re;
He fails in faith, and Radha weeps.

_But the poet Jayadev--
He who is great Hari's slave,
He who finds asylum sweet
Only at great Hari's feet;
He who for your comfort sings
All this to the Vina's strings--
Prays that Radha's tender moan
In your hearts be thought upon,
And that all her holy grace
Live there like the loved one's face._

Yet, if I wrong him! (sang she)--can he fail?
Could any in the wood win back his kisses?
Could any softest lips of earth prevail
To hold him from my arms? any love-blisses

Blind him once more to mine? O Soul, my prize!
Art thou not merely hindered at this hour?
Sore-wearied, wandering, lost? how otherwise
Shouldst thou not hasten to the bridal-bower?

But seeing far away that Maiden come
Alone, with eyes cast down and lingering steps,
Again a little while she feared to hear
Of Krishna false; and her quick thoughts took shape
In a fine jealousy, with words like these--

Something then of earth has held him
From his home above,
Some one of those slight deceivers--
Ah, my foolish love!

Some new face, some winsome playmate,
With her hair untied,
And the blossoms tangled in it,
Woos him to her side.

On the dark orbs of her bosom--
Passionately heaved--
Sink and rise the warm, white pearl-strings,
Oh, my love deceived!

Fair? yes, yes! the rippled shadow
Of that midnight hair
Shows above her brow--as clouds do
O'er the moon--most fair:

And she knows, with wilful paces,
How to make her zone
Gleam and please him; and her ear-rings
Tinkle love; and grown

Coy as he grows fond, she meets him
With a modest show;
Shaming truth with truthful seeming,
While her laugh--light, low--

And her subtle mouth that murmurs.
And her silken cheek,
And her eyes, say she dissembles
Plain as speech could speak.

Till at length, a fatal victress,
Of her triumph vain,
On his neck she lies and smiles there:--
Ah, my Joy!--my Pain!

_But may Radha's fond annoy,
And may Krishna's dawning joy,
Warm and waken love more fit--
Jayadeva prayeth it--
And the griefs and sins assuage
Of this blind and evil age._