Gítagóvinda; or, the Songs of Jayadéva

‘The firmament is obscured by clouds; the woodlands are black with Tamála-trees; that youth, who roves in the forest, will be fearful in the gloom of night: go, my daughter; bring the wanderer home to my rustick mansion.’ Such was the command of Nanda, the fortunate herdsman; and hence arose the love of Raˊdhaˊ and Maˊdhava, who sported on the bank of Yamunà, or hastened eagerly to the secret bower.

If thy soul be delighted with the remembrance of Heri, or sensible to the raptures of love, listen to the voice of Jayadeˊva, whose notes are both sweet and brilliant. O thou, who reclinest on the bosom of Camalaˊ, whose ears flame with gems, and whose locks are embellished with sylvan flowers; thou, from whom the day star derived his effulgence, who slewest the venom-breathing Caˊliya, who beamedst, like a sun, on the tribe of Yadu, that flourished like a lotos; thou, who sittest on the plumage of Garura, who, by subduing demons, gavest exquisite joy to the assembly of immortals; thou, for whom the daughter of Janaca was decked in gay apparel, by whom Duˊshana was overthrown; thou, whose eye sparkles like the water-lily, who calledst three worlds into existence; thou, by whom the rocks of Mandar were easily supported, who sippest nectar from the radiant lips of Pedmaˊ, as the fluttering Chacóra drinks the moonbeams; be victorious, O Heri, lord of conquest!

Raˊdhaˊ sought him long in vain, and her thoughts were confounded by the fever of desire: she roved in the vernal morning among the twining Vásantis covered with soft blossoms, when a damsel thus addressed her with youthful hilarity: ‘The gale, that has wantoned round the beautiful clove-plants, breathes now from the hills of Malaya; the circling arbours resound with the notes of the Cócil and the murmurs of honey-making swarms. Now the hearts of damsels, whose lovers travel at a distance, are pierced with anguish; while the blossoms of Bacul are conspicuous among the flowerets covered with bees. The Tamála, with leaves dark and odorous, claims a tribute from the musk, which it vanquishes; and the clustering flowers of the Palása resemble the nails of Caˊma, with which he rends the hearts of the young. The full blown Césara gleams like the sceptre of the world's monarch, Love; and the pointed thyrse of the Cétaca resembles the darts, by which lovers are wounded. See the bunches of Pátali-flowers filled with bees, like the quiver of Smara full of shafts; while the tender blossom of the Caruna smiles to see the whole world laying shame aside. The far-scented Mádhavì beautifies the trees, round which it twines; and the fresh Mallicà seduces with rich perfume even the hearts of hermits; while the Amratree with blooming tresses is embraced by the gay creeper Atimucta, and the blue streams of Yamunà wind round the groves of Vrindávan. In this charming season, which gives pain to separated lovers, young Heri sports and dances with a company of damsels. A breeze, like the breath of love, from the fragrant flowers of the Cétaca, kindles every heart, whilst it perfumes the woods with the dust, which it shakes from the Mallicá with half-opened buds; and the Cócila bursts into song, when he sees the blossoms glistening on the lovely Rasála.’

The jealous Raˊdhaˊ gave no answer; and, soon after, her officious friend, perceiving the foe of Mura in the forest eager for the rapturous embraces of the herdsmen's daughters, with whom he was dancing, thus again addressed his forgotten mistress: ‘With a garland of wild flowers descending even to the yellow mantle, that girds his azure limbs, distinguished by smiling cheeks and by ear-rings, that sparkle, as he plays, Heri exults in the assemblage of amorous damsels. One of them presses him with her swelling breast, while she warbles with exquisite melody. Another, affected by a glance from his eye, stands meditating on the lotos of his face. A third, on pretence of whispering a secret in his ear, approaches his temples, and kisses them with ardour. One seizes his mantle and draws him towards her, pointing to the bower on the banks of Yamunà, where elegant Vanjulas interweave their branches. He applauds another, who dances in the sportive circle, whilst her bracelets ring, as she beats time with her palms. Now he caresses one, and kisses another, smiling on a third with complacency; and now he chases her, whose beauty has most allured him. Thus the wanton Heri frolicks, in the season of sweets, among the maids of Vraja, who rush to his embraces, as if he were Pleasure itself assuming a human form; and one of them, under a pretext of hymning his divine perfections, whispers in his ear: “Thy lips, my beloved, are nectar.”

Raˊdhaˊ remains in the forest; but, resenting the promiscuous passion of Heri, and his neglect of her beauty, which he once thought superiour, she retires to a bower of twining plants, the summit of which resounds with the humming of swarms engaged in their sweet labours; and there, falling languid on the ground, she thus addresses her female companion. Though he take recreation in my absence, and smile on all around him, yet my soul remembers Him, whose beguiling reed modulates a tune sweetened by the nectar of his quivering lip, while his ear sparkles with gems, and his eye darts amorous glances; Him, whose locks are decked with the plumes of peacocks resplendent with many-coloured moons, and whose mantle gleams like a dark blue cloud illumined with rain-bows; Him, whose graceful smile gives new lustre to his lips, brilliant and soft as a dewy leaf, sweet and ruddy as the blossom of Bandhujíva, while they tremble with eagerness to kiss the daughters of the herdsmen; him, who disperses the gloom with beams from the jewels, which decorate his bosom, his wrists, and his ankles, on whose forehead shines a circlet of sandal wood, which makes even the moon contemptible, when it sails through irradiated clouds; Him, whose ear-rings are formed of entire gems in the shape of the fish Macar on the banners of Love; even the yellow-robed God, whose attendants are the chiefs of deities, of holy men, and of demons; him, who reclines under a gay Cadamba-tree; who formerly delighted me, while he gracefully waved in the dance, and all his soul sparkled in his eye. My weak mind thus enumerates his qualities; and, though offended, strives to banish offence. What else can it do? It cannot part with its affection for Crishna, whose love is excited by other damsels, and who sports in the absence of Raˊdhaˊ. Bring, O friend, that vanquisher of the demon Ceˊsi, to sport with me, who am repairing to a secret bower, who look timidly on all sides, who meditate with amorous fancy on his divine transfiguration. Bring him, whose discourse was once composed of the gentlest words, to converse with me, who am bashful on his first approach, and express my thoughts with a smile sweet as honey. Bring him, who formerly slept on my bosom, to recline with me on a green bed of leaves just gathered, while his lip sheds dew, and my arms enfold him. Bring him, who has attained the perfection of skill in love's art, whose hand used to press these firm and delicate spheres, to play with me, whose voice rivals that of the Cócil, and whose tresses are bound with waving blossoms. Bring him, who formerly drew me by the locks to his embrace, to repose with me, whose feet tinkle, as they move, with rings of gold and of gems, whose loosened zone sounds, as it falls; and whose limbs are slender and flexible as the creeping plant. That God, whose cheeks are beautified by the nectar of his smiles, whose pipe drops in his extasy, I saw in the grove encircled by the damsels of Vraja, who gazed on him askance from the corners of their eyes: I saw him in the grove with happier damsels, yet the sight of him delighted me. Soft is the gale, which breathes over yon clear pool, and expands the clustering blossoms of the voluble Asóca; soft, yet grievous to me in the absence of the foe of Madhu. Delightful are the flowers of Amra-trees on the mountain-top, while the murmuring bees pursue their voluptuous toil; delightful, yet afflicting to me, O friend, in the absence of the youthful Ceˊsava.’

Meantime, the destroyer of Cansa, having brought to his remembrance the amiable Raˊdhaˊ, forsook the beautiful damsels of Vraja: he sought her in all parts of the forest; his old wound from love's arrow bled again; he repented of his levity, and, seated in a bower near the bank of Yamuna, the blue daughter of the sun, thus poured forth his lamentation.

‘She is departed—she saw me, no doubt, surrounded by the wanton shepherdesses; yet, conscious of my fault, I durst not intercept her flight. Wo is me! she feels a sense of injured honour, and is departed in wrath. How will she conduct herself? How will she express her pain in so long a separation? What is wealth to me? What are numerous attendants? What are the pleasures of the world? What joy can I receive from a heavenly abode? I seem to behold her face with eye-brows contracting themselves through her just resentment: it resembles a fresh lotos, over which two black bees are fluttering: I seem, so present is she to my imagination, even now to caress her with eagerness. Why then do I seek her in this forest? Why do I lament without cause? O slender damsel, anger, I know, has torn thy soft bosom; but whither thou art retired, I know not. How can I invite thee to return? Thou art seen by me, indeed, in a vision; thou seemest to move before me. Ah! why dost thou not rush, as before, to my embrace? Do but forgive me: never again will I commit a similar offence. Grant me but a sight of thee, O lovely Raˊdhicaˊ; for my passion torments me. I am not the terrible Maheˊsa: a garland of water lilies with subtil threads decks my shoulders; not serpents with twisted folds: the blue petals of the lotos glitter on my neck; not the azure gleam of poison: powdered sandal-wood is sprinkled on my limbs; not pale ashes: O God of Love, mistake me not for Mahaˊdeˊva. Wound me not again; approach me not in anger; I love already but too passionately; yet I have lost my beloved. Hold not in thy hand that shaft barbed with an Amra flower! Brace not thy bow, thou conqueror of the world! Is it valour to slay one who faints? My heart is already pierced by arrows from Raˊdhaˊ's eyes, black and keen as those of an antelope; yet mine eyes are not gratified with her presence. Her eyes are full of shafts; her eye-brows are bows; and the tips of her ears are silken strings: thus armed by Ananga, the God of Desire, she marches, herself a goddess, to ensure his triumph over the vanquished universe. I meditate on her delightful embrace, on the ravishing glances darted from her eye, on the fragrant lotos of her mouth, on her nectar-dropping speech, on her lips ruddy as the berries of the Bimba; yet even my fixed meditation on such an assemblage of charms encreases, instead of alleviating, the misery of separation.’

The damsel, commissioned by Raˊdhaˊ, found the disconsolate God under an arbour of spreading Vániras by the side of Yamunà; where, presenting herself gracefully before him, she thus described the affliction of his beloved:

‘She despises essence of sandal-wood, and even by moon-light sits brooding over her gloomy sorrow; she declares the gale of Malaya to be venom, and the sandal-trees, through which it has breathed, to have been the haunt of serpents. Thus, O Maˊdhava, is she afflicted in thy absence with the pain, which love's dart has occasioned: her soul is fixed on Thee. Fresh arrows of desire are continually assailing her, and she forms a net of lotos-leaves as armour for her heart, which thou alone shouldst fortify. She makes her own bed of the arrows darted by the flowery-shafted God; but, when she hoped for thy embrace, she had formed for Thee a couch of soft blossoms. Her face is like a water-lily veiled in the dew of tears, and her eyes appear like moons eclipsed, which let fall their gathered nectar through pain caused by the tooth of the furious dragon. She draws thy image with musk in the character of the Deity with five shafts, having subdued the Macar, or horned shark, and holding an arrow tipped with an Amra-flower; thus she draws thy picture, and worships it. At the close of every sentence, “O Maˊdhava, she exclaims, at thy feet am I fallen, and in thy absence even the moon, though it be a vase full of nectar, inflames my limbs.” ‘Then, by the power of imagination, she figures thee standing before her; thee, who art not easily attained: she sighs, she smiles, she mourns, she weeps, she moves from side to side, she laments and rejoices by turns. Her abode is a forest; the circle of her female companions is a net; her sighs are flames of fire kindled in a thicket; herself (alas! through thy absence) is become a timid roe; and Love is the tiger, who springs on her like Yama, the Genius of Death. So emaciated is her beautiful body, that even the light garland, which waves over her bosom, she thinks a load. Such, O bright-haired God, is Raˊdhaˊ, when thou art absent. If powder of sandal-wood finely levigated be moistened and applied to her breasts, she starts, and mistakes it for poison. Her sighs form a breeze long extended, and burn her like the flame, which reduced Candarpa to ashes. She throws around her eyes, like blue water-lilies with broken stalks, dropping lucid streams. Even her bed of tender leaves appears in her sight like a kindled fire. The palm of her hand supports her aching temple, motionless as the crescent rising at eve. “Heri, Heri,” thus in silence she meditates on thy name, as if her wish were gratified, and she were dying through thy absence. She rends her locks; she pants; she laments inarticulately; she trembles; she pines; she muses; she moves from place to place; she closes her eyes; she falls; she rises again; she faints: in such a fever of love, she may live, O celestial physician, if Thou administer the remedy; but, shouldst Thou be unkind, her malady will be desperate. Thus, O divine healer, by the nectar of thy love must Raˊdhaˊ be restored to health; and, if thou refuse it, thy heart must be harder than the thunderstone. Long has her soul pined, and long has she been heated with sandal-wood, moon-light, and water-lilies, with which others are cooled; yet she patiently and in secret meditates on Thee, who alone canst relieve her. Shouldst thou be inconstant, how can she, wasted as she is to a shadow, support life a single moment? How can she, who lately could not endure thy absence even an instant, forbear sighing now, when she looks with half-closed eyes on the Rasála with bloomy branches, which remind her of the vernal season, when she first beheld thee with rapture?

‘Here have I chosen my abode: go quickly to Raˊdhaˊ; soothe her with my message, and conduct her hither.’ So spoke the foe of Madhu to the anxious damsel, who hastened back, and thus addressed her companion: ‘Whilst a sweet breeze from the hills of Malaya comes wafting on his plumes the young God of Desire; while many a flower points his extended petals to pierce the bosom of separated lovers, the Deity crowned with sylvan blossoms laments, O friend, in thy absence. Even the dewy rays of the moon burn him; and, as the shaft of love is descending, he mourns inarticulately with increasing distraction. When the bees murmur softly, he covers his ears; misery sits fixed in his heart, and every returning night adds anguish to anguish. He quits his radiant palace for the wild forest, where he sinks on a bed of cold clay, and frequently mutters thy name. In yon bower, to which the pilgrims of love are used to repair, he meditates on thy form, repeating in silence some enchanting word, which once dropped from thy lips, and thirsting for the nectar, which they alone can supply. Delay not, O loveliest of women; follow the lord of thy heart: behold, he seeks the appointed shade, bright with the ornaments of love, and confident of the promised bliss. Having bound his locks with forest-flowers, he hastens to yon arbour, where a soft gale breathes over the banks of Yamunà: there, again pronouncing thy name, he modulates his divine reed. Oh! with what rapture doth he gaze on the golden dust, which the breeze shakes from expanded blossoms; the breeze, which has kissed thy cheek! With a mind, languid as a dropping wing, feeble as a trembling leaf, he doubtfully expects thy approach, and timidly looks on the path, which thou must tread. Leave behind thee, O friend, the ring which tinkles on thy delicate ankle, when thou sportest in the dance; hastily cast over thee thy azure mantle, and run to the gloomy bower. The reward of thy speed, O thou who sparklest like lightning, will be to shine on the blue bosom of Muraˊri, which resembles a vernal cloud, decked with a string of pearls like a flock of white water-birds fluttering in the air. Disappoint not, O thou lotos-eyed, the vanquisher of Madhu; accomplish his desire; but go quickly: it is night, and the night also will quickly depart. Again and again he sighs; he looks around; he re-enters the arbour; he can scarce articulate thy sweet name; he again smooths his flowery couch; he looks wild; he becomes frantick: thy beloved will perish through desire. The bright-beamed God sinks in the west, and thy pain of separation may also be removed: the blackness of the night is increased, and the passionate imagination of Goˊvinda has acquired additional gloom. My address to thee has equalled in length and in sweetness the song of the Cócila: delay will make thee miserable, O my beautiful friend. Seize the moment of delight in the place of assignation with the son of Deˊvaciˊ, who descended from heaven to remove the burdens of the universe; he is a blue gem on the forehead of the three worlds, and longs to sip honey, like the bee, from the fragrant lotos of thy cheek.’

But the solicitous maid, perceiving that Raˊdhaˊ was unable through debility to move from her arbour of flowery creepers, returned to Goˊvinda, who was himself disordered with love, and thus described her situation:

‘She mourns, O sovereign of the world, in her verdant bower; she looks eagerly on all sides in hope of thy approach; then, gaining strength from the delightful idea of the proposed meeting, she advances a few steps, and falls languid on the ground. When she rises, she weaves bracelets of fresh leaves; she dresses herself like her beloved, and, looking at herself in sport, exclaims, “Behold the vanquisher of Madhu!” Then she repeats again and again the name of Heri, and, catching at a dark blue cloud, strives to embrace it, saying: “It is my beloved, who approaches.” Thus, while thou art dilatory, she lies expecting thee; she mourns; she weeps; she puts on her gayest ornaments to receive her lord; she compresses her deep sighs within her bosom; and then, meditating on thee, O cruel, she is drowned in a sea of rapturous imaginations. If a leaf but quiver, she supposes thee arrived; she spreads her couch; she forms in her mind a hundred modes of delight: yet, if thou go not to her bower, she must die this night through excessive anguish.’

By this time the moon spread a net of beams over the groves of Vrindávan, and looked like a drop of liquid sandal on the face of the sky, which smiled like a beautiful damsel; while its orb with many spots betrayed, as it were, a consciousness of guilt, in having often attended amorous maids to the loss of their family-honour. The moon, with a black fawn couched on its disc, advanced in its nightly course; but Maˊdhava had not advanced to the bower of Raˊdhaˊ, who thus bewailed his delay with notes of varied lamentation.

‘The appointed moment is come; but Heri, alas, comes not to the grove. Must the season of my unblemished youth pass thus idly away? Oh! what refuge can I seek, deluded as I am by the guile of my female adviser? The God with five arrows has wounded my heart; and I am deserted by Him, for whose sake I have sought at night the darkest recess of the forest. Since my best beloved friends have deceived me, it is my wish to die: since my senses are disordered, and my bosom is on fire, why stay I longer in this world? The coolness of this vernal night gives me pain, instead of refreshment: some happier damsel enjoys my beloved; whilst I, alas! am looking at the gems in my bracelets, which are blackened by the flames of my passion. My neck, more delicate than the tenderest blossom, is hurt by the garland, that encircles it: flowers are, indeed, the arrows of Love, and he plays with them cruelly. I make this wood my dwelling: I regard not the roughness of the Vétastrees; but the destroyer of Madhu holds me not in his remembrance! Why comes he not to the bower of bloomy Vanjulas, assigned for our meeting? Some ardent rival, no doubt, keeps him locked in her embrace: or have his companions detained him with mirthful recreations? Else why roams he not through the cool shades? Perhaps, the heart-sick lover is unable through weakness to advance even a step!’—So saying, she raised her eyes; and, seeing her damsel return silent and mournful, unaccompanied by Maˊdhava, she was alarmed even to phrensy; and, as if she actually beheld him in the arms of a rival, she thus described the vision, which overpowered her intellect.

‘Yes; in habiliments becoming the war of love, and with tresses waving like flowery banners, a damsel, more alluring than Raˊdhaˊ, enjoys the conqueror of Madhu. Her form is transfigured by the touch of her divine lover; her garland quivers over her swelling bosom; her face like the moon is graced with clouds of dark hair, and trembles, while she quaffs the nectareous dew of his lip; her bright ear-rings dance over her cheeks, which they irradiate; and the small bells on her girdle tinkle as she moves. Bashful at first, she smiles at length on her embracer, and expresses her joy with inarticulate murmurs; while she floats on the waves of desire, and closes her eyes dazzled with the blaze of approaching Caˊma: and now this heroine in love's warfare falls exhausted and vanquished by the resistless Muraˊri; but alas! in my bosom prevails the flame of jealousy, and yon moon, which dispels the sorrow of others, increases mine. See again, where the foe of Mura sports in yon grove on the bank of the Yamunà! See, how he kisses the lip of my rival, and imprints on her forehead an ornament of pure musk, black as the young antelope on the lunar orb! Now, like the husband of Reti, he fixes white blossoms on her dark locks, where they gleam like flashes of lightning among the curled clouds. On her breasts, like two firmaments, he places a string of gems like a radiant constellation: he binds on her arms, graceful as the stalks of the water-lily, and adorned with hands glowing like the petals of its flower, a bracelet of sapphires, which resemble a cluster of bees. Ah! see, how he ties round her waist a rich girdle illumined with golden bells, which seem to laugh, as they tinkle, at the inferiour brightness of the leafy garlands, which lovers hang on their bowers to propitiate the God of Desire. He places her soft foot, as he reclines by her side, on his ardent bosom, and stains it with the ruddy hue of Yávaca. Say, my friend, why pass I my nights in this tangled forest without joy, and without hope, while the faithless brother of Haladhera clasps my rival in his arms? Yet why, my companion, shouldst thou mourn, though my perfidious youth has disappointed me? What offence is it of thine, if he sport with a crowd of damsels happier than I? Mark, how my soul, attracted by his irresistible charms, bursts from its mortal frame, and rushes to mix with its beloved. She, whom the God enjoys, crowned with sylvan flowers, sits carelessly on a bed of leaves with Him, whose wanton eyes resemble blue water-lilies agitated by the breeze. She feels no flame from the gales of Malaya with Him, whose words are sweeter than the water of life. She derides the shafts of soulborn Caˊma with Him, whose lips are like a red lotos in full bloom. She is cooled by the moon's dewy beams, while she reclines with Him, whose hands and feet glow like vernal flowers. No female companion deludes her, while she sports with Him, whose vesture blazes like tried gold. She faints not through excess of passion, while she caresses that youth, who surpasses in beauty the inhabitants of all worlds. O gale, scented with sandal, who breathest love from the regions of the south, be propitious but for a moment: when thou hast brought my beloved before my eyes, thou mayst freely waft away my soul. Love, with eyes like blue water-lilies, again assails me and triumphs; and, while the perfidy of my beloved rends my heart, my female friend is my foe, the cool breeze scorches me like a flame, and the nectar-dropping moon is my poison. Bring disease and death, O gale of Malaya! Seize my spirit, O God with five arrows! I ask not mercy from thee: no more will I dwell in the cottage of my father. Receive me in thy azure waves, O sister of Yama, that the ardour of my heart may be allayed!’

Pierced by the arrows of love, she passed the night in the agonies of despair, and at early dawn thus rebuked her lover, whom she saw lying prostrate before her and imploring forgiveness.

‘Alas! alas! Go, Maˊdhava; depart, O Ceˊsava; speak not the language of guile; follow Her, O lotos-eyed God, follow Her, who dispels thy care. Look at his eye half-opened, red with continued waking through the pleasurable night, yet smiling still with affection for my rival! Thy teeth, O cerulean youth, are azure as thy complexion from the kisses, which thou hast imprinted on the beautiful eyes of thy darling graced with dark blue powder; and thy limbs marked with punctures in love's warfare, exhibit a letter of conquest written on polished sapphires with liquid gold. That broad bosom, stained by the bright lotos of her foot, displays a vesture of ruddy leaves over the tree of thy heart, which trembles within it. The pressure of her lip on thine wounds me to the soul. Ah! how canst thou assert, that we are one, since our sensations differ thus widely? Thy soul, O dark-limbed God, shows its blackness externally. How couldst thou deceive a girl, who relied on thee; a girl, who burned in the fever of love? Thou rovest in woods, and females are thy prey: what wonder? Even thy childish heart was malignant; and thou gavest death to the nurse, who would have given thee milk. Since thy tenderness for me, of which these forests used to talk, has now vanished, and since thy breast, reddened by the feet of my rival, glows as if thy ardent passion for her were bursting from it, the sight of thee, O deceiver, makes me (ah! must I say it?) blush at my own affection.’

Having thus inveighed against her beloved, she sat overwhelmed in grief, and silently meditated on his charms; when her damsel softly addressed her.

‘He is gone: the light air has wafted him away. What pleasure now, my beloved, remains in thy mansion? Continue not, resentful woman, thy indignation against the beautiful Maˊdhava. Why shouldst thou render vain those round smooth vases, ample and ripe as the sweet fruit of yon Tála-tree? How often and how recently have I said: “forsake not the blooming Heri?” Why sittest thou so mournful? Why weepest thou with distraction, when the damsels are laughing around thee? Thou hast formed a couch of soft lotos-leaves: let thy darling charm thy sight, while he reposes on it. Afflict not thy soul with extreme anguish; but attend to my words, which conceal no guile. Suffer Ceˊsava to approach: let him speak with exquisite sweetness, and dissipate all thy sorrows. If thou art harsh to him, who is amiable; if thou art proudly silent, when he deprecates thy wrath with lowly prostrations; if thou showest aversion to him, who loves thee passionately; if, when he bends before thee, thy face be turned contemptuously away; by the same rule of contrariety, the dust of sandal-wood, which thou hast sprinkled, may become poison; the moon with cool beams, a scorching sun; the fresh dew, a consuming flame; and the sports of love be changed into agony.’

Maˊdhava was not absent long: he returned to his beloved; whose cheeks were heated by the sultry gale of her sighs. Her anger was diminished, not wholly abated; but she secretly rejoiced at his return, while the shades of night also were approaching. She looked abashed at her damsel, while He, with faltering accents, implored her forgiveness.

‘Speak but one mild word, and the rays of thy sparkling teeth will dispel the gloom of my fears. My trembling lips, like thirsty Chacóras, long to drink the moonbeams of thy cheek. O my darling, who art naturally so tender-hearted, abandon thy causeless indignation. At this moment the flame of desire consumes my heart: oh! grant me a draught of honey from the lotos of thy mouth. Or, if thou beest inexorable, grant me death from the arrows of thy keen eyes; make thy arms my chains; and punish me according to thy pleasure. Thou art my life; thou art my ornament; thou art a pearl in the ocean of my mortal birth: oh! be favourable now, and my heart shall eternally be grateful. Thine eyes, which nature formed like blue water-lilies, are become, through thy resentment, like petals of the crimson lotos: oh! tinge with their effulgence these my dark limbs, that they may glow like the shafts of Love tipped with flowers. Place on my head that foot like a fresh leaf, and shade me from the sun of my passion, whose beams I am unable to bear. Spread a string of gems on those two soft globes; let the golden bells of thy zone tinkle, and proclaim the mild edict of love. Say, O damsel with delicate speech, shall I dye red with the juice of alactaca those beautiful feet, which will make the full-blown land-lotos blush with shame? Abandon thy doubts of my heart, now indeed fluttering through fear of thy displeasure, but hereafter to be fixed wholly on thee; a heart, which has no room in it for another: none else can enter it, but Love, the bodiless God. Let him wing his arrows; let him wound me mortally: decline not, O cruel, the pleasure of seeing me expire, Thy face is bright as the moon, though its beams drop the venom of maddening desire: let thy nectareous lip be the charmer, who alone has power to lull the serpent, or supply an antidote for his poison. Thy silence afflicts me: oh! speak with the voice of musick, and let thy sweet accents allay my ardour. Abandon thy wrath, but abandon not a lover, who surpasses in beauty the sons of men, and who kneels before thee, O thou most beautiful among women. Thy lips are a Bandhujiva-flower; the lustre of the Madhuca beams on thy cheek; thine eye outshines the blue lotos; thy nose is a bud of the Tila; the Cunda-blossom yields to thy teeth: thus the flowery-shafted God borrows from thee the points of his darts, and subdues the universe. Surely, thou descendedst from heaven, O slender damsel, attended by a company of youthful goddesses; and all their beauties are collected in thee.’

He spake; and, seeing her appeased by his homage, flew to his bower clad in a gay mantle. The night now veiled all visible objects; and the damsel thus exhorted Raˊdhaˊ, while she decked her with beaming ornaments.

‘Follow, gentle Raˊdhicaˊ, follow the foe of Madhu: his discourse was elegantly composed of sweet phrases; he prostrated himself at thy feet; and he now hastens to his delightful couch by yon grove of branching Vanjulas. Bind round thy ankle rings beaming with gems; and advance with mincing steps, like the pearl-fed Marála. Drink with ravished ears the soft accents of Heri; and feast on love, while the warbling Cocilas obey the mild ordinance of the flower-darting God. Abandon delay: see, the whole assembly of slender plants, pointing to the bower with fingers of young leaves agitated by the gale, make signals for thy departure. Ask those two round hillocks, which receive pure dew-drops from the garland playing on thy neck, and the buds on whose top start aloft with the thought of thy darling; ask, and they will tell, that thy soul is intent on the warfare of love: advance, fervid warriour, advance with alacrity, while the sound of thy tinkling waist-bells shall represent martial musick. Lead with thee some favoured maid; grasp her hand with thine, whose fingers are long and smooth as love's arrows: march; and, with the noise of thy bracelets, proclaim thy approach to the youth, who will own himself thy slave: “She will come; she will exult on beholding me; she will pour accents of delight; she will enfold me with eager arms; she will melt with affection:” such are his thoughts at this moment; and, thus thinking, he looks through the long avenue; he trembles; he rejoices; he burns; he moves from place to place; he faints, when he sees thee not coming, and falls in his gloomy bower. The night now dresses, in habiliments fit for secrecy, the many damsels, who hasten to their places of assignation: she sets off with blackness their beautiful eyes; fixes dark Tamála-leaves behind their ears; decks their locks with the deep azure of water-lilies, and sprinkles musk on their panting bosoms. The nocturnal sky, black as the touchstone, tries now the gold of their affection, and is marked with rich lines from the flashes of their beauty, in which they surpass the brightest Cashmirians.’

Raˊdhaˊ, thus incited, tripped through the forest; but shame overpowered her, when, by the light of innumerable gems, on the arms, the feet, and the neck of her beloved, she saw him at the door of his flowery mansion: then her damsel again addressed her with ardent exultation.

‘Enter, sweet Raˊdhaˊ, the bower of Heri: seek delight, O thou, whose bosom laughs with the foretaste of happiness. Enter, sweet Raˊdhaˊ, the bower graced with a bed of Asóca-leaves: seek delight, O thou, whose garland leaps with joy on thy breast. Enter, sweet Raˊdhaˊ, the bower illumined with gay blossoms: seek delight, O thou, whose limbs far excel them in softness. Enter, O Raˊdhaˊ, the bower made cool and fragrant by gales from the woods of Malaya: seek delight, O thou, whose amorous lays are softer than breezes. Enter, O Raˊdhaˊ, the bower spread with leaves of twining creepers: seek delight, O thou, whose arms have been long inflexible. Enter, O Raˊdhaˊ, the bower, which resounds with the murmurs of honey-making bees: seek delight, O thou, whose embrace yields more exquisite sweetness. Enter, O Raˊdhaˊ, the bower attuned by the melodious band of Cócilas: seek delight, O thou, whose lips, which outshine the grains of the pomegranate, are embellished, when thou speakest, by the brightness of thy teeth. Long has he borne thee in his mind; and now, in an agony of desire, he pants to taste nectar from thy lip. Deign to restore thy slave, who will bend before the lotos of thy foot, and press it to his irradiated bosom; a slave, who acknowledges himself bought by thee for a single glance from thy eye, and a toss of thy disdainful eyebrow.’

She ended; and Raˊdhaˊ with timid joy, darting her eyes on Goˊvinda, while she musically sounded the rings of her ankles and the bells of her zone, entered the mystick bower of her only beloved. There she beheld her Maˊdhava, who delighted in her alone; who so long had sighed for her embrace; and whose countenance then gleamed with excessive rapture: his heart was agitated by her sight, as the waves of the deep are affected by the lunar orb. His azure breast glittered with pearls of unblemished lustre, like the full bed of the cerulean Yamunà interspersed with curls of white foam. From his graceful waist flowed a pale yellow robe, which resembled the golden dust of the water-lily scattered over its blue petals. His passion was inflamed by the glances of her eyes, which played like a pair of water-birds with azure plumage, that sport near a full-blown lotos on a pool in the season of dew. Bright ear-rings, like two suns, displayed in full expansion the flowers of his cheeks and lips, which glistened with the liquid radiance of smiles. His locks, interwoven with blossoms, were like a cloud variegated with moon beams; and on his forehead shone a circle of odorous oil, extracted from the sandal of Malaya, like the moon just appearing on the dusky horizon; while his whole body seemed in a flame from the blaze of unnumbered gems. Tears of transport gushed in a stream from the full eyes of Raˊdhaˊ, and their watery glances beamed on her best beloved. Even shame, which before had taken its abode in their dark pupils, was itself ashamed and departed, when the fawn-eyed Raˊdhaˊ gazed on the brightened face of Crishna, while she passed by the soft edge of his couch, and the bevy of his attendant nymphs, pretending to strike the gnats from their cheeks in order to conceal their smiles, warily retired from his bower.

Goˊvinda, seeing his beloved cheerful and serene, her lips sparkling with smiles, and her eye speaking desire, thus eagerly addressed her; while she carelessly reclined on the leafy bed strown with soft blossoms.

‘Set the lotos of thy foot on this azure bosom; and let this couch be victorious over all, who rebel against love. Give short rapture, sweet Raˊdhaˊ, to Naˊraˊyaˊn thy adorer. I do thee homage; I press with my blooming palms thy feet weary with so long a walk. O that I were the golden ring, that plays round thy ankle! Speak but one gentle word; bid nectar drop from the bright moon of thy mouth. Since the pain of absence is removed, let me thus remove the thin vest, that enviously hides thy charms. Blest should I be, if those raised globes were fixed on my bosom, and the ardour of my passion allayed. Oh! suffer me to quaff the liquid bliss of those lips; restore with their water of life thy slave, who has long been lifeless, whom the fire of separation has consumed. Long have these ears been afflicted in thy absence by the notes of the Cócila: relieve them with the sound of thy tinkling waist-bells, which yield musick almost equal to the melody of thy voice. Why are those eyes half closed? Are they ashamed of seeing a youth, to whom thy careless resentment gave anguish? Oh! let affliction cease; and let extasy drown the remembrance of sorrow.’

In the morning she rose disarrayed, and her eyes betrayed a night without slumber; when the yellow-robed God, who gazed on her with transport, thus meditated on her charms in his heavenly mind: ‘Though her locks be diffused at random, though the lustre of her lips be faded, though her garland and zone be fallen from their enchanting stations, and though she hide their places with her hands, looking toward me with bashful silence, yet even thus disarranged, she fills me with extatick delight.’ But Raˊdhaˊ, preparing to array herself, before the company of nymphs could see her confusion, spake thus with exultation to her obsequious lover.

“Place, O son of Yadu, with fingers cooler than sandal-wood, place a circlet of musk on this breast, which resembles a vase of consecrated water crowned with fresh leaves, and fixed near a vernal bower to propitiate the God of Love. Place, my darling, the glossy powder, which would make the blackest bee envious, on this eye, whose glances are keener than arrows darted by the husband of Reti. Fix, O accomplished youth, the two gems, which form part of love's chain, in these ears, whence the antelopes of thy eyes may run downwards and sport at pleasure. Place now a fresh circle of musk, black as the lunar spots, on the moon of my forehead; and mix gay flowers on my tresses with a peacock's feathers, in graceful order, that they may wave like the banners of Caˊma. Now replace, O tender-hearted, the loose ornaments of my vesture; and refix the golden bells of my girdle on their destined station, which resembles those hills, where the God with five shafts, who destroyed Sambar, keeps his elephant ready for battle.’. While she spake, the heart of Yadava triumphed; and, obeying her sportful behests, he placed musky spots on her bosom and forehead, dyed her temples with radiant hues, embellished her eyes with additional blackness, decked her braided hair and her neck with fresh garlands, and tied on her wrists the loosened bracelets, on her ankles the beamy rings, and round her waist the zone of bells, that sounded with ravishing melody.

Whatever is delightful in the modes of musick, whatever is divine in meditations on Vishnu, whatever is exquisite in the sweet art of love, whatever is graceful in the fine strains of poetry, all that let the happy and wise learn from the songs of Jayadeˊva, whose soul is united with the foot of Naˊraˊyan. May that Heri be your support, who expanded himself into an infinity of bright forms, when, eager to gaze with myriads of eyes on the daughter of the ocean, he displayed his great character of the all-pervading deity, by the multiplied reflexions of his divine person in the numberless gems on the many heads of the king of serpents, whom he chose for his couch; that Heri, who, removing the lucid veil from the bosom of Pedmaˊ, and fixing his eyes on the delicious buds, that grew on it, diverted her attention by declaring that, when she had chosen him as her bridegroom near the sea of milk, the disappointed husband of Parvati drank in despair the venom, which dyed his neck azure! THE END.