4. So from this cursed intercourse she caught Contagious power of mischief, and was taught {113} Such secrets as are damnable to guess. Is there a child whose little lovely ways Might win all hearts, . . . on whom his parents gaze Till they shed tears of joy and tenderness? Oh! hide him from that Witch's withering sight! Oh! hide him from the eye of Lorrinite! Her look hath crippling in it, and her curse All plagues which on mortality can light; Death is his doom if she behold, . . . or worse, . . . Diseases loathsome and incurable, And inward sufferings that no tongue can tell. Woe was to him, on whom that eye of hate Was bent; for, certain as the stroke of Fate, It did its mortal work; nor human arts Could save the unhappy wretch, her chosen prey; For gazing, she consum'd his vital parts, Eating his very core of life away. The wine which from yon wounded palm on high Fills yonder gourd, as slowly it distills, Grows sour at once if Lorrinite pass by. The deadliest worm, from which all creatures fly, Fled from the deadlier venom of her eye; The babe unborn, within its mother's womb, Started and trembled when the Witch came nigh, {114} And in the silent chambers of the tomb Death shuddered her unholy tread to hear, And, from the dry and mouldering bones, did fear Force a cold sweat, when Lorrinite was near. 5. Power made her haughty: by ambition fir'd, Ere long to mightier mischiefs she aspir'd. The Calis, who o'er Cities rule unseen, Each in her own domain a Demon Queen, And there ador'd with blood and human life, They knew her, and in their accurst employ She stirr'd up neighbouring states to mortal strife. Sani, the dreadful God, who rides abroad Upon the King of the Ravens, to destroy The offending sons of men, when his four hands Were weary with their toil, would let her do His work of vengeance upon guilty lands; And Lorrinite, at his commandment, knew When the ripe earthquake should be loos'd, and where To point its course. And in the baneful air The pregnant seeds of death he bade her strew, All deadly plagues and pestilence to brew. The Locusts were her army, and their bands, {115} Where'er she turn'd her skinny finger, flew; The floods in ruin roll'd at her commands; And when, in time of drought, the husbandman Beheld the gathered rain about to fall, Her breath would drive it to the desert sands. While in the marshes parch'd and gaping soil, The rice-roots by the searching Sun were dried; And in lean groupes, assembled at the side Of the empty tank, the cattle dropt and died; And Famine, at her bidding, wasted wide The wretched land; till, in the public way, Promiscuous where the dead and dying lay, Dogs fed on human bones in the open light of day. 6. Her secret cell the accursed Arvalan, In quest of vengeance, sought, and thus began. Mighty mother! mother wise! Revenge me on my enemies.