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!

“None is in his eyes the meanest—­
He whose limbs are lame and palsied,
He whose soul is wildly riven,
Worn with sorrow, hopeless, helpless,
Be he Brahmin, be he Pariah,
If tow’rd heaven he turns his gaze,
Will perceive, will learn to know it: 
Thousand eyes are glowing yonder,
Thousand ears are calmly list’ning,
From which nought below is hid.

“If I to his throne soar upward,
If he sees my fearful figure
By his might transform’d to horror,
He for ever will lament it,—­
May it to your good be found! 
And I now will kindly warn him,
And I now will madly tell him
Whatsoe’er my mind conceiveth,
What within my bosom heaveth. 
But my thoughts, my inmost feelings—­
Those a secret shall remain.”

1821.
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III.   The Pariah’s thanks.

Mighty Brama, now I’ll bless thee!

’Tis from thee that worlds proceed! 
As my ruler I confess thee,

For of all thou takest heed.

All thy thousand ears thou keepest

Open to each child of earth;
We, ’mongst mortals sunk the deepest,

Have from thee received new birth.