Arms drop down, and footsteps stumble, Can this be the pathway homewards? Shall she fly, or shall she tarry? Can she think, when thought and counsel, When assistance all are lost? So before her spouse appears she-- On her looks he--look is judgment-- Proudly on the sword he seizes, To the hill of death he drags her, Where delinquents' blood pays forfeit. What resistance could she offer? What excuses could she proffer, Guilty, knowing not her guilt? And with bloody sword returns he, Musing, to his silent dwelling, When his son before him stands: "Whose this blood? Oh, father! father!" "The delinquent woman's!"--"Never! For upon the sword it dries not, Like the blood of the delinquent; Fresh it flows, as from the wound. Mother! mother! hither hasten! Unjust never was my father, Tell me what he now hath done."-- "Silence! silence! hers the blood is!" "Whose, my father?"--"Silence! Silence!" "What! oh what! my mother's blood! What her crime? What did she? Answer! Now, the sword! the sword now hold I; Thou thy wife perchance might'st slaughter, But my mother might'st not slay! Through the flames the wife is able Her beloved spouse to follow, And his dear and only mother Through the sword her faithful son." "Stay! oh stay!" exclaim'd the father: "Yet 'tis time, so hasten, hasten! Join the head upon the body, With the sword then touch the figure, And, alive she'll follow thee." Hastening, he, with breathless wonder, Sees the bodies of two women Lying crosswise, and their heads too; Oh, what horror! which to choose! Then his mother's head he seizes,-- Does not kiss it, deadly pale 'tis,-- On the nearest headless body Puts it quickly, and then blesses With the sword the pious work. Then the giant form uprises,-- From the dear lips of his mother, Lips all god-like--changeless--blissful, Sound these words with horror fraught: "Son, oh son! what overhast'ning! Yonder is thy mother's body, Near it lies the impious head Of the woman who hath fallen Victim to the judgment-sword! To her body I am grafted By thy hand for endless ages; Wise in counsel, wild in action, I shall be amongst the gods. E'en the heav'nly boy's own image, Though in eye and brow so lovely, Sinking downwards to the bosom Mad and raging lust will stir. "'Twill return again for ever, Ever rising, ever sinking, Now obscured, and now transfigur'd,-- So great Brama hath ordain'd. He 'twas sent the beauteous pinions, Radiant face and slender members Of the only God-begotten, That I might be proved and tempted; For from high descends temptation, When the gods ordain it so. And so I, the Brahmin woman, With my head in Heaven reclining, Must experience, as a Pariah, The debasing power of earth. Son, I send thee to thy father! Comfort him! Let no sad penance, Weak delay, or thought of merit, Hold thee in the desert fast Wander on through ev'ry nation, Roam abroad throughout all ages, And proclaim to e'en the meanest, That great Brama hears his cry!