In her care to see that nought went wrong,Now the mother happen'd to draw near;At the door long hearkens she, full long,Wond'ring at the sounds that greet her ear.
Tones of joy and sadness,And love's blissful madness,As of bride and bridegroom they appear,From the door she will not now remove'Till she gains full certainty of this;And with anger hears she vows of love,Soft caressing words of mutual bliss.
"Hush! the cock's loud strain!
But thoult come again,When the night returns!"--then kiss on kiss.
Then her wrath the mother cannot hold,But unfastens straight the lock with ease "In this house are girls become so bold,As to seek e'en strangers' lusts to please?"By her lamp's clear glowLooks she in,--and oh!
Sight of horror!--'tis her child she sees.
Fain the youth would, in his first alarm,With the veil that o'er her had been spread, With the carpet, shield his love from harm;But she casts them from her, void of dread,And with spirit's strength,In its spectre length,Lifts her figure slowly from the bed.
"Mother! mother!"--Thus her wan lips say:
"May not I one night of rapture share?
From the warm couch am I chased away?
Do I waken only to despair?
It contents not theeTo have driven meAn untimely shroud of death to wear?
"But from out my coffin's prison-boundsBy a wond'rous fate I'm forced to rove, While the blessings and the chaunting soundsThat your priests delight in, useless prove.
Water, salt, are vainFervent youth to chain,Ah, e'en Earth can never cool down love!
"When that infant vow of love was spoken,Venus' radiant temple smiled on both.
Mother! thou that promise since hast broken,Fetter'd by a strange, deceitful oath.
Gods, though, hearken ne'er,Should a mother swearTo deny her daughter's plighted troth.
From my grave to wander I am forc'd,Still to seek The Good's long-sever'd link, Still to love the bridegroom I have lost,And the life-blood of his heart to drink;When his race is run,I must hasten on,And the young must 'neath my vengeance sink,"Beauteous youth! no longer mayst thou live;Here must shrivel up thy form so fair;
Did not I to thee a token give,Taking in return this lock of hair?
View it to thy sorrow!
Grey thoult be to-morrow,Only to grow brown again when there.
"Mother, to this final prayer give ear!
Let a funeral pile be straightway dress'd;Open then my cell so sad and drear,That the flames may give the lovers rest!
When ascends the fireFrom the glowing pyre,To the gods of old we'll hasten, blest."1797.
THE GOD AND THE BAYADERE.
AN INDIAN LEGEND.
[This very fine Ballad was also first given in the Horen.]
(MAHADEVA is one of the numerous names of Seeva, the destroyer,--the great god of the Brahmins.)
MAHADEVA, Lord of earthFor the sixth time comes below,As a man of mortal birth,--Like him, feeling joy and woe.
Hither loves he to repair,And his power behind to leave;If to punish or to spare,Men as man he'd fain perceive.
And when he the town as a trav'ller hath seen, Observing the mighty, regarding the mean, He quits it, to go on his journey, at eve.
He was leaving now the place,When an outcast met his eyes,--Fair in form, with painted face,--Where some straggling dwellings rise.
"Maiden, hail!"--"Thanks! welcome here!
Stay!--I'll join thee in the road.'
"Who art thou?"--"A Bayadere,And this house is love's abode."The cymbal she hastens to play for the dance, Well skill'd in its mazes the sight to entrance, Then by her with grace is the nosegay bestow'd.
Then she draws him, as in play,O'er the threshold eagerly:
"Beauteous stranger, light as dayThou shalt soon this cottage see.
I'll refresh thee, if thou'rt tired,And will bathe thy weary feet;Take whate'er by thee's desired,Toying, rest, or rapture sweet."--She busily seeks his feign'd suff'rings to ease;Then smiles the Immortal; with pleasure he sees That with kindness a heart so corrupted can beat.
And he makes her act the partOf a slave; he's straight obey'd.
What at first had been but art,Soon is nature in the maid.
By degrees the fruit we find,Where the buds at first obtain;When obedience fills the mind,Love will never far remain.
But sharper and sharper the maiden to prove, The Discerner of all things below and above, Feigns pleasure, and horror, and maddening pain.
And her painted cheeks he kisses,And his vows her heart enthrall;Feeling love's sharp pangs and blisses,Soon her tears begin to fall.
At his feet she now must sink,Not with thoughts of lust or gain,--And her slender members shrink,And devoid of power remain.
And so the bright hours with gladness prepare Their dark, pleasing veil of a texture so fair, And over the couch softly, tranquilly reign.
Late she falls asleep, thus bless'd,--Early wakes, her slumbers fled,And she finds the much-loved guestOn her bosom lying dead.
Screaming falls she on him there,But, alas, too late to save!
And his rigid limbs they bearStraightway to their fiery grave.
Then hears she the priests and the funeral song, Then madly she runs, and she severs the throng:
"Why press tow'rd the pile thus? Why scream thus, and rave?"Then she sinks beside his bier,And her screams through air resound:
"I must seek my spouse so dear,E'en if in the grave he's bound.
Shall those limbs of grace divineFall to ashes in my sight?
Mine he was! Yes, only mine!
Ah, one single blissful night!"
The priests chaunt in chorus: "We bear out the old, When long they've been weary, and late they've grown cold:
We bear out the young, too, so thoughtless and light.
"To thy priests' commands give ear!
This one was thy husband ne'er;
Live still as a Bayadere,And no duty thou need'st share.
To deaths silent realms from life,None but shades attend man's frame,With the husband, none but wife,--That is duty, that is fame.
Ye trumpets, your sacred lament haste to raise Oh, welcome, ye gods, the bright lustre of days!
Oh, welcome to heaven the youth from the flame!"Thus increased her torments areBy the cruel, heartless quire;And with arms outstretching farLeaps she on the glowing pyre.
