Far, far behind, beyond all reach of sight,
In order'd files the torches flow along,
One ever-lengthening line of gliding light:
Far. . . far behind,

Rolls on the undistinguishable clamour,
Of horn, and trump, and tambour;
Incessant as the roar

Of streams which down the wintry mountain pour, And louder than the dread commotion

Of breakers on a rocky shore,

When the winds rage over the waves,
And Ocean to the Tempest raves.

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 breast, ... no motion there;
They feel his lips, no breath;

...

For not with feeble, nor with erring hand, The brave avenger dealt the blow of death. Then with a doubling peal and deeper blast, The tambours and the trumpets sound on high, And with a last and loudest cry

They call on Arvalan.

Woe! woe! for Azla takes her seat
Upon the funeral pile !

THE CURSE OF KEHAMA

Calmly she took her seat,

Calmly the whole terrific pomp survey'd ;
As on her lap the while

The lifeless head of Arvalan was laid.

Woe! woe! Nealliny,

The young Nealliny!

They strip her ornaments away,

Bracelet and anklet, ring, and chain, and zone; Around her neck they leave

The marriage knot alone, ..

...

That marriage band, which when
Yon waning moon was young,
Around her virgin neck
With bridal joy was hung.

Then with white flowers, the coronal of death,
Her jetty locks they crown.

O sight of misery!

You cannot hear her cries, . . . their sound
In that wild dissonance is drown'd ; . . .
But in her face you see

The supplication and the agony,

See in her swelling throat the desperate strength That with vain effort struggles yet for life; Her arms contracted now in fruitless strife, Now wildly at full length

Towards the crowd in vain for pity spread, . They force her on, they bind her to the dead.

Then all around retire;

Circling the pile, the ministering Bramins stand, Each lifting in his hand a torch on fire.

Alone the Father of the dead advanced
And lit the funeral pyre.

At once on every side
The circling torches drop,
At once on every side
The fragrant oil is pour'd,
At once on every side
The rapid flames rush up.
Then hand in hand the victim band
Roll in the dance around the funeral pyre;
Their garments' flying folds
Float inward to the fire;

In drunken whirl they wheel around ;
One drops, . . . another plunges in ;
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 ceased;
The multitude were hush'd in silent awe;
Only the roaring of the flames was heard.

II. KEHAMA CURSES LADURLAD

I CHARM thy life

From the weapons of strife,
From stone and from wood,

From fire and from flood,

From the serpent's tooth,

And the beasts of blood:
From Sickness I charm thee,
And Time shall not harm thee;
But Earth which is mine,
Its fruits shall deny thee;
And Water shall hear me,
And know thee and fly thee;
And the Winds shall not touch thee
When they pass by thee,

And the Dews shall not wet thee,
When they fall nigh thee:
And thou shalt seek Death
To release thee, in vain;
Thou shalt live in thy pain
While Kehama shall reign,
With a fire in thy heart,
And a fire in thy brain;
And Sleep shall obey me,

And visit thee never,

And the Curse shall be on thee
For ever and ever.

There where the Curse had stricken him,
There stood the miserable man,

There stood Ladurlad, with loose-hanging arms,
And eyes of idiot wandering.

Was it a dream? alas,

He heard the river flow,

He heard the crumbling of the pile,
He heard the wind which shower'd
The thin white ashes round.

There motionless he stood,

As if he hoped it were a dream,
And feared to move, lest he should prove
The actual misery ;

And still at times he met Kehama's eye,
Kehama's eye that fastened on him still.

III. LADURLAD RESCUES HIS DAUGHTER KAILYAL1

WHERE too is she whom most his heart held dear,
His best-beloved Kailyal, where is she,
The solace and the joy of many a year
Of widowhood? is she then gone,
And is he left all-utterly alone,
To bear his blasting curse, and none
To succour or deplore him?

He staggers from the dreadful spot; the throng
Give way in fear before him;

Like one who carries pestilence about, Shuddering they shun him, where he moves along. And now he wanders on

1

Beyond the noisy rout;

He cannot fly and leave his Curse behind,
Yet doth he seem to find

A comfort in the change of circumstance.
Adown the shore he strays,

Unknowing where his wretched feet shall rest,
But farthest from the fatal place is best.

By this in the orient sky appears the gleam
Of day.
Lo! what is yonder in the stream,

Kailyal, clinging to the wooden image of Marriataly, the goddess of the Parias, is borne down the river. -Ed.