III.

Oh! Laha Pennoo! Lord of strife!

Oh! watch these weapons as thine own! And at each mark of mortal life

Direct the shaft and hurl the stone; Make wide the wounds on every frame,

Deface the dead, the living maim.

IV.

Oh! let our ponderous axes fall

Like blows of death from tiger-paws, Or crush bone, flesh, and garb, and all, As 'twixt the fierce hyena's jaws ; Let arms not ours as brittle be

As long pods of the karta tree.

V.

Each aim misguide, unnerve each hand
Of those to mock our might that dare,
Make all their weapons light as sand,
Or mowa blossoms borne on air ;
Or let our wounds quick dry again,
As blood-drops on the dusty plain.

VI.

May every axe wear ruddy hue

As home we come from victory's field; And while our women, proud and true,

Their stores of sweet refreshment yield,

May neighbouring Beauties seek our bowers, And yearn to mix their blood with ours.

VII.

Our war-gained wealth let all behold,

Brass vessels, herds, and scented leaf,

And maids present to parents old

The trophies of our struggle brief;

And fowl and buffaloe and sheep

Thy shrine in sacred blood shall steep!

VIII.

Oh! Laha Pennoo! God of War !

Not new the favor now we crave;
For thy fierce smile, like lurid star,
Oft led to strife our fathers brave;
And we their sons, when danger lours,
Still hail their honored God and ours!

TO BERA PENNOO: THE EARTH GODDESS.

A KHOOND INVOCATION.

[This invocation precedes a human sacrifice.]

I.

GODDESS of Earth! Dread source of ill!*

Thy just revenge o'erwhelms us still
For rites unpaid;

But oh! forgive!-Our stores are small,
Our lessened means uncertain all,

Denied thine aid.

II.

Goddess that taught mankind to feel
Poison in plants, and death in steel-
A fearful lore-

Forgive-forgive! and ne'er again

Shall we neglect thy shrine to stain
With human gore!

She is considered the source of all evil, physical and moral.

III.

Let plenty all our land o'erspread,

Make green the ground with living bread; Our pastures fill

So close with cattle side by side

That no bare spot may be descried

From distant hill.

IV.

And when unto the broad flat pool,

Their thirst to quench, their sides to cool, Our herds are led ;

So num'rous make them that no form

Of fish or frog, or toad or worm,

Survive their tread.

V.

So fill with sheep each ample fold
That he who digs man-deep the mould,
Their compost rare,

Meet not a stone. May swine abound
Until their plough-like snouts the ground
For seed prepare.

VI.

So fill our cots with childhood's din

The voice be rarely heard within,

And ne'er without;

Each thatch with crowded poultry hide, Give jars that bruise the fountain's side With metal stout.

VII.

Oh! BERA PENNOO! once again

Protect us in the grove and plain
From beasts of prey;

Nor let sly snake or tiger bold

Fright children, save in stories old

Of fathers grey.

VIII.

Oh! make it each man's only care
Yearly to build a store-room fair
For goods unspent ;

And we thy rites shall duly pay ;—

Lo! one bought victim now we slay-
One life present !*

STANZAS.

[FROM AN UNPUBLISHED NOVEL.]

I.

'Tis one brief week, since thou and I
Sat hand in hand, and side by side;
Now each beholds a different sky,
From crowded streets, from waters wide.
Though round me blue waves brightly roll,
And o'er me heaven's broad arch is fair,

Still lingering turns my faithful soul
To solemn London's misty air.

II.

'Mid that vast city's countless walls,
One small dim room is dear to me;

For deepest gloom unheeded falls
Where mutual hearts love's visions see.

And hours Elysian oft were mine
When the sick day grew dun as night,
For still that star-like eye of thine
Would kindle with an inward light.

The victims are all purchased. An unbought life is supposed to be an abomination to the Deity. The price of a human victim varies from fifty to a hundred lives-that is to say, a hundred living brutes, cows, pigs, or

sheep.

III.

I mix with other men, but find

Their thoughts and mine are not the same;
The cloud of care is on my mind,

The curse of sickness on my frame;
And saddened and reserved and lone,
I feel life's burden hard to bear,
Save when sweet Woman's gentler tone
Breathes more than magic in mine ear.

IV.

When thine unrivalled beauty shone
Within the dear though dusky room,
Like Cynthia's on her silver throne
Thy brightening brow dispersed the gloom;
And when thy fond and playful wile
Hath cheated grief of all her store
Oh, never tone, or touch, or smile
So thrilled a lover's frame before!

1845.

V.

Lady, those farewell tears of thine,

From love's own heaven a sacred shower,

Were like the fabled fount divine

Whose every drop became a flower;

For fair and precious fancies rose

E'en while I watched those bright tears start,

And now where'er thy wanderer goes

He bears an Eden in his heart!