the affrighted Dragons try.Forced in a stream from whence was no retreat,Strong as they are, behold, them whirled along,Headlong, with useless pennons, through the sky.13.What power was that, which, with resistless mightFoil’d the dread magic thus of Lorrinite?’Twas all-commanding Nature . . They were hereWithin the sphere of the adamantine rocksWhich gird Mount Meru round, as far belowThat heavenly height where Ganges hath its birthInvolv’d in clouds and light,So far above its roots of ice and snow.On . . on they roll, . . rapt headlong they roll on; . .The lost canoe, less rapidly than this,Down the precipitous stream is whirl’d alongTo the brink of Niagara’s dread abyss.On . . on . . they roll, and now, with shivering shock,Are dash’d against the rock that girds the Pole.Down from his shatter’d mail the unhappy SoulIs dropt, . . ten thousand thousand fathoms down, . . .Till in an ice-rift, ’mid the eternal snow,Foul Arvalan is stopt. There let him howl,Groan there, . . and there, with unavailing moan,For aid on his Almighty Father call.All human sounds are lostAmid those deserts of perpetual frost,Old Winter’s drear domain,Beyond the limits of the living World,Beyond Kehama’s reign.Of utterance and of motion soon bereft,Frozen to the ice-rock, there behold him lie,Only the painful sense of Being left,A Spirit who must feel, and cannot die,Bleaching and bare beneath the polar sky.XII.THE SACRIFICE COMPLEATED.1.O ye who, by the LakeOn Meru Mount, partakeThe joys which Heaven hath destin’d for the blest,Swift, swift, the moments fly,The silent hours go by,And ye must leave your dear abode of rest.O wretched Man, prepareAgain thy Curse to bear!Prepare, O wretched Maid, for farther woe!The fatal hour draws near,When Indra’s heavenly sphereMust own the Tyrant of the World below.To-day the hundredth Steed,At Seeva’s shrine, must bleed,The dreadful sacrifice is full to-day;Nor man nor God hath power,At this momentous hour,Again to save the Swerga from his sway.Fresh woes, O Maid divine,Fresh trials must be thine;And what must thou, Ladurlad, yet endure!But let your hearts be strong,And bear ye bravely on,For Providence is good, and virtue is secure.2.They, little deeming that the fatal dayWas come, beheld where, through the morning sky,A Ship of Heaven drew nigh.Onward they watch it steer its steady flight;Till, wondering, they espyOld Casyapa, the Sire of Gods, alight.But, when Ereenia saw the Sire appear,At that unwonted and unwelcome sightHis heart receiv’d a sudden shock of fear:Thy presence doth its doleful tidings tell,O Father! cried the startled Glendoveer,The dreadful hour is near! I know it well!Not for less import would the Sire of GodsForsake his ancient and august abodes.3.Even so: serene the immortal Sire replies;Soon like an earthquake will ye feel the blowWhich consummates the mighty sacrifice:And this World, and its Heaven, and all thereinAre then Kehama’s. To the second ringOf these seven Spheres, the Swerga-King,Even now, prepares for flight, . .Beyond the circle of the conquer’d world,Beyond the Rajah’s might.Ocean, that clips this inmost of the Spheres,And girds it round with everlasting roar,Set like a gem appearsWithin that beading shore.Thither fly all the Sons of heavenly race:I, too, forsake mine ancient dwelling-place.And now, O Child and Father, ye must go,Take up the burthen of your woe,And wander once again below.With patient heart hold onward to the end, . . .Be true unto yourselves, and bear in mindThat every God is still the good Man’s friend;And they, who suffer bravely, save mankind.4.Oh tell me, cried Ereenia, for from theeNought can be hidden, when the end will be!5.Seek not to know, old Casyapa replied,What pleaseth Heaven to hide.Dark is the abyss of time,But light enough to guide your steps is given;Whatever weal or woe betide,Turn never front the way of truth aside,And leave the event, in holy hope, to Heaven.The moment is at hand, no more delay,Ascend the etherial bark, and go your way;And Ye, of heavenly nature, follow me.6.The will of Heaven be done, Ladurlad cried,Nor more the man replied;But placed his daughter in the etherial Bark,Then took his seat beside.There was no word at parting, no adieu.Down from that empyreal height they flew:One groan Ladurlad breath’d, yet uttered not,When, to his heart and brainThe fiery Curse again like lightning shot.And now on earth, the Sire and Child alight,Up soar’d the Ship of Heaven, and sail’d away from sight.7.O ye immortal Bowers,Where hitherto the HoursHave led their dance of happiness for aye,With what a sense of woeDo ye expect the blow,And see your heavenly dwellers driven away!Lo! where the aunnay-birds of graceful mien,Whose milk-white forms were seen,Lovely as Nymphs, your ancient trees between,And by your silent springs,With melancholy cry,Now spread unwilling wings;Their stately necks reluctant they protend,And through the sullen sky,To other worlds, their mournful progress bend.The affrighted gales to-dayO’er their beloved streams no longer play,The streams of Paradise have ceas’d to flow;The Fountain-Tree withholds its diamond shower,In this portentous hour, . .This dolorous hour, . . this universal woe.Where is the Palace, whose far-flashing beams,With streaks and streams of ever-varying light,Brighten’d the polar nightAround the frozen North’s extremest shore?Gone like a morning rainbow, . . like a dream. . .A star that shoots and falls, and then is seen no more.8.Now! now! . . . Before the Golden Palaces,The Bramin strikes the inevitable hour.The fatal blow is given,That over Earth and HeavenConfirms the Almighty Rajah in his power.All evil Spirits then,That roam the World about,Or wander through the sky,Set up a joyful shout.The Asuras and the Giants join the cry,The damn’d in Padalon acclaimTheir hop’d Deliverer’s name;Heaven trembles with the thunder-drowning sound;Back starts affrighted Ocean from the shore,And the adamantine vaults, and brazen floorOf Hell, are shaken with the roar.Up rose the Rajah through the conquer’d sky,To seize the Swerga for his proud abode;Myriads of evil Genii round him fly,As royally, on wings of winds, he rode,And scal’d high Heaven, triumphant like a God.
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