784. Robert Southey to Grosvenor Charles Bedford, 20 May [1803]*

The Curse of Kehama

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Book 3.

Her face toward the earth, Her arms extended at their length, Cold as the dead & senseless as the dead Lies Kalyal there beneath the manchineel. What if the prowling Tyger now should snuff The scent of human flesh? Alas! Death needs not now his ministry The baleful boughs hang over her, The poison dews descend.

It was a night so beautiful As might have calmd young gaiety to thought, And given the wretched a delight in tears. One of the Grenthuvers, The loveliest race of all the tribes of heaven, Was floating in the moonlight sky. He saw the Maid where like a corpse she lay. He stoops his flight & stands And lifts her from the earth. Her cheek is livid pale, Her heavy lids half clos’d Down hang her loose arms lifelessly.

With timely pity touchd for one so young The gentle Grenthuver Close holds her to his breast, And bounds aloft & shakes his sinewy wings. He bears her there where Hemacost, The Holy Mountain, rising from mid earth Shines like the Throne of Evening, in mid heaven. He bears her to the blessed grove Where dwells old Casyapa, the Sire of Gods.

The Father of the Immortals sate Where underneath the Tree of Life The fountain of the Sacred River rose. The Father of the Immortals smild Benignant on his son. “Knowest thou Ereenia, whom thou bringest here “A mortal to the blessed grove?

Ereenia I found her in the groves of Earth Beneath a poison-tree Thus lifeless as thou seest her. In pity have I bought her to these Bowers, Not erring, Father! by that smile! By that benignant eye.

Casyapa What if the Maid be sinful? if her ways Were ways of darkness, & her death predoomd For the black hour of midnight, when the +Moon¹ Hath turnd her face away, Unwilling to behold The unhappy end of guilt?

Ereenia Then what a lie my sire were written here In these fair characters! – but she had died Now – in the moonlight – in the eye of heaven If I had left so fair a flower to fade But thou – all knowing as thou art Why askest thou of me? O Father! eldest! holiest! wisest! best! To whom all things are plain! Why askest thou of me?

Casyapa. Knowest thou Kehama?

Ereenia The Almighty Man! Who knows not him & his tremendous power? The Tyrant of the Earth, The Enemy of Heaven!

Casyapa. Fearest thou the Rajah?

Ereenia He is terrible!

Casyapa. Yea! he is terrible! such power hath he That Hope hath entered Hell. The Asoors & the Spirits of the Damnd Acclaim their hero. Yamen with the might Of Godhead scarce can quell The rebel race accurst. Half from their beds of torture they uprise, And half uproot their chains. Is there not fear in Heaven? The Souls that are in bliss suspend their joy, The danger hath disturbd The calm of Deity, And Brama fears, & Veeshnoo turns his face In doubt to Seevas throne.

Ereenia. I have seen Indra shudder at his prayers, His dreadful penances, That claim & wrest from Seeva power so vast Even Seeva cannot grant & be secure.

Casyapa And darest thou Ereenia brave The Mighty Tyrants power?

Ereenia I?. Father!

Casyapa. Take her else again to Earth! Cast her in the Tygers path, Or where the death-dew-dropping-dropping Tree May work Kehamas will!

Ereenia Never.

Casyapa. Then meet his wrath! for he – even he Hath set his wanton foot upon this worm!

Ereenia I knew her nor, how wretched nor how fair When here I wafted her: – poor Child of Earth Shall I forsake thee seeing thee so fair. So wretched? – o my father! let the Maid Dwell in the sacred grove.

Casyapa. That, son, I dare not grant. Evil would enter here . . Ganga the holy stream which cleanses sin, Would flow from hence polluted in its springs; And they who gasp upon its banks in death Feel no salvation. – piety & peace And wisdom, these are mine, – but not the power That could protect her from the Almighty Man, Nor when the Spirit of dead Arvalan Should persecute her here, to glut his rage. To heap upon her yet more agony, And ripen more damnation for himself

Ereenia. Dead Arvalan!

Casyapa. He hath his fathers power To wake the Elements, until his days Of wandering shall be numbered.

Ereenia. Look! She drinks xx The gale of healing from the blessed groves! She stirs! & lo – her hand Hath touched the holy River in its source, Who would have shrunk from all impurity.

Casyapa. The Maiden, of a truth, is pure from sin!

The Waters of the Holy Spring Round the hand of Kalyal rise, The Tree of Life hangs over her Dropping dews of healing; She breathes the unpolluted gale That never yet hath swept the Earth. And her heart blood at every breath Freer flows & purer. A life bloom reddens now her dark brown cheek. And lo! her eyes unclose – Dark as the depth of Gangas spring profound When night hangs over it, Bright as the moon beams where they fall And quiver on the clear up-sparkling wave.

Soon she let fall her lids, As one who waking from a dream of joy, Would sink again to sleep, to dream again. She moves not, fearful to disturb The deep & full delight, The feeling & the sense of life & health That lived in every limb. Anon in wonder fixd She gazes silently, Thinking her mortal pilgrimage was past. And there were Gods before her. Or spirits of the good.

Behold at Ereenias command A Bark of the Suras comes down. Where wouldst thou waft her? quoth the Sire of Gods.

Ereenia. To Indras Paradise, To my own Bower of Bliss. Here must she not abide, – And bear her to the Earth again, exposed To unrelenting vengeance – ? – never father! That were a cruelty. Would sink me to the black abyss of bali For of her foe the Sorgon King Will shield her in his realm. In Indra fail for fear. Weak as I am, even I Stand forth in Seevas sight.

Casyapa. Trust thou in him, & stand thou fearless forth! My blessing be upon thee O my son!²

x x x x x x x

The other half shall come when you acknowledge this.

Bating the corrigenda minora³ – I like this book thus far. It gives a good sketch of the general state of the Universe in consequence of this Eastern Buonapartes⁴ proceedings. in my next you have Ereenias picture & you will not quarrelx with his Bats wings. I have not finished the Book.

I wait letters with commission from Lisbon before I make my expedition to London. my lime kiln is stopt at present & the crazy vessel is not quite so leaky, - the pump only throws out the proper bilge water. but it is but a crazy vessel. this damned Corsican⁵ mad scoundrel! I thought to have gone to Lisbon next year, to finish my history⁶ & renew the lease of my life!

– A Dios Amigo!⁷

R S.                                                                                                                                                  May 20.