Indian Poetry Part 3

Art thou sick for Radha? she is sad in turn, Heaven foregoes its blessings, if it holds not thee, All the cooling fragrance of sandal she doth spurn, Moonlight makes her mournful with radiance silvery; Even the southern breeze blown fresh from pearly seas, Seems to her but tainted by a dolorous brine; And for thy sake discontented, with a great love overladen, Her soul comes here beside thee, and sitteth down with thine.

Her soul comes here beside thee, and tenderly and true It weaves a subtle mail of proof to ward off sin and pain; A breastplate soft as lotus-leaf, with holy tears for dew, To guard thee from the things that hurt; and then 'tis gone again To strew a blissful place with the richest buds that grace Kama's sweet world, a meeting-spot with rose and jasmine fair, For the hour when, well-contented, with a love no longer troubled, Thou shalt find the way to Radha, and finish sorrows there.

But now her lovely face is shadowed by her fears; Her glorious eyes are veiled and dim like moonlight in eclipse By breaking rain-clouds, Krishna! yet she paints you in her tears With tender thoughts--not Krishna, but brow and breast and lips And form and mien a King, a great and G.o.dlike thing; And then with bended head she asks grace from the Love Divine, To keep thee discontented with the phantoms thou forswearest, Till she may win her glory, and thou be raised to thine.

Softly now she sayeth, "Krishna, Krishna, come!"

Lovingly she prayeth, "Fair moon, light him home."

Yet if Hari helps not, Moonlight cannot aid; Ah! the woeful Radha!

Ah! the forest shade!

Ah! if Hari guide not, Moonlight is as gloom; Ah! if moonlight help not, How shall Krishna come?

Sad for Krishna grieving In the darkened grove; Sad for Radha weaving Dreams of fruitless love!

_Strike soft strings to this soft measure, If thine ear would catch its treasure; Slowly dance to this deep song, Let its meaning float along With grave paces, since it tells Of a love that sweetly dwells In a tender distant glory, Past all faults of mortal story._

(_What follows is to the Music_ DEs.h.a.gA _and the Mode_ EKATaLi.)

Krishna, till thou come unto her, faint she lies with love and fear; Even the jewels of her necklet seem a load too great to bear.

Krishna, till thou come unto her, all the sandal and the flowers Vex her with their pure perfection though they grow in heavenly bowers.

Krishna, till thou come unto her, fair albeit those bowers may be, Pa.s.sion burns her, and love's fire fevers her for lack of thee.

Krishna, till thou come unto her, those divine lids, dark and tender, Droop like lotus-leaves in rain-storms, dashed and heavy in their splendour.

Krishna, till thou come unto her, that rose-couch which she hath spread Saddens with its empty place, its double pillow for one head.

Krishna, till thou come unto her, from her palms she will not lift The dark face hidden deep within them like the moon in cloudy rift.

Krishna, till thou come unto her, angel though she be, thy Love Sighs and suffers, waits and watches--joyless 'mid those joys above.

Krishna, till them come unto her, with the comfort of thy kiss Deeper than thy loss, O Krishna! must be loss of Radha's bliss.

Krishna, while thou didst forget her--her, thy life, thy gentle fate-- Wonderful her waiting was, her pity sweet, her patience great.

Krishna, come! 'tis grief untold to grieve her--shame to let her sigh; Come, for she is sick with love, and thou her only remedy.

_So she sang, and Jayadeva Prays for all, and prays for ever.

That Great Hari may bestow Utmost bliss of loving so On us all;--that one who wore The herdsman's form, and heretofore, To save the shepherd's threatened flock, Up from the earth reared the huge rock-- Bestow it with a gracious hand, Albeit, amid the woodland band, Clinging close in fond caresses Krishna gave them ardent kisses, Taking on his lips divine Earthly stamp and woodland sign._

(_Here ends that Sarga of the Gita Govinda ent.i.tled_ SNIGDHAMADHUSUDANO).

_SARGA THE FIFTH._

SAKANDKSHAPUNDARIKAKSHO.

THE LONGINGS OF KRISHNA.

"Say I am here! oh, if she pardons me, Say where I am, and win her softly hither."

So Krishna to the maid; and willingly She came again to Radha, and she sang:

(_What follows is to the Music_ DESHIVARaDi _and the Mode_ RUPAKA.)

Low whispers the wind from Malaya Overladen with love; On the hills all the gra.s.s is burned yellow; And the trees in the grove Droop with tendrils that mock by their clinging The thoughts of the parted; And there lies, sore-sighing for thee, Thy love, altered-hearted.

To him the moon's icy-chill silver Is a sun at midday; The fever he burns with is deeper Than starlight can stay: Like one who falls stricken by arrows, With the colour departed From all but his red wounds, so lies Thy love, bleeding-hearted.

To the music the banded bees make him He closeth his ear; In the blossoms their small horns are blowing The honey-song clear; But as if every sting to his bosom Its smart had imparted, Low lies by the edge of the river, Thy love, aching-hearted.

By the edge of the river, far wandered From his once beloved bowers, And the haunts of his beautiful playmates, And the beds strewn with flowers; Now thy name is his playmate--that only!-- And the hard rocks upstarted From the sand make the couch where he lies, Thy Krishna, sad-hearted.

_Oh may Hari fill each soul, As these gentle verses roll Telling of the anguish borne By kindred ones asunder torn!

Oh may Hari unto each All the lore of loving teach, All the pain and all the bliss; Jayadeva prayeth this!_

Yea, Lady! in the self-same spot he waits Where with thy kiss thou taught'st him utmost love, And drew him, as none else draws, with thy look; And all day long, and all night long, his cry Is "Radha, Radha," like a spell said o'er:

And in his heart there lives no wish nor hope Save only this, to slake his spirit's thirst For Radha's love with Radha's lips; and find Peace on the immortal beauty of thy breast.

(_What follows is to the Music_ GURJJARi _and the Mode_ EKATaLi.)

Mistress, sweet and bright and holy!

Meet him in that place; Change his cheerless melancholy Into joy and grace; If thou hast forgiven, vex not; If thou lovest, go, Watching ever by the river, Krishna listens low:

Listens low, and on his reed there Softly sounds thy name, Making even mute things plead there For his hope: 'tis shame That, while winds are welcome to him, If from thee they blow, Mournful ever by the river Krishna waits thee so!

When a bird's wing stirs the roses, When a leaf falls dead, Twenty times he recomposes The flower-seat he has spread: Twenty times, with anxious glances Seeking thee in vain, Sighing ever by the river, Krishna droops again.

Loosen from thy foot the bangle, Lest its golden bell, With a tiny, tattling jangle, Any false tale tell: If thou fearest that the moonlight Will thy glad face know, Draw those dark braids lower, Lady!

But to Krishna go.

Swift and still as lightning's splendour Let thy beauty come, Sudden, gracious, dazzling, tender, To his arms--its home.

Swift as Indra's yellow lightning, Shining through the night, Glide to Krishna's lonely bosom, Take him love and light.

Grant, at last, love's utmost measure, Giving, give the whole; Keep back nothing of the treasure Of thy priceless soul: Hold with both hands out unto him Thy chalice, let him drain The nectar of its dearest draught, Till not a wish remain.

Only go--the stars are setting, And thy Krishna grieves; Doubt and anger quite forgetting, Hasten through the leaves: Wherefore didst thou lead him heav'nward But for this thing's sake?

Comfort him with pity, Radha!

Or his heart must break.

_But while Jayadeva writes This rare tale of deep delights-- Jayadev, whose heart is given Unto Hari, Lord in Heaven-- See that ye too, as ye read, With a glad and humble heed, Bend your brows before His face, That ye may have bliss and grace._

And then the Maid, compa.s.sionate, sang on--

Lady, most sweet!

For thy coming feet He listens in the wood, with love sore-tried; Faintly sighing, Like one a-dying, He sends his thoughts afoot to meet his bride.