3. The Moon is up, still pale {37} Amid the lingering light. A cloud ascending in the eastern sky, Sails slowly o'er the vale, And darkens round and closes-in the night. No hospitable house is nigh, No traveller's home the wanderers to invite. Forlorn, and with long watching overworn, The wretched father and the wretched child Lie down amid the wild. 4. Before them full in sight, A white flag flapping to the winds of night, Marks where the tyger seiz'd his human prey. Far, far away with natural dread, Shunning the perilous spot, At other times abhorrent had they fled; But now they heed it not. Nothing they care; the boding death-flag now In vain for them may gleam and flutter there. Despair and agony in him, Prevent all other thought; And Kailyal hath no heart or sense for aught, Save her dear father's strange and miserable lot. {38} 5. There in the woodland shade, Upon the lap of that unhappy maid, His head Ladurlad laid, And never word he spake; Nor heav'd he one complaining sigh, Nor groan'd he with his misery, But silently for her dear sake Endur'd the raging pain. And now the moon was hid on high, No stars were glimmering in the sky; She could not see her father's eye, How red with burning agony. Perhaps he may be cooler now; She hoped, and long'd to touch his brow With gentle hand, yet did not dare To lay the painful pressure there. Now forward from the tree she bent, And anxiously her head she leant, And listened to his breath. Ladurlad's breath was short and quick, Yet regular it came, And like the slumber of the sick, In pantings still the same. {39} Oh if he sleeps! . . . her lips unclose, Intently listening to the sound, That equal sound so like repose. Still quietly the sufferer lies, Bearing his torment now with resolute will; He neither moves, nor groans, nor sighs. Doth satiate cruelty bestow This little respite to his woe, She thought, or are there Gods who look below! 6. Perchance, thought Kailyal, willingly deceiv'd, Our Marriataly hath his pain reliev'd, And she hath bade the blessed sleep assuage His agony, despite the Rajah's rage. That was a hope which fill'd her gushing eyes, And made her heart in silent yearnings rise, To bless the Power divine in thankfulness. And yielding to that joyful thought her mind, Backward the maid her aching head reclin'd Against the tree, and to her father's breath In fear she hearken'd still with earnest ear. But soon forgetful fits the effort broke: In starts of recollection then she woke; {40} Till now benignant Nature overcame The Virgin's weary and exhausted frame, Nor able more her painful watch to keep, She clos'd her heavy lids, and sunk to sleep.