The Curse of Kehama
Her face toward the earth,
Her arms extended at their length,
Cold as the dead & senseless as the
Lies Kalyal there beneath the
What if the prowling Tyger now should
The scent of human flesh?
Alas! Death needs not now his
The baleful boughs hang over her,
The poison dews descend.
It was a night so beautiful
As might have calmd young gaiety to
And given the wretched a delight in
One of the Grenthuvers,
The loveliest race of all the tribes of
Was floating in the moonlight sky.
He saw the Maid where like a corpse she
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
The gentle Grenthuver
Close holds her to his breast,
And bounds aloft & shakes his sinewy
He bears her there where Hemacost,
The Holy Mountain, rising from mid
Shines like the Throne of Evening, in mid
He bears her to the blessed grove
Where dwells old Casyapa, the Sire of
The Father of the Immortals sate
Where underneath the Tree of Life
The fountain of the Sacred River
The Father of the Immortals smild
Benignant on his son.
“Knowest thou Ereenia, whom thou bringest
“A mortal to the blessed grove?
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
Not erring, Father! by that smile!
By that benignant eye.
What if the Maid be sinful? if her
Were ways of darkness, & her death
For the black hour of midnight, when the
Hath turnd her face away,
Unwilling to behold
The unhappy end of guilt?
Then what a lie my sire were written
In these fair characters! – but she had
Now – in the moonlight – in the eye of
If I had left so fair a flower to
But thou – all knowing as thou art
Why askest thou of me?
O Father! eldest! holiest! wisest!
To whom all things are plain!
Why askest thou of me?
Knowest thou Kehama?
The Almighty Man!
Who knows not him & his tremendous
The Tyrant of the Earth,
The Enemy of Heaven!
Fearest thou the Rajah?
Yea! he is terrible! such power hath
That Hope hath entered Hell.
The Asoors & the Spirits of the
Acclaim their hero. Yamen with the
Of Godhead scarce can quell
The rebel race accurst.
Half from their beds of torture they
And half uproot their chains.
Is there not fear in Heaven?
The Souls that are in bliss suspend their
The danger hath disturbd
The calm of Deity,
And Brama fears, & Veeshnoo turns his
In doubt to Seevas throne.
I have seen Indra shudder at his
His dreadful penances,
That claim & wrest from Seeva power
Even Seeva cannot grant & be
And darest thou Ereenia brave
The Mighty Tyrants power?
Take her else again to Earth!
Cast her in the Tygers path,
Or where the death-dew-dropping-dropping
May work Kehamas will!
Then meet his wrath! for he – even he
Hath set his wanton foot upon this
I knew her nor, how wretched nor how
When here I wafted her: – poor Child of
Shall I forsake thee seeing thee so
So wretched? – o my father! let the
Dwell in the sacred grove.
That, son, I dare not grant.
Evil would enter here . .
Ganga the holy stream which cleanses
Would flow from hence polluted in its
And they who gasp upon its banks in
Feel no salvation. – piety &
And wisdom, these are mine, – but not the
That could protect her from the Almighty
Nor when the Spirit of dead Arvalan
Should persecute her here, to glut his
To heap upon her yet more agony,
And ripen more damnation for himself
He hath his fathers power
To wake the Elements, until his days
Of wandering shall be numbered.
Look! She drinks xx
The gale of healing from the blessed
She stirs! & lo – her hand
Hath touched the holy River in its
Who would have shrunk from all
The Maiden, of a truth, is pure from
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
And lo! her eyes unclose –
Dark as the depth of Gangas spring
When night hangs over it,
Bright as the moon beams where they
And quiver on the clear up-sparkling
Soon she let fall her lids,
As one who waking from a dream of
Would sink again to sleep, to dream
She moves not, fearful to disturb
The deep & full delight,
The feeling & the sense of life &
That lived in every limb.
Anon in wonder fixd
She gazes silently,
Thinking her mortal pilgrimage was
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.
To Indras Paradise,
To my own Bower of Bliss.
Here must she not abide, –
And bear her to the Earth again,
To unrelenting vengeance – ? – never
That were a cruelty.
Would sink me to the black abyss of
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.
Trust thou in him, & stand thou
My blessing be upon thee O my son! 
x x x x x x x
The other half shall come when you
Bating the corrigenda minora  – I like this book thus far.
It gives a good sketch of the general state of the Universe
in consequence of this Eastern Buonapartes  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 Corsican 
mad scoundrel! I thought to have gone to Lisbon next year,
to finish my history 
& renew the lease of my life!
– A Dios Amigo!