. The poems of Edwin Arnold .. . ce The spirit from Lifes pain: Of all the three Worlds Treasure! Of sin the Putter-by! Oer the Ten-headed Victor! fai, Hari! Hari^aiY THE INDIAN SONG OF SONGS. 139 Thou Shaker of the Mountain! Thou Shadow of the Storm! Thou Cloud that unto Lakshmis face Comes welcome, white, and warm! Oh, thou,—who to great Lakshmi Art like the silvery beam Which moonsick chakors feed upon By Jumnas silent stream,— To thee this hymn ascendeth, That Jayadev doth sing, Of worship, love, and mystery, High Lord and heavenly King! And unto whoso hears it Do thou a blessing bring,— W
. The poems of Edwin Arnold .. . ce The spirit from Lifes pain: Of all the three Worlds Treasure! Of sin the Putter-by! Oer the Ten-headed Victor! fai, Hari! Hari^aiY THE INDIAN SONG OF SONGS. 139 Thou Shaker of the Mountain! Thou Shadow of the Storm! Thou Cloud that unto Lakshmis face Comes welcome, white, and warm! Oh, thou,—who to great Lakshmi Art like the silvery beam Which moonsick chakors feed upon By Jumnas silent stream,— To thee this hymn ascendeth, That Jayadev doth sing, Of worship, love, and mystery, High Lord and heavenly King! And unto whoso hears it Do thou a blessing bring,— Whose neck is gilt with yellow dust From lilies that did cling Beneath the breasts of Lakshmi, A girdle soft and sweet, When in divine embracing The lips of Gods did meet; And the beating heart above Of thee—Dread Lord of Heaven!— She left that stamp of love— By such deep sign be given Prays Jayadev, the glory And the secret and the spells Which close-hid in this story Unto wise ears he tells. END OF THE U0 ARNOLDS POEMS. SARGA THE FIE ST. SAMODADAMODARO. THE SPORTS OF KRISHNA. Beautiful Radha, jasmine-bosomed Radha,All in the Spring-time waited by the woodFor Krishna fair, Krishna the all-forgetful.—Krishna with earthly loves false fire consuming-And some one of her maidens sang this song :— ( What follows is to the Music Vasanta and the Mode Yati.) I know where Krishna tarries in these early days of Spring,When every wind from warm Malay brings fragrance on its wing;Brings fragrance stolen far away from thickets of the clove,In jungles where the bees hum and the Koil flutes her love;He dances with the dancers, of a merry morrice one,All in the budding Spring-time, for tis sad to be alone. I know how Krishna passes these hours of blue andgold, When parted lovers sigh to meet and greet and close-ly hold Hand fast in hand; and every branch upon the Yakul-tree Droops downward with a hundred blooms, in everybloom a bee; THE INDIAN SONG OF SONGS. 141 H
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Keywords: ., bo, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, booksubjectbuddhaandbuddhism
