Shall I forsake thee, seeing thee so fair,"

So wretched? O my Father, let the maid
Dwell in the Sacred Grove.

CASYAPA.

That must not be,

For Force and Evil then would enter here; Ganges, the holy stream which cleanseth sin, Would flow from hence polluted in its springs, And they who gasp upon its banks in death,

Feel no salvation. Piety and peace,

And Wisdom, these are mine; but not the power
Which could protect her from the Almighty Man;
Nor when the spirit of dead Arvalan

Should persecute her here to glut his rage,
To heap upon her yet more agony,
And ripen more damnation for himself.

EREENIA.

Dead Arvalan?

CASYAPA.

All power to him, whereof

The disembodied spirit in its state
Of weakness could be made participant,
Kehama hath assign'd, until his days
Of wandering shall be numbered.

EREENIA.

Look! she drinks

The gale of healing from the blessed Groves.
She stirs, and lo! her hand

Hath touch'd the Holy River in its source, Who would have shrunk if aught impure were nigh

CASYAPA.

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 holy Spring would welcome her.
The Tree of Life which o'er her spread,

Benignant 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.

Behold 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,

As one who, from a blissful dream

Waking to thoughts of pain,

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 mortal pilgrimage was past,

That she had reach'd her heavenly home of rest,
And these were Gods before her,
Or spirits of the blest.

Lo at Ereenia's voice,

A Ship of Heaven comes sailing down the skies. Where wouldst thou bear her? cries

The ancient Sire of Gods.

Straight to the Swerga, to my bower of bliss,

The Glendoveer replies,

To Indra's own abodes.

Foe of her foe, were it alone for this

Indra should guard her from his vengeance there; But if the God forbear,

Unwilling yet the perilous strife to try,

8

Or shrinking from the dreadful Rajah's might,...

Weak as I am, O Father, even I

Stand forth in Seeva's sight.

Trust thou in him whate'er betide,

And stand forth fearlessly!

The Sire of Gods replied:

All that he wills is right, and doubt not thou,
Howe'er our feeble scope of sight
May fail us now,

His righteous will in all things must be done.
My blessing be upon thee, O my son!