14. Then, in the dewy evening sky, The bird of gorgeous plumery Pois'd his wings and hover'd nigh. {107} It chanced at that delightful hour Kailyal sate before the Bower, On the green bank with amaranth sweet, Where Ganges warbled at her feet. Ereenia there, before the Maid, His sails of ocean-blue displayed; And sportive in her sight, Mov'd slowly o'er the lake with gliding flight; Anon, with sudden stroke and strong, In rapid course careering, swept along; Now shooting downward from his heavenly height, Plunged in the deep below, Then rising, soar'd again, And shook the sparkling waters off like rain, And hovering o'er the silver surface hung. At him young Camdeo bent the bow; With living bees the bow was strung, The fatal bow of sugar-cane, And flowers which would inflame the heart With their petals barb'd the dart. 15. The shaft, unerringly addrest, Unerring flew, and smote Ereenia's breast. Ah, Wanton! cried the Glendoveer, {108} Go aim at idler hearts, Thy skill is baffled here! A deeper love I bear that Maid divine, Sprung from a higher will, A holier power than thine! A second shaft, while thus Ereenia cried, Had Camdeo aim'd at Kailyal's side, But, lo! the Bees which strung his bow Broke off, and took their flight. To that sweet Flower of earth they wing their way, Around her raven tresses play, And buzz about her with delight, As if, with that melodious sound, They strove to pay their willing duty To mortal purity and beauty. Ah, Wanton! cried the Glendoveer, No power hast thou for mischief here! Chuse thou some idler breast, For these are proof, by nobler thoughts possest. Go, to thy plains of Matra go, And string again thy broken bow! 16. Rightly Ereenia spake; and ill had thoughts Of earthly love beseem'd the sanctuary {109} Where Kailyal had been wafted, that the Soul Of her dead mother there might strengthen her, Feeding her with the milk of heavenly lore; And influxes of Heaven imbue her heart With hope and faith, and holy fortitude, Against the evil day. Here rest a while In peace, O Father! mark'd for misery Above all sons of men; O Daughter! doom'd For sufferings and for trials above all Of women; . . . yet both favour'd, both belov'd By all good Powers, here rest a while in peace. XI. THE ENCHANTRESS. {110} 1. When from the sword, by arm angelic driven, Foul Arvalan fled howling, wild in pain, His thin essential spirit, rent and riven With wounds, united soon and heal'd again; Backward the accursed turn'd his eye in flight, Remindful of revengeful thoughts even then, And saw where, gliding through the evening light, The Ship of Heaven sail'd upward through the sky, Then, like a meteor, vanish'd from his sight. Where should he follow? vainly might he try To trace through trackless air its rapid course; {111} Nor dar'd he that; angelic arm defy, Still sore and writhing from its dreaded force.