1.
O ye who, by the Lake
On Meru Mount, partake
The 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, prepare
Again thy Curse to bear!
Prepare, O wretched Maid, for farther woe!
The fatal hour draws near,
When Indra’s heavenly sphere
Must 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.
