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 blue.
Such was their tint when clos'd, but when outspread,
The permeating light

Shed through their substance thin a varying hue;
Now bright as when the Rose,

Beauteous as fragrant, gives to scent and sight
A like delight; now like the juice that flows
From Douro's generous vine,

Or ruby 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 shone,
Or as the chaster hue

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 motionless wing expanded, shoot along.

Through air and sunshine sails the Ship of Heaven.
Far far beneath them lies

The gross and heavy atmosphere of earth;
And with the Swerga gales,

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 gem,
And do not bend the hare-bell's slenderest stem.
Daughter of Earth, Ereenia cried, alight,
This is thy place of rest, the Swerga this,
Lo, here my bower of bliss!

He

He furl'd his azure wings, which round him fold
Graceful as robes of Grecian chief of old.
The happy Kailyal knew not where to gaze,
Her eyes around in joyful wonder roam,
Now turn'd upon the lovely Glendoveer,
Now on his heavenly home.

S

MOUNT MERU.

[From the same.]

WIFT through the sky the vessel of the Suras
Sails up the fields of ether like an Angel,

Rich is the freight, O Vessel, that thou bearest i
Beauty and Virtue,

Fatherly cares and filial veneration,

Hearts which are prov'd and strengthen'd by affliction,
Manly resentment, fortitude and action,
Womanly goodness;

All with which Nature halloweth her daughters,
Tenderness, truth and purity and meekness,
Piety, patience, faith and resignation,
Love and devotement.

Ship of the Gods! how richly art thou laden!
Proud of the charge, thou voyagest rejoicing.
Clouds float around to honour thee, and Evening
Lingers in heaven.

A stream descends on Meru mountain;
None hath seen its secret fountain;

It had its birth, so Sages say,
Upon the memorable day
When Parvati presumed to lay,
In wanton play,

Her hands, too venturous Goddess, in her mirth,
On Seeva's eyes, the light and life of Earth.
Thereat the heart of the Universe stood still;
The Elements ceas'd their infiuences; the Hours
Stopt on the eternal round; Motion and Breath,
Time, Change, and Life and Death,
In sudden trance opprest, forgot their powers.
A moment, and the dread eclipse was ended;
But, at the thought of Nature thus suspended,

The sweat on Seeva's forehead stood,
And Ganges thence upon the World descended,
The Holy River, the Redeeming Fleed.

None

None hath seen its secret fountain;
But on the top of Meru mountain

Which rises o'er the hills of earth,
In light and clouds, it hath its mortal birth.
Earth seems that pinnacle to rear
Sublime above this wordly sphere,
Its cradle, and its altar, and its throne;
And there the new-born River lies
Outspread beneath its native skies,
As if it there would love to dwell
Alone and unapproachable.
Soon flowing forward, and resign'd
To the will of the Creating Mind,
It springs at once, with sudden leap,
Down from the immeasurable steep.
From rock to rock, with shivering force rebounding,
The mighty cataract rushes; Heaven around,
Like thunder, with the incessant roar resounding,
And Meru's summit shaking with the sound.
Wide spreads the snowy foam, the sparkling spray
Dances aloft; and ever there, at morning,
The earliest sun-beams haste to wing their way,
With rain-bow wreaths the holy flood adorning;
And duly the adoring Moon at night
Sheds her white glory there,
And in the watery air.

Suspends her halo-crowns of silver light.

A mountain valley in its blessed breast Receives the stream, which there delights to lie, Untroubled and at rest,

Beneath the untainted sky.

There in a lovely lake it seems to sleep,
And thence, through many a channel dark and deep,
Their secret way the holy Waters wind,
Till, rising underneath the root
Of the Tree of Life on Hemakoot,
Majestic forth they flow to purify mankind.

Towards this Lake, above the nether sphere,
The living Bark, with angel eye,
Directs its course along the obedient sky.
Kehama hath not yet dominion here;
And till the dreaded hour,

When Indra by the Rajah shall be driven
Dethron'd from Heaven,

Here may Ladurlad rest beyond his power.
The living Bark alights; the Glendoveer

Here

1810.

Then lays Ladurlad by the blessed Lake;
O happy Sire, and yet more happy Daughter!
The ethereal gales his agony aslake,
His daughters's tears are on his cheek,
His hand is in the water;

The innocent man, the man opprest,
Oh joy!-hath found a place of rest
Beyond Kehama's sway,

His Curse extends not here; his pains have past away.

Oh happy Sire, and happy Daughter!
Ye on the banks of that celestial water
Your resting place and sanctuary have found,
What! hath not then their mortal taint defil'd
The sacred solitary ground?

Vain thought! the Holy Valley smil'd
Receiving such a sire and child;
Ganges, who seem'd asleep to lie,
Beheld them with benignant eye,
And rippled round melodiously,
And roll'd her little waves, to meet
And welcome their beloved feet.
The gales of Swerga thither fled,
And heavenly odours there were shed
About, below, and overhead;
And Earth rejoicing in their tread,
Hath built them up a blooming Bower,
Where every amaranthine flower
Its deathless blossom interweaves
With bright and undecaying leaves.

Three happy beings are there here,
The Sire, the Maid, the Glendoveer!
A fourth approaches,-who is this
That enters in the Bower of Bliss?
No form so fair might painter find
Among the daughters of mankind;
For Death her beauties hath refin'd,

And unto her a form hath given
Fram'd of the elements of Heaven;
Pure dwelling-place for perfect mind,
She stood and gaz'd on sire and child;
Her tongue not yet had power to speak,
The tears were streaming down her cheek;
And when those tears her sight beguil'd,

And still her faltering accents fail'd,

The Spirit, mute and motionless,
Spread out her arms for the caress,
Made still and silent with excess
Of love and painful happiness.

The Maid that lovely form survey'd;
Wistful she gaz'd, and knew her not;
But Nature to her heart convey'd
A sudden thrill, a startling thought,
A feeling many a year forgot,
Now like a dream anew recurring,
As if again in every vein
Her mother's milk was stirring.
With straining neck and earnest eye
She stretch d her hands imploringly,
As if she fain would have her nigh,
Yet fear'd to meet the wish'd embrace,
At once with love and awe opprest.
Not so, Ladurlad; he could trace,
Though brighten'd with angelic grace,
His own Yedillian's earthly face:
He ran and held it to his breast!
Oh joy above all joys of Heaven,
By Death alone to others given,
This moment hath to him restor'd
The early-lost, the long-deplor'd.

They sin who tell us Love can die.
With life all other passions fly,
All others are but vanity.
In Heaven Ambition cannot dwell,
Nor Avarice in the vaults of Hell;
Earthly these passions of the Earth,
They perish where they have their birth;
But Love is indestructible.

Its holy flame for ever burneth,

From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth;
Too oft on Earth a troubled guest,
At times deceiv'd, at times opprest,
It here is tried and purified,

Then hath in Heaven its perfect rest:
It soweth here with toil and care,
But the harvest-time of Love is there.
Oh! when a Mother meets on high
The Babe she lost in infancy,
Hath she not then, for pains and fears,
The day of woe, the watchful night,
For all her sorrow, all her tears,
An over-payment of delight!

A