The Curse of Kehama, Volume 1 (of 2) — A Reader’s Guide

dful wrath? Them were all hearts of all the throng deploring, For not in that innumerable throng Was one who lov'd the dead; for who could know What aggravated wrong Provok'd the desperate blow! Far, far behind, beyond all reach of sight, In ordered files the torches flow along, One ever-lengthening line of gliding light: Far . . . far behind, Rolls on the undistinguishable clamour, Of horn, and trump, and tambour; {7} Incessant at the roar Of streams which down the wintry mountain pour, And louder than the dread commotion Of stormy billows on a rocky shore, When the winds rage over the wares, And Ocean to the Tempest raves.

8. And now toward the bank they go, Where, winding on their way below, Deep and strong the waters flow. Here doth the funeral pile appear With myrrh and ambergris bestrew'd, And built of precious sandal wood. They cease their music and their outcry here; Gently they rest the bier: They wet the face of Arvalan, No sign of life the sprinkled drops excite. They feel his breast, . . . no motion there; They feel his lips, . . . no breath; For not with feeble, nor with erring hand, The stern avenger dealt the blow of death. Then with a doubling peal and deeper blast, The tambours and the trumpets sound on high, {8} And with a last and loudest cry They call on Arvalan.

9. Woe! woe! for Azla takes her seat Upon the funeral pile! Calmly she took her seat, Calmly the whole terrific pomp survey'd; As on her lap the while The lifeless head of Arvalan was laid. Woe! woe! Nealliny, The young Nealliny! They strip her ornaments away, Bracelet and anklet, ring, and chain, and zone; Around her neck they leave The marriage knot alone, . . . That marriage band, which when Yon waning moon was young, Around her virgin neck With bridal joy was hung. Then with white flowers, the coronal of death, Her jetty locks they crown. O sight of misery! Yon cannot hear her cries, . . . all other sound {9} In that wild dissonance is drown'd; . . . But in her face you see The supplication and the agony, . . . See in her swelling throat the desperate strength That with vain effort struggles yet for life; Her arms contracted now in fruitless strife, Now wildly at full length Towards the crowd in vain for pity spread, . . . They force her on, they bind her to the dead.

10. Then all around retire; Circling the pile, the ministring Bramins stand, Each lifting in his hand a torch on fire. Alone the Father of the dead advanced And lit the funeral pyre.

11. At once on every side The circling torches drop; At once on every side The fragrant oil is pour'd; At once on every side The rapid flames rush up. {10} Then hand in hand the victim band Roll in the dance around the funeral pyre; Their garments' flying folds Float inward to the fire. In drunken whirl they wheel around; One drops, . . . another plunges in; And still with overwhelming din The tambours and the trumpets sound; And clap of hand, and shouts, and cries, From all the multitude arise: While round and round, in giddy wheel, Intoxicate they roll and reel, Till one by one whirl'd in they fall, And the devouring flames have swallowed all.

12. Then all was still; the drums and clarions ceas'd; The multitude were hush'd in silent awe; Only the roaring of the flames was heard.

1. Alone towards the Table of the dead, Kehama mov'd; there on the altar-stone Honey and rice he spread, There with collected voice and painful tone He call'd upon his son. Lo! Arvalan appears. Only Kehama's powerful eye beheld The thin etherial spirit hovering nigh; Only the Rajah's ear Receiv'd his feeble breath. And is this all? the mournful spirit said, This all that thou canst give me after death? {12} This unavailing pomp, These empty pageantries that mock the dead!

2. In bitterness the Rajah heard, And groan'd, and smote his breast, and o'er his face Cowl'd the white mourning vest.

ARVALAN. Art thou not powerful, . . . even like a God? And must I, through my years of wandering, Shivering and naked to the elements, In wretchedness await The hour of Yamen's wrath? I thought thou wouldst embody me anew. Undying as I am, . . . Yea, re-create me! . . . Father, is this all! This all! and thou Almighty!

3. But in that wrongful and upbraiding tone, Kehama found relief, For rising anger half supprest his grief. Reproach not me! he cried; {13} Had I not spell-secur'd thee from disease, Fire, sword, . . . all common accidents of man, . . . And thou! . . . fool, fool, . . . to perish by a stake! And by a peasant's arm! . . . Even now, when from reluctant Heaven Forcing new gifts and mightier attributes, So soon I should have quell'd the Death-God's power.