Quench'd in the unnatural light which might out-stare And thou from thy celestial way Blotting the lights of heaven With one portentous glare. Behold the fragrant smoke in many a fold, Ascending floats along the fiery sky, And hangeth visible on high, Hark! 't is the funeral trumpet's breath! At once ten thousand drums begin, You hear no more the trumpet's tone, Though the trumpet's breath, and the dirge of death, Mingle and swell the funeral yell. Arvalan! Arvalan! Arvalan! Arvalan ! Ten times ten thousand voices in one shout Call Arvalan! The overpowering sound, From house to house repeated rings about, From tower to tower rolls round. The death-procession moves along, With quick rebound of sound, The universal multitude reply. In vain ye thunder on his ear the name! Would ye awake the dead? A glow is on his face,-a lively red; Which o'er his cheek the reddening shade hath shed. But the motion comes from the bearers' tread, Nor calling the dear name; And arms enfolded on his breast, For Nature in his pride hath dealt the blow, And taught the Master of Mankind to know Even he himself is man, and not exempt from woe. O sight of grief! the wives of Arvalan, With symphony, and dance, and song, The clarions' stirring breath That on the agitated air Trembles, and glitters to the torches' glare. A man and maid of aspect wan and wild, Then, side by side, by bowmen guarded, came. O wretched father! O unhappy child! Them were all eyes of all the throng exploringIs this the daring man Who raised his fatal hand at Arvalan? Then were all hearts of all the throng deploring, Far, far behind, beyond all reach of sight, Rolls on the undistinguishable clamour Of streams which down the wintry mountain pour, Of stormy billows on a rocky shore, And now toward the bank they go Where, winding on their way below, Deep and strong the waters flow. Here doth the funeral pile appear With myrrh and ambergris bestrew'd, And built of precious sandal-wood. They cease their music and their outcry here; Gently they rest the bier: They wet the face of Arvalan, No sign of life the sprinkled drops excite; They feel his lips, no breath; For not with feeble, nor with erring hand, The stern avenger dealt the blow of death. Then with a doubting peal and deeper blast, The tambours and the trumpets sound on high, And with a last and loudest cry They call on Arvalan. And still with overwhelming din The tambours and the trumpets sound; And clap of hand, and shouts, and cries, From all the multitude arise: While round and round, in giddy wheel, Intoxicate they roll and reel, Till one by one whirl'd in they fall, And the devouring flames have swallow'd all. Then all was still; the drums and clarions ceas'd; The multitude were hush'd in silent awe; Only the roaring of the flames was heard. II. THE CURSE. ALONE towards the Table of the dead, There with collected voice and painful tone Lo! Arvalan appears. 6 Only Kehama's powerful eye beheld Receiv'd his feeble breath. And is this all? the mournful Spirit said, These empty pageantries that mock the dead! And groan'd, and smote his breast, and o'er his face Cowl'd the white mourning vest. What, boy is that cup sweet? then take thy fill! And gave a womanly shriek, and back she drew, It chanced that near her on the river-brink, She forms not in her soul one secret prayer, With tug and strain would force the maid away;- In pity didst thou see the suffering maid? And now with force redoubled drag their prey; The worser criminal! And on Ladurlad, while he spake, severe He fix'd his dreadful frown. The strong reflection of the pile Lit his dark lineaments, Lit the protruded brow, the gathered front, The steady eye of wrath. But while the fearful silence yet endur'd, Ere yet the voice of destiny Which trembled on the Rajah's lips was loos'd, As if despair had waken'd him to hope; Only to save my child, I smote the Prince. With the whole feeling of his soul enforced, The gather'd vengeance came. I charm thy life And the beasts of blood: And know thee and fly thee; And the Winds shall not touch thee When they pass by thee, When they fall nigh thee, 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 confus'd her brain. And hath he spar'd 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, Hath sent a fire into my heart and brain, The winds of Heaven must never breathe on me; This is a dream! exclaim'd the incredulous maid, As though it were an enemy's blow, he smote Her eye glanced down, his mantle she espied IV. THE DEPARTURE. RECLIN'D beneath a Cocoa's feathery shade And Kailyal on his lap her head hath laid, The boatman, sailing on his easy way, 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! But now the Sun in heaven is high, The little songsters of the sky Sit silent in the sultry hour," They pant and palpitate with heat; Their bills are open languidly To catch the passing air; It murmurs not, it moves not. There all the morning was Ladurlad laid, The man was still, pondering with steady mind, His own portentous lot; Scanning it o'er and o'er in busy thought, As though it were a last night's tale of woe, Before the cottage door By some old beldame sung, While young and old, assembled round, Listened, as if by witchery bound, In fearful pleasure to her wonderous tongue. Musing so long he lay, that all things seem What if he felt no wind? the air was still, Of nature, not his own peculiar doom; Is it indeed a dream? he rose to try, And in the stream he plung'd his hasty arm She heard the in-drawn groan, 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. Oh! wrong not them! quoth Kailyal, Our hope is all in them: They are not blind! And lighter crimes than his, Have drawn the Incarnate down among mankind. Already have the Immortals heard our cries, |