XV. The City of Baly

KAILYAL.
Ereenia!

LADURLAD.
Nay, let no reproachful thought
Wrong his heroic heart! The Evil Powers
Have the dominion o'er this wretched World,
And no good Spirit now can venture here.

KAILYAL.
Alas, my Father! he hath ventur'd here,
And sav'd me from one horror. But the Powers

Of Evil beat him down, and bore away
To some dread scene of durance and despair,
The Ancient Tombs, methought their Mistress said,
Beneath the ocean-waves: no way for Man
Is there; and Gods, she boasted, there are none
On Earth to help him now.

LADURLAD.
Is that her boast?
And hath she laid him in the Ancient Tombs,
Relying that the Waves will guard him there?
Short-sighted are the eyes of Wickedness,
And all its craft but folly. O, my child!
The Curses of the Wicked are upon me,
And the immortal Deities, who see
And suffer all things for their own wise end,
Have made them blessings to us!

KAILYAL.
Then thou knowest
Where they have borne him?

LADURLAD.
To the Sepulchres

Of the Ancient Kings, which Baly, in his power,
Made in primeval times; and built above them
A City, like the Cities of the Gods,
Being like a God himself. For many an age
Hath Ocean warr'd against his Palaces,
Till overwhelm'd, they lie beneath the waves,
Not overthrown, so well the Mighty One
Had laid their deep foundations. Rightly said
The Accursed, that no way for Man was there,
But not like Man am I!

Up from the ground the Maid exultant sprung,
And clapp'd her happy hands, in attitude
Of thanks, to Heaven, and flung
Her arms around her Father's neck, and stood
Struggling awhile for utterance, with excess
Of hope and pious thankfulness.
Come . . come! she cried, O let us not delay, . .
He is in torments there, . . away! . . away!

Long time they travell'd on; at dawn of day
Still setting forward with the earliest light,

Nor ceasing from their way
Till darkness clos'd the night.
Short refuge from the noontide heat,
Reluctantly compell'd, the Maiden took;
And ill her indefatigable feet
Could that brief tarriance brook.
Hope kept her up, and her intense desire
Supports that heart which ne'er at danger quails,
Those feet which never tire,
That frame which never fails.

Their talk was of the City of the days
Of old, Earth's wonder once; and of the fame
Of Baly its great founder, . . he whose name
In ancient story, and in poet's praise,
Liveth and flourisheth for endless glory,
Because his might
Put down the wrong, and aye upheld the right.
Till for ambition, as old sages tell,
The mighty Monarch fell:
For he too, having made the World his own,
Then, in his pride, had driven
The Devetas from Heaven,

And seiz'd triumphantly the Swerga throne.
The Incarnate came before the Mighty One,
In dwarfish stature, and in mien obscure;
The sacred cord he bore,
And ask'd, for Brama's sake, a little boon,
Three steps of Baly's ample reign, no more.
Poor was the boon requir'd, and poor was he
Who begg'd, . . a little wretch it seem'd to be;
But Baly ne'er refus'd a suppliant's prayer.
A glance of pity, in contemptuous mood,
He on the Dwarf cast down,
And bade him take the boon,
And measure where he would.

Lo, Son of giant birth,
I take my grant! the Incarnate power replies.
With his first step he measur'd o'er the Earth,
The second spann'd the skies.
Three paces thou hast granted,
Twice have I set my footstep, Veeshnoo cries,
Where shall the third be planted?

Then Baly knew the God, and at his feet,

In homage due, he laid his humbled head.
Mighty art thou, O Lord of Earth and Heaven,
Mighty art thou! he said,
Be merciful, and let me be forgiven.
He ask'd for mercy of the merciful,
And mercy for his virtue's sake was shown.
For though he was cast down to Padalon,
Yet there, by Yamen's throne,
Doth Baly sit in majesty and might,
To judge the dead, and sentence them aright.
And forasmuch as he was still the friend
Of righteousness, it is permitted him,
Yearly, from those drear regions to ascend,
And walk the Earth, that he may hear his name
Still hymn'd and honour'd, by the grateful voice
Of humankind, and in his fame rejoice.

Such was the talk they held upon their way,
Of him to whose old City they were bound;
And now, upon their journey, many a day
Had risen and clos'd, and many a week gone round,
And many a realm and region had they past,
When now the Ancient Towers appear'd at last.

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 swallowed 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,
No voice they hear, save of the Ocean flood,
Which roars for ever on the restless shores;
Or, visiting their solitary caves,
The lonely sound of Winds, that moan around
Accordant to the melancholy waves.

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 wonderous destiny.
To Heaven he rais'd 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 see'st 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 Bird obscene that thirsts 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 let thy sleep be sweet.

So saying, he put back his arm, and gave
The cloth which girt his loins, and prest her hand
With fervent love, then down the sloping 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,
Falls on her like a shower; there Kailyal stands,
And sees the billows rise above his head.
She, at the startling sight, forgot the power
The Curse had given him, and held forth her hands
Imploringly, . . . her voice was on the wind,
And the deaf Ocean o'er Ladurlad clos'd.
Soon she recall'd his destiny to mind,
And, shaking off that natural fear, compos'd
Her soul with prayer, to wait the event resign'd.

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 scar'd them out;
Then in her Father's robe involv'd her feet,
And wrapt 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.

Be of good heart, and let 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
Ereenia, 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.

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 clos'd 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!

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 shall I behold my Father more!