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So saying, on her knces 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 slowers which last I wreath'd 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 dextrous 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.

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 Blaz'd in the dark blue sky, aloft, like fire. Father, away she cried, away! why linger we so might 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.

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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 combin'd,
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.

The Moon is up, still pale Amid the lingering light. A cloud ascending in the eastern sky, Sails slowly oer the vale, 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.

Before them full in sight, A white flag flapping to the winds of night, Marks where the tiger seiz'd his human prey.” 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 ought, Save her dear father's strange and miserable lot. There in the woodland shade, Upon the lap of that unhappy maid, His head Ladurlad laid, And never word he spake;

Nor heav'd he one complaining sigh, Nor groan'd he with his misery, But silently for her dear sake Endur'd 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 listened 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. Doth satiate cruelty bestow This little respite to his woe, She thought, or are there Gods who look below:

Perchance, thought Kailyal, willingly deceiv'd, Our Marriataly hath his pain reliev'd, And she hath bade the blessed sleep assuage Ilis 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 reclind 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 clos d her heavy lids, and sunk to sleep. Wain 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 bath'd 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 Rehama's Curse.

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 burthen 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.

Gently he lifts his head, And Kailyal does not feel; Gently he rises up, she slumbers still; Gently he steals away with silent tread. Anon she started, for she felt him gone; She call'd, and through the stillness of the night, His step was heard in flight. Mistrustful for a moment of the sound, She listens! till the step is heard no more; But then she knows that he indeed is gone, And with a thrilling shriek she rushes on. The darkness and the wood impede her speed; She lifts her voice again, Ladurlad!—and again, alike in vain, And with a louder cry Straining its tone to hoarseness;–far away, Selfish in misery, He heard the call and faster did he fly.

She leans against that tree whose jutting bough Smote her so rudely. Her poor heart Ilow audibly it panted,

With sudden stop and start;

Her breath how short and painfully it came
Hark! all is still around her.—
And the night so utterly dark,

She opened her eyes and she closed them, And the blackness and blank were the same.

"T was like a dream of horror, and she stood Half doubting whether all indeed were true. A Tiger's howl loud echoing through the wood, Rous'd her; the dreadful sound she knew, And turn'd instinctively to what she fear'd. Far off the Tiger's hungry howl was heard; A nearer horror met the maiden's view, For right before her a dim form appeard, A human form in that black night, Distinctly shaped by its own lurid light, Such light as the sickly moon is seen to shed, Through spell-raisid fogs, a bloody baleful red.

That Spectre fix’d his eyes upon her full; The light which shone in their accursed orbs Was like a light from Hell, And it grew deeper, kindling with the view. She could not turn her sight From that infernal gaze, which like a spell Bound her, and held her rooted to the ground. It palsied every power; Her limbs avail'd her not in that dread hour. There was no moving thence, Thought, memory, sense were gone : She heard not now the Tiger's nearer cry, She thought not on her father now, Her cold heart's blood ran back, ller hand lay senseless on the bough it clasp'd, Her feet were motionless; Her fascinated eyes Like the stone eye-balls of a statue fix’d, Yet conscious of the sight that blasted them.

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---------it might have calm'd the gay amid their mirth, And given the wretched a delight in tears. One of the Glendovcers,” 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.

With timely pity touch'd for one so fair, The gentle Glendovecr Prest her thus pale and senseless to his breast, And springs aloft in air with sinewy wings, And bears the Maiden there, Where Ilimakoot,” the holy Mount, on high From mid-carth rising in mid-Heaven, Shines in its glory like the throne of Ewen. 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.

The Father of the Immortals sate, Where underneath the Tree of Life, The fountain of the Sacred River sprung: The Father of the Immortals siniid Benignant on his son. Know'st thou, he said, my child, Ereenia, know'st thou whom thou bringest here, A mortal to the holy atmosphere?

Ed et Not A. 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, Fatho-' by that smile— By that benignant eyes cAs YA PA. 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 tlath turn'd her face away, Unwilling to behold The unhappy end of guilt?'9

er H. F. NiA. 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?

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CASYA PA. The Maiden, of a truth, is pure from sin. 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 lioly Spring would welcome her. The Tree of Life which o'er her spread, I'enignant 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. Lehold 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.

Soon she let fall her lids, t As one who, from a blissful dream Waking to thoughts of pain, o 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 morial Pilgrimage was past, That she had reach'd her heavenly home of rest, And these were Gods before her, i Or spirits of the blest.

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Th EN in the Ship of Heaven, Ercemia laid The waking, wondering Maid; The Ship of Heaven, instinct with thought, display'd Its living sail, and glides along the sky. On either side in wavy tide, The clouds of morn along its path divide; The Winds who swept in wild career on high, Before its presence check their charmed force; The Winds that loitering lago'd along their course, Around the living Bark enamour'd play, Swell underneath the sail, and sing before its way. That Bark, in shape, was like the furrow'd shell Wherein the Sea-Nymphs to their parent-king, On festal day, their duteous offerings bring. Its hue?—Go watch the last green light Ere Evening yields the western sky to Night; Or fix upon the Sun thy strenuous sight Till thou hast reach'd its orb of chrysolite. The sail from end to end display'd !ent, like a rainbow, o'er the Maid. An Angel's head, with visual eye, Through trackless space, directs its chosen way, Nor aid of wing, nor foot, nor fin, Requires to voyage o'er the obedient sky. Smooth as the swam when not a breeze at even Disturbs the surface of the silver stream, Through air and sunsline sails the Ship of Heaven.

Recumbent there the Maiden glides along On her aerial way, How swift she feels not, though the swiftest wind

Had slago; d in flight behind.

Motionless as a sleeping babe she lay,

And all serenc in mind, Feeling no fear; for that etherial air With such new life and joyance fill d her heart, Fear could not enter there; For sure she deem'd her mortal part was o'er,

Aud she was sailing to the heavenly shore; And that angelic form, who moved beside, Was some good spirit sent to be her guide.

Daughter of Earth; therein thou deem'st aright, And never yet did form more beautiful, In dreams of night descending from on high, Bless the religious Virgin's gifted sight, Nor, like a vision of delight, Rise on the raptured Poet's inward cye, Of human form divine was he, The immortal Youth of Heaven who floated by, Even such as that divinest form shall be In those blest stages of our onward race When no infirmity, Low thought, nor base desire, nor wasting care, Deface the semblance of our heavenly sire, The wings of Eagle or of Cherubim Ilad seem'd unworthy him: Angelic power and dignity and grace Were in his glorious pennons; from the neck Down to the ankle reach'd their swelling web Richer than robes of Tyrian dye, that deck Imperial majesty: Their colour like the winter's moonless sky, When all the stars of midnight's canopy Shine forth; or like the azure deep at noon, Reflecting back to heaven a brighter llue. Such was their tint when closed, but when outspread, The permeating light Shed through their substance thin a varying hue ; Now bright as when the loose, Beauteous as fragrant, #ives to scent and sight A like delight; now like the juice that slows From Douro's generous vine, Or ruly when with deepest red it glows: Or as the morning clouds refulgent shine, When, at forthcoming of the Lord of Day, The Orient, like a shrine, Kindles as it receives the rising ray, And heralding his way, Proclaims the presence of the power divine. Thus glorious were the wings Of that celestial Spirit, as he went Disporting through his native element. Nor these alone The gorgeous beauties that they gave to view: Through the broad membrane branch'd a pliant bone, Spreading like fibres from their parent stem; Its veins like interwoven silver slione, Or as the chaster line of pearls that grace some Sultan's diadem. Now with slow stroke and strong, behold him smite The buoyant air, and now in gentler flight, On motiouless wing cypanded, shoot along.

Through air and sunshine sails the Ship of Ileaven.

Far, far beneath them lies

The gross and heavy atmosphere of earth;
And with the Swerga tales,
The Maid of mortal birth

At every breath a new delight inhales.
And now towards its port the Ship of Heaven,
Swift as a falling meteor, shapes its flight,
Yet gently as the dews of night that gen,
And do not bend the hare-bell's slenderest stem.

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