8. Their golden summits, in the noon-day light, Shone o'er the dark-green deep that roll'd between; For domes, and pinnacles, and spires were seen Peering above the sea-a mournful sight! Well might the sad beholder ween from thence What works of wonder the devouring wave Had swallow'd there, when monuments so brave Bore record of their old magnificence. And on the sandy shore, beside the verge Of Ocean, here and there, a rock-hewn fane Resisted in its strength the surf and surge That on their deep foundations beat in vain. In solitude the Ancient Temples stood, Once resonant with instrument and song, And solemn dance of festive multitude; Now, as the weary ages pass along, Hearing no voice save of the Ocean flood, Which roars forever on the restless shores; Or visiting their solitary caves,

The lonely sound of winds, that moan around Accordant to the melancholy waves.

9.

With reverence did the travellers see The works of ancient days, and silently Approach the shore. Now on the yellow sand, Where round their feet the rising surges part, They stand. Ladurlad's heart Exulted in his wondrous destiny. To Heaven he raised his hand In attitude of stern, heroic pride; Oh what a Power, he cried,

Thou dreadful Rajah, doth thy curse impart ! I thank thee now! - Then turning to the Maid, Thou seest how far and wide

Yon Towers extend, he said;

My search must needs be long. Meantime the

flood

Will cast thee up thy food,

And in the Chambers of the Rock, by night, Take thou thy safe abode.

No prowling beast to harm thee, or affright, Can enter there; but wrap thyself with care From the foul Birds obscene that thirst for blood; For in such caverns doth the Bat delight To have its haunts. Do thou, with stone and

shout,

Ere thou liest down at evening, scare them out, And in this robe of mine involve thy feet. Duly commend us both to Heaven in prayer; Be of good heart, and may thy sleep be sweet!

10.

So saying, he put back his arm, and gave The cloth which girt his loins, and press'd her hand

With fervent love, then from the sand Advanced into the sea; the coming Wave Which knew Kehama's curse, before his way

Started, and on he went as on dry land; And still around his path the waters parted. She stands upon the shore, where sea-weeds play, Lashing her polish'd ankles, and the spray Which off her Father, like a rainbow, fled,

Alone, upon the solitary strand,
The lovely one is left; behold her go,
Pacing with patient footsteps, to and fro,
Along the bending sand.

Save her, ye Gods! from Evil Powers, and here
From man she need not fear:

For never Traveller comes near
These awful ruins of the days of yore,
Nor fisher's bark, nor venturous mariner,
Approach the sacred shore.

All day she walk'd the beach; at night she sought
The chamber of the Rock; with stone and shout
Assail'd the Bats obscene, and scared them out;
Then in her Father's robe involved her feet,
And wrapp'd her mantle round to guard her head,
And laid her down: the rock was Kailyal's bed;
Her chamber-lamps were in the starry sky;
The winds and waters were her lullaby.

12.

Be of good heart, and may thy sleep be sweet, Ladurlad said. Alas! that cannot be To one whose days are days of misery. How often did she stretch her hands to greet Ercenia, rescued in the dreams of night! How oft, amid the vision of delight, Fear in her heart all is not as it seems! Then from unsettled slumber start, and hear The Winds that moan above, the Waves below! Thou hast been call'd, O Sleep! the friend of Woe;

But 'tis the happy who have call'd thee so.

13.

Another day, another night are gone;
A second passes, and a third wanes on.
So long she paced the shore,

So often on the beach she took her stand, That the wild Sea-Birds knew her, and no more Fled, when she past beside them on the strand. Bright shine the golden summits in the light

Of the noon-sun, and lovelier far by night Their moonlight glories o'er the sea they shed: Fair is the dark-green deep: by night and day, Unvex'd with storms, the peaceful billows play, As when they closed upon Ladurlad's head;

The firmament above is bright and clear; The sea-fowl, lords of water, air, and land, Joyous alike upon the wing appear, Or when they ride the waves, or walk the sand; Beauty, and light, and joy are every where; There is no sadness and no sorrow here, Save what that single human breast contains; But oh what hopes, and fears, and pains are there!

14.

Seven miserable days the expectant Maid, From earliest dawn till evening, watch'd the shore; Hope left her then; and in her heart she said, Never should she behold her Father more.

XVI.

THE ANCIENT SEPULCHRES.

1.

WHEN the broad Ocean on Ladurlad's head
Had closed and arch'd him o'er,
With steady tread he held his way

Adown the sloping shore.

The dark-green waves with emerald hue
Imbue the beams of day,

And on the wrinkled sand below,
Rolling their mazy network to and fro,

Light shadows shift and play.
The hungry Shark, at scent of prey,
Toward Ladurlad darted;
Beholding then that human form erect,
How like a God the depths he trod,
Appall'd the monster started,
And in his fear departed.

Onward Ladurlad went with heart elate, And now hath reach'd the Ancient City's gate.

Like things of Nature! the eternal rocks Themselves not firmer. Neither hath the sand Drifted within their gates and chok'd their doors, Nor slime defiled their pavements and their floors. Did then the Ocean wage

His war for love and envy, not in rage,
O thou fair City, that he spared thee thus?
Art thou Varounin's capital and court,
Where all the Sea Gods for delight resort,

A place too godlike to be held by us,
The poor degenerate children of the earth?
So thought Ladurlad, as he look'd around,
Weening to hear the sound
Of Mermaid's shell, and song,
Of choral throng from some imperial hall,
Wherein the Immortal Powers, at festival,
Their high carousals keep;

But all is silence dread,

Silence profound and dead,

The everlasting stillness of the Deep.

4.

Through many a solitary street,

And silent market-place, and lonely square, Arm'd with the mighty Curse, behold him fare. And now his feet attain that royal fane Where Baly held of old his awful reign. What once had been the Gardens spread around, Fair Gardens, once which wore perpetual green, Where all sweet flowers through all the year were found,

And all fair fruits were through all seasons seen;
A place of Paradise, where each device
Of emulous Art with Nature strove to vie ;
And Nature, on her part,

Call'd forth new powers wherewith to vanquish
Art.

The Swerga-God himself, with envious eye, Survey'd those peerless gardens in their prime; Nor ever did the Lord of Light, Who circles Earth and Heaven upon his way, Behold from eldest time a goodlier sight Than were the groves which Baly, in his might, Made for his chosen place of solace and delight.

5.

It was a Garden still beyond all price; Even yet it was a place of Paradise; For where the mighty Ocean could not spare, There had he, with his own creation, Sought to repair his work of devastation. And here were coral bowers,

And grots of madre pores,

And banks of sponge, as soft and fair to eye
As e'er was mossy bed

Whereon the Wood Nymphs lie,
With languid limbs, in summer's sultry hours.

Here, too, were living flowers
Which, like a bud compacted,

Their purple cups contracted,

And now, in open blossom spread,

Stretch'd like green anthers many a seeking head.
And arborets of jointed stone were there,
And plants of fibres fine, as silkworm's thread;
Yea, beautiful as Mermaid's golden hair

The golden fountains had not ceased to flow; And where they mingled with the briny Sea, There was a sight of wonder and delight, To see the fish, like birds in air,

Above Ladurlad flying.

Round those strange waters they repair,
Their scarlet fins outspread and plying;
They float with gentle hovering there;
And now, upon those little wings,
As if to dare forbidden things,
With wilful purpose bent,
Swift as an arrow from a bow,
They shoot across, and to and fro,
In rapid glance, like lightning go
Through that unwonted element.

7.

Almost, in scenes so wondrous fair,
Ladurlad had forgot

The mighty cause which led him there;
His busy eye was every where ;
His mind had lost all thought;

His heart, surrender'd to the joys
Of sight, was happy as a boy's.
But soon the awakening thought recurs
Of him who in the Sepulchres,
Hopeless of human aid, in chains is laid;
And her who, on the solitary shore,
By night and day, her weary watch will keep,
Till she shall see them issuing from the deep.

8.

Now hath Ladurlad reach'd the Court Of the great Palace of the King: its floor Was of the marble rock; and there, before The imperial door,

A mighty Image on the steps was seen, Of stature huge, of countenance serene. A crown and sceptre at his feet were laid; One hand a scroll display'd; The other pointed there, that all might see; My name is Death, it said;

In mercy have the Gods appointed me. Two brazen gates beneath him, night and day, Stood open; and within them you behold Descending steps, which in the living stone Were hewn, a spacious way Down to the Chambers of the Kings of old.

9.

Trembling with hope, the adventurous man descended.

The sea-green light of day
Not far along the vault extended;
But where the slant reflection ended,
Another light was seen

Of red and fiery hue,

That with the water blended,

And gave the secrets of the Tombs to view.

10.

Deep in the marble rock, the Hall Of Death was hollow'd out, a chamber wide, Low-roof'd, and long; on either side, Each in his own alcove, and on his throne, The Kings of old were seated: in his hand Each held the sceptre of command, From whence, across that scene of endless night, A carbuncle diffused its everlasting light.

11.

So well had the embalmers done their part With spice and precious unguents to imbue The perfect corpse, that each had still the hue Of living man, and every limb was still Supple, and firm, and full, as when of yore

Its motion answered to the moving will. The robes of royalty, which once they wore, Long since had mouldered off, and left them bare:

Naked upon their thrones behold them there, Statues of actual flesh- -a fearful sight! Their large and rayless eyes,

Dimly reflecting to that gem-born light, Glazed, fix'd, and meaningless,—yet, open wide, Their ghastly balls belied

The mockery of life in all beside.

12.

But if, amid these chambers drear, Death were a sight of shuddering and of fear, Life was a thing of stranger horror here. For at the farther end, in yon alcove, Where Baly should have lain, had he obey'd Man's common lot, behold Ereenia laid. Strong fetters link him to the rock; his eye Now rolls and widens, as with effort vain He strives to break the chain, Now seems to brood upon his misery.

Before him couch'd there lay One of the mighty monsters of the deep, Whom Lorrinite, encountering on the way, There station'd, his perpetual guard to keep; In the sport of wanton power, she charm'd him there,

As if to mock the Glendoveer's despair.

13.

Upward his form was human, save that here The skin was cover'd o'er with scale on scale Compact, a panoply of natural mail.

His mouth, from ear to ear,

Weapon'd with triple teeth, extended wide, And tusks on either side;

A double snake below, he roll'd

His supple length behind in many a sinuous fold.

14.

With red and kindling eye, the Beast beholds A living man draw nigh,

And rising on his folds,

In hungry joy awaits the expected feast, His mouth half open, and his teeth unsheath'd. Then on he sprung, and in his scaly arms Seized him, and fasten'd on his neck, to suck, With greedy lips, the warm life-blood: and sure But for the mighty power of magic charms,

As easily as, in the blithesome hour Of spring, a child doth crop the meadow-flower, Piecemeal those claws

Had rent their victim, and those armed jaws Snapp'd him in twain. Naked Ladurlad stood, Yet fearless and unharm'd in this dread strife, So well Kehama's Curse had charm'd his fated life.

15.

He too, for anger, rising at the sight
Of him he sought, in such strange thrall confined,
With desperate courage fired Ladurlad's mind, -
He too unto the fight himself address'd,
And grappling breast to breast,
With foot firm-planted stands,

And seized the monster's throat with both his hands.
Vainly, with throttling grasp, he press'd
The impenetrable scales;

And lo! the Guard rose up, and round his foe, With gliding motion, wreath'd his lengthening coils,

Then tighten'd all their folds with stress and strain.
Nought would the raging Tiger's strength avail,
If once involved within those mighty toils;
The arm'd Rhinoceros, so clasp'd, in vain
Had trusted to his hide of rugged mail,
His bones all broken, and the breath of life
Crush'd from the lungs, in that unequal strife.
Again, and yet again, he sought to break
The impassive limbs; but when the Monster found
His utmost power was vain,

A moment he relax'd in every round,
Then knit his coils again with closer strain,
And, bearing forward, forced him to the ground.

16.

Ereenia groan'd in anguish at the sight Of this dread fight: once more the Glendoveer Essay'd to break his bonds, and fear For that brave father who had sought him here, Stung him to wilder strugglings. From the rock He raised himself half up, with might and main, Pluck'd at the adamantine chain, And now, with long and unrelaxing strain, In obstinate effort of indignant strength, Labor'd and strove in vain; Till his immortal sinews fail'd at length; And yielding, with an inward groan, to fate, Despairingly, he let himself again Fall prostrate on his prison-bed of stone, Body and chain alike with lifeless weight.

17.

Struggling they lay in mortal fray
All day, while day was in our upper sphere;
For light of day

And natural darkness never entered here;
All night, with unabated might,
They waged the unremitting fight.
A second day, a second night,
With furious will they wrestled still.
The third came on, the fourth is gone;
Another comes, another goes;

And yet no respite, no repose!
But day and night, and night and day,
Involv'd in mortal strife they lay;
Six days and nights have pass'd away,
And still they wage, with mutual rage,
The unremitting fray.

With mutual rage their war they wage,
But not with mutual will;
For when the seventh morning came,
The monster's worn and wearied frame
In this strange contest fails;
And weaker, weaker, every hour,
He yields beneath strong Nature's power,
For now the Curse prevails.

. 18.

Sometimes the Beast sprung up to bear His foe aloft; and trusting there To shake him from his hold, Relax'd the rings that wreath'd him round; But on his throat Ladurlad hung, And weigh'd him to the ground; And if they sink, or if they float, Alike with stubborn clasp he clung, Tenacious of his grasp;

For well he knew with what a power, Exempt from Nature's laws, The Curse had arm'd him for this hour; And in the monster's gasping jaws, And in his hollow eye, Well could Ladurlad now descry The certain signs of victory.

19.

And now the Beast no more can keep His painful watch; his eyes, oppress'd, Are fainting for their natural sleep; His living flesh and blood must rest; The Beast must sleep or die. Then he, full faint and languidly, Unwreathes his rings and strives to fly,

And still retreating, slowly trails His stiff and heavy length of scales. But that unweariable foe, With will relentless follows still; No breathing-time, no pause of fight He gives, but presses on his flight; Along the vaulted chambers, and the ascent Up to the emerald-tinted light of day, He harasses his way, Till lifeless, underneath his grasp, The huge Sea Monster lay.

20. That obstinate work is done; Ladurlad cried, One labor yet remains! And thoughtfully he eyed Ereenia's ponderous chains; And with faint effort, half-despairing, tried The rivets deep in-driven. Instinctively, As if in search of aid, he look'd around: Oh, then how gladly, in the near alcove, Fallen on the ground its lifeless Lord beside, The crescent cimeter he spied,

Whose cloudy blade, with potent spells imbued, Had lain so many an age unhurt in solitude!

21.

Joyfully springing there,

He seized the weapon, and with eager stroke Hew'd at the chain; the force was dealt in vain, For not as if through yielding air Pass'd the descending cimeter,

Its deaden'd way the heavy water broke; Yet it bit deep. Again, with both his hands, He wields the blade, and dealt a surer blow. The baser metal yields

To that fine edge, and lo! the Glendoveer Rises and snaps the half-sever'd links, and stands Freed from his broken bands.

XVII.

BALY.

1.

THIS is the appointed night,

The night of joy and consecrated mirth,
When from his judgment-seat in Padalon,
By Yamen's throne,

Baly goes forth, that he may walk the Earth
Unseen, and hear his name

Still hymn'd and honor'd by the grateful voice Of human-kind, and in his fame rejoice. Therefore, from door to door, and street to street,

With willing feet,

Shaking their firebands, the glad children run; Baly great Baly! they acclaim; Where'er they run they bear the mighty name; Where'er they meet,

Baly! great Baly! still their choral tongues repeat. Therefore at every door the votive flame Through pendent lanterns sheds its painted light, And rockets, hissing upward through the sky, Fall like a shower of stars

From Heaven's black canopy. Therefore, on yonder mountain's templed height, The brazen caldron blazes through the night. Huge as a Ship that travels the main sea Is that capacious brass; its wick as tall As is the mast of some great admiral. Ten thousand votaries bring Camphor and ghee to feed the sacred flame; And while, through regions round, the nations see

Its fiery pillar curling high in heaven,

Baly great Baly! they exclaim,

He turns away from that ungrateful sight, Hallowed not now by visitants divine, And there he bends his melancholy way, Where, in yon full-orb'd Moon's refulgent light, The Golden Towers of his old City shine Above the silver sea. The ancient Chief There bent his way in grief,

As if sad thoughts indulged would work their own relief. 4.

There he beholds, upon the sand,

A lovely Maiden in the moonlight stand. The land-breeze lifts her locks of jet; The waves around her polish'd ankles play; Her bosom with the salt sea-spray is wet; Her arms are cross'd, unconsciously, to fold That bosom from the cold, While, statue-like, she seems her watch to keep, Gazing intently on the restless deep.

5.

Seven miserable days had Kailyal there, From earliest dawn till evening, watch'd the deep; Six nights, within the chamber of the rock, Had laid her down, and found in prayer That comfort which she sought in vain from sleep. But when the seventh night came,