9. On that etherial Lake whose waters lie Blue and transpicuous, like another sky, The Elements had rear'd their King's abode. A strong controuling power their strife suspended, And there their hostile essences they blended, To form a Palace worthy of the God. Built on the Lake the waters were its floor; And here its walls were water arch'd with fire, And here were fire with water vaulted o'er; And spires and pinnacles of fire Round watery cupolas aspire, And domes of rainbow rest on fiery towers; {67} And roofs of flame are turreted around With cloud, and shafts of cloud with flame are bound. Here, too, the Elements for ever veer, Ranging around with endless interchanging; Pursued in love, and so in love pursuing, In endless revolutions here they roll; For ever their mysterious work renewing, The parts all shifting, still unchanged the whole. Even we on earth, at intervals, descry Gleams of the glory, streaks of flowing light, Openings of heaven, and streams that flash at night In fitful splendour, through the northern sky. 10. Impatient of delay, Ereenia caught The Maid aloft, and spread his wings abroad, And bore her to the presence of the God. There Indra sate upon his throne reclin'd, Where Devetas adore him; The lute of Nared, warbling on the wind, All tones of magic harmony combin'd To sooth his troubled mind, While the dark-eyed Apsaras danced before him. In vain the God-musician played, {68} In vain the dark-eyed Nymphs of Heaven essay'd To charm him with their beauties in the dance; And when he saw the mortal Maid appear, Led by the heroic Glendoveer, A deeper trouble fill'd his countenance. What hast thou done, Ereenia, said the God, Bringing a mortal here? And while he spake his eye was on the Maid. The look he gave was solemn, not severe; No hope to Kailyal it convey'd, And yet it struck no fear; There was a sad displeasure in his air, But pity, too, was there. EREENIA. Hear me, O Indra! On the lower earth I found this child of man, by what mishap I know not, lying in the lap of death. Aloft I bore her to our Father's grove; Not having other thought, than when the gales Of bliss had heal'd her, upon earth again To leave its lovely daughter. Other thoughts Arose, when Casyapa declar'd her fate; For she is one who groans beneath the power {69} Of the dread Rajah, terrible alike To men and Gods. His son, dead Arvalan, Arm'd with a portion, Indra, of thy power Already wrested from thee, persecutes The Maid, the helpless one, the innocent. What then behov'd me but to waft her here To my own Bower of Bliss? what other choice? The spirit of foul Arvalan, not yet Hath power to enter here; here thou art yet Supreme, and yet the Swerga is thine own.