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-God 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 Koeil's voice, his neck st