6. It chanced that near her, on the river-brink, The sculptur'd form of Marriataly stood; It was an idol roughly hewn of wood, Artless, and poor, and rude. The Goddess of the poor was she; None else regarded her with piety. But when that holy image Kailyal view'd, To that she sprung, to that she clung, On her own goddess with close-clasping arms, {16} For life the maiden hung. They seiz'd the maid; with unrelenting grasp They bruis'd her tender limbs; She, nothing yielding, to this only hope Clings with the strength of frenzy and despair. She screams not now, she breathes not now, She sends not up one vow, She forms not in her soul one secret prayer, All thought, all feeling, and all powers' of life In the one effort centering. Wrathful they With tug and strain would force the maid away. . . . Didst thou, O Marriataly, see their strife? In pity didst thou see the suffering maid? Or was thine anger kindled, that rude hands Assail'd thy holy image? . . . for behold The holy image shakes! Irreverently bold, they deem the maid Relax'd her stubborn hold, And now with force redoubled drag their prey; And now the rooted idol to their sway Bends, . . . yields, . . . and now it falls. But then they scream, For lo! they feel the crumbling bank give way, And all are plunged into the stream. {17} 7. She hath escap'd my will, Kehama cried, She hath escap'd, . . . but thou art here, I have thee still, The worser criminal! And on Ladurlad, while he spake, severe He fix'd his dreadful frown. The strong reflection of the pile Lit his dark lineaments, Lit the protruded brow, the gathered front, The steady eye of wrath. 8. But while the fearful silence yet endur'd, Ladurlad rous'd his soul; Ere yet the voice of destiny Which trembled on the Rajah's lips was loos'd, Eager he interpos'd, As if despair had waken'd him to hope; Mercy! oh mercy! only in defence . . . Only instinctively, . . . Only to save my child, I smote the Prince. King of the world, be merciful! Crush me, . . . but torture not! {18} 9. The Man-Almighty deign'd him no reply, Still he stood silent; in no human mood Of mercy, in no hesitating thought Of right and justice. At the length he rais'd His brow yet unrelax'd, . . . his lips unclos'd, And utter'd from the heart, With the whole feeling of his soul enforced, The gather'd vengeance came.