XXII. THE GATE OF PADALON.
1.
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.
2.
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.
3.
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.
4.
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.
5.
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.
6.
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.
7.
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?
8.
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!
9.
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.
10.
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.
11.
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.
12.
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.
13.
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.
14.
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.
15.
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.
16.
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.
