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SONGS OF BIDYAPATI 

Songs of Bidyapati

 

Childhood and youth each other are nearing;

Her two eyes their office yield to the hearing.

Her speech has learned sweet maiden craft

And low not as of old she laughed,

Her laughter murmurs. A moon on earth

Is dawning into perfect birth. Mirror in hand she apparels her now

And asks of her sweet girl-comrades to show

What love is and what love does

And all shamed delight that sweet love owes.

And often she sits by herself and sees

Smiling with bliss her breasts’ increase,

Her own milk-breasts that, plums at first,

Now into golden oranges burst.

Day by day Love’s vernal dreams

Expand her lovely blossoming limbs.

Madhav I saw a marvellous flower

Of girls; childhood and youth one power,

One presence grown in one body fair.

Foolish maiden, not thus declare

The oneness of these contraries.

Rather the two were yoked, say the wise. 

Page– 219


II

Day by day her milk-breasts drew splendour.

Wider her hips grew, her middle more slender.

Love has enlarged her childlike gaze.

Yea, all grace of childhood and childhood’s ways

Fall from their thrones and take sweet flight.

Her breasts before were plums of light,

Golden oranges next and then

As bodiless Love made bloom with pain

Of increase her body day by day,

Pomegranate seed-cities were they.

Their fair maturities now begin,

Now are they fruits-of-opulence twin.

Madhav, I sought thy lovely lady,

Bathing I found her in woodland shady.

Coiled on her heart but not to drape

Her thin dress clung to her lovely shape.

Blest were his eyes who had seen her thus

And his whole life made felicitous.

Over her bosom her great hair floods

With curls divine two golden gods.

True love must his be, 0 youth, who would play,

Her darling and joy, with this beautiful may. 

Page– 220


III

Now and again a sidelong look

Along her lashes its shy curve took.

Now and again her thin white dress

O’erlies like dust all her loveliness.

Now she laughs divine and clear

And her pearly teeth like stars appear,

And now to hide in her robe make shift.

For a little her startled feet run swift

But soon that bounding gait subsides

And she in maiden gravity glides.

Love’s scholar she and newly set

To his first lesson and alphabet.

Where her bosom’s buds are hardly seen

Now she draws fast her robe to screen,

Now careless leaves. In her limbs divine

Child and woman meet and twine.

Nor mark I yet whether older she

Of girlhood or younger of infancy.

Beautiful Krishna, youth in her

Its childhood begins, these signs declare. 

Page– 221


IV 

Childhood and youth, maiden, are met

And strife twixt their armed powers is set.

Now her ordered locks she dresses,

Now scattering loosens a storm of tresses.1

Sometimes she covers her body fair,

Sometimes the golden limbs are bare

In childhood’s naked innocence..

And childhood’s steadfast eyes with a sense

Of girlhood a little waver now

And her bosom is stained where the flowers grow.

Her light uncertain feet now tell

The uncertain heart and variable.

Love is awake but his eyes are shut.

0 Krishna, flower of lovers, put

In thy heart patience, for surely she

Shall be brought at last and given to thee.

 

1 falls a cascade.

Page– 222


                V

Playing she plays not, so newly shy,

She may not brook the passing eye.

Looking she looks not lest surmise

Laugh from her own girl-comrades’ eyes.

Hearken, 0 hearken, Madhav, to me.

Just is the case I bring to thee.

Radha today these eyes beheld;

A maid she is unparalleled.

0 her face and its lovely lights!

0 looks that ravish, 0 charm that invites!

Flower of ruby with lotus grows

In her vermeil lips that exceed the rose;

And with honey have snared her large twin eyes

Two shapes of bees that may not rise;

And her brow’s arch is as tho’ left slack

Love’s own bow in hue were black.

Saith the envoy girl whose words I teach

“The bloom other limbs surpasseth speech.” 

Page– 223


     VI 

In elder’s eyes’ she brooks not stay,

Half-clad no more her body but alway

She covers her beauty1 most maidenly.

Yet with young girls when stayeth2 she

Knowing her ripened child and budding may

They plague her with sweet mockery.

Madhav, for thee I wooed the sight

Of this fair flower; whom some delight

Child to call, but most agree

That woman’s morning bloom has she.

When of Love’s rites she hears and lovers’ play

She turns her downcast eyes another way.

0 but her ears drink greedily.

Should with more words one tease her shame,

With tears and angry smiles she utters blame.

Who is wise in love alone knoweth

The way of a girl, the poet sayeth.

 

1 limbs     2 bideth

Page– 224


    VII

A little and a little now

See the bright bud half open blow.

Her swift and wilful feet grown wise

Yield their rudderless gait to the eyes.

Ever her hand to her bosom’s dress

Clings to control its waywardness.

Afraid to utter her shy hushed thought

Her comrade-girls she questions not.

 Madhav. how shall faltering word

Her sweet and twilight age record?

Love, even Love, beholding her

In his own bonds her captive were.

Nay but the lord of all desire

Her heart’s precincts raising higher

Has set for passion’s sacred duty

Altars of surpassing beauty.

Love’s speech her listening heart doth stop

As the hunter’s song the antelope.

Two powers dispute this beauteous prize.

Nought one deems gained while aught there is

To gain, nor the other failure owns

While yet he holds to his golden thrones.

Still with sweet violence she clings

To her loved childhood’s parting wings.

Page– 225


        VIII

Childhood is fled and youth in its seat;

Not light as of old her wandering feet,

Yet are Love’s glorious envoys two

Seeing her eyes her errands do.

In secret dawns each lovely smile

And laughter low with maiden guile.

Her hand each moment plucks her dress

Its fluttering treasons to repress.

And all the low speech of her lips

From a modest head and drooping slips.

Her heavy hips have now replaced

The old lost pride of her rounded waist.

 

Thus I decide her doubtful state

Conclusion sweet of sweet debate.

Thine is this fair decision’s fruit

Judgment to give and execute.

I, Bidyapati, love’s lights bring

To lady Lachhima and the King. 

Page– 226


IX

Ah how shall I her lovely body express?

      Fair things how many Nature in her blended,

      Mine own eyes saw ere my lips praise.

 

Her twin fair feet were lordly leaves of summer,

      Her gait vied with the forest’s best.

Upon two golden trees a lion slender,

      Thereover the hills of heaven were placed.

 

And on the hills two lotuses were budding

      That stemless kept their gracious hours.

In shape of pearl-drops strung heaven’s stream descended,

      Therefore not withered those sweet flowers.

 

Her teeth pomegranate-seeds on lips of ruby,

      The sun and moon on either side,

Her hair eclipse, but coming never nearer

      Hid not at all their golden pride.

 

The cuckoo’s speech, the antelope’s eyes has Radha,

      And Love has in her glances thrones —

Upon two lotuses two bees that hover

      And sip their honey: these she owns

 

The spring’s five children. 0 delicious maiden,

      Not the wide worlds her second know,

To Shiva Singha Rupnaraian my music

      And lady Lachhima doth show. 

Page– 227


X

Ah, who has built this girl of nectarous face?

      Ah, who this matchless, beauteous dove?

      An omen and a bounteous boon of Love,

A garland of triumphant grace!

 

0 glorious countenance and 0 shaded deep

      Delicious eyes for purple extolled,

      You dark-winged flutterers in that lily of gold

The splendour of the snake who keep!

 

Thy tendrilled down’s a snake, to drink cool winds

      That from thy harbouring navel stirred,

      But by the fancied bill of emperor bird

Cowed to thy breast’s hill-cavern winds.

 

The strong five-missiled Love with arrows three

      The three worlds conquered; two remained

      Which to thine eyes some cruel Fate did lend

To slay poor lovers’ hearts with thee.

 

A well of love is he who knoweth, 0 girl,

      Her beauty I the poet sing

      To Shiva Singha Rupnaraian the King

And Lachhima, his bosom’s pearl. 

Page– 228


                XI

How shall I tell of Caanou’s beauty bright?

Men will believe it a vision of the night.

 

As lightning was his saffron garment blown

Over the beautiful cloud-limbs half shown.

 

His coal-black curls assumed with regal grace

A peacock’s plume above that moonlike face.

 

And such a fragrance fierce the mad wind wafts

Love wakes and trembles for his flowery shafts.

 

Yea, what shall words do, friend? Love’s whole estate

Exhausted was that wonder to create. 

Page– 229


XII 

Caanou top see I had desire;

Caanou seen, my life grew fire.

Thenceforth deep down, ah, foolish I,

In a great sea of love I lie.

Hardly I know, a girl and weak,

What these words mean my heart would speak.

Only my tears for ever rain,

Only my soul burns in its pain.

O wherefore, friend, did mine eyes see,

Friend of my bosom, thoughtlessly?

When a little mirth was all I planned,

I have given my life into another’s hand.

 

I know not what this lovely thief

Did to me in that moment brief.

Surely such craft none yet possessed!

He robbed my heart out of its nest

Only with seeing, and gone is he

Taking my poor heart out fart from me

And ah! His eyes did then express

The more I labour to forget

My very soul remembers it.

Mourn not, sweet girl, for thy heart’s sake;

Who took thy heart, thyself at last shall take.  

Page– 230


    XIII

Sweet and strange as ‘twere a dream,

I have seen a vision gleam.

Lotus flowers were his feet,

Bearing moons a carcanet.

Rounded thighs and ankles smooth

Towered of the glories of youth,

And continual lightnings drape,

So I dreamed, that faultless shape.

Dark Calindie, by thy stream

Slowly went he in my dream.

And I dreamed of boughs that shone

With a row of moons thereon,

Fingers fair like young leaves born

With a rosy light of morn.

Flower-of-coral bloom his lips,

Over which Love’s parrot peeps,

And his eyes like wild birds wake

And each curl’s a little snake

Stung me. Twice I looked and then

With a sweet and sudden pain

Maddened. Ah, what power is this

For a look can slay with bliss?

Even so leaps, 0 my dove,

Into the heart made for him. Love. 

Page– 231


XIV

0 friend, my friend, has pain a farther bound

Which sounds can utter, for which words are found?

 

Fiercely the flute’s breath through me ran and thrilled,

My body with sweet dreadful sound was filled.

 

By violence that brooks not of control

The cruel music enters all my soul.

 

Then every limb enamoured swoons with shame

And every thought is wrapped in utter flame.

 

Yea, all my labouring body mightily

Was filled and panted with sweet agony.

 

I dared not lift my eyes. My elders spoke

Around me when that wave of passion broke,

 

And such a languor through my being crept,

My very robe no more its office kept.

 

With slow feet on their careful steps intent

Panting into the inner house I went.

 

Even yet I tremble from the peril past,

So fierce a charm the flute upon me cast. 

Page– 232


XV     

As the swan sails, so moved she

      Then when her face was lost to me.

As she went, 0 she turned, she looked, she smiled.

      Ah arrows made of Love’s own flower,

      0 sweet magician! faery power!

No mortal maid but an enchanteress wild.

 

      Her arms, those sweet twin lovelinesses,

      Clasped, bent in languorous self-caresses,

Enhaloed had the lustres of her face.

      Her fingers slim for Champaks taking,

      Love to delicious worship waking,

A moon of autumn with such flowers did bless.

 

      Her careless breasts (0 happy lover!)

      Their rich defences but half discover

Because of haste when the light robe was worn.

      As tho’ by winds that overpower

      Clouds in the season of storm and shower,

The hills of heaven thro’ a dim veil made morn.

 

      Vision delightful! shall again

      I ease with you my life’s deep pain!

Ah! shall again division’s boundaries break?

      The henna that her feet enrosed

      Was fire wherein my heart enclosed

Did burn and all my limbs to burn did make.


 

      0 lovely maiden, hear the speech

      These numbers murmur each to each.

My soul since then no ease, no quiet knows.

      Ah! shall I ever, fortune, meet her,

      The woman than all women sweeter,

The jewel of all beauties that earth owes? 

Page– 233


            XVI

The maned steeds in the mountain glen1 for fear

      Of these thy locks, 0 maiden, hide.

The moon at thy face from the high heaven doth peer,

      And thy voice alarms the cuckoo’s pride.

Thy gait hath driven the swan to the forest-mere,

      And the wild deer flee thy large eyes’ light.

Ah beautiful girl! why mute then to my love?

Lo! fear of thee all these to flight doth move, —

      Whom dost thou fear then, maiden bright?

 

The lotus-buds in the water closed reside

      Thy paps being lovelier and the flame

Absorbs the pitcher and in air abide

     The pomegranate and quince at thy breasts’ sweet name.

Yea, Shiv doth swallow poison and in ooze

      The golden lotus-stalk, lo! shuns

                  Thine arm and the new leaves shake these hands to see,

But ah! my weary lips refuse

      O’erstrained with honey-sweet comparisons

                  All images to tell Love taught to me.

 

1 glens 

Page– 234


    XVII

Why fell her face upon my sight,

That is a lovelier moon in light,

Since but for one poor moment she

With her sweet eyes emparadised me?

Surely it was to slay my soul

That under her long lashes stole

The cruel grace of that transient look.

Desire laid hands upon her breasts

And there my poor heart clinging rests:

Love new-born its office took.

My ears yet wait upon her words;

Her murmurs dwell like caged birds.

I strive to part; my feet refuse.

The net of sweet desires is loose,

Yet thence my body will not move,

This is the very sea of love.1

 

¹Faint with the sudden hands of love. 

Page– 235


 

 

XVIII

 

In her beautiful face did use

A star of the red ceruse,

As tho’ the moon with the sun to aid

Were arisen and darkness hung afraid

Behind in her burden of great, dark hair.

0 woman of moonlight rarer than nature’s,

0 delicate body, wonderful features,

Whence did Fate build you with effort made fair ?

The buds of her flowerlike breasts between

Her robe’s white folds were a little seen.

The snows may cover the high bright hill,

Hidden it is not, strive as you will.

From her darkened eyes, her shy look roving

On lids love-troubled tenderly burned,

Like the purple lilies winds were moving

By the weight of a bee overturned.

Hearken, 0 girl, to Bidyapati

And the lyre made sweet in the year’s sweet end,

To Lachhima, lady of Mithila city,

And Shiva Singha the King, his friend. 

Page– 236


XIX

A shining grace the damsel’s face to her laughter and speech doth lend,

As tho’ the sweet full moon of autumn heaven’s nectar rained.

A jewel of women with beauty more than human,

I saw her gait of lion state ungraced nought nor common.

Her middle than the lion’s slender is,

Her body soft as lotuses;

It seemed a branch with weight breaking of her breasts pomegranate.

Yea and her lovely eyes being with blackness dressed

Were unstained lotuses enamoured bees invest.

The lover beautiful seeing sweet Radha’s grace

Breaketh his longing heart with passionate distress. 

Page– 237


XX

I saw not to the heart’s desire.

Beautiful friend! that sight was fire

Of lightning and like lightning went:

My heart with the bright bolt was rent.

Her dim white robe like the hoar-frost thin

Half from the shoulder had fallen in.

Her beautiful mouth half-smiled and half

A glance from under her lids did laugh.

Half-naked shone her breasts’ sweet globes

And half lay shadowy in her robes.

0 then this bitter love and new!

Her body was of honey hue,

Her breasts, those cups of wondrous gold,

Love like a bodice did enfold.

The bodiless Love with subtle plan

To seize and hold the heart of man

With flowery cords his beauteous net

In the guise of a girl’s breasts had set.

Her teeth, a row of pearls, did meet

Her moving lips and sweet, 0 sweet

As liquid honey her delicate speech.

Within me burned a pain like fire;

My eyes dwelt with her, yet could not reach

Gazing, the bottom of desire. 

Page– 238


         XXI

The moonwhite maiden from her bath

Passing I saw on a woodland path.

Moonwhite beauty from all sweet things

Had stolen beauty fit for kings.

The tresses that her small hands wrung

A rain of glittering water flung

As carcanets of loveliest pearl

Did from a fan imperial whirl.

Her wet curls wearing wondrous grace

Like bees besieged her lotus face

For all that honey wild with lust.

The water from her sweet eyes thrust

Yet left them reddened, as in the ooze

Petals of lotus with ceruse.

Heavy with water her thin robe

Defined each bright and milky globe;

Like golden apples gleamed her breasts

On which the happy hoar-frost rests.

So the robe clung as if it said

“Soon will she leave me and love be dead,

Nor ever once shall I attain

Such exquisite delight again.”

So the robe thought, as well appears,

And therefore sorrowed, showering tears. 

Page– 239


    XXII 

Beauty stood bathing in the river

When I beheld her — Love’s whole quiver .

Pierced my heart with fivefold fire.

Her curls flung back from the face of my desire

Rained great tears as tho’ the night

Stood by and wept in fear of the moon’s light.

To every limb her wet robe kissed and clung.

Had even the sage been there

His heart had burned, even his grown young

Seeing through her dress her marvellous limbs made bare.

Her fair twin breasts were river-birds

Whose language is three amorous words.

It seemed that pitying heaven had to one shore

Brought the sweet lovers thence to part no more.

Yet she I deem in such alarm

Held them fast bound within one golden arm,

As if some noise should startle the sweet pair

And they take flight from her.

0 amorous boy, be not afraid —

For youth like thee heaven gave this wondrous maid. 

Page– 240


      XXII

0 happy day that to mine eyes betrayed

Bathing the beautiful maid!

A cloud of beauty was her hair

Dripping with jewels marvellous rare.

Her lifted hands did harshly press

The lingering water from her face,

As tho’ a golden mirror were made clean;

Therewith her robe fell to her lovely feet

And naked breasts revealed their beauties twin

Like golden cups that seemed reversely set;

The lapse her robe’s one bond undid

And naked made what yet lay hid.

0 Mithil lyre!

This is the apex. of desire. 

Page– 241


 XXIV

Beautiful Rai, the flower-like maid

Risen from the river where she played,

Saw under downcast lids and shy

The lovely boy, dark Krishna named.

A high-born child with face afraid

Before her elders and eyes ashamed

She might not gaze as she went by.

0 subtle is that beautiful girl!

She left the gracious troop behind;

With half-turned face and half-declined

From far in front fell sweet her call.

She broke her carcanet of pearl

And let the precious seedlings fall.

“0 friends, my broken carcanet.”

Each girl her lovely hand did set

Stooping to find the scattered grain.

Meanwhile the damsel’s eyes full fain,

Like birds that on white moonbeams feed,

Of Krishna’s shape took amorous heed.

Divine the nectar that she drained,

0 Krishna, from thy cheeks of light.

Yea, each of each had honied sight.

Thus gazing girl and boy extend

Love’s boundaries seen by none but me

The poet, sweet Bidyapati. 

Page– 242


XXV

She looked on me a little, then

A little smile her lips o’erran

As though a moonbeam making bright

The darkness of the blessed night;

And from her eyes a lustrous glance

Fell shy and tenderly askance,

As though blue heaven’s infinities

Were grown a sudden swarm of bees.

I know not whose she is, being fair:

I know she hath my soul with her.

With a sweet fear as to deny

Her virgin soul to the honey-fly

That in the lotus’ womb did play,

With startled feet and hurried look,

The beauteous damsel went her way.

The sweet and hasty motion shook

The robe from her warm breasts of gold

Like lotus-flowers the heart to hold.

Half-hid, yet naked half, they seemed

To speak aloud the bliss they dreamed.

0 sweet, 0 young desire! the dart

Of secret love omits1 no heart.

 

¹ leaves out

Page– 243


 XXVI

Upon a thorn when the flowers bloom,

Poor bee athirst for the rich perfume,

Cruel thy thirst, yet thou mayst not drink.

Upon the jasmine’s honied brink

Lo! the bee hovers and will have

Heart’s pleasure nor cares his life to save.

O Radha, flower of honey, have pity

And grant thy lover’s sweet entreaty,

Pilgrim of honey thy lover — no more

In virgin shame1 thy nectarous store

Deny. Alas! in thy rich bloom

The thirsty bee finds never a room.

O jasmine, save thy honey breast

He hath forsworn all other rest.

On thee the sin, beautiful Rai

Of the poor bee’s death shall surely lie.

O from thy lips the dear boon give

Of heaven’s honey and he will live.

 

1 maiden pride 

Page– 244


 XXVII

Wherever her twin fair feet found room

There the flowers of the water bloom;

Wherever her golden body shone,

There have the waves of lightning gone.

Wonderful beauty, golden-sweet,

How in my heart hast thou set thy feet!

Wherever her eyes have opened bright,

The bloom of the lotus burns its light;

Wherever her musical laugh has flown

Need of the nectar is not known;

Wherever her shy curved glances rove,

There are ten thousand arrows of love;

Eyes, for a little your orbs did see!

In the three worlds now there is. none but she.

0 shall I see her ever again

To heal1 my heart of its piteous pain ?

Soon, 0 lover, soon will she rest

Drawn by thy passion on thy breast.2

 

¹ ease        ² O! on my bosom once to hold Her boundless beauty and manifold. 

Page– 245


 XXVIII

I have seen a girl no words can measure,

      On golden tendrils proudly borne a face,

A spotless moon, a snowy treasure.

Her eyes two lotuses with unguent shaded,

      Were play-grounds of sweet loving thought,

Or fluttering, captive birds in a net embedded

      Of that dark unguent solely wrought.

Her heavy hills of milk a necklace richer

      Of elephant pearls did touch and gleam —

Love sprinkling from her throat, that brimful pitcher,

      On golden images heaven’s stream.

Fortunate were he who by Prayaga’s waters

      Long sacrificing might avail

At last to win her Lover of Gocul’s daughters!

      Darling of Gocul! true thy tale. 

Page– 246


      XXIX  

    When the hour of twilight its period kept

    The damsel out from her dwelling stepped,

Like flashes in a new born cloud that battling crept,

         Golden. A beauty dire.

 

     A high-born maiden, a little child,

     Woven of flowers and fragrance she smiled.

How with a little sight should hope be reconciled

          Love but increased fire.

 

      Her small sweet body of pale gold made

      That shining gold thro’ her robe displayed,

The forest lion yields to her slender middle; swayed                             

          Glances much love must earn.

 

      A soft smile burned in her lips and she

      With a smile and a look did murder me.

 Lord of the five Bengals, may longer life with thee

           Starlike eternal burn. 

Page– 247


 XXX

O life is sweet but youth more bright.

O life, it is youth and youth is delight.

And what is youth if it be not this,

Love, true love, and lover’s long kiss.

Love that the noble heart conceives

Will leave thee never till life leaves

Every day the moons increase,

Every day lover greater is.

Of all girl-lovers thou art crown,

Caanou of youth the sole renown.

When hardest holiest deeds accrue,

Meet in this world lovers true.

Stolen love, how sweet it is!

Two brief words its only keys;

Murmur but these and thou shalt hold

Secret delights a thousand-fold.

So true a lover all wide earth

To another such gave never birth,

And Braja’s hearts with love are wild

Of the noble gracious child.

Haste to thy king, sweet, pay him duty

Of thy loving heart and beauty.

Page– 248


 XXXI

Lotus bosom, lotus feet,

Justify, I charge thee, sweet!

Knowing the true love thou hast won

Will thou not love back, lovely one?

Love in true hearts gold surpasses.

To the fire golden masses

Double price and beauty owe.

Loves by trial greater grow.

Love, my sweet, ‘s a wondrous thing

Imperishable in suffering.

Break it, but it will not break.

Love, like fibres of the lake,

Thrives on torture; beaten, grows;

Bleeding, thrills to sweeter rose.

Not from every elephant

Pearl-drops ooze iridescent,

Not from all lips accents fall

Melodious as the cuckoo’s call.

Every season is not spring,

Every man love’s perfect king,

Not all women the world through

Always lovely, always true.

This is love, always true.

This is love, as sweet as rare;

Wilt thou spurn it, vainly fair? 

Page– 249


 

 

SONGS OF BIDYAPATI 

 

XXXII

 

When the young warm Love her heart doth fill

Where is the let stays woman’s will?

Alone to set forth lightly she dares,

Path or pathless not Radha who cares.

She has left her pearled carcanet

Her breast’s high towers that hampered.

The bracelets fair on her wrists that shone

All by the path has the young girl thrown.

Anklets gemmed on her feet did glow

She has thrown them far the lighter to go.

The gloom is thick and heavy the night,

But Love to her eyes makes darkness light.

Her every step new perils doth prove,

She has pierced thro’ all with the sword of Love.

Her passionate heart the poet knows.

Another like her not the wide world shows. 

Page– 250


     XXXIII

“ Tis night and very timid my little love.

How long ere I see her hither swanlike move!

      Dread serpents fill with fear the way;

What perils those soft beloved feet waylay.

      Providence, I lay her at thy feet;

Scatheless keep she the tryst, my own, my sweet.

      The sky is thick and mired the earth,

Perils wide strewn: ah me, what fears have birth.

      Thick darkness are the quarters ten.

The feet stumble, nought clear the eyes may gain.

      She comes! with timid backward glances

Every creature’s heart now she entrances!

      A girl she is of human grace,

Yet wears all heaven stolen in her face.”

      For high-born women to be o’erborne

By love endure; all other check they scorn. 

Page– 251


XXXIV

Hide now thy face, 0 darling white,

Hide it well with thy robe’s delight.

For the King has heard that one the moon

Has stolen and his sentinels soon

At each house stationed and each again,

Damsel beloved, will thee detain.

Laugh not thy lightning, 0 nectarous face!

Low and few from their sweet home press

The accents of those lyric lips.1

Thy teeth make starlight, through eclipse,2

And on the brow of the high-born girl

A vermeil drop and a shimmering pearl.

Hearken, good counsel, beautiful maid;

Even in a dream be not afraid,

Spots hath the moon, no beauty clear.

Stained is she, thou stainless, dear.

  

1 voice      2 maiden choice,

Page– 252


XXXV

Still in the highways wake nor dream

The citizens and with beam on beam

Moonlight clings to the universe.

New is her love, not to coerce

Nor lull, and yet with tremors she

The luminous wakeful night doth see.

What shifts will love on maids impose!

In a boy’s dress to the tryst she goes.

She has loosened showering her ordered hair

New-fastened in a crest to wear;

The cloth of her body she doth treasure

About her in another measure

And since her bounteous breasts disdain

Her robe’s coercion,1 she has ta’en

Over her heart an instrument.

In such guise to the grove she went

And in such guise met in the grove:

Her when he saw, the flower of love

Knew not tho’ seen his darling bright, —

He doubted in his heart’s despite.

Only when those dear limbs he touches

Her sweet identity he vouches.

What then befell? Sweet Love the rather

How many mirthful things did father!

 

¹ light government, 

Page– 253


 XXXVI

The best of the year has come, the Spring,

Of the six seasons one season King;

And now with all his tribes the bee

Runs to the creeper spring-honey.

The sun’s rays come of boyish age,

The day-describing sun, his page,

A sceptre of gold the saffron-bloom

And the young leaves a crowning-room.

Gold-flowers of Chompuk o’er him stand,

The umbrellaed symbol of command ;

The cary-buds a crown do set

And before him sings a court-poet

The Indian cuckoo to whom is given

The sweetest note of all the seven.

Peacocks dance and for instrument

Murmur of bees, while sacrament

Of blessing and all priestly words

Brahmins recite, the twice-born birds.

Pollen, the flying dust of flowers,

His canopy above him towers.

His favourite the southern breeze,

Jasmine of youth and Tuscan-trees

His battle-flag. The season of dew,

Seeing sweet blossoms-of-bliss renew,

Seven-leaf and boughs that fragrance loves

And Kingshook and the climbing cloves,

Seven things of bloom together, flees

Nor waits the perfumed shock of these.

Spring’s army too the chill-estate

Of the dew-season annihilate —

Invading honey-bees — and make

Secure the lilies of the lake.

Page– 254


And these being saved yield them a home

In their own soft, new-petalled bloom.

In Brindaban anew is mirth For the restored bloom of earth.

These are the season’s sweet and these

The essence of the spring’s increase. 

Page– 255


XXXVII

A new Brindaban I see

And renewed each barren tree;

      New flowers are blooming,

And another Spring is; new

Southern breezes chase the dew

      With new bees roaming.

And the sweet Boy of Gokul strays

In new and freshly blossoming ways.

      The groves upon Kalindi’s shore

                  With his tender beauty bloom

While fresh-disturbed heart brims o’er

      By the new-born love o’ercome.

 

And the new, sweet cary-buds

Are wild with honey in the woods;

      New birds are singing;  

And the young girls wild with love

Run delighted to the grove

      New hearts bringing.

For young the heir of Gocul is

And young his passionate mistresses.

      Meetings new and fresh love-rites

                  And lights of ever-fresh desire,

      Sports ever-new and new delights

                  Set Bidyapati’s heart on fire. 

Page– 256


XXXVIII

Season of honey when sweets combine,

Honey-bees line upon line,

From sweet blossoms honeyed feet

Honied blossoms and honey sweet.

0 sweet is Brindaban today

And sweeter than these our Lord of May;

His maiden-train the sweets of earth,

Honey-girls with laughter and mirth,

Sports of love and dear delight,

When instruments honey-sweet unite

Their sounds soul-moving, and sweet, 0 sweet

The smitten hands and the pacing feet.

Sweet the swaying dancer whirls,

Honied the movement of dancing girls,

And sweet as honey the love-song rings.

Sweet Bidyapati honey sings. 

Page–257


XXXIX

Hark how round you the instruments sound!

      With the sweet love wild

      Of Gokul’s child

She danceth mistress of the fair arts sixty-four.

      And her hands rhyme keeping time

Her smitten hands that still the fall restore.

And the tabors keep melody deep

      And the heavy thrum

      Of the measured drum

And anklets’ running cry their own slim music loving.

      The waist bells sprinkle their silver tinkle

      And bracelets gold that gems do hold;

Loud is the instruments’ din to madness moving.

And harps begin and the violin

      And the five vessels

      Where melody swells

Thro’ all the gamut move and various moods express.

      And over and under the twydrums thunder,

With whose noise the vessels five mix and embrace.

From loosened tresses that toil undresses

      And floating whirls

      On the shoulders of girls

The jasmine garlands’ buds sprinkle the vernal night.

      Ah revels of Spring! with powerless wing

These verses grieve, not reaching your delight.

Page– 258


         XL

In the spring moonlight the Lord of love

Thro’ the amorous revel’s maze doth move;

The crown of Love love’s raptures proves;

For Radha his amorous darling moves,

Radha, the ruby of ravishing girls

With him bathed in love’s moonlight whirls.

And all the merry maidens with rapture

Dancing together the light winds capture.

And the bracelets speak with a ravishing cry.

And the murmur of waist-bells rises high —

Meanwhile rapture-waking string

Ripest of strains the sonata of Spring

That lover and lord of love-languid notes

With tired delight in throbbing throats.

And rumours of violin and bow

And the mighty Queen’s-harp mingle and flow;

And Radha’s ravisher makes sweet measure

With the flute, that musical voice of pleasure.

Bidyapati’s genius richly wove

For King Roupnaraian this rhythm of love. 

Page– 259


XLI

Angry beauty, be not loth!

I will swear a holy oath.

On thy garland’s serpent fold,

On thy sacred breasts of gold

Here I lay my yearning hand.

 

If I leave thee, if I touch

Other lady of delight,

Let this snake my bosom bite.

If thou deem my error such,

Be thy malice on me spent

In many an amorous punishment.

Bind my body with thine arms,

Scourge my limbs with pretty harms,

Press my panting heart with weight

Of thy sweet breasts passionate,

In thy labouring bosom deep

Night and day thy prisoner keep.

Punishments like these demand

Love’s sweet sins from love’s sweet hand.

Page– 260


 VII 

      alternate version

 

A little and a little now

See the sweet bud half-open blow!

The light and wilful feet grow wise’

And yield their rudderless gait to the eyes.

Each moment see her hand repress

Upon her bosom her fluttering dress1

Nor questions she her comrades now

Too shy to her secret thought to show.

Madhav, how shall faltering word

Her sweet and twilight age record.

The very Love had he beheld

Within her lovely chains were held.

Ah yet the god of yearning eyes

Just where her heart’s high2 waves arise

Made for himself a sacred ground

Where two unrivalled towers are found.

Love’s speech her listening heart doth stop

As the hunter’s song the antelope.

Two powers dispute this beauteous prize,

Nought one deems gained while aught there lies

To gain, nor the other failure owns

While yet he holds his golden thrones.

Still with sweet violence she clings

To her loved childhood’s parting wings.

 

1 The wilful flutterings of her dress       ‘wild 

Page– 261


VIII 

alternate version

 

Childhood is flown, youth arrived.

The swift, light spirit in her feet that lived

Has fled to its new home in her eyes.

Yet are Love’s glorious envoys two

Seeing her eyes her errands do.

Now every other moment flies

Her hand to seize her raiment’s border

And to rebuke its sweet disorder.

She clothed now in bashfulness

Her lovely laughter must suppress.

All her musical words she speaks

With bent head and shamed cheeks.

Her heavy hips usurped the pride

Have, was once to her waist allied.

And she her faltering steps sustained

Walks clinging to some girl’s light hand

In her companion train. Thus grown

Ripe for thee is Radha known.

Hear, Madhav, this conclusion true

And hearing, what Love wills that do. 

Page– 262


     XVIII 

alternate version

 

Low on her radiant forehead shone

      A star of the bright vermilion.

      0 marvellous face! 0 shining maid!

Moonlight and sunlight drawn together

Met in a heaven of golden weather,

      While the massed midnight hangs afraid

      Behind in her burden of great dark hair.

0 woman of moonlight rarer than Nature’s!

0 delicate body! 0 wonderful features!

      Whence did Fate build you with effort made fair?

The buds of her flower-like breasts between

Her robe’s white folds were a little seen.

The snows may cover the high bright hill —

Hidden it is not, strive as you will.

 

From her darkened eyes her shy look roving

      On lids love-troubled tenderly burned

Like the purple lilies winds were moving            

      By the weight of a bee overturned.

Hearken, 0 girl, to Bidyapati

      And the lyre made sweet in the year’s sweet end.

To Lachhima. lady of Mithila city,

      And Shiva Singha the King, his friend. 

Page– 263


XXIII 

alternate version

 

0 happy day that to mine eyes betrayed

Bathing the beautiful maid!  

The water dripped from her dark curls

As if a cloud was to rain pearls;

And while her hands were busy making

Her face a golden glow,

Her robe therefore advantage taking

Her golden cups did show.

Her girdle knot its bonds undid

And naked made what there lay hid.

0 Mithil lyre,

This is the apex of desire. 

Page– 264