The Immortal Lure - Part 12
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Part 12

Unless his father, strange and terrible, And mighty thro austerities--one whose Curse were as heavy as an hundred births--!

O let us trust it not! So young a saint Should be the holy mate of solitude.

I would not have him gaze upon me so, For he is innocent of love, nor ever As yet has looked upon a woman's face.

_Sunandi._ Then may he loathe you if he does not! for Only in woman's faces is there beauty And who beholds not beauty is as dead.

[_Starts._

But ha? 'tis he?

No, only parakeets, Chattering as you chatter, idle girl!

Who ever were resistant to my teachings!

I tell you chirp no more these chast.i.ties!

If you come back to the Raja And without him, Know you what then will happen?

_Kol._ I know not.

[_Hears a voice._

Nor care not. I will return.

_Sunandi._ Stop, girl.

_Kol._ I will not.

All others will I tempt, but----

_Sunandi_ (_holding her_). Him will _love_!

[_RISHYAS slowly approaches, chanting._

And you were suckled at the breast of fortune To be the first so fair a saint shall look on.

Use well your charms--and chain him with enchantment.

[_Sees the girl is enthralled by the voice and goes into wood.

RISHYAS soon enters opposite, laden and singing_:

Spirit of the risen sun!

Now returns the offering-hour.

Fruit I bring to you and flower, Here receive them, O great--

[_Breaks off, at sight of her, and the offerings fall slowly from his arms._

_Kol_ (_as they gaze long and tremblingly_).

O saint, is it peace with you, and is all well?

And have you roots and fruit enough for food; And have you joy in singing holy Vedas Here in this leafy-hearted hermitage?

_Rishyas._ O radiant one, yes--all is G.o.dly well.

But whence are you?

And whither do you go?

I have dwelt only here, and not before Have I beheld so fair a vision fall-- Even from skies where wing the Apsaras.

_Kol._ I am not fair, O son of Vishwamya,

[_Timidly._

But I have come from very far away.

_Rishyas_ (_quickly_). And I have offered you no laving-water For hands and feet, Nor any fruit and herbs!

Will you not sit upon this mat of kusa, Or on this skin of the wild antelope, And let me loose your sandals?--O sweet saint, For saint so bright an one must be!--it will Be dear to touch and tend you!

For in this place I have beheld no other-- Only my father, Who is old and mighty In meditations he would have me mind.

But you are fair as well. Will you not sit?

_Kol._ No, pious one, it is not meet for me To touch the holy water--yet I thank you.

_Rishyas._ Not meet for you? O, unto one who is So beautiful, are not all things most meet?

Better are you, I know, than all the devas.

And tho for but a moment I have seen you, I fain would follow The holy vows you follow.

For you I would do all things. When I gaze Upon you all my body is as fire Upon the altar when I sacrifice.

Will you not eat or drink?

_Kol._ Not at your hands.

But see, O holy one, here are rare cakes, Brought with me from afar, and here is soma, Sparkling and ready with divinity To lift whoever drinks of it to joy.

Drink you with me!

_Rishyas._ O gladly will I; give it.

[_Takes the flask; drinks deeply._

A wine of wonder is it and of wisdom, For now it makes you seem even more fair Than first you were.

O let me tend about you, And let me wreathe your brow and limbs with flowers.

[_Takes some and entwines them over her._

_Kol_ (_trembling_). And you are beautiful. So I will weave Flowers upon you too. And see, and see, O, Rishyas, see, For I will dance to you-- The dance of all the dreamers in the world!

[_Unbinds her body-cloth and begins to dance--slowly at first then more alluringly, as he follows her, marvelling. Then at length she stops close up to him and murmurs_:

Does it not fill your heart, O Rishyas, With longing?

_Rishyas._ Yes, yes, yes. And with desire, I know not why, to lay my lips to yours!

Then life, it seems, would burst all ill that binds it.

[_Instinctively; clasping her._

Oh this is sweeter than all other joys Of holiness that I have ever known.

Your voice is like to piping of the kols That play in spring.

_Kol._ And Kol am I named.

_Rishyas._ And what is this I feel for you, O wise one?

In skies from whence you come, what is its name?