781. Robert Southey to Grosvenor Charles Bedford, 9 May 1803*

Kehama. 2.

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A moment, doubtful of the sound, She listened till the sound was heard no more .. Then – what a thrilling shriek! – she rushes on. The darkness & the wood impede her way – She lifts her voice again “Laderlad!” .. & again – A tone oerstrained to hoarseness. can he hear And answer not that agonizing call? ‘Laderlad!’ – far away Selfish in misery He heard the call & faster sped his flight.

She leans against that tree whose jutting bough Smote her so rudely. her poor heart How audibly it pants! Her breath how short & painful! Hark! all is still around her – And the night so utterly dark! She opened her eyes & she closed them And the blackness & blank were the same.

The howl of the Tyger wakened her From that strange & deathy dreaminess, She starts – & her head instinctively Turnd to the terrible sound. Far off the Tyger howld. A nearer horror met the Maidens view. There stood before her a dim form, A human form amid the darkness shaped. Dim-lighted like the haze That sweeps athwart the sky When the red moon looks ominous in heaven.

That spectre form had fixd His eyes upon her full; The light which shone in them Was like a light from Hell, And it grew deeper, kindling as they gazed. She could not turn her looks From that infernal gaze. It fixd & fastened them, . . It palsied ever power .. Sense – memory – thought were gone – She heard not now the Tygers louder howl – She thought not on her father now – Her cold hearts blood ran back – Her hand lay senseless on the bough she claspd Her feet were motionless, Her fascinated eyes Like the stone eyeballs of a statue fixd – Yet conscious of the sight that blasted them.

The wind is abroad, It scatters the clouds, The darkness drives before it, The stars shine out in their beauty, And the moon is bright & full. Distinct & darkening in her beams That spectre form appears, The moon light gives to view his form & face, The living face & form of Arvalan, His hands are spread to clasp her – As if a lightning stroke Had broke the spell of fear, All franticly she flew.

By the way side there stood An open Temple of the Travellers friend – Thither she sped her flight, And now upon the holy ground –¹ Yea even before the altar of the God Hath Arvalan with arm of flesh Seizd her for vengeance, even then In her extremest agony Did Kalyal feel his fleshly hold relax. She tarried not to see How Pollear the insulted had put forth His angry power to save – Breathless & faint her tottering feet run on – They strike the root of yonder Manchineel She falls beneath the poison tree.

Thus endeth the second Book

of

The Curse of Kehama.

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The next book – that is as far as written, shall not be so long on its way.

I am making history,² making verses, making lime & making water, all in very great abundance. I should be worth a Kings ransom to a besieged town where the cisterns had failed – or to supply a canal in a hot summer – or to furnish a spring tide extraordinary for launching an East Indiaman in the middle of the moon or to try the effect of irrigation upon the great Zahara.³

Perhaps & probably I shall visit London next month, these Chronicles fascinate me to a great chair – & I ought to be all day upon my legs instead of my great chair.

The third book shall come soon for it will cast a strong light upon the story

God bless you – R S.
Tuesday. May 9. 1803.