



Produced by David Thomas





  The
  Curse of Kehama:
  by
  Robert Southey.

  Καταραι, ως και τα αλεκτρυονονεοττα, οικον αει, οψε κεν επανηξαν
    εγκαθισομεναι.
                      Αποφθ. Ανεκ. του Γυλιελ. του Μητ.

  CURSES ARE LIKE YOUNG CHICKEN, THEY ALWAYS COME HOME TO ROOST.

  THE THIRD EDITION.
  _VOLUME THE SECOND._

  LONDON:
  PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME, AND
  BROWN, PATERNOSTER-ROW.
  1812.



TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES.

This book was originally digitized by Google and is intended for
personal, non-commercial use only.

Original page numbers are given in curly brackets. Footnotes have been
relocated to the end of the book. Passages originally rendered in
small-caps have been changed to all-caps in the text version of this
work.

Alteration: [p. 147] change "gross" to "grass".



  CONTENTS
  TO
  VOLUME SECOND.

  13. The Retreat
  14. Jaga-Naut
  15. The City of Baly
  16. The Ancient Sepulchres
  17. Baly
  18. Kehama's Descent
  19. Mount Calasay
  20. The Embarkation
  21. The World's End
  22. The Gate of Padalon
  23. Padalon
  24. The Amreeta

  Notes
  Footnotes



THE CURSE OF KEHAMA.

 XIII.
 THE RETREAT.

 {1}

 1.
 Around her Father's neck the Maiden lock'd
 Her arms, when that portentous blow was given;
 Clinging to him she heard the dread uproar,
 And felt the shuddering shock which ran through Heaven.
 Earth underneath them rock'd,
 Her strong foundations heaving in commotion,
 Such as wild winds upraise in raving Ocean,
 As though the solid base were rent asunder.
 {2}
 And lo! where, storming the astonish'd sky,
 Kehama and his evil host ascend!
 Before them rolls the thunder,
 Ten thousand thousand lightnings round them fly,
 Upward the lengthening pageantries aspire,
 Leaving from Earth to Heaven a widening wake of fire.

 2.
 When the wild uproar was at length allay'd,
 And Earth, recovering from the shock, was still,
 Thus to her father spake the imploring Maid.
 Oh! by the love which we so long have borne
 Each other, and we ne'er shall cease to bear,..
 Oh! by the sufferings we have shar'd,
 And must not cease to share,..
 One boon I supplicate in this dread hour,
 One consolation in this hour of woe!
 Thou hast it in thy power, refuse not thou
 The only comfort now
 That my poor heart can know.

 3.
 O dearest, dearest Kailyal! with a smile
 Of tenderness and sorrow, he replied,
 {3}
 O best belov'd, and to be lov'd the best
 Best worthy,.. set thy duteous heart at rest.
 I know thy wish, and let what will betide,
 Ne'er will I leave thee wilfully again.
 My soul is strengthen'd to endure its pain;
 Be thou, in all my wanderings, still my guide;
 Be thou, in all my sufferings, at my side.

 4.
 The Maiden, at those welcome words, imprest
 A passionate kiss upon her father's cheek:
 They look'd around them, then, as if to seek
 Where they should turn, North, South, or East or West,
 Wherever to their vagrant feet seem'd best.
 But, turning from the view her mournful eyes,
 Oh, whither should we wander, Kailyal cries,
 Or wherefore seek in vain a place of rest?
 Have we not here the Earth beneath our tread,
 Heaven overhead,
 A brook that winds through this sequester'd glade,
 And yonder woods, to yield us fruit and shade!
 The little all our wants require is nigh;
 Hope we have none,.. why travel on in fear?
 We cannot fly from Fate, and Fate will find us here.

 {4}

 5.
 'Twas a fair scene wherein they stood,
 A green and sunny glade amid the wood,
 And in the midst an aged Banian grew.
 It was a goodly sight to see
 That venerable tree,
 For o'er the lawn, irregularly spread,
 Fifty straight columns propt its lofty head;
 And many a long depending shoot,
 Seeking to strike its root,
 Straight like a plummet, grew towards the ground.
 Some on the lower boughs, which crost their way,
 Fixing their bearded fibres, round and round,
 With many a ring and wild contortion wound;
 Some to the passing wind at times, with sway
 Of gentle motion swung,
 Others of younger growth, unmov'd, were hung
 Like stone-drops from the cavern's fretted height.
 Beneath was smooth and fair to sight