1.
Shall this then be thy fate, O lovely Maid,
Thus, Kailyal, must thy sorrows then be ended!
Her face upon the ground,
Her arms at length extended,
There like a corpse behold her laid,
Beneath the deadly shade.
What if the hungry Tyger, prowling by,
Should snuff his banquet nigh?
Alas, Death needs not now his ministry;
The baleful boughs hang o’er her,
The poison-dews descend.
What power will now restore her,
What God will be her friend?
2.
Bright and so beautiful was that fair night,
It might have calm’d the gay amid their mirth,
And given the wretched a delight in tears.
One of the Glendoveers,
The loveliest race of all of heavenly birth,
Hovering with gentle motion o’er the earth,
Amid the moonlight air,
In sportive flight was floating round and round,
Unknowing where his joyous way was tending.
He saw the maid where motionless she lay,
And stoopt his flight descending,
And rais’d her from the ground.
Her heavy eye-lids are half clos’d,
Her cheeks are pale and livid like the dead,
Down hang her loose arms lifelessly,
Down hangs her languid head.
3.
With timely pity touch’d for one so fair,
The gentle Glendoveer
Prest her thus pale and senseless to his breast,
And springs aloft in air with sinewy wings,
And bears the Maiden there,
Where Himakoot, the holy Mount, on high
From mid-earth rising in mid-Heaven,
Shines in its glory like the throne of Even.
Soaring with strenuous flight above,
He bears her to the blessed Grove,
Where in his ancient and august abodes,
There dwells old Casyapa, the Sire of Gods.
4.
The Father of the Immortals sate,
Where underneath the Tree of Life
The fountains of the Sacred River sprung:
The Father of the Immortals smil’d
Benignant on his son.
Knowest thou, he said, my child,
Ereenia, knowest thou whom thou bringest here,
A mortal to the holy atmosphere?
Ereenia.
I found her in the Groves of Earth,
Beneath a poison-tree,
Thus lifeless as thou seest her.
In pity have I brought her to these bowers,
Not erring, Father! by that smile . . .
By that benignant eye!
Casyapa.
What if the maid be sinful? If her ways
Were ways of darkness, and her death predoom’d
To that black hour of midnight, when the Moon
Hath turn’d her face away,
Unwilling to behold
The unhappy end of guilt?
Ereenia.
Then what a lie, my Sire, were written here,
In these fair characters! And she had died,
Sure proof of purer life and happier doom,
Now in the moonlight, in the eye of Heaven,
If I had left so fair a flower to fade.
But thou, . . . all knowing as thou art,
Why askest thou of me?
O Father, oldest, holiest, wisest, best,
To whom all things are plain,
Why askest thou of me?
Casyapa.
Knowest thou Kehama?
Ereenia.
The Almighty Man!
Who knows not him and his tremendous power?
The Tyrant of the Earth,
The Enemy of Heaven!
Casyapa.
Fearest thou the Rajah?
Ereenia.
He is terrible!
Casyapa.
Yea, he is terrible! such power hath he,
That hope hath entered Hell.
The Asuras and the spirits of the damn’d
Acclaim their Hero; Yamen, with the might
Of Godhead, scarce can quell
The rebel race accurst;
Half from their beds of torture they uprise,
And half uproot their chains.
Is there not fear in Heaven?
The souls that are in bliss suspend their joy;
The danger hath disturb’d
The calm of Deity,
And Brama fears, and Veeshnoo turns his face
In doubt toward Seeva’s throne.
Ereenia.
I have seen Indra tremble at his prayers,
And at his dreadful penances turn pale.
They claim and wrest from Seeva power so vast,
That even Seeva’s self,
The Highest, cannot grant and be secure.
Casyapa.
And darest thou, Ereenia, brave
The Almighty Tyrant’s power?
Ereenia.
I brave him, Father! I?
Casyapa.
Darest thou brave his vengeance? . . . for if not,
Take her again to earth,
Cast her before the tyger in his path,
Or where the death-dew-dropping tree
May work Kehama’s will.
Ereenia.
Never!
Casyapa.
Then meet his wrath! for he, even he,
Hath set upon this worm his wanton foot.
Ereenia.
I knew her not, how wretched and how fair,
When here I wafted her: . . . poor Child of Earth,
Shall I forsake thee, seeing thee so fair,
So wretched? O my Father, let the maid
Dwell in the Sacred Grove.
Casyapa.
That must not be,
For Force and Evil then would enter here;
Ganges, the holy stream which cleanseth sin,
Would flow from hence polluted in its springs,
And they who gasp upon its banks in death,
Feel no salvation. Piety and peace
And Wisdom, these are mine; but not the power
Which could protect her from the Almighty Man;
Nor when the spirit of dead Arvalan
Should persecute her here to glut his rage,
To heap upon her yet more agony,
And ripen more damnation for himself.
Ereenia.
Dead Arvalan?
Casyapa.
All power to him, whereof
The disembodied spirit in its state
Of weakness could be made participant,
Kehama hath assign’d, until his days
Of wandering shall be numbered.
Ereenia.
Look! she drinks
The gale of healing from the blessed Groves.
She stirs, and lo! her hand
Hath touch’d the Holy River in its source,
Who would have shrunk if aught impure were nigh.
Casyapa.
The Maiden, of a truth, is pure from sin.
5.
The waters of the holy Spring
About the hand of Kailyal play;
They rise, they sparkle, and they sing,
Leaping where languidly she lay,
As if with that rejoicing stir
The holy Spring would welcome her.
The Tree of Life which o’er her spread,
Benignant bow’d its sacred head,
And dropt its dews of healing;
And her heart-blood at every breath,
Recovering from the strife of death,
Drew in new strength and feeling.
Behold her beautiful in her repose,
A life-bloom reddening now her dark-brown cheek;
And lo! her eyes unclose,
Dark as the depth of Ganges’ spring profound
When night hangs over it,
Bright as the moon’s refulgent beam,
That quivers on its clear up-sparkling stream.
6.
Soon she let fall her lids,
As one who, from a blissful dream
Waking to thoughts of pain,
Fain would return to sleep, and dream again.
Distrustful of the sight,
She moves not, fearing to disturb
The deep and full delight.
In wonder fix’d, opening again her eye
She gazes silently,
Thinking her mortal pilgrimage was past,
That she had reach’d her heavenly home of rest,
And these were Gods before her,
Or spirits of the blest.
7.
Lo! at Ereenia’s voice,
A Ship of Heaven comes sailing down the skies.
Where wouldst thou bear her? cries
The ancient Sire of Gods.
Straight to the Swerga, to my Bower of Bliss,
The Glendoveer replies,
To Indra’s own abodes.
Foe of her foe, were it alone for this
Indra should guard her from his vengeance there;
But if the God forbear,
Unwilling yet the perilous strife to try,
Or shrinking from the dreadful Rajah’s might, . . .
Weak as I am, O Father, even I
Stand forth in Seeva’s sight.
8.
Trust thou in Him whatever betide,
And stand forth fearlessly!
The Sire of Gods replied:
All that He wills is right, and doubt not thou,
Howe’er our feeble scope of sight
May fail us now,
His righteous will in all things must be done.
My blessing be upon thee, O my son!
