The Bengali Poem , Candi. 
45 
Still flowed her robe uninj ured to her feet, 
Nor had one fibre shrivelled in the heat. 
As she stands radiant, her maligners all 
Before her feet ashamed and prostrate fall; 
And (Jankha Datt is first to own his sin,— 
How blind and obstinate they all have been. 
“ Curse us not, sister,” is their common prayer; 
“ Forgive the pride that made us what we were.” 
Nilambar Das came forward with the rest 
And tardily his error thus confessed : 
“ Count me your brother,—no ill-will I bear,— 
Gladly I ’ll eat your rice if you ’ll prepare.” 
Then said Earn Dan, his voice half-choked and low: 
“ You are no mortal woman,—now I know; 
Who would believe me if the tale I told ? 
Who has e’er heard the like in days of old ? ” 
Triumphant thus in all the various tests, 
Khullana now prepares to feast her guests. 
They fill the court, arranged in order round, 
Seated by precedence upon the ground; 
And Khullana herself, all smiling, waits, 
And hands the rice to all in golden plates. 
First soup of bitter herbs to give a zest, 
Then potherbs with a savoury relish dressed; 
Fried fish; kid curry,* and a thick rich broth; 
And every dish is perfumed. Nothing loth, 
The guests applaud the courses as they come, 
And fragrant steam mounts up and floats through every room. 
The lighter dishes next in due degree,— 
Sweetmeats and curds, and rice-made furmity. 
* This book is written by a Cakta, i.e. a worshipper of Durga according to Tantric 
rites ; and Caktas eat fish and kid’s flesh. 
