542 



Like him, with flames of holiest rapture fir'd. 

 To thoughts sublime thy daring mind aspir'd ; 

 And, nature opening to thy ardent glance, 

 Saw God alone through all the vast expanse. 

 Mysterious theme ! Beneath the peipal shade. 

 His aged limbs the rev'rend brahmin laid ; 

 The snow-white zennar o'er his shoulder flow'd, 

 Full on his brow the holy ointment glow'd ; 

 The pointed cusa deck'd his green retreat, 

 And Ganges' billow kiss'd his sacred feet. 

 Serene he view'd the laughing scene around, 

 Bright Magadh's vales with floating chawla crown'd ; 

 The sun-shine calm on Casis' turrets shed, 

 And clouds reposing on Heemalas head ; 

 Then all entranc'd, recall'd his wandering eye, 

 And fix'd the gather'd beams on Deity : 

 From height to height his musing spirit soar'd, 

 And speechless thought th' unutter'd name ador'd ; 

 Till words unconscious flowing from his tongue, 

 He swell'd the strain, and mystic measures sung ! 



C. Grant. 



END OF VOL. II. 



T. Benslej, Printer, 

 FoU Court, Fleet Street, London. 



