THE DIRGE OF ALCESTIS.

FAREWELL to thee! Fare thee well!
Thou Child of a regal line;
In the Hall of Hades happy dwell,
Where never the Sun may shine.
Oh! hear me, thou of the swarthy brow,
Grim Lord of the Realms of Dread;
And thou, Old Man, that dost guide the prow

To the Haven of the Dead:

Never before was it thine to take

Lady so good o'er the Acheron Lake.

Full many a Bard shall wed

The Lay to the mountain Lute,
And in hymns of glory sing the dead,
Although the Lyre be mute.

On Spartan ground they shall hear the sound
As the Moon floats high in air,

When the bright Carneian month comes round-
And at Athens, blest and fair,

To the minstrel bard for ever and aye

Thy death hath bequeathed such a deathless lay.

Oh! would that I might recall

Thy Shade to the solar beam,

From the gloom of the dark Hadean Hall,

And the slow Cocytus stream.

For thou alone of all ladies known

Didst dare for the Loved to die;

For the Loved One's life didst yield thine own,

Didst yield without a sigh.

The Earth rest light, O thou Lady bright,

That thy darksome couch doth cover;

And if false he be to thy memory

Foul shame on the faithless Lover.

Though they failed him, they, with the locks of gray,

Nor would rescue his Soul from death,

In the early prime of thy youthful time
Thou hast yielded up thy breath.
Would I might meet with a love so sweet,
In life found rarely ever;

No Sorrow's blight on her head should light,

Nor Death himself should sever.

T. E. W.

THE BALLAD OF DAMAYANTÍ.

AN EPISODE FROM THE MAHÂ-BHARATA.

(Continued from page 64.)

DAMAYANTI, all her doubts being now removed, summoned Vâhuka to her presence, and with trembling voice thus addressed him:

"O Vâhuka! hast thou ever seen a man who fled away, leaving his wife alone in the forest? Who could do this cruel deed but Nala, well skilled in all right duties? What offence did I unhappy give? How could he forget the sweet 'I will,' and the plighted hands, and the holy fire of the gods ?"

Then spoke Nala, distracted by grief:

"O lady! not mine the deed, but that of the demon Kali. But how could a modest woman thus leave her devoted husband and choose another ?"

"Hear me, O Naishadha!" cried Damayanti in timorous accents, "to lure thee hither did I devise this wile; for who save thyself could drive so far in a single day? Bear witness, O all-beholding wind, and sun and moon!"

Scarcely had she ceased when a rustling sound was heard, and a voice from the bosom of the air came wafted to their ears,

“Nala, the truth has been told thee. Receive thy blameless spouse!" Straightway the heavens rained down flowers, the cymbals of the gods clashed joyously, and the favouring breeze of the zephyr hovered

around, Then Nala eagerly put on the long-treasured stainless robe, and, having thought upon the King of the Serpents, he recovered his wonted form. With a wild cry Damayanti rushed into his arms, and all the earth and the heavens smiled blessings on this meeting of the longsevered lovers. To win back his kingdom was now the Râjâ's only care, and having spent a happy month in the palace of Bhima, he hastened to the Nishadhas, and entered the halls of his fathers. Challenging Pushkara to play for wife, and kingdom, and treasures, at one stake, ho won, and with a noble generosity forgave his brother, and dismissed him, loaded with gifts, to his own sovereignty. King Nala then brought home Damayanti and his children with a numerous army, and made his triumphal entry into his native city through streets glittering with banners and wreaths of flowers, and amid crowds of loyal citizens greeting him and singing his praises.

So closes the ballad of the lovely Damayantî. The very name has music in it. And can the most glowing romance of chivalry portray a nobler picture of tender love and unshaken devotion than that which the old poet so simply brings before us in the person of this fair Indian princess? Well nigh three thousand years have furrowed this earth of ours since first these lines were chanted in the Home of the Aryans, and yet "the old, old tale" thrills the heart with ever fresh delight, for the dew of truth and beauty still glistens upon it. There is a wonderful sympathy between these old Sanskrit lays and the romantic school of Shakspeare. The tone of thought and sentiment of these elder bards of time often seems to us quite modern. For they listened only to the promptings of the universal feelings of humanity, and the heart-throbbings of these choir-leaders of our race still find an echo in the breasts of us, their younger brothers. In the poem before us we are often struck by the surprising identity, even in phrase, of many lines with favourite passages in our own poets. To instance two:-the Brâhman describes Damayanti as "making by her splendour dark places light." At once we are reminded of Spenser's delicate creation, who makes " a sunshine in a shady place;" or of Wordsworth's Swiss girl, whose "beauty dazzles the thick wood." Admirers of Tennyson will be delighted to trace

in this happy phrase applied to Damayanti, Fस्मतपूर्वाभिभाषिणी

lit. "with smile-heralded speech," the first recorded use of that exquisite touch in the miniature of Margaret

"The very smile before you speak

That dimples your transparent cheek."

When once we have read this charming old tale, it will ever after be treasured up in our memory with those two

"Pre-eminently dear,

The gentle lady married to the Moor,

And heavenly Una with her milk-white lamb."

A few words on philological and Oriental studies will not be out of place. The day has long since passed by when Greek and Latin might be studied in their isolation from their elder sister, the Sanskrit. The science of Comparative Philology has at length been placed on such a firm basis that no one can be said to know the classical languages thoroughly who is ignorant of the key to their innermost meaning. In language, as in religion, the light that shines into the dark places of the west must come from the mysterious regions of the East. In examining nearly all the tongues of modern Europe, a familiar acquaintance with Sanskrit is indispensably necessary. To learn Comparative Philology without studying Sanskrit were about as wise a proceeding as learning to swim before going into the water. A glaring example of the woeful result of a deficiency in this preliminary training may be seen in the Introduction to the "Imperial Dictionary," published some years ago, which presents as amusing a compound of simplicity, ignorance, and cool audacity, as the world ever witnessed. As the trade purpose bringing out a new edition of this work, it is to be hoped that they will take care this time, at least, to secure the services of competent philological scholars. The Board of Trinity College have shown a laudable desire to meet the requirements of the age by the recent establishment of Professorships in Sanskrit and in the Shemitic Languages. Let them follow out their intention to its legitimate conclusion, and they will earn the thanks of all well-wishers to the fair fame of this University. To leave an important branch of education voluntary is simply to crush it. The East India Company, in their training schools, found this system admirably adapted to produce the effect here deprecated. Let the honor-men in Classics be required to know Sanskrit Grammar at the least, and some simple text-book, like the Ballad of Damayantî, and the study of Comparative Philology will then become a possibility. Under the present arrangement it is simply chimerical. And what so

The "College Calendar" for 1857 styles the gentleman who holds this important post merely "Lecturer." What is the meaning of this fine distinction? If the Board really desire to foster an Oriental school, a proper Chair of Comparative Philology and Sanskṛit should be founded without delay.

great difficulty is there in this proposal? The Grammar, especially the Syntax, of Sanskrit, is by many degrees easier than that of Greek, and tracing the affinities would impart fresh charms to the study of the languages. If we would send out from our lecture-rooms something better than merely clever schoolboys, some such plan must be adopted. With equal, if not greater force, do these remarks apply to the study of Arabic. We are here in a region in which our Indo-European sympathies are of no avail, and we must, therefore, strive to evolve a Comparative Philology of the Shemitic languages by a simultaneous study of many kindred dialects. It may seem paradoxical, but it is really true, that it is much easier to learn all the Shemitic dialects together than a single one isolated from the group. To study Hebrew by itself is a pure work of memory; combine with it the cognate dialects, and they reflect light on each other. The Board have, with great propriety, lately decreed that all Divinity Students shall, as a matter of course, learn Hebrew. This is a step in the right direction. The next movement is unavoidable. The study of Arabic shall be compulsory on all prizemen in Hebrew. But, to carry our remarks up higher, the Government of England is greatly to blame for not having long since established a distinct school of Oriental literature in London, or some other place where there is an immense collection of the requisite MSS. With the magnificent institutions of St. Petersburg, Vienna, and Paris, before their eyes, let us hope that our rulers may be persuaded to found a school which in time may compete with its more illustrious elder sisters. If there were no higher motive, surely the careful training of Oriental diplomatists and officials ought to be a sufficient inducement to a nation which has (the Fates forbid that we should be compelled to write had) such a splendid empire in the East.

श्री

VOL I.-NO. II.

G