It was an Idol roughly hewn of wood,

Artless, and mean, and rude;
The Goddess of the poor was she;

None else regarded her with piety.
But when that holy Image Kailyal view'd,
To that she sprung, to that she clung,
On her own Goddess, with close-clasping arms,
For life the maiden hung.

9.

They seized the maid; with unrelenting grasp
They bruised her tender limbs;

She, nothing yielding, to this only hope Clings with the strength of frenzy and depair. She screams not now, she breathes not now, She sends not up one vow,

She forms not in her soul one secret prayer, All thought, all feeling, and all powers of life In the one effort centering. Wrathful they With tug and strain would force the maid away;... Didst thou, O Marriataly, see their strife, In pity didst thou see the suffering maid ? Or was thine anger kindled, that rude hands Assail'd thy holy Image?... for behold The holy image shakes!

His brow yet unrelax'd,... his lips unclosed, And uttered from the heart,

With the whole feeling of his soul enforced, The gathered vengeance came.

14.

I charm thy life

From the weapons of strife, From stone and from wood, From fire and from flood, From the serpent's tooth, And the beasts of blood: From Sickness I charm thee, And Time shall not harm thee; But Earth which is mine, Its fruits shall deny thee; And Water shall hear me, And know thee and fly thee; And the Winds shall not touch thee When they pass by thee,

And the Dews shall not wet thee,

When they fall nigh thee:
And thou shalt seek Death
To release thee, in vain ;
Thou shalt live in thy pain
While Kehama shall reign,
With a fire in thy heart,
And a fire in thy brain;
And Sleep shall obey me,

And visit thee never,

And the Curse shall be on thee
For ever and ever.

15.

There where the Curse had stricken him,
There stood the miserable man,

There stood Ladurlad, with loose-hanging arms,
And eyes of idiot wandering.

Was it a dream? alas,

He heard the river flow,

He heard the crumbling of the pile, He heard the wind which shower'd The thin white ashes round. There motionless he stood, As if he hoped it were a dream, And feared to move, lest he should prove The actual misery;

And still at times he met Kehama's eye, Kehama's eye that fastened on him still.

III.

THE RECOVERY.

THE Rajah turn'd toward the pile again, Loud rose the song of death from all the crowd; Their din the instruments begin,

And once again join in
With overwhelming sound.
Ladurlad starts,... he looks around;
What hast thou here in view,

O wretched man! in this disastrous scene;
The soldier train, the Bramins who renew

Their ministry around the funeral pyre,

The empty palankeens,
The dimly-fading fire.

2.

Where too is she whom most his heart held dear,
His best-beloved Kailyal, where is she,
The solace and the joy of many a year

Of widowhood? is she then gone,
And is he left all-utterly alone,
To bear his blasting curse, and none
To succour or deplore him?

He staggers from the dreadful spot; the throng
Give way in fear before him;
Like one who carries pestilence about,
Shuddering they shun him, where he moves along.
And now he wanders on
Beyond the noisy rout;

He cannot fly and leave his Curse behind,
Yet doth he seem to find

A comfort in the change of circumstance. Adown the shore he strays, Unknowing where his wretched feet shall rest, But farthest from the fatal place is best.

3.

By this in the orient sky appears the gleam Of day. Lo! what is yonder in the stream, Down the slow river floating slow, In distance indistinct and dimly seen? The childless one with idle eye Followed its motion thoughtlessly; Idly he gazed unknowing why, And half unconscious that he watch'd its way. Belike it is a tree

Which some rude tempest, in its sudden sway, Tore from the rock, or from the hollow shore The undermining stream hath swept away.

4.

But when anon outswelling by its side,
A woman's robe he spied,

Oh then Ladurlad started,
As one, who in his grave
Had heard an Angel's call.

Yea, Marriataly, thou hast deign'd to save!
Yea, Goddess! it is she,
Kailyal, still clinging senselessly

To thy dear Image, and in happy hour
Upborne amid the wave
By that preserving power.

5.

Headlong in hope and in joy
Ladurlad plunged in the water;
The Water knew Kehama's spell,
The Water shrunk before him.
Blind to the miracle,

He rushes to his daughter,

And treads the river-depths in transport wild, And clasps and saves his child.

6.

Upon the farther side a level shore Of sand was spread: thither Ladurlad bore His daughter, holding still with senseless hand The saving Goddess; there upon the sand

He laid the livid maid,

Raised up against his knees her drooping head; Bent to her lips,... her lips as pale as death,... If he might feel her breath,

His own the while in hope and dread suspended; Chafed her cold breast, and ever and anon Let his hand rest, upon her heart extended.

7.

Soon did his touch perceive, or fancy there, The first faint motion of returning life.

He chafes her feet, and lays them bare In the sun; and now again upon her breast Lays his hot hand; and now her lips he prest, For now the stronger throb of life he knew; And her lips tremble too! The breath comes palpably: Her quivering lids unclose, Feebly and feebly fall,

Relapsing as it seem'd to dead repose.

8.

So in her father's arms thus languidly, While over her with earnest gaze he hung, Silent and motionless she lay,

And painfully and slowly writhed at fits, At fits to short convulsive starts was stung. Till when the struggle and strong agony Had left her, quietly she lay reposed: Her eyes now resting on Ladurlad's face, Relapsing now, and now again unclosed. The look she fix'd upon his face, implies Nor thought nor feeling; senselessly she lies, Composed like one who sleeps with open eyes.

9.

Long he leant over her,

In silence and in fear.

Kailyal!... at length he cried in such a tone As a poor mother ventures who draws near, With silent footstep, to her child's sick bed. My Father! cried the maid, and raised her head, Awakening then to life and thought,... thou here? For when his voice she heard,

The dreadful past recurr'd,

Which dimly, like a dream of pain,

Till now with troubled sense confused her brain.

10.

And hath he spared us then? she cried,
Half rising as she spake,

For hope and joy the sudden strength supplied;
In mercy hath he curb'd his cruel will,
That still thou livest? But as thus she said,
Impatient of that look of hope, her sire
Shook hastily his head;

Oh! he hath laid a Curse upon my life,
A clinging curse, quoth he;

Hath sent a fire into my heart and brain,
A burning fire, for ever there to be!
The Winds of Heaven must never breathe on me;
The Rains and Dews must never fall on me;
Water must mock my thirst and shrink from me ;
The common Earth must yield no fruit to me;
Sleep, blessed Sleep! must never light on me;
And Death, who comes to all, must fly from me,
And never, never set Ladurlad free.

11.

This is a dream! exclaim'd the incredulous maid, Yet in her voice the while a fear exprest,

Which in her larger eye was manifest.
This is a dream! she rose and laid her hand
Upon her father's brow, to try the charm;
He could not bear the pressure there;... he shrunk,...
He warded off her arm,

As though it were an enemy's blow, he smote
His daughter's arm aside.

Her eye glanced down, his mantle she espied And caught it up; ... Oh misery! Kailyal cried, He bore me from the river-depths, and yet His garment is not wet!

IV.

THE DEPARTURE.

1.

RECLINED beneath a Cocoa's feathery shade
Ladurlad lies,

And Kailyal on his lap her head hath laid,
To hide her streaming eyes.

The boatman, sailing on his easy way, With envious eye beheld them where they lay; For every herb and flower

Was fresh and fragrant with the early dew, Sweet sung the birds in that delicious hour, And the cool gale of morning as it blew, Not yet subdued by day's increasing power, Ruffling the surface of the silvery stream, Swept o'er the moisten'd sand, and rais'd no shower. Telling their tale of love,

The boatman thought they lay

At that lone hour, and who so blest as they !

2.

But now the Sun in heaven is high,

The little songsters of the sky
Sit silent in the sultry hour, 1
They pant and palpitate with heat;
Their bills are open languidly

To catch the passing air;
They hear it not, they feel it not,
It murmurs not, it moves not.
The boatman, as he looks to land,
Admires what men so mad to linger there,
For yonder Cocoa's shade behind them falls,
A single spot upon the burning sand.

3.

There all the morning was Ladurlad laid,
Silent and motionless like one at ease;
There motionless upon her father's knees
Reclined the silent maid.

The man was still, pondering with steady mind,

"The tufted lark, fixed to this fruitful land," says Sonnini, speaking of Egypt, "never forsakes it; it seems, however, that the excessive heat annoys him. You may see these birds, as well as sparrows, in the middle of the day, with their bills half open, and the muscles of their breasts agitated, breathing with difficulty, and as if they panted for respiration. The in

As if it were another's Curse,
His own portentous lot;

Scanning it o'er and o'er in busy thought, As though it were a last night's tale of woc, Before the cottage door

By some old beldam sung, While young and old, assembled round Listened, as if by witchery bound, In fearful pleasure to her wondrous tongue.

4.

Musing so long he lay, that all things seem Unreal to his sense, even like a dream,

A monstrous dream of things which could not be.
That beating, burning brow,... why it was now
The height of noon, and he was lying there
In the broad sun, all bare!

What if he felt no wind? the air was still.
That was the general will

Of Nature, not his own peculiar doom;
Yon rows of rice erect and silent stand,
The shadow of the Cocoa's lightest plume
Is steady on the sand.

5.

Is it indeed a dream? he rose to try,
Impatient to the water side he went,
And down he bent,

And in the stream he plunged his hasty arm
To break the visionary charm.
With fearful eye and fearful heart,
His daughter watch'd the event;
She saw the start and shudder,
She heard the in-drawn groan,
For the Water knew Kehama's charm,
The Water shrunk before his arm.

His dry hand moved about unmoisten'd there;
As easily might that dry hand avail
To stop the passing gale,

Or grasp the impassive air.
He is Almighty then!

Exclaim'd the wretched man in his despair:
Air knows him, Water knows him; Sleep
His dreadful word will keep;

Even in the grave there is no rest for me,
Cut off from that last hope, . . . the wretch's joy;
And Veeshnoo hath no power to save,
Nor Seeva to destroy.

6.

Oh! wrong not them! quoth Kailyal,

Wrong not the Heavenly Powers! Our hope is all in them: They are not blind! And lighter wrongs than ours,

And lighter crimes than his,

Have drawn the Incarnate down among mankind. Already have the Immortals heard our cries, And in the mercy of their righteousness Beheld us in the hour of our distress!

stinct, which induces them to prefer those means of subsistence which are easily obtained, and in abundance, although attended with some suffering, resembles the mind of man, whom a thirst for riches engages to brave calamities and dangers without number."

She spake with streaming eyes, Where pious love and ardent feeling beam. And turning to the Image, threw

Her grateful arms around it,... It was thou
Who savedst me from the stream!
My Marriataly, it was thou!

I had not else been here

To share my Father's Curse,

To suffer now,... and yet to thank thee thus!

7.

Here then, the maiden cried, dear Father, here
Raise our own Goddess, our divine Preserver !
The mighty of the earth despise her rites,
She loves the poor who serve her.
Set up her Image here,

With heart and voice the guardian Goddess bless,
For jealously would she resent
Neglect and thanklessness; ...
Set up her Image here,

And bless her for her aid with tongue and soul sincere.

8.

So saying on her knees the maid

Began the pious toil.

Soon their joint labour scoops the easy soil;
They raise the Image up with reverent hand,
And round its rooted base they heap the sand.
O Thou whom we adore,

O Marriataly, thee do I implore,
The virgin cried; my Goddess, pardon thou
The unwilling wrong, that I no more,
With dance and song,

Can do thy daily service, as of yore!

The flowers which last I wreathed around thy brow,
Are withering there; and never now
Shall I at eve adore thee,

And swimming round with arms outspread,
Poise the full pitcher on my head,
In dexterous dance before thee,

While underneath the reedy shed, at rest
My father sat the evening rites to view,
And blest thy name, and blest
His daughter too.

9.

Then heaving from her heart a heavy sigh, O Goddess! from that happy home, cried she, The Almighty Man hath forced us! And homeward with the thought unconsciously She turn'd her dizzy eye.... But there on high, With many a dome, and pinnacle, and spire, The summits of the Golden Palaces Blazed in the dark blue sky, aloft, like fire.

1 The watchmen are provided with no offensive weapons excepting a sling; on the contrary, they continue the whole day standing, in one single position, upon a pillar of clay raised about ten feet, where they remain bellowing continually, that they may terrify, without hurting, the birds who feed upon the crop. Every considerable field contains several such sentinels, stationed at different corners, who repeat the call from one to another so incessantly, that the invaders have hardly any opportunity of making a good livelihood in

the field.

These watchmen are forced, during the rains, to erect, instead of a clay pillar, a scaffolding of wood as high as the

Father, away! she cried, away!

Why linger we so nigh?

For not to him hath Nature given
The thousand eyes of Deity,

Always and every where with open sight,
To persecute our flight!
Away... away! she said,

And took her father's hand, and like a child
He followed where she led.

V.

THE SEPARATION.

1.

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

Hark! at the Golden Palaces 2 The Bramin strikes the hour. For leagues and leagues around, the brazen sound Rolls through the stillness of departing day, Like thunder far away.

2.

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

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

It plays among the trees;
Like plumes upon a warrior's crest,
They see yon cocoas tossing to the breeze.
Ladurlad views them with impatient mind,
Impatiently he hears

The gale of evening blowing,
The sound of waters flowing,

As if all sights and sounds combined
To mock his irremediable woe;
For not for him the blessed waters flow,
For not for him the gales of evening blow,
A fire is in his heart and brain,
And Nature hath no healing for his pain.

3.

The Moon is up, still pale
Amid the lingering light.

A cloud ascending in the eastern sky,
Sails slowly o'er the vale,

crop, over which they suspend a roof of straw, to shelter their naked bodies from the rain. - Tennant.

2 Every thing belonging to the Sovereign of Ava has the addition of shoe, or golden, annexed to it; even his majesty's person is never mentioned but in conjunction with this precious metal. When a subject means to affirm that the king has heard any thing, he says, "it has reached the golden ears;" he who obtained admission to the royal presence has been at the "golden feet." The perfume of otta of roses, a nobleman observed one day, "was an odour grateful to the golden nose."— Symes.

And darkens round and closes in the night.'

No hospitable house is nigh,

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

4.

Before them full in sight,

A white flag flapping to the winds of night,
Marks where the tiger seized a human prey. 2
Far, far away with natural dread,
Shunning the perilous spot,

At other times abhorrent had they fled;
But now they heed it not.

Nothing they care; the boding death-flag now
In vain for them may gleam and flutter there.
Despair and agony in him,

Prevent all other thought;

And Kailyal hath no heart or sense for aught, Save her dear father's strange and miserable lot.

5.

There in the woodland shade,
Upon the lap of that unhappy maid,
His head Ladurlad laid,
And never word he spake;
Nor heaved he one complaining sigh,
Nor groaned he with his misery,
But silently for her dear sake
Endured the raging pain.
And now the moon was hid on high,
No stars were glimmering in the sky;
She could not see her father's eye,
How red with burning agony;
Perhaps he may be cooler now,
She hoped, and long'd to touch his brow
With gentle hand, yet did not dare
To lay the painful pressure there.
Now forward from the tree she bent,
And anxiously her head she leant,
And listen'd to his breath.
Ladurlad's breath was short and quick,
Yet regular it came,

And like the slumber of the sick,
In pantings still the same.

Oh if he sleeps! ... her lips unclose,
Intently listening to the sound,
That equal sound so like repose.
Still quietly the sufferer lies,

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

"At this season of the year, it is not uncommon, towards the evening, to see a small black cloud rising in the eastern part of the horizon, and afterwards spreading itself to the northwest. This phenomenon is always attended with a violent storm of wind, and flashes of the strongest and most vivid lightning and heavy thunder, which is followed by rain. These storms sometimes last for half an hour or more; and, when they disperse, they leave the air greatly freshened, and the sky of a deep, clear, and transparent blue. When they occur near the full moon, the whole atmosphere is illuminated by a soft but brilliant silver light, attended with gentle airs. Hodges.

Doth satiate cruelty bestow This little respite to his woe,

She thought, or are there Gods who look below?

6.

Perchance, thought Kailyal, willingly deceived,
Our Marriataly hath his pain relieved,
And she hath bade the blessed sleep assuage
His agony, despite the Rajah's rage.
That was a hope which fill'd her gushing eyes,
And made her heart in silent yearnings rise,
To bless the power divine in thankfulness.
And yielding to that joyful thought her mind,
Backward the maid her aching head reclined
Against the tree, and to her father's breath
In fear she hearken'd still with earnest ear.
But soon forgetful fits the effort broke;
In starts of recollection then she woke,
Till now benignant Nature overcame
The Virgin's weary and exhausted frame,
Nor able more her painful watch to keep,
She closed her heavy lids, and sunk to sleep.

7.

Vain was her hope! he did not rest from pain,
The Curse was burning in his brain;
Alas! the innocent maiden thought he slept,
But Sleep the Rajah's dread commandment kept,
Sleep knew Kehama's Curse.

The dews of night fell round them now,
They never bathed Ladurlad's brow,
They knew Kehama's Curse.

The night-wind is abroad,

Aloft it moves among the stirring trees;
He only heard the breeze,.

No healing aid to him it brought,

It play'd around his head and touch'd him not, It knew Kehama's Curse.

8.

Listening, Ladurlad lay in his despair,

If Kailyal slept, for wherefore should she share Her father's wretchedness, which none could cure? Better alone to suffer; he must bear The burden of his Curse, but why endure The unavailing presence of her grief? She too, apart from him, might find relief; For dead the Rajah deem'd her, and as thus Already she his dread revenge had fled, So might she still escape and live secure.

bamboo staff, of ten or twelve feet long, at the place where a tiger has destroyed a man. It is common for the passengers, also, each to throw a stone, or brick, near the spot, so that, in the course of a little time, a pile, equal to a good waggon load, is collected. This custom, as well as the fixing a rag on any particular thorn bush, near the fatal spot, is in use, likewise, on various accounts. Many brambles may be seen in a day's journey, completely covered with this motley assemblage of remnants. The sight of the flags and piles of stones imparts a certain melancholy, not perhaps altogether devoid of apprehension. They may be said to be of service, in pointing out the places most frequented by tigers.-Oriental