; what stains my bosom bare,
Thou God unfair!
Is sandal-dust, not ashes; nought of mine.

Makes me like Shiva that thou, Lord of Love!
Shouldst strain thy string at me and fit thy dart;
This world is thine--let be one breast thereof
Which bleeds already, wounded to the heart
With lasting smart,
Shot from those brows that did my sin reprove.

Thou gavest her those black brows for a bow
Arched like thine own, whose pointed arrows seem
Her glances, and the underlids that go--
So firm and fine--its string? Ah, fleeting gleam!
Beautiful dream!
Small need of Kama's help hast thou, I trow,

To smite me to the soul with love;--but set
Those arrows to their silken cord! enchain
My thoughts in that loose hair! let thy lips, wet
With dew of heaven as bimba-buds with rain,
Bloom precious pain
Of longing in my heart; and, keener yet,

The heaving of thy lovely, angry bosom,
Pant to my spirit things unseen, unsaid;
But if thy touch, thy tones, if the dark blossom
Of thy dear face, thy jasmine-odours shed
From feet to head,
If these be all with me, canst thou be far--be fled?

_So sang he, and I pray that whoso hears
The music of his burning hopes and fears,
That whoso sees this vision by the River
Of Krishna, Hari, (can we name him ever?)
And marks his ear-ring rubies swinging slow,
As he sits still, unheedful, bending low
To play this tune upon his lute, while all
Listen to catch the sadness musical;
And Krishna wotteth nought, but, with set face
Turned full toward Radha's, sings on in that place;
May all such souls--prays Jayadev--be wise
To lean the wisdom which hereunder lies._

(_Here ends that Sarga of the Gita Govinda entitled_
MUGDHAMADHUSUDANO.)

_SARGA THE FOURTH._

SNIGDHAMADHUSUDANO.

KRISHNA CHEERED.

Then she whom Radha sent came to the canes--
The canes beside the river where he lay
With listless limbs and spirit weak from love;--
And she sang this to Krishna wistfully:

(_What follows is to the Music_ KARNATA _and the Mode_ EKATALI.)

Art thou sick for Radha? she is sad in turn,
Heaven foregoes its blessings, if it holds not thee,
All the cooling fragra