134 

 THE BRAHMIN. 



WRITTEN, FOR THE "MUSEUM," BY MISS SOPHIE DIXON. 



Where G^ges, nursed amid eternal snows 

 O'er Ind's bright realm, a mighty current, flows, 

 And, as a God adored with rite and prayer, 

 Hears strange devotion mingle on the air; 

 A Brahmin, on his river's hallowed bound. 

 Taught his meek followers duteous ranged around ; 

 From his mild lips, with solemn zeal impressed, 

 The awful doctrine thrilled each pupil breast. 

 As heavenly truth their hearts that law received. 

 They saw no cloud obscure what they believed ; 

 But the sage teacher, and his words, revered, 

 And what they scant could love in silenceyeared. 



" Know ye this sacred mystery" — began 



His dark speech built on Wisdom's secret plan. 



From Thought's deep shadows gathering stronger light, 



As brightest stars illume the darkest night. 



" Know ye this sacred mystery, — the will 



Of Bramah, which his endless worlds fulfil; 



How in the human breast a spark of heaven 



To guide the wandering heart of man was given* 



Severed from His pure uncorrupted Flame, 



It dwells and darkens in our mortal frame; 



Debased by crime, with vain desires oppressed. 



Sin's thousand forms its earthly home molest : 



Struggling with ill, in war of passion tossed, 



Its pure Original obscured or lost. 



Pollution's stain hath all its nature changed. 



And the dimmed ray of God, from God estranged. 



Yet — erring, weak, — His principle survives, 



Immortal, though it ranged ten thousand lives. 



Through every form that breathes, in penance strait. 



It wanders on in transmigrated fate ; 



Changing its outward semblance, still proceeds. 



Atonement just for man's unrighteous deeds ; 



The brutish shape a human spirit warms. 



Bird, insect, worm, a living soul informs; 



Condemned to pain and death, in every grade 



Some error, or some sin, must be repaid. 



