The Bengali Poem , Candl . 
39 
Such is the maid who lone in forests hies; 
Who can refrain from seizing such a prize ? 
This is the common judgment of mankind,— 
And who shall call that common judgment blind ? 
If Khullana be spotless, as you say, 
Th’ ordeal let her pass in open day. 
Then send the invitations round, and we 
Shall all be glad to taste her cookery.” 
Poor Dhanapati, thus on all sides pressed, 
Accepts the challenge and awaits the test. 
In Ganges water bathed and then bedight 
With garments as the moon or jasmine white, 
Khullana offers at the goddess’ feet 
The flowers and lamps and perfumes as is meet. 
Then walking round the image lifts her cry, 
“ Oh save me in this hour of jeopardy ! ” 
Low on the ground she pleads with sobs and tears, 
Till moved t’ her deepest heart the goddess hears. 
Before her suppliant in the room she stands, 
And on the low-bowed head she lays her hands. 
She promises her presence and her aid, 
And Khullana no longer feels afraid. 
Meanwhile the merchant holds a council sage : 
A hundred pandits reverend with age, 
Arranged in state on seats of honour all, 
Discuss th’ ordeal’s ceremonial. 
They call on Yama; then, as in his sight, 
A mantra on two peepul-leaves they write; 
Two casual strangers next are led aside, 
And on their heads the symbols twain are tied. 
Into the lake they dive,—all tongues are still,— 
But what strange shouts of joy the city fill? 
