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Urvasi CANTO II
But from the dawn and mountains Urvasie Went marvelling and glad, not as of old A careless beam; for an august constraint, Unfelt before, ruled her extravagant grace And wayward beauty; and familiar things Grew strange to her, and to her eyes came mists Of mortal vision. Love was with her there, But not of Paradise nor that great guest Perpetual who makes his golden couch Between the Opsara’s ever-heaving breasts. For this was rapturous, troubled, self-absorbed, A gracious human presence which she loved, And wondered at, and hid deep in her heart. And whether in the immortal’s dance she moved, A billow, or her fingers like sunbeams Brightened the harps of heaven, or going out With the white dawn to bathe in Swerga’s streams, Or in the woods of Eden wandering, Or happy sitting under peaceful boughs In a great golden evening, all she did, Celestial occupations, all she thought And all she was, though still the same, had changed. There was a happy trouble in her ways And movements; her felicitous lashes drooped As with a burden; all her daily acts Were like a statue’s imitating life, Not single-hearted like the sovran Gods. Now as the days of heaven went by in quiet And there was peaceful summer ‘mid the Gods, In Swerga song increased and dances swayed In multitudinous beauty, jasmine-crowned; And often in high Indra’s hall the spirits Immortal met to watch the shows divine Of action and celestial theatre.
Page – 77 For not of earth alone are delicate arts And noble imitations, but in heaven Have their rich prototypes. So on that day Before a divine audience there was staged The Choice of Luxmie. Urvasie enacted The goddess, Ocean’s child, and Ménaca Was Varunie, and other girls of heaven Assembled the august desiring Gods. Full strangely sweet those delicate mimics were; Moonbeam faces imitated the strength And silence of great spirits battle-worn, And little hands the awful muniments Of empire grasped and powers that shake the world. Then with a golden wave of arm sublime Ménaca towards the warlike consistory, Under half-drooping lashes indicating Where calm eternal Vishnu like a cloud Sat discus-armed, said to her sister bright: "Daughter of Ocean, sister, for whom heaven Is passionate, thou hast reviewed the powers Eternal and their dreadful beauty scanned, And heard their blissful names. Say, unafraid Before these listening faces, whom thou lovest Above all Gods and more than earth and more Than joy of Swerga’s streams?" And Urvasie, Musing with wide unseeing eyes, replied In a far voice: "The King Pururavus." Then, as a wind among the leaves, there swept A gust of laughter through the assembled Gods, A happy summer sound. But not in mirth Bharuth, the mighty dramatist of heaven, Passionate to see his smooth work marred and spell Broken of scenic fancies finely-touched: "Since thou hast brought the breath of mortal air Into the pure solemnities of heaven, And since thou givest up to other ends Than the one need for which God made thee form,
Page – 78 Thy being and hast here transferred from earth Human failure from the divided soul, Marring my great creation, Urvasie, I curse thee to possess thy heart’s desire. Exiled from Swerga’s streams and golden groves Thou, by terrestrial Ganges or on sad Majestic mountains or in troubled towns, Enjoy thy love, but hope not here to breathe Felicity in regions built for peace Of who, erect in their own nature, keep Living by fated toils the glorious world." He ceased and there was silence of the Gods. Then Indra answered, smiling, though ill-pleased: "Bharuth, not well nor by the fates allowed To exile without limit from the skies Who of the skies is part. Her wilt thou banish From the felicity of grove and stream, Making our Eden empty of her smiles? But what felicity in stream or grove And she not secret there? And hast thou taxed Her passion, yet in passion wouldst deface The beautiful world because thy work is vain?" Bharuth replied, the high poet severe: "Irrevocable is the doom pronounced Once by my lips. Fates too are born of song. But if of limit thou speakest and the term By nature fixed to the divorce of her From the felicity in which she moves, Nature that fixed the limit, still effects Inevitably its fated ends. For Fate, The dim great presence, is but nature made Irrevocable in its fruits. Let her To the pure banks of sacred Ganges wend. There she may keep her exile, from of old Intended for perfection of the earth Through her sweet change. Heaven too shall flash and grow Fairer with her returning feet though changed, —
Page – 79 Though changed, yet lovelier from beneficence. For she will come soft with maternal cheeks And flushed from nuptial arms and human-blest With touches of the warm delightful earth." He said and Urvasie from the dumb place And thoughtful presence of the Gods departed Into the breezy noon of Swerga. Under Green well-known boughs laden with nameless fruit And over blissful swards and perfect flowers And through the wandering alleys she arrived To heavenly Ganges where it streams o’er stones; There from the banks of summer downward stepped, One little golden hand gathering her dress Above her naked knees, and, lovely, passed Through the divine pellucid river on To Swerga’s portals, pausing on the slope Which goes toward the world. There she looked down With yearning eyes far into endless space. Behind her stood the green felicitous peaks And trembling tops of woods and pulse of blue With those calm cloudless summits quivering. All heaven was behind her, but she sent No look to those eternal seats of joy. She down the sunbeams gazed where mountains rose In snow, the bleak and mighty hills of earth, And virgin forests vast, great infant streams And cities young in the heroic dawn Of history and insurgent human art Titanic on the old stupendous hills. Towards these she gazed down under eyelids glad. And to her gazing came Tilôttama, Bright out of heaven, and clasped her quiet hand And murmured softly, "Sister, let us go." Then they went down into the waiting world, The golden women, and through gorges mute Past Budricayshwur in the silent snow Came silent to Pururavus Urvasie.
Page – 80 For not in Ilian streets Pururavus Sojourned, nor in the happy throng of men, But with the infinite and the lonely hills. For he grew weary of walls and luminous carved Imperial pillars bearing up huge weight Of architectural stone, and the long street, And thoughtful temple wide, and sharp cymbals Protecting the august pure place with sound; The battled tramp of men, sessions of kings, The lightning from sharp weapons, jubilant crash Of chariots, and the Veda’s mighty chant; The bright booths of the merchants, the loud looms And the smith’s hammer clanging music out, And stalwart men driving the patient plow Indomitable in fierce breath of noon. Of these he now grew weary and the blaze Of kingship, its immense and iron toils, With one hand shielding in the people’s ease, With one hand smiting back the tireless foe, And difficulty of equal justice cold, And kind beneficent works harmonious kept With terrible control; the father’s face, The man’s heart, the steeled intellect of power Insolubly one; and after sleepless nights Labouring greatly for a great reward, Frequent failure and vigorous success, And sweet reward of voices filial grown. These that were once his life, he loved no more. They held not his desire nor were alive, But pale magnificent ghosts out of the past With sad obsession closing him from warm Life and the future in far sunlight gold. For in his heart and in his musing eyes There was a light on the cold snows, a blush Upon the virgin quiet of the East And storm and slowly-lifting lids. Therefore He left the city Ilian and plains
Page – 81 Whence with a mighty motion eastward flows Ganges, heroical and young, a swift Mother of strenuous nations, nor yet reaches Her musing age in ardent deep Bengal. He journeyed to the cold north and the hills Austere, past Budricayshwur ever north, Till, in the sixth month of his pilgrimage Uneasy, to a silent place he came Within a heaped enormous region piled With prone far-drifting hills, huge peaks o’erwhelmed Under the vast illimitable snows, — Snow on ravine, and snow on cliff, and snow Sweeping in strenuous outlines to heaven, With distant gleaming vales and turbulent rocks, Giant precipices black-hewn and bold Daring the universal whiteness; last, A mystic gorge into some secret world.
He in that region waste and wonderful Sojourned, and morning-star and evening-star Shone over him and faded, and immense Darkness wrapped the hushed mountain solitudes And moonlight’s brilliant muse and the cold stars And day upon the summits brightening. But ere day grew the hero nympholept Climbed the immortal summits towards the dawn And came with falling evening down and lay Watching the marvellous sky, but called not sleep That beat her gentle wings over his eyes, Nor food he needed who was grown a god. And in the seventh month of his waiting long Summit or cliff he climbed no more, but added To the surrounding hush sat motionless, Gazing towards the dim unfathomed gorge. Six days he sat and on the seventh they came Through the dumb gorge, a breath of heaven, a stir, Then Eden’s girls stepping with moonbeam feet
Page – 82 Over the barren rocks and dazzling snows, That grew less dazzling, their tresses half unbound And delicate raiment girdled enchantingly. Silent the perfect presences of heaven Came towards him and stood a little away, Like flowers waiting for a sunbeam. He Stirred not, but without voice, in vision merged, Sat, as one sleeping momently expects The end of a dear dream he sees, and knows It is a dream, and quietly resigned Waits for the fragile bliss to break or fade. Then nearer drew divine Tilôttama And stood before his silence statuesque, Holding her sister’s hand; for she hung back, Not as an earthly maiden, cheeks suffused, Lids drooping, but as men from patience called Before supreme felicity hang back, A little awed, a little doubtful, fearing To enter radiant Paradise, so bright It seems; thus she and quailed before her bliss. But her sister, extending one bright arm: "Pururavus, thou hast conquered and I bring No dream into thy life, but Urvasie." And at that name the strong Pururavus Rose swaying to his feet like one struck blind; Or when a great thought flashes through his brain, A poet starts up and almost cries aloud As at a voice, — so he arose and heard. And slowly said divine Tilôttama: "Yet, son of Ila, one is man and other The Opsaras of heaven, daughters of the sea, Unlimited in being, Ocean-like. They not to one lord yield nor in one face Limit the universe, but like sweet air, Water unowned and beautiful common light In unrestrained surrender remain pure. In patient paths of Nature upon earth
Page – 83 And over all the toiling stars we fill With sacred passion large high-venturing spirits And visit them with bliss; so are they moved To immense creative anguish, glad if through Heart-breaking toil once in bare seasons dawn Our golden breasts between their hands or rush Our passionate presence on them like a wave. In heaven bright-limbed with bodily embrace We clasp the Gods, and clasp the souls of men, And know with winds and flowers liberty. But what hast thou with us or winds or flowers? O thou who wast so white, wilt thou not keep Thy pure and lonely eminence and move For ever towards morning like a star? Or as thy earthly Ganges rolling down Between the homes and passionate deeds of men, And bearing many boats and white with oars, From all that life quite separate, only lives Towards Ocean, so thou doest human work, Making a mighty nation, doing high And necessary deeds, but, all untouched By action, livest in thy soul apart And to the immortal zenith climbest pure.” But he, blind as from dazzling dreams, said low: “One I thought spoke far-off of purity And whiteness and the human soul in God. These things were with me once, but now I see The Spring a golden child and shaken fields. All beautiful things draw near and come to me. I dream upon a woman’s glorious breasts, And watch the dew-drop and am glad with birds, And love the perfect coilings of the snake, And cry with fire in the burning trees, And am a wave towards desired shores. I move to these and move towards her bosom And mystic eyes where all these are one dream. And what shall God profit me or his glory,
Page – 84 Who love one small face more than all his worlds?” He woke with his own voice. His words that first Dreamed like a languid wave, sudden were foam; And he beheld her standing and his look Grew strong; he yearned towards her like a wave, And she received him in her eyes as earth Receives the rain. Then bright Tilôttama Cried in a shining glory over them: “O happy lover and O fortunate loved, Who make love heavenlier by loss! Ah yet, The Gods give no irrecoverable gifts, Nor unconditioned, O Pururavus, Is highest bliss even to most favoured men. And thy deep joy must tremble o’er her with soul On guard, all overshadowed by a fear. For one year thou shalt know her on the peaks, In solitary vastnesses of hills And regions snow-besieged; and for one year In the green forests populous and free Life in sunlight and by delightful streams Thou shalt enjoy her; and for one year where The busy tramp of men goes ceaseless by, Subduing her to lovely human cares: And so long after as one law observed Save her to thee, O King; for never man With Opsara may dwell and both be known: Either a rapture she invisible Or he a mystic body and mystic soul. Reveal not then thy being naked to hers, O virgin Ila’s son, nor suffer ever Light round thy body naked to her eyes, Lest day dawn not on thy felicity, Sole among men.” She left them, shining up Into the sunlight, and was lost in noon. And King Pururavus stood for a space, Like the entranced calm before great winds And thunder. Then through all his limbs there flashed
Page – 85 Youth and the beauty and the warmth of earth And joy of her left lonely to his will. He moved, he came towards her. She, a leaf Before a gust among the nearing trees, Cowered. But, all a sea of mighty joy Rushing and swallowing up the golden sand, With a great cry and glad Pururavus Seized her and caught her to his bosom thrilled, Clinging and shuddering. All her wonderful hair Loosened and the wind seized and bore it streaming Over the shoulder of Pururavus And on his cheek a softness. She, o’erborne, Panting, with inarticulate murmurs lay, Like a slim tree half seen through driving hail, Her naked arms clasping his neck, her cheek And golden throat averted, and wide trouble In her large eyes bewildered with their bliss. Amid her wind-blown hair their faces met. With her sweet limbs all his, feeling her breasts Tumultuous up against his beating heart, He kissed the glorious mouth of heaven’s desire. So clung they as two shipwrecked in a surge. Then strong Pururavus, with godlike eyes Mastering hers, cried tremulous: “O beloved, O miser of thy rich and happy voice, One word, one word to tell me that thou lovest.” And Urvasie, all broken on his bosom, Her godhead in his passion lost, moaned out From her imprisoned breasts, “My lord, my love!”
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