Chapter 3

And while the round white lamp of earth rose higher, And still he tarried, Radha, petulant, Sang soft impatience and half-earnest fears:

(_What follows is to the Music_ MÂLAVA _and the Mode_ YATI.)

'Tis time!--he comes not!--will he come? Can he leave me thus to pine? _Yami hê kam sharanam!_ Ah! what refuge then is mine?

For his sake I sought the wood, Threaded dark and devious ways; _Yami hê kam sharanam!_ Can it be Krishna betrays?

Let me die then, and forget Anguish, patience, hope, and fear; _Yami hê kam sharanam!_ Ah, why have I held him dear?

Ah, this soft night torments me, Thinking that his faithless arms-- _Yami hê kam sharanam!_-- Clasp some shadow of my charms.

Fatal shadow--foolish mock! When the great love shone confessed;-- _Yami hê kam sharanam!_ Krishna's lotus loads my breast;

'Tis too heavy, lacking him; Like a broken flower I am-- Necklets, jewels, what are ye? _Yami hê kam sharanam!_

_Yami hê kam sharanam!_ The sky is still, the forest sleeps; Krishna forgets--he loves no more; He fails in faith, and Radha weeps.

_But the poet Jayadev-- He who is great Hari's slave, He who finds asylum sweet Only at great Hari's feet; He who for your comfort sings All this to the Vina's strings-- Prays that Radha's tender moan In your hearts be thought upon, And that all her holy grace Live there like the loved one's face._

Yet, if I wrong him! (sang she)--can he fail? Could any in the wood win back his kisses? Could any softest lips of earth prevail To hold him from my arms? any love-blisses

Blind him once more to mine? O Soul, my prize! Art thou not merely hindered at this hour? Sore-wearied, wandering, lost? how otherwise Shouldst thou not hasten to the bridal-bower?

But seeing far away that Maiden come Alone, with eyes cast down and lingering steps, Again a little while she feared to hear Of Krishna false; and her quick thoughts took shape In a fine jealousy, with words like these--

Something then of earth has held him From his home above, Some one of those slight deceivers-- Ah, my foolish love!

Some new face, some winsome playmate, With her hair untied, And the blossoms tangled in it, Woos him to her side.

On the dark orbs of her bosom-- Passionately heaved-- Sink and rise the warm, white pearl-strings, Oh, my love deceived!

Fair? yes, yes! the rippled shadow Of that midnight hair Shows above her brow--as clouds do O'er the moon--most fair:

And she knows, with wilful paces, How to make her zone Gleam and please him; and her ear-rings Tinkle love; and grown

Coy as he grows fond, she meets him With a modest show; Shaming truth with truthful seeming, While her laugh--light, low--

And her subtle mouth that murmurs. And her silken cheek, And her eyes, say she dissembles Plain as speech could speak.

Till at length, a fatal victress, Of her triumph vain, On his neck she lies and smiles there:-- Ah, my Joy!--my Pain!

_But may Radha's fond annoy, And may Krishna's dawning joy, Warm and waken love more fit-- Jayadeva prayeth it-- And the griefs and sins assuage Of this blind and evil age._

O Moon! (she sang) that art so pure and pale, Is Krishna wan like thee with lonely waiting? O lamp of love! art thou the lover's friend, And wilt not bring him, my long pain abating? O fruitless moon! thou dost increase my pain O faithless Krishna! I have striven in vain. And then, lost in her fancies sad, she moaned--

(_What follows is to the Music_ GURJJARÎ _and the Mode_ EKATÂLÎ)

In vain, in vain! Earth will of earth! I mourn more than I blame; If he had known, he would not sit and paint The tilka on her smooth black brow, nor claim Quick kisses from her yielded lips--false, faint-- False, fragrant, fatal! Krishna's quest is o'er By Jumna's shore!

Vain--it was vain! The temptress was too near, the heav'n too far; I can but weep because he sits and ties Garlands of fire-flowers for her loosened hair, And in its silken shadow veils his eyes And buries his fond face. Yet I forgave By Jumna's wave!

Vainly! all vain! Make then the most of that whereto thou'rt given, Feign her thy Paradise--thy Love of loves; Say that her eyes are stars, her face the heaven, Her bosoms the two worlds, with sandal-groves Full-scented, and the kiss-marks--ah, thy dream By Jumna's stream!

It shall be vain! And vain to string the emeralds on her arm, And hang the milky pearls upon her neck, Saying they are not jewels, but a swarm Of crowded, glossy bees, come there to suck The rosebuds of her breast, the sweetest flowers Of Jumna's bowers.

That shall be vain! Nor wilt thou so believe thine own blind wooing, Nor slake thy heart's thirst even with the cup Which at the last she brims for thee, undoing Her girdle of carved gold, and yielding up, Love's uttermost: brief the poor gain and pride By Jumna's tide

Because still vain Is love that feeds on shadow; vain, as thou dost, To look so deep into the phantom eyes For that which lives not there; and vain, as thou must, To marvel why the painted pleasure flies, When the fair, false wings seemed folded for ever By Jumna's river.

And vain! yes, vain! For me too is it, having so much striven, To see this slight snare take thee, and thy 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_ DESHAVARÂDÎ _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 sky to show The rose-leaf palms that cling and clasp, And the breast that beats below.

The thought of parting shall not lie Cold on their throbbing lives, The dread of ending shall not chill The glow beginning gives; She in her beauty dark shall look-- As long as clouds can be-- As gracious as the rain-time cloud Kissing the shining sea.

And he, amid his playmates old, At least a little while, Shall not breathe forth again the sigh That spoils the song and smile; Shall be left wholly to his choice, Free for his pleasant sin, With the golden-girdled damsels Of the bowers I found him in.

For me, his Angel, only The sorrow and the smart, The pale grief sitting on the brow, The dead hope in the heart; For me the loss of losing, For me the ache and dearth; My king crowned with the wood-flowers! My fairest upon earth!

_Hari, Lord and King of love! From thy throne of light above Stoop to help us, deign to take Our spirits to thee for the sake Of this song, which speaks the fears Of all who weep with Radha's tears._

But love is strong to pardon, slow to part, And still the Lady, in her fancies, sang-- Wind of the Indian stream! A little--oh! a little--breathe once more The fragrance like his mouth's! blow from thy shore One last word as he fades into a dream;

Bodiless Lord of love! Show him once more to me a minute's space, My Krishna, with the love-look in his face, And then I come to my own place above;

I will depart and give All back to Fate and her: I will submit To thy stern will, and bow myself to it, Enduring still, though desolate, to live:

If it indeed be life, Even so resigning, to sit patience-mad, To feel the zephyrs burn, the sunlight sad, The peace of holy heaven, a restless strife.

Haho! what words are these? How can I live and lose him? how not go Whither love draws me for a soul loved so? How yet endure such sorrow?--or how cease?

Wind of the Indian wave! If that thou canst, blow poison here, not nard; God of the five shafts! shoot thy sharpest hard, And kill me, Radha,--Radha who forgave!

Or, bitter River, Yamûn! be Yama's sister! be Death's kin! Swell thy wave up to me and gulf me in, Cooling this cruel, burning pain for ever.

_Ah! if only visions stir Grief so passionate in her, What divine grief will not take, Spirits in heaven for the sake Of those who miss love? Oh, be wise! Mark this story of the skies; Meditate Govinda ever, Sitting by the sacred river, The mystic stream, which o'er his feet Glides slow, with murmurs low and sweet, Till none can tell whether those be Blue lotus-blooms, seen veiledly Under the wave, or mirrored gems Reflected from the diadems Bound on the brows of mighty Gods, Who lean from out their pure abodes, And leave their bright felicities To guide great Krishna to his sides._

(_Here ends that Sarga of the Gîta Govinda entitled_ VIPRALABDHAVARNANE NAGARANARAYANO.)

_SARGA THE EIGHTH._

KHANDITAVARNANE VILAKSHALAKSHMIPATI.

THE REBUKING OF KRISHNA.

For when the weary night had worn away In these vain fears, and the clear morning broke, Lo, Krishna! lo, the longed-for of her soul Came too!--in the glad light he came, and bent His knee, and clasped his hands; on his dumb lips Fear, wonder, joy, passion, and reverence Strove for the trembling words, and Radha knew Peace won for him and her; yet none the less A little time she eluded him, and sang:

(_What follows is to the Music_ BHAIRAVÎ _and the Mode_ YATI)

Krishna!--then thou hast found me!--and thine eyes Heavy and sad and stained, as if with weeping! Ah! is it not that those, which were thy prize, So radiant seemed that all night thou wert keeping Vigils of tender wooing?--have thy Love! Here is no place for vows broken in making; Thou Lotus-eyed! thou soul for whom I strove! Go! ere I listen, my just mind forsaking.

Krishna! my Krishna with the woodland-wreath! Return, or I shall soften as I blame; The while thy very lips are dark to the teeth With dye that from her lids and lashes came, Left on the mouth I touched. Fair traitor! go! Say not they darkened, lacking food and sleep Long waiting for my face; I turn it--so-- Go! ere I half believe thee, pleading deep;

But wilt thou plead, when, like a love-verse printed On the smooth polish of an emerald, I see the marks she stamped, the kisses dinted Large-lettered, by her lips? thy speech withheld Speaks all too plainly; go,--abide thy choice! If thou dost stay, I shall more greatly grieve thee; Not records of her victory?--peace, dear voice! Hence with that godlike brow, lest I believe thee.

For dar'st thou feign the saffron on thy bosom Was not implanted in disloyal embrace? Or that this many-coloured love-tree blossom Shone not, but yesternight, above her face? Comest thou here, so late, to be forgiven, O thou, in whose eyes Truth was made to live? O thou, so worthy else of grace and heaven? O thou, so nearly won? Ere I forgive,

Go, Krishna! go!--lest I should think, unwise, Thy heart not false, as thy long lingering seems, Lest, seeing myself so imaged in thine eyes, I shame the name of Pity--turn to dreams The sacred sound of vows; make Virtue grudge Her praise to Mercy, calling thy sin slight; Go therefore, dear offender! go! thy Judge Had best not see thee to give sentence right.

_But may he grant us peace at last and bliss Who heard,--and smiled to hear,--delays like this, Delays that dallied with a dream come true, Fond wilful angers; for the maid laughed too To see, as Radha ended, her hand take His dark role for her veil, and[2] Krishna make The word she spoke for parting kindliest sign He should not go, but stay. O grace divine, Be ours too! Jayadev, the Poet of love, Prays it from Hari, lordliest above._

(_Here ends that Sarga of the Gîta Govinda entitled_ KHANDITAVARNANE VILAKSHALAKSHMIPATI.)

[Footnote 2: The text here is not closely followed.]

_SARGA THE NINTH._

KALAHANTARITAVARNANE MUGDHAMUKUNDO.

THE END OF KRISHNA'S TRIAL.

Yet not quite did the doubts of Radha die, Nor her sweet brows unbend; but she, the Maid-- Knowing her heart so tender, her soft arms Aching to take him in, her rich mouth sad For the comfort of his kiss, and these fears false-- Spake yet a little in fair words like these:

_(What follows is to the Music_ GURJJARÎ _and the Mode_ YATI.)

The lesson that thy faithful love has taught him He has heard; The wind of spring, obeying thee, hath brought him At thy word; What joy in all the three worlds was so precious To thy mind? _Mâ kooroo mânini mânamayè_,[3] Ah, be kind!

[Footnote 3: My proud one! do not indulge in scorn.]

No longer from his earnest eyes conceal Thy delights; Lift thy face, and let the jealous veil reveal All his rights; The glory of thy beauty was but given For content; _Mâ kooroo mânini mânamayè_, Oh, relent!

Remember, being distant, how he bore thee In his heart; Look on him sadly turning from before thee To depart; Is he not the soul thou lovedst, sitting lonely In the wood? _Mâ kooroo mânini mânamayè_, 'Tis not good!

He who grants thee high delight in bridal-bower Pardons long; What the gods do love may do at such an hour Without wrong; Why weepest thou? why keepest thou in anger Thy lashes down? _Mâ kooroo mânini mânamayè_, Do not frown!

Lift thine eyes now, and look on him, bestowing, Without speech; Let him pluck at last the flower so sweetly growing In his reach; The fruit of lips, of loving tones, of glances That forgive; _Mâ kooroo mânini mânamayè_, Let him live!

Let him speak with thee, and pray to thee, and prove thee All his truth; Let his silent loving lamentation move thee Asking ruth; How knowest thou? All, listen, dearest Lady, He is there; _Mâ kooroo mânini mânamayè_, Thou must hear!

_O rare voice, which is a spell Unto all on earth who dwell! O rich voice, of rapturous love, Making melody above! Krishna's, Hari's--one in two, Sound these mortal verses through! Sound like that soft flute which made Such a magic in the shade-- Calling deer-eyed maidens nigh, Waking wish and stirring sigh, Thrilling blood and melting breasts, Whispering love's divine unrests, Winning blessings to descend, Bringing earthly ills to end;-- Me thou heard in this song now Thou, the great Enchantment, thou!_

(_Here ends that Sarga of the Gîta Govinda entitled_ KALAHANTARITAVARNANE MUGDHAMUKUNDO.)

_SARGA THE TENTH._

MANINIVARNANE CHATURACHATURBHUJO.

KRISHNA IN PARADISE.

But she, abasing still her glorious eyes, And still not yielding all her face to him, Relented; till with softer upturned look She smiled, while the Maid pleaded; so thereat Came Krishna nearer, and his eager lips Mixed sighs with words in this fond song he sang:

(_What follows is to the Music_ DESHÎYAVARÂDÎ _and the Mode_ ASHTATÂLÎ.)

O angel of my hope! O my heart's home! My fear is lost in love, my love in fear; This bids me trust my burning wish, and come, That checks me with its memories, drawing near: Lift up thy look, and let the thing it saith End fear with grace, or darken love to death.

Or only speak once more, for though thou slay me, Thy heavenly mouth must move, and I shall hear Dulcet delights of perfect music sway me Again--again that voice so blest and dear; Sweet Judge! the prisoner prayeth for his doom That he may hear his fate divinely come.

Speak once more! then thou canst not choose but show Thy mouth's unparalleled and honeyed wonder Where, like pearls hid in red-lipped shells, the row Of pearly teeth thy rose-red lips lie under; Ah me! I am that bird that woos the moon, And pipes--poor fool! to make it glitter soon.

Yet hear me on--because I cannot stay The passion of my soul, because my gladness Will pour forth from my heart;--since that far day When through the mist of all my sin and sadness Thou didst vouchsafe--Surpassing One!--to break, All else I slighted for thy noblest sake.

Thou, thou hast been my blood, my breath, my being; The pearl to plunge for in the sea of life; The sight to strain for, past the bounds of seeing; The victory to win through longest strife; My Queen! my crowned Mistress! my sphered bride! Take this for truth, that what I say beside.

Of bold love--grown full-orbed at sight of thee-- May be forgiven with a quick remission; For, thou divine fulfilment of all hope! Thou all-undreamed completion of the vision! I gaze upon thy beauty, and my fear Passes as clouds do, when the moon shines clear.

So if thou'rt angry still, this shall avail, Look straight at me, and let thy bright glance wound me; Fetter me! gyve me! lock me in the gaol Of thy delicious arms; make fast around me The silk-soft manacles of wrists and hands, Then kill me! I shall never break those bands.

The starlight jewels flashing on thy breast Have not my right to hear thy beating heart; The happy jasmine-buds that clasp thy waist Are soft usurpers of my place and part; If that fair girdle only there must shine, Give me the girdle's life--the girdle mine!

Thy brow like smooth Bandhûka-leaves; thy cheek Which the dark-tinted Madhuk's velvet shows; Thy long-lashed Lotus eyes, lustrous and meek; Thy nose a Tila-bud; thy teeth like rows Of Kunda-petals! he who pierceth hearts Points with thy lovelinesses all five darts.

But Radiant, Perfect, Sweet, Supreme, forgive! My heart is wise--my tongue is foolish still: I know where I am come--I know I live-- I know that thou art Radha--that this will Last and be heaven: that I have leave to rise Up from thy feet, and look into thine eyes!

And, nearer coming, I ask for grace Now that the blest eyes turn to mine; Faithful I stand in this sacred place Since first I saw them shine: Dearest glory that stills my voice, Beauty unseen, unknown, unthought! Splendour of love, in whose sweet light Darkness is past and nought; Ah, beyond words that sound on earth, Golden bloom of the garden of heaven! Radha, enchantress! Radha, the queen! Be this trespass forgiven-- In that I dare, with courage too much And a heart afraid,--so bold it is grown-- To hold thy hand with a bridegroom's touch, And take thee for mine, mine own.[4]

_So they met and so they ended Pain and parting, being blended Life with life--made one for ever In high love; and Jayadeva Hasteneth on to close the story Of their bridal grace and glory._

(_Here ends that Sarga of the Gîta Govinda entitled_ MANINIVARNANE CHATURACHATURBHUJO.)

[Footnote 4: Much here also is necessarily paraphrased.]

_SARGA THE ELEVENTH._

RADHIKAMILANE SANANDADAMODARO.

THE UNION OF RADHA AND KRISHNA.

Thus followed soft and lasting peace, and griefs Died while she listened to his tender tongue, Her eyes of antelope alight with love; And while he led the way to the bride-bower The maidens of her train adorned her fair With golden marriage-cloths, and sang this song:

(_What follows is to the Music_ VASANTA _and the Mode_ YATI.)

Follow, happy Radha! follow,-- In the quiet falling twilight-- The steps of him who followed thee So steadfastly and far; Let us bring thee where the banjulas Have spread a roof of crimson, Lit up by many a marriage-lamp Of planet, sun, and star: For the hours of doubt are over, And thy glad and faithful lover Hath found the road by tears and prayers To thy divinest side; And thou wilt not now deny him One delight of all thy beauty, But yield up open-hearted His pearl, his prize, his bride.