soul
Which should have climbed to mine, and shared my heaven,
Spent on a lower loveliness, whose whole
Passion of claim were but a parody
Of that kept here for thee.
Ahaha! vain!
For on some isle of Jumna's silver stream
He gives all that they ask to those hard eyes,
While mine which are his angel's, mine which gleam
With light that might have led him to the skies--
That almost led him--are eclipsed with tears
Wailing my fruitless prayers.
But thou, good Friend,
Hang not thy head for shame, nor come so slowly,
As one whose message is too ill to tell;
If thou must say Krishna is forfeit wholly--
Wholly forsworn and lost--let the grief dwell
Where the sin doth,--except in this sad heart,
Which cannot shun its part.
_O great Hari! purge from wrong
The soul of him who writes this song;
Purge the souls of those that read
From every fault of thought and deed;
With thy blessed light assuage
The darkness of this evil age!
Jayadev the bard of love,
Servant of the Gods above,
Prays it for himself and you--
Gentle hearts who listen!--too._
Then in this other strain she wailed his loss--
(_What follows is to the Music_ DESHAVARADI _and the Mode_ RUPAKA.)
She, not Radha, wins the crown
Whose false lips seemed dearest;
What was distant gain to him
When sweet loss stood nearest?
Love her, therefore, lulled to loss
On her fatal bosom;
Love her with such love as she
Can give back in the blossom.
Love her, O thou rash lost soul!
With thy thousand graces;
Coin rare thoughts into fair words
For her face of faces;
Praise it, fling away for it
Life's purpose in a sigh,
All for those lips like flower-leaves,
And lotus-dark deep eye.
Nay, and thou shalt be happy too
Till the fond dream is over;
And she shall taste delight to hear
The wooing of her lover;
The breeze that brings the sandal up
From distant green Malay,
Shall seem all fragrance in the night,
All coolness in the day.
The crescent moon shall seem to swim
Only that she may see
The glad eyes of my Krishna gleam,
And her soft glances he:
It shall be as a silver lamp
Set in the
|