Page:TheBirth of the War-God.djvu/31

Idly the chakra hangs on Vishnu's neck,
And our last hope is vain, that it would check
The haughty Tarak's might, and flash afar
Ruin and death—the thunderbolt of war;
E'en Indra's elephant has felt the might
Of his fierce monsters in the deadly fight;
Which spurn the dust in fury, and defy
The threatening clouds that sail along the sky.

Therefore, Lord, we seek a Chief, that he
May lead the hosts of Heaven to victory,—
Even as holy men who long to sever
The immortal spirit from its shell for ever,
Seek lovely Virtue's aid to free the soul
From earthly ties and action's base control.
Thus shall he save us—proudly will we go
Under his escort 'gainst the furious foe;
And Indra, conqueror in turn, shall bring
Fortune, dear captive, home with joy and triumphing."

Sweet as the rains—the fresh'ning rains—that pour
On the parched earth when thunders cease to roar,
Were Brahma's words:—"Gods, I have heard your grief,
Wait ye in patience—time will bring relief;
'Tis not for me, my children, to create
A chief to save you from your mournful fate;
Not by my hand the Fiend must be destroyed,
For my kind favour has he once enjoyed,
And well ye know that e'en a poisonous tree
By him who planted it unharmed should be;
He sought it eagerly, and long ago
I gave my favour to your Demon-foe,