IN the religion of the Hindoos, which of all false religions is the
most monstrous in its fables, and the most fatal in its effects, there
is one remarkable peculiarity. Prayers, penances, and sacrifices, are
supposed to possess an inherent and actual value, in no degree
depending upon the disposition or motive of the person who performs
them. They are drafts upon Heaven, for which the Gods cannot refuse
payment. The worst men, bent upon the worst designs, have in this
manner obtained power which has made them formidable to the Supreme
Deities themselves, and rendered an _Avatar_, or Incarnation of
Veeshnoo the Preserver, necessary. This belief is the foundation of
the following Poem. The story is original; but, in all its parts,
consistent with the superstition upon which it is built; and however
startling the fictions may appear, they might almost be called
credible when compared with the genuine tales of Hindoo mythology.
No figures can be imagined more anti-picturesque, and less poetical,
than the mythological personages of the Bramins. This deformity was
easily kept out of sight:--their hundred hands are but a clumsy
personification of power; their numerous heads only a gross image of
divinity, "whose countenance," as the Bhagvat-Geeta expresses it, "is
turned on every side." To the other obvious objection, that the religion
of Hindostan is not generally known enough to supply fit machinery for
an English poem, I can only answer, that, if every allusion to it
throughout the work is not sufficiently self-explained to render the
passage intelligible, there is a want of skill in the poet. Even those
readers who should be wholly unacquainted with the writings of our
learned Orientalists, will find all the preliminary knowledge that can
be needful, in the brief explanation of mythological names prefixed to
the Poem.
CONTENTS
TO
VOLUME FIRST.
1. The Funeral
2. The Curse
3. The Recovery
4. The Departure
5. The Separation
6. Casyapa
7. The Swerga
8. The Sacrifice
9. The Home Scene
10. Mount Meru
11. The Enchantress
12. The Sacrifice Completed
Notes
Footnotes
Στησατε μοι Πρωτηα πολυτροπον, οφρα φανειη
Ποικιλον ειδος εχων, οτι ποικιλον υμνον αρασσω.
Νον. Διον.
For I will for no man's pleasure
Change a syllable or measure;
Pedants shall not tie my strains
To our antique poets' veins;
Being born as free as these,
I will sing as I shall please.
George Wither.