THE LAY OF SAINT LINGO. 



195 



And the Hermit to his grotto 

 Back returned, and deeply pondered 

 On the days that are forgotten, 

 On the unremembered ages. 



But our Lingo wandered onwards, 

 Fasting, praying, doing penance ; 

 Laid him on a bed of prickles, 

 Thorns long and sharp and piercing; 

 Fasting lay he devotee-like, 

 Hand not lifting, foot not lifting, 

 Eye not opening, nothing seeing. 

 Twelve months long thus lay and 



fasted, 

 Till his flesh was dry and withered, 

 And the bones began to show through. 



Then the Great God Mahadeva 

 Felt his seat begin to tremble, 

 Felt his golden stool all shaking 

 From the penance of our Lingo. 

 Felt, and wondered who on earth 

 This devotee was that was fasting 

 Till his golden stool was shaking. 

 Stepped he down from Dewalgiri, 

 Came and saw that bed of prickles 

 Where our Lingo lay unmoving. 

 Asked him what his little game was, 

 Why his golden stool was shaking ? 

 Answered Lingo, " Mighty Ruler! 

 Nothing less will stop that shaking 

 Than my Sixteen Scores of Koitor, 

 Rendered up all safe and hurtless 

 From your cave in Dewalgiri." 

 Then the Great God, much disgusted, 

 Offered all he had to Lingo, 

 Offered kingdom, name, and riches, 

 Offered anything he wished for, 

 " Only leave your stinking Koitor 

 Well shut up in Dewalgiri." 

 But our Lingo all refusing 

 Would have nothing but his Koitor ; 

 Gave a turn to run the thorns a 

 Little deeper in his midriff. 

 Winced the Great God, "Very well 



then, 

 Take your Gonds but first a favour. 

 By the shore of the Black Water 



Lives a bird they call Black Bindo ; 

 Much I wish to see his young ones, 

 Little Bindos from the sea- shore ; 

 For an offering bring these Bindos, 

 Then your Gonds take from my moun- 

 tain." 

 Then our Lingo rose and wandered, 

 Wandered onwards through the forest, 

 Till he reached the sounding sea-shore. 

 Reached the brink of the Black Water. 

 Found the Bindo birds were absent 

 From their nest upon the sea-shore, 

 Absent hunting in the forest, 

 Hunting elephants prodigious, 

 Which they killed and took their 



brains out, 

 Cracked their skulls, and brought 



their brains to 

 Feed their callow little Bindos, 

 Wailing sadly by the sea-shore. 

 Seven times a fearful serpent, 

 Bhawamag the horrid serpent, 

 Serpent born in ocean's caverns, 

 Coming forth from the Black Water, 

 Had devoured the little Bindos 

 Broods of callow little Bindos 

 Wailing sadly by the sea-shore, 

 In the absence of their parents. 

 Eighth this brood was. Stood our 



Lingo, 

 Stood he pondering besido them 

 " If I take these little wretches 

 In the absence of their parents 

 They will call me thief and robber. 

 No ! I'll wait till they come back here." 

 Then he laid him down and slumbered 

 By the little wailing Bindos. 



As he slept the dreadful serpent, 

 Rising, came from the Black Water, 

 Came to eat the callow Bindos, 

 In the absence of their parents. 

 Came he trunk-like from the waters, 

 Came with fearful jaws distended, 

 Huge and horrid. Like a basket 

 For the winnowing of corn 

 Rose a hood of vast dimensions 

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