THE LAY OF SAINT LINGO. 



205 



And our Lingo then betliouglit 

 him 



Of their cauiiihal propensities. 



Saw at hand tlie tree Niruda, 



Clambered up into its branches. 



Darkness fell upon the forest, 



Bears their heads wagged, yelled 

 the jackal — 



Kolyal the King of Jackals. 



Sounded loud their dreadful voices 



In that forest-shade primeval. 



Then the Jungle-Cock Gugotee, 



Mull the Peacock, Kurs the Wild- 

 Deer, 



Terror - stricken screeched and 

 shuiidered 



In that forest-shade primeval. 

 But the Moon arose at midnight, 



Poured her flood of silver radiance. 



Lighted all the forest arches, 



Through their gloomy branches 

 slanting ; 



Fell on Lingo, pondering deeply 



On his Sixteen Scores of Koitor. 



Then thought Lingo, I will ask 

 her 



For my Sixteen Scores of Koitor. 



" Tell me, Moon ! " said Lingo, 



*' Tell, Brightener of the dark- 

 ness, 



"Where my Sixteen Scores are 

 hidden." 



But the Moon sailed onwards, 

 upwards, 



And her cold and glancing moon- 

 beams 



Said, " Your Gunds, I have not 

 seen them." 

 And the Stars came forth and 

 twinkled — 



Twinkling eyes above the forest. 



Lingo said, " Stars that twinkle ! 



Eyes that look into the darkness. 



Tell me where my Sixteen Scores 

 are." 



But the cold Stars, twinkling ever. 



Said, " Your Gonds, we have not 



seen them." 

 Broke the morning, the sky red- 

 dened, 

 Faded out the star of morning, 

 Rose the Sun above the forest. 

 Brilliant Sun the Lord of Morning, 

 And our Lingo quick descended. 

 Quickly ran he to the eastward, 

 Fell before the Lord of Morning, 

 Gave the Great Sun salutation — 

 "Tell, Sun!" he said, "dis- 

 cover 

 Where my Sixteen Scores of 



Gonds are." 

 But the Lord of Day reply made — 

 " Hear, Lingo, I a Pilgrim 

 Wander onwards through four 



watches 

 Serving God, I have seen nothing 

 Of your Sixteen Scores of Koitor." 

 Then our Lingo wandered on- 

 wards 

 Through the arches of the forest ; 

 Wandered on until before him 

 Saw the grotto of a hermit. 

 Old and sage, the Black Kumait, 

 He the very wise and knowing, 

 He the greatest of Magicians, 

 Born in days that are forgotten. 

 In the unremembered ages. 

 Salutation gave, and asked him — 

 " Tell, Hermit ! Great Kumait ! 

 Where my Sixteen Scores of 

 G6nds are." 

 Then replied the Black Ma- 

 gician, 

 Spake disdainfully in this wise — 

 " Lingo hear, your Gonds are 



asses 

 Eating cats, and mice, and bandi- 

 coots, 

 Eating pigs, and cows, and buffa- 

 loes ; 

 Filthy wretches ! wherefore ask 

 mel 



