SHIVA RATRI. Still be thou the shelt'ring rock Of thy meek, defenceless flock!. Save them still in peril's hour, With thine arm of matchless power!" In mournful mood Dharmji retraced his steps, And in sore bitterness of heart exclaimed:- "O Sattyam! Sattyam! Sattyam*; when shall man Cease to be fool'd by wily Maya's art, And Wisdom clear the scales, that blind his eyes!" Scarce was this said, when the enchanted Fair Melted away like clouds before the sun!
A burst of song from Dharmji's garden grove Here roused him from his dismal trance. He saw Fair Ushat with the lovely Morning Star Upon her blushing brow, tinging the East Of heav'n with roseate hues, as if to lure The infant sun out of his ocean bed; While a vast throng of pilgrim bathers,-men And women, some with children in their arms, Or pet starlings or parrakeets in hand- Were moving towards Bhagirathi's stream, To wash them clean of earthly stain and sin.
- Truth.
† Dawn. 259
