Page:TheBirth of the War-God.djvu/40

28 With open palms the hands were firmly pressed, As though a Lotus lay upon his breast: A double rosary in each ear—behind With wreathing serpents were his locks entwined; His coat of hide shone blacker to the view Against his neck of brightly beaming blue; How wild the look, how terrible the frown Of his dark eyebrows bending sternly down! How fiercely glared his eyes, unmoving blaze Fixed in Devotion's meditating gaze! Calm as a full cloud resting on a hill, A waveless lake when every breeze is still, Like a torch burning in a sheltered spot — So still was He, unmoving, breathing not. So full the stream of marvellous glory poured From the bright forehead of that mighty Lord, Pale seemed the crescent Moon upon his head, And slenderer than a slender Lotus thread. At all the body's nine-fold gates of sense He had barred in the pure Intelligence, To ponder on the Soul which sages call Eternal Spirit, highest, over all.

How sad was at the awful sight. How failed his courage in a swoon of fright! As near and nearer to the God he came Whom wildest thought could never hope to tame, Unconsciously his hands in fear and woe. Dropped the sweet arrows and his flowery bow. But came with all her maiden throng. And fainting heart again was strong;