POETRY. 715 



Uprear'd on twenty wheels elate, 

 Huge as a Ship, the bridal car appear'd ; 

 Loud creak its pond'rous wheels, as through the gate 

 A thousand Bramins drag the enormous load. 

 There thron'd aloft in state, 

 The image of the seven-headed God 

 Came forth from his abode ; and at his side 

 Sate Kailyal like a bride ; 

 A bridal statue rather might she seem. 

 For she regarded all things like a dream, 

 Having no thought, nor fear, nor will, nor aught 

 Save hope and faith that liv'd within her still. 



O silent night, how have they startled thee 



With the brazen trumpet's blare! 

 And thou, O Moon ! whose quiet light serene 

 Filleth wide heaven, and bathing hill and wood, 

 Spreads o'er the peaceful valley like a flood. 

 How have they dimm'd thee with the torches' glare, 

 Which round yon moving pageant flame and flare. 

 As the wild rout, with deafening song and shout, 

 Fling their long flashes out. 

 That, like infernal lightnings, fire the air. 



A thousand pilgrims strain 

 Arm, shoulder, breast and thigh, with might and main, 

 To drag the sacred wain. 

 And scarce can draw along the enormous load. 

 Prone fall the frantic votaries in its road, 

 And, calling on the God, 

 Their self-devoted bodies there they lay 

 To pave his chariot-way. 

 On Jaga-Naut they call. 

 The pond'rous Car rolls on, and crushes all. 

 Through blood and bones it ploughs its dreadful path, 

 Groans rise unheard ; the dying cry. 

 And death and agony 

 Are trodden under foot by yon mad throng. 

 Who follow close, and thrust the deadly wheels along. 



Pale grows the Maid at this accursed sight ; 

 The yells which round her rise 

 Have rous'd her with affright, 

 And fear hath given to her dilated eyes 

 A wilder light. 

 Where shall those eyes be turn'd ? she knows not where ! 

 Downward they dare not look, for there 



