40 
The Bengali Poem , CandL 
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purple.’ 
With her eight nymphs the goddess in her car 
Looks down upon the contest from afar. 
They rise, but not together now as erst,— 
’T is Khullana’s foe gives in exhausted first. 
The leaves reversed, the divers plunge once more, 
But Khullana still is conqueror as before. 
Says Qankha Datt: “ Th’ ordeal was not fair; 
There was collusion with the men, I swear. 
Leave all these tricks, and if you would decide 
Her innocence, some other test be tried.” 
A deadly serpent next is brought,—its eyes 
Are two karanja blossoms in their dyes*; 
Wildly it hisses, pent its jar within, 
The jar seems bursting with the stifled din. 
The merchant drops his ring inside, and loud 
Bises a cry of wailing from the crowd. 
But Khullana, kneeling, lifts her gaze on high 
And calls the Sun to help her purity, 
And seven successive times they see her bring 
Out of its prison, safe, the golden ring. 
There was a silent hush, till from the press 
Bam Dari’s harsh voice broke out in bitterness : 
“ ’Tis all a trick,—that serpent’s mouth was bound, 
Or ’twas a poor dull worm that could not wound.” 
A smith set up his furnace on the spot 
And heated there an iron bar red-hot; 
Bed like the newly risen sun it shone, 
Bear pierced the merchant’s heart as he looked on. 
Upon a peepul-leaf the mystic line 
He traced and placed within her hand the sign; 
They seize the bar with tongs as fierce it glows, 
And bring it reddening like a china rose; 
But Khullana, dauntless, utters her desire : 
“ Thou life of all that lives, hear me, 0 fire ! 
The karafija flowers are pretty large, of a beautiful mixture of blue, white, and 
’— Roxburgh . 
