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THE CURSE OF KEHAMA.
II.

In bitterness the Rajah heard,
And groan'd, and smote his breast, and o'er his face
Cowl'd the white mourning vest.


Arvalan.

Art thou not powerful, . . . even like a God?
And must I, through my years of wandering,
Shivering and naked to the elements,
In wretchedness await
The hour of Yamen's wrath?
I thought thou wouldst embody me anew,
Undying as I am, . . .
Yea, re-create me! . . . Father, is this all!
This all! and thou Almighty!

But in that wrongful and upbraiding tone,
Kehama found relief,
For rising anger half supprest his grief.
Reproach not me! he cried,
Had I not spell-secur'd thee from disease,
Fire, sword,. . . all common accidents of man,. . .
And thou!. . . fool, fool . . . to perish by a stake!
And by a peasant's arm!. . .

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