UT near Salsette a fairer island blooms,
Where vassal winds do naught but waft perfumes; Where painted shells adorn the sea-worn cave,
And stately palms are mirrored in the wave.
So lone the hills, so green the tufted trees,
Such health and freshness in the musky breeze,
So cool each glade, each grot within the isle,
Ocean and sky all withering heat the while,
It well might seem the small and bright domain
Of Eastern fay, or nymph-queen of the main.
Land at the cove, and climb the bowery steep,
Where rocks are clothed with moss, and rivulets weep;
Then midway rest, to gaze around, below,
And watch old ocean's everlasting flow.
know ye of them? Nothing, - there they stand
Gloomy as night, inscrutable as fate,
Altars no more divine, and shrines which know
Nor priests, nor votaries, nor sacrifice;
The stranger's wonder all their worship now.
And yet coeval as the naked rock
Seem they with mother earth, -immutable;
Time, tempest, warfare, ordinary decay
Is not for these. The memory of man
Has lost their rise, although they are his work.
Two senses here are present, one of power,
And one of nothingness; doth it not mock
The mighty mind to see the meaner part,
The task it taught its hands, outlast itself?
The temple was a type, a thing of stone
Built by laborious days which made up years;
The creed which hallowed it was of the soul;
And yet the creed hath passed,
the temple stands.
Letitia Elizabeth Landon.
T length, O longing soul, thy foot hath trod
On holy ground; and at the portals dim
Of Elephanta's sacred cave, I bow
In silent worship of its mysteries
Unfathomable !
Before thy shrine supreme,
O Bhagavat! I stand in wondering maze
Of meditation lost; and o'er the past-
Expanse immeasurable of years unknown
I gaze in undefined perplexity!
Brahma, within his lotus-cup, in doubt
And grief involved, knew scarcely less of Thee
Than I! And in the voice mysterious,
That over the weird waste of waters came,
Unto his anxious ear, learned scarcely more
Of whence or where or how he gained his birth,
Than murmurs now among these echo-tones.
Anon, beside the brimming brink I kneel
Of Vishnu's sacred spring; and, fearful, taste,
With trembling lips, of the amreeta's juice,
Immortal flood! The magic-mingled draught
Thrills through my shuddering veins, and seems to chill,
My very blood!
But who unmoved can gaze
Upon thy hideous and colossal shape,
O Siva! fell Destroyer! Prince of Death!
What terror-stricken tens of thousands, here,
Before thy gory feet have knelt, and thus,
With tortures terrible, sweltering in their blood,
Have died, with dismal groans, that groaned again
In endless echoes through this dreadful cave,
So vast, so monstrous, so incalculable!
Beyond the understanding of my soul.
Are these stupendous mysteries! I stand
And gaze around, above, beneath; yet still
No key I find to the enigma!
Are those whose superstitious skill hewed out
These lofty pillars from the solid rock?
Whose hands, with curious cunning, patient wrought
These sculptured capitals, gigantic, beautiful?
Where, too, are those whose sacrilegious zeal
Defaced and mutilated their magnificence?
The multiplying echoes answer, "Where?"
Destroyer, and destroyed, buried beneath
The silent, ever deepening dust of ages lost!
Elias D. Knight.
ELLORA'S wonders half unearthly seem,
Born as of fancy, dazzling as a dream.
Shaped from the living stone, vast halls appear,
Their massive grandeur sculptured columns rear
Ranged round the shrine, unnumbered gods are seen,
From Lashmi fair to Siva's blood-stained queen ;
From wisdom's Lord, proud Ganesa, to him
The child of love, the god of mirth and whim.
Who carved this grand cathedral ? ask yon sage
That haunts these ruins, bowed like them with age;
A king, he says, in earth's pure, happy prime,
Ere China was, or Hebrews reckon time;
And then he kneels, o'er brighter days to grieve,
And simple hearts the fabling tale believe.
Ganges, the River.
HYMN TO THE GANGES.
OW sweetly Ganga smiles, and glides
Her waves perpetual verdure spread,
Whilst health and plenty deck her golden sides:
As when an eagle, child of light,
On Cambala's unmeasured height,
By Patala, the pontiff's throne revered,
O'er her eyry proudly reared
Sits brooding, and her plumage vast expands,
Thus Ganga o'er her cherished lands,
To Brahma's grateful race endeared,
Throws wide her fostering arms, and on her banks divine
Sees temples, groves, and glittering towers, that in her crystal shine.
Above the stretch of mortal ken,
On blessed Cailasa's top, where every stem
Glowed with a vegetable gem,
Mahesa stood, the dread and joy of men;
While Parvati, to gain a boon,
Fixed on his locks a beamy moon,
And hid his frontal eye, in jocund play,
With reluctant sweet delay:
All nature straight was locked in dim eclipse
Till Brahmans pure with hallowed lips
And warbled prayers restored the day;
When Ganga from his brow by heavenly fingers pressed Sprang radiant, and descending graced the caverns of the west.
The sun's car blazed, and laughed the morn; What time near proud Cantesa's eastern bowers, (While Devata's rained living flowers)
A river-god, so Brahma willed, was born,
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