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 shaped 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 hath piety.
Before the Giant Keeper of the Gate
She crost her patient arms, and at his feet,
Prepar'd to meet

The aweful 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 gazed on her with wonder and delight. The blessing of the Powers of Padalon, Virgin, be on thee! said 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 that 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
Inclined, received his blessing silently,
And raised her grateful eyes

A moment, then again

Abased 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 pious 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.

Poised on a single wheel, it mov❜d along,
Instinct with motion; by what wondrous skill
Compact, no human tongue could tell,
Nor human wit devise; but on that wheel,
Moving or still,

As if with life indued,

The Car miraculous supported stood.

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 tenfold fires been tried,
And blanch'd, and to that brightness purified.
Apparell'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-moved Car roll❜d on,
And lo! they pass the Gate of Padalon.

XXIII.

PADALON.

1.

WHOE'ER hath loved with venturous step to tread The chambers dread

Of some deep cave, and seen his taper's beam
Lost in the arch of darkness overhead,
And mark'd its gleam,

Playing afar upon the sunless stream,
Where from their secret bed,
And course unknown and inaccessible,
The silent waters well;

Whoe'er hath trod such caves of endless night,
He knows, when measuring back the gloomy way,
With what delight refresh'd his eye
Perceives the shadow of the light of day,
Through the far portal slanting, where it falls
Dimly reflected on the watery walls;
How heavenly seems the sky;

And how, with quicken'd feet, he hastens up, Eager again to greet

The living World and blessed sunshine there, And drink, as from a cup

Of joy, with thirsty lips, the open air.