Thy power exceeds all bound: thou, only thou, All-conquering Deity, canst help me now!

Full well I know thy nature, and a.s.sign This toil to thee, which needs a strength like thine: As on that snake alone will KRISH[N.]A rest, That bears the earth upon his haughty crest.

Our task is well-nigh done: thy boasted dart Has power to conquer even ['S]IVA'S heart.

Hear what the G.o.ds, oppressed with woe, would fain From mighty ['S]IVA through thine aid obtain.

He may beget--and none in heaven but he--A chief to lead our hosts to victory.

But all his mind with holiest lore is fraught, Bent on the G.o.dhead is his every thought.

Thy darts, O LOVE, alone can reach him now, And lure his spirit from the hermit vow.

Go, seek HIMaLAYA'S Mountain-child, and aid With all thy loveliest charms the lovely maid, So may she please his fancy: only she May wed with ['S]IVA: such the fixt decree.

E'en now my bands of heavenly maids have spied Fair UMa dwelling by the Hermit's side.

There by her father's bidding rests she still, Sweet minister, upon the cold bleak hill.

Go, KaMA, go! perform this great emprise, And free from fear the Rulers of the Skies; We need thy favour, as the new-sown grain Calls for the influence of the gentle rain.

Go, KaMA, go! thy flowery darts shall be Crowned with success o'er this great deity.

Yea, and thy task is e'en already done, For praise and glory are that instant won When a bold heart dares manfully essay The deed which others shrink from in dismay.

G.o.ds are thy suppliants, KaMA, and on thee Depends the triple world's security.

No cruel deed will stain thy flowery bow: With all thy gentlest, mightiest valour, go!

And now, Disturber of the spirit, see SPRING, thy beloved, will thy comrade be, And gladly aid thee ['S]IVA'S heart to tame: None bids the whispering Wind, and yet he fans the flame."

He spake, and KaMA bowed his bright head down, And took his bidding like a flowery crown.

Above his wavy curls great INDRA bent, And fondly touched his soldier ere he went, With that hard hand--but, O, how gentle now-- That fell so heavy on his elephant's brow.

Then for that snow-crowned hill he turned away, Where all alone the heavenly Hermit lay.

His fearful RATI and his comrade SPRING Followed the guidance of Love's mighty king.

There will he battle in unwonted strife, Return a conqueror or be reft of life.

How fair was SPRING! To fill the heart with love, And lure the Hermit from his thoughts above, In that pure grove he grew so heavenly bright That KaMA'S envy wakened at the sight.

Now the bright Day-G.o.d turned his burning ray To where KUVERA holds his royal sway, While the sad South in whispering breezes sighed And mourned his absence like a tearful bride.

Then from its stem the red A['s]oka threw Full buds and flowerets of celestial hue, Nor waited for the maiden's touch, the sweet beloved pressure of her tinkling feet.

There grew LOVE'S arrow, his dear mango spray, Winged with young leaves to speed its airy way, And at the call of SPRING the wild bees came, Grouping the syllables of KaMA'S name.

How sighed the spirit o'er that loveliest flower That boasts no fragrance to enrich its dower!

For Nature, wisest mother, oft prefers To part more fairly those good gifts of hers.

There from the tree Palasa blossoms spread, Curved like the crescent moon, their rosiest red, With opening buds that looked as if young SPRING Had pressed his nails there in his dallying: Sweet wanton SPRING, to whose enchanting face His flowery Tilaka gave fairer grace: Who loves to tint his lip, the mango spray, With the fresh colours of the early day, And powder its fine red with many a bee That sips the oozing nectar rapturously.

The cool gale speeding o'er the shady lawns Shook down the sounding leaves, while startled fawns Ran wildly at the viewless foe, all blind With pollen wafted by the fragrant wind.

Sweet was the Koil's voice, his neck still red With mango buds on which he late had fed: Twas as the voice of LOVE to bid the dame Spurn her cold pride, nor quench the gentle flame.

What though the heat has stained the tints that dyed With marvellous bloom the heavenly minstrel's bride?

Neither her smile nor sunny glances fail: Bright is her lip, although her check be pale E'en the pure hermits owned the secret power Of warm SPRING coming in unwonted hour, While LOVE'S delightful witchery gently stole With strong sweet influence o'er the saintly soul.

On came the Archer-G.o.d, and at his side The timid RATI, his own darling bride, While breathing nature showed how deep it felt, At pa.s.sion's glowing touch, the senses melt.

For there in eager love the wild bee dipp'd In the dark flower-cup where his partner sipp'd.

Here in the shade the hart his horn declined, And, while joy closed her eyes, caressed the hind.

There from her trunk the elephant had poured A lily-scented stream to cool her lord, While the fond love-bird by the silver flood Gave to his mate the tasted lotus bud.

Full in his song the minstrel stayed to sip The heavenlier nectar of his darling's lip.

Pure pearls of heat had late distained the dye, But flowery wine was sparkling in her eye.

How the young creeper's beauty charmed the view, Fair as the fairest maid, as playful too!

Here some bright blossoms, lovelier than the rest, In full round beauty matched her swelling breast.

Here in a thin bright line, some delicate spray, Red as her lip, ravished the soul away.

And then how loving, and how close they clung To the tall trees that fondly o'er them hung!

Bright, heavenly wantons poured the witching strain, Quiring for ['S]IVA'S ear, but all in vain.

No charmer's spell may check the firm control Won by the holy o'er the impa.s.sioned soul.

The Hermit's servant hasted to the door: In his left hand a branch of gold he bore.

He touched his lip for silence: "Peace! be still!

Nor mar the quiet of this holy hill."

He spake: no dweller of the forest stirred, No wild bee murmured, hushed was every bird.

Still and unmoved, as in a picture stood All life that breathed within the waving wood.

As some great monarch when he goes to war Shuns the fierce aspect of a baleful star, So KaMA hid him from the Hermit's eye, And sought a path that led unnoticed by, Where tangled flowers and cl.u.s.tering trailers spread Their grateful canopy o'er ['S]IVA'S head.

Bent on his hardy enterprise, with awe The Three-eyed Lord--great Penitent--he saw.

There sate the G.o.d beneath a pine-tree's shade, Where on a mound a tiger's skin was laid.

Absorbed in holiest thought, erect and still, The Hermit rested on the gentle hill.

His shoulders drooping down, each foot was bent Beneath the body of the Penitent.

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 KaMA at the awful sight, How failed his courage in a swoon of fright!

As near and nearer to the G.o.d 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 UMa came with all her maiden throng, And KaMA'S fainting heart again was strong; Bright flowers of spring, in every lovely hue, Around the lady's form rare beauty threw.

Some clasped her neck like strings of purest pearls, Some shot their glory through her wavy curls.

Bending her graceful head as half-oppressed With swelling charms even too richly blest, Fancy might deem that beautiful young maiden Some slender tree with its sweet flowers o'erladen.

From time to time her gentle hand replaced The flowery girdle slipping from her waist: It seemed that LOVE could find no place more fair, So hung his newest, dearest bowstring there.

A greedy bee kept hovering round to sip The fragrant nectar of her blooming lip.

She closed her eyes in terror of the thief, And beat him from her with a lotus leaf.

The angry curl of RATI'S lip confessed The shade of envy that stole o'er her breast.

Through KaMA'S soul fresh hope and courage flew, As that sweet vision blessed his eager view.

So bright, so fair, so winning soft was she, Who could not conquer in such company?

Now UMa came, fair maid, his destined bride, With timid steps approaching ['S]IVA'S side.

In contemplation will he brood no more, He sees the G.o.dhead, and his task is o'er.

He breathes, he moves, the earth begins to rock, The Snake, her bearer, trembling at the shock.

Due homage then his own dear servant paid, And told him of the coming of the maid.

He learnt his Master's pleasure by the nod, And led HIMaLAYA'S daughter to the G.o.d.

Before his feet her young companions spread Fresh leaves and blossoms as they bowed the head, While UMa stooped so low, that from her hair Dropped the bright flower that starred the midnight there.

To him whose ensign bears the bull she bent, Till each spray fell, her ear's rich ornament.

"Sweet maid," cried ['S]IVA, "surely thou shalt be Blessed with a husband who loves none but thee!"

Her fear was banished, and her hope was high: A G.o.d had spoken, and G.o.ds cannot lie.

Rash as some giddy moth that wooes the flame, LOVE seized the moment, and prepared to aim.

Close by the daughter of the Mountain-King, He looked on ['S]IVA, and he eyed his string.

While with her radiant hand fair UMa gave A rosary, of the lotuses that lave Their beauties in the heavenly GANGa'S wave, And the great Three-Eyed G.o.d was fain to take The offering for the well-loved suppliant's sake, On his bright bow LOVE placed the unerring dart, The soft beguiler of the stricken heart.

Like the Moon's influence on the sea at rest, Came pa.s.sion stealing o'er the Hermit's breast, While on the maiden's lip that mocked the dye Of ripe red fruit, he bent his melting eye.

And oh! how showed the lady's love for him, The heaving bosom, and each quivering limb!

Like young Kadambas, when the leaf-buds swell, At the warm touch of Spring they love so well.

But still, with downcast eyes, she sought the ground, And durst not turn their burning glances round.

Then with strong effort, ['S]IVA lulled to rest, The storm of pa.s.sion in his troubled breast, And seeks, with angry eyes that round him roll, Whence came the tempest o'er his tranquil soul.

He looked, and saw the bold young archer stand, His bow bent ready in his skilful hand, Drawn towards the eye; his shoulder well depressed, And the left foot thrown forward as a rest.

Then was the Hermit-G.o.d to madness lashed, Then from his eye red flames of fury flashed.

So changed the beauty of that glorious brow, Scarce could the gaze support its terror now.