Page:Rudyard Kipling's verse - Inclusive Edition 1885-1918.djvu/326

 They know who watched, the doors were rent apart And closed upon Bisesa, and the rain Broke like a flood across the Valley, washed The mist away; but louder than the rain The thunder of Taman filled men with fear.

Some say that from the Unlighted Shrine she cried For succour, very pitifully, thrice, And others that she sang and had no fear. And some that there was neither song nor cry, But only thunder and the lashing rain.

Howbeit, in the morning men rose up, Perplexed with horror, crowding to the Shrine. And when Er-Heb was gathered at the doors The Priests made lamentation and passed in To a strange Temple and a God they feared But knew not.

From the crevices the grass Had thrust the altar-slabs apart, the walls Were grey with stains unclean, the roof-beams swelled With many-coloured growth of rottenness, And lichen veiled the Image of Taman In leprosy. The Basin of the Blood Above the altar held the morning sun: A winking ruby on its heart. Below, Face hid in hands, the maid Bisesa lay.

Er-Heb beyond the Hills of Ao-Safai  Bears witness to the truth, and Ao-Safai  ''Hath told the men of Gorukh. Thence the tale '' Comes westward o'er the peaks to India.