e ornaments. Her form was beauty's shrine, or of
that shrine she moved as the guardian deity. Whatever Nature offers
fairest and best had surely been assembled to mould her charms. Love
omnipotent was her creator. Then I too plainly noted that the lovely
maid, revealed the signs of passion long entertained for some happy
youth.

Her shape was as slender as the lotus stalk. Her pallid cheeks, like
unstained ivory, rivalled the beauty of the spotless moon. I scarcely
had gazed upon her, but my eyes felt new delight, as bathed with nectar.
She drew my heart at once towards her as powerfully as the magnet does
the unresisting iron. That heart, though its sudden passion may be
causeless, is fixed on her for ever, chance what may, and though my
portion be henceforth despair. The goddess Destiny decrees at pleasure
the good or ill of all created beings."

Makranda observes, "Believe me, this cannot be without some cause.
Behold! all nature's sympathies spring not from outward form but from
inward virtue. The lotus does not bud till the sun has risen. The
moon-gem does not melt till it feels the moon." Madhava goes on with his
description thus:--

"When her fair train beheld me, they exchanged expressive looks and
smiles and murmured to one another as if they knew me. What firmness
could resist the honest warmth of nature's mute expressiveness? Those
looks of love, beaming with mild timidity and moist with sweet
abandonment, tore off my heart,--nay plucked it from my bosom by the
roots, all pierced with wounds. Being incredulous of my happiness, I
sought to mark her passion, without displaying my own. A stately
elephant received the princess and bore her towards the city. Whilst she
moved, she shot from her delicate lids retiring glances, tipped with
venom and ambrosia, My breast received the shafts. Words cannot paint my
agony. Vain were the lunar rays or gelid streams to cool my body's
fever, whilst my mind whirls in perpetual round and does not know rest.
Requested by Lavangika, I gave her the flowery wreath. She took it with
respect, as if it were a precious gift and all the while the eyes of
Malati were fixed on her. Bowing with reverence, she than retired."

Makaranda remarks--

"Your story most plainly shows that Malati's affection is your own. The
soft cheek, whose pallid tint denoted love pre-conceived, is pale alone
for you; She must have seen you. Maidens of her rank do not allow their
eyes to rest on one to wh