The Swerga

Then in the Ship of Heaven, Ereenia laid The waking, wondering Maid; The Ship of Heaven, instinct with thought, display'd Its living sail, and glides along the sky. On either side in wavy tide, The clouds of morn along its path divide; The Winds who swept in wild career on high, Before its presence check their charmed force; The Winds that loitering lagg'd along their course, Around the living Bark enamour'd play, Swell underneath the sail, and sing before its way.

That Bark, in shape, was like the furrowed shell Wherein the Sea-Nymphs to their parent-king, On festal day, their duteous offerings bring. Its hue? . . . Go watch the last green light Ere Evening yields the western sky to Night; Or fix upon the Sun thy strenuous sight Till thou hast reach'd its orb of chrysolite. The sail from end to end display'd Bent, like a rainbow, o'er the maid. An Angel's head, with visual eye, Through trackless space, directs its chosen way; Nor aid of wing, nor foot, nor fin, Requires to voyage o'er the obedient sky. Smooth as the swan when not a breeze at even Disturbs the surface of the silver stream, Through air and sunshine sails the Ship of Heaven.

Recumbent there the Maiden glides along On her aerial way, How swift she feels not, though the swiftest wind Had flagg'd in flight behind. Motionless as a sleeping babe she lay,

And all serene in mind, Feeling no fear; for that etherial air With such new life and joyance fill'd her heart, Fear could not enter there; For sure she deem'd her mortal part was o'er, And she was sailing to the heavenly shore; And that Angelic form, who mov'd beside, Was some good Spirit sent to be her guide.

Daughter of Earth! therein thou deem'st aright. And never yet did form more beautiful, In dreams of night descending from on high, Bless the religious Virgin's gifted sight; Nor, like a vision of delight, Rise on the raptur'd Poet's inward eye. Of human form divine was he, The immortal Youth of Heaven who floated by; Even such as that divinest form shall be In those blest stages of our onward race, When no infirmity, Low thought, nor base desire, nor wasting care, Deface the semblance of our heavenly sire. The wings of Eagle or of Cherubim

Had seem'd unworthy him: 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 die, 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 toward 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 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.

EREENIA. Here, Maiden, rest in peace, And I will guard thee, feeble as I am. The Almighty Rajah shall not harm thee here, While Indra keeps his throne.

KAILYAL. Alas, thou fearest him! Immortal as thou art, thou fearest him! I thought that death had sav'd me from his power;

Not even the dead are safe.

EREENIA. Long years of life and happiness, O Child of Earth, be thine! From death I sav'd thee, and from all thy foes Will save thee, while the Swerga is secure.

KAILYAL. Not me alone, O gentle Deveta! I have a father suffering upon earth, A persecuted, wretched, poor, good man, For whose strange misery There is no human help, And none but I dare comfort him Beneath Kehama's curse. O gentle Deveta, protect him too!

EREENIA. Come, plead thyself to Indra! words like thine May win their purpose, rouse his slumbering heart, And make him yet put forth his arm to wield The thunder, while the thunder is his own.

Then to the garden of the Deity Ereenia led the maid. In the mid garden tower'd a giant Tree; Rock-rooted on a mountain-top, it grew, Rear'd its unrivall'd head on high, And stretch'd a thousand branches o'er the sky, Drinking with all its leaves celestial dew. Lo! where from thence as from a living well A thousand torrents flow! For still in one perpetual shower, Like diamond drops, etherial waters fell From every leaf of all its ample bower. Rolling adown the steep From that aerial height, Through the deep shade of aromatic trees, Half-seen, the cataracts shoot their gleams of light, And pour upon the breeze Their thousand voices; far away the roar, In modulations of delightful sound, Half-heard and ever varying, floats around. Below, an ample Lake expanded lies, Blue as the o'er-arching skies; Forth issuing from that lovely Lake,

A thousand rivers water Paradise. Full to the brink, yet never overflowing, They cool the amorous gales, which, ever blowing, O'er their melodious surface love to stray; Then winging back their way, Their vapours to the parent Tree repay; And ending thus where they began, And feeding thus the source from whence they came, The eternal rivers of the Swerga ran, For ever renovate, yet still the same.

On that etherial Lake whose waters lie Blue and transpicuous, like another sky, The Elements had rear'd their King's abode. A strong controuling power their strife suspended, And there their hostile essences they blended, To form a Palace worthy of the God. Built on the Lake the waters were its floor; And here its walls were water arch'd with fire, And here were fire with water vaulted o'er; And spires and pinnacles of fire Round watery cupolas aspire, And domes of rainbow rest on fiery towers;

And roofs of flame are turreted around With cloud, and shafts of cloud with flame are bound. Here, too, the Elements for ever veer, Ranging around with endless interchanging; Pursued in love, and so in love pursuing, In endless revolutions here they roll; For ever their mysterious work renewing, The parts all shifting, still unchanged the whole. Even we on earth, at intervals, descry Gleams of the glory, streaks of flowing light, Openings of heaven, and streams that flash at night In fitful splendour, through the northern sky.

Impatient of delay, Ereenia caught The Maid aloft, and spread his wings abroad, And bore her to the presence of the God. There Indra sate upon his throne reclin'd, Where Devetas adore him; The lute of Nared, warbling on the wind, All tones of magic harmony combin'd To sooth his troubled mind, While the dark-eyed Apsaras danced before him. In vain the God-musician played,

In vain the dark-eyed Nymphs of Heaven essay'd To charm him with their beauties in the dance; And when he saw the mortal Maid appear, Led by the heroic Glendoveer, A deeper trouble fill'd his countenance. What hast thou done, Ereenia, said the God, Bringing a mortal here? And while he spake his eye was on the Maid. The look he gave was solemn, not severe; No hope to Kailyal it convey'd, And yet it struck no fear; There was a sad displeasure in his air, But pity, too, was there.

EREENIA. Hear me, O Indra! On the lower earth I found this child of man, by what mishap I know not, lying in the lap of death. Aloft I bore her to our Father's grove; Not having other thought, than when the gales Of bliss had heal'd her, upon earth again To leave its lovely daughter. Other thoughts Arose, when Casyapa declar'd her fate; For she is one who groans beneath the power

Of the dread Rajah, terrible alike To men and Gods. His son, dead Arvalan, Arm'd with a portion, Indra, of thy power Already wrested from thee, persecutes The Maid, the helpless one, the innocent. What then behov'd me but to waft her here To my own Bower of Bliss? what other choice? The spirit of foul Arvalan, not yet Hath power to enter here; here thou art yet Supreme, and yet the Swerga is thine own.

INDRA. No child of man, Ereenia, in the Bowers Of Bliss may sojourn, till he hath put off His mortal part; for on mortality Time and Infirmity and Death attend, Close followers they, and in their mournful train Sorrow and Pain and Mutability: Did they find entrance here, we should behold Our joys, like earthly summers, pass away. Those joys perchance may pass; a stronger hand May wrest my sceptre, and unparadise The Swerga; . . . but, Ereenia, if we fall, Let it be Fate's own arm that casts us down,

We will not rashly hasten and provoke The blow, nor bring ourselves the ruin on.

EREENIA. Fear courts the blow. Fear brings the ruin on. Needs must the chariot-wheels of Destiny Crush him who throws himself before their track, Patient and prostrate.

INDRA. All may yet be well. Who knows but Veeshnoo will descend, and save, Once more incarnate?

EREENIA. Look not there for help, Nor build on unsubstantial hope thy trust! Our Father Casyapa hath said he turns His doubtful eyes to Seeva, even as thou Dost look to him for aid. But thine own strength Should for thine own salvation be put forth; Then might the higher powers approving see And bless the brave resolve . . . Oh, that my arm Could wield yon lightnings which play idly there,

In inoffensive radiance, round thy head! The Swerga should not need a champion now, Nor Earth implore deliverance still in vain!

INDRA. Thinkest thou I want the will? rash Son of Heaven, What if my arm be feeble as thine own Against the dread Kehama? He went on Conquering in irresistible career, Till his triumphant car had measur'd o'er The insufficient earth, and all the kings Of men received his yoke; then had he won His will, to ride upon their necks elate, And crown his conquests with the sacrifice That should, to men and gods, proclaim him Lord And Sovereign Master of the vassal World, Sole Rajah, the Omnipotent below. The steam of that portentous sacrifice Arose to Heaven. Then was the hour to strike. Then in the consummation of his pride, His height of glory, then the thunder-bolt Should have gone forth, and hurl'd him from his throne Down to the fiery floor of Padalon, To everlasting burnings, agony

Eternal, and remorse which knows no end. That hour went by: grown impious in success, By prayer and penances he wrested now Such power from Fate, that soon, if Seeva turn not His eyes on earth, and no Avatar save, Soon will he seize the Swerga for his own, Roll on through Padalon his chariot wheels, Tear up the adamantine bolts which lock The accurst Asuras to its burning floor, And force the drink of Immortality From Yamen's charge . . . Vain were it now to strive; My thunder cannot pierce the sphere of power Wherewith, as with a girdle, he is bound.

KAILYAL. Take me to earth, O gentle Deveta! Take me again to earth! This is no place Of hope for me! . . . my Father still must bear His curse . . . he shall not bear it all alone; Take me to earth, that I may follow him! . . . I do not fear the Almighty Man! the Gods Are feeble here; but there are higher powers Who will not turn their eyes from wrongs like ours; Take me to earth, O gentle Deveta! . . .

Saying thus she knelt, and to his knees she clung, And bow'd her head, in tears and silence praying. Rising anon, around his neck she flung Her arms, and there with folded hands she hung, And fixing on the guardian Glendoveer Her eyes, more eloquent than Angel's tongue, Again she cried, There is no comfort here! I must be with my Father in his pain . . . Take me to earth, O Deveta, again!

Indra with admiration heard the maid. O Child of Earth, he cried, Already in thy spirit thus divine, Whatever weal or woe betide, Be that high sense of duty still thy guide, And all good Powers will aid a soul like thine. Then turning to Ereenia, thus he said, Take her where Ganges hath its second birth, Below our sphere, and yet above the earth: There may Ladurlad rest beyond the power Of the dread Rajah, till the fated hour.