Part 4

_Krishna:_ The sun is in the East, the tide of night has ebbed, The moon is merging in the sky. The water-lily closed,--and even so, my lady fair, Your lily-face is shut.

A lily-face, two lotus-eyes, And lips of honey. All your body flower-wrought,-- Why is your heart of stone?

Your hands are wasted, and you wear no bracelets, Even a garland is a weary burden: And yet you will not cast away your mountain load of pride-- What wicked ways are yours!

_Now leave these wrongs, give Hari bliss, my fair,_ _Now with the dawn, give over wrath:_ _Rājā Shivasimha Rūpanārāyana,_ _Says Vidyāpati!_

LXXIII.

_Sakhī:_ Beauty, of lineage and courtesy, without your eyes-- The best of lovers--what may you do? How may you make jap-tap, or alms bestow or vows accomplish. Who have no pity on the pitiful?

'I would advise you very seriously, my dear: One such a virtue many a sin may cancel, A single sin destroys the fruit of many virtues.

'Though brother to the poison, thief of a guru's wife. And vomited from Rahu's jaws. Scorching divided lovers, slayer of water-lilies,-- Yet for his merits the moon shines bright!

'Loving another's children, careless of his own, The crow drinks dregs of love: Yet an only word of His, wipes all those faults away,-- He speaks such honey-words.'

_Rādhā:_ 'What can I say, my dear, of Kāna's love-- The roothless root of every virtue? Touching His flute He makes a hundred vows But even then I cannot trust Him.

'Renewed embraces: kissing me upon His lap, He makes protest of loyalty! But He has spent the night beside some other girl, And emptied me of hope.

'In something more than fire my body burns I see the seal of Rati on every limb.' _Life may expire, says Vidyāpati,_ _And yet you will not mix with Hari!_

LXXIV.

_Rādhā:_ Hearken, prithee, heartless Hari, Fie on your such love! Why did you speak of keeping tryst, And with another maiden spent the night?

You make pretence of love for Rāi, And dally with another girl: Who says brave Kānu is best of lovers? No such another fool is in the world.

Refusing ruby, you seek for glass, Leaving an lake of nectar, you long for brine, Forsaking a sea of curds, to wanton in a well,-- Fie on your amorous blandishment!

_Vidyāpati the lord of poets avows:_ _Rādhā will never look upon your face again._

LXXV.

_Rādhā:_ Thirsting for fragrance I flew to the flower But never I came the near, I saw not a drop of the ocean of honey, And now the people mock me.

And lo, my dear, the bee bewitched by someone else And no one passes any judgment thereupon: By little steps I came to understand him better, How is his heart as fickle as the lightning.

Forsaking the lily, he followed the screw-pine, Inhaling its fragrance: But the thorns have pierced his body His face is smeared with dust.

Somewhat hurt, I think, he comes again to me, As though he had been disappointed: There is one flavour men have never understood-- Distinction of the good and bad.

_Hearken, my good girl, says Vidyāpati;_ _Love is only understood by lovers,--_ _Rājā Shivasimha is the storehouse of all virtues._ _And Rānī Lakshmī Devī his wife!_

MĀNĀNTE MILNA

LXXVI.

_Sakhī:_ The wrath of the wrathful fled afar Kānu sank in a sea of nectar: But when he asked for her embrace, Albeit heavy with love, her lovely body might not bend.

Honeyed was the swain's speech, Tremulous the beauty's sighs; Her Lord enfolded her upon his lap. But yet the flow of nectar was but little.

Gently he kissed her face--her eyes were full of tears, And though her heart was full of love, yet love was lacking; Bravely he touched her bosom with his hands. But even then desire would not awake.

And when at last he loosed her girdle. Then even, in Hari's bliss, desire was cold. And even then she felt no gladness: _Is it pleasure or pain, says Vidyāpati?_

LXXVII.

_Sakhī:_ Peerless Rādhā beside Murāri,-- Her wrath broke down, whose wrath was stubborn! Mādhava kisses Rādhā's face, Looks on her moon-face with brimming eyes.

All of her maidens were filled with joy, Madan entered the hearts of both. Twain were enraptured, each in the other's lap: _A sight that fills Vidyāpati with bliss._

LXXVIII.

_Sakhī:_ 'Tell me, O Beauty, what were the night's delights. How did your Lord fulfil your hopes? (How curiously, methinks, has Providence Created man and maid!) You are the fairest woman of the world And have attained Murāri, worthiest of men.'

_Rādhā:_ 'I am not able to recite my lover's love, The fates have not bestowed on me a myriad mouths! Doffing his necklace of ivory pearls, With care he set it on my neck: Taking my hands, he set me on his lap, And cooled my limbs with fragrant sandal.

'He loosed my locks (so neatly bound), And wreathed them with a campak garland; With honey-honey-glances Kāna gazed on me, His eyes brimmed over with tears of joy.'

_Billows of love, says Vidyāpati:_ _Hearken, my dear, I sing their Union._

LXXIX.

_Sakhī:_ Measureless virtue! whereso yearning bodies meet-- Now there has been indissoluble union of the twain: How many a one essayed this way and that, Yet none availed to put the twain asunder!

Never any household in the wicked world Has seen such love as this, a very fount of milk! If one should fetch it to the fire And stir the milk to separate the water, The milk, exulting in the heat, boils over-- Goaded by separation pangs, it leaps into the fire!

If any one should pour more water in it, Then the separation-pangs withdraw afar. _Avows Vidyāpati: Love is such,_ _And such the love of Rādhā-Mādhava._

LXXX.

_Rādha:_ Very cunning is my Kāna, Without any spell he broke my wrath! He appeared to-day in a yogi's weed-- Who can explain such singular gestes?

At the will of my mother-in-law I went to give him alms, When he saw my face, he began to murmur words of love, And he said: 'The gift I ask is the jewel of your pride,'-- (Then I could tell what guile was his!)

'Tis shame to recite all that he said. Nobody knows the Lord of lovers! _Vidyāpati says: lovely Rāi,_ _How can you plumb the depth of his cunning?_

LXXXI.

_Rādhā:_ What can I tell of to-day's affair my dear? A jewel fell to the hands of a fool Who knows not the price of gold or glass, And reckons alike the jewels and _gañja_ seeds,

Who is lacking in lore of crafts of love, And reckons milk and water the same: How can I feel affection for him? Shall a necklace of pearls adorn the neck of a monkey?

_Wise in this savour, Vidyāpati asks:_ _Has pan ever graced the_ mouth _of a monkey?_

LXXXII.

_Rādhā:_ What shall I tell you, dear gay friend? I cannot speak of to-day's disports: I was lying alone on my flowery bed, Love was my fellow, armed with his flowery darts.

Kāna came with his tinkling anklets, In jest I lay with eyes closed: Kāna came nigh and sat beside me, I turned my face to hide my laughter.

Hari lifted from my locks their flowery chaplet, And gave me his crest of peacock feathers: With elaborate care he took the pearl from my nose And lifted the necklet from my neck!

Loosing the bodice, my dear one lost his wits! Then Madan woke, and I bound the thief my arms:

_Says Vidyāpati: A learned wanton he--_ _You may be lovesome, but your lover is a master of the art of love!_ _In you there is love, but he is a lover all-wise in loving!_

LXXXIII.

_Rādhā:_ I was still very wrathful. But my lover disguised as a girl dissolved my pride: What can I tell of the pranks of to-day, my dear? For there came Kān with the maiden-messenger!

He bound his curling hair in a knot, The Lord of lovers dressed like a girl! He put on a necklace and made a breast in his bosom, He put on his feet a jewelled anklet.

First he put his left foot foremost,-- Ratipati danced with his flowery bow; I looked with amazement,--and fondled him freely, With downbent glances, I set him in my lap!

When I touched his body so full of love, The pride of my wrath fled Under-earth, I stood all astonished, with finger to nose. _Vidyāpati says: The quarrel was ended!_

LXXXIV.

_Rādhā:_ My frolicsome friend, what shall I say? There was another prank, unspeakable: Naked of any weed, I sat alone at home, When he of the lotus-eyes appeared unseen!

To hide my body on either side revealed the other, (O open wide and let me sink into the earth!) Seeking to cover my breasts with my hands, I could not,-- Just as the snow may not conceal the southern hills.

Out on you, fie! my life, my youth, my honour, The Lord of Braj gazed on my limbs to-day! _O amorous Rai, Vidyāpati says,_ _Could you outwit such wit as his?_

LXXXV.

_Rādhā:_ O mother mine, what can I say to-day! The stain sticks fast, for all washing with water: After my bath, and climbing Kālindī's bank, The filmy muslin clung to my limbs, That all my shape was clearly seen,-- And there was Yaduvira just before me!

My buttocks broad were plain to see, I turned me round and over them shook my hair: And when he fixed his gaze upon my breasts, I turned my back on Hari and sat me down. But cunning Mādhava scanned my body with smiling face, The body I sought to hide would not be hidden!

_You are a witless maid, says Vidyāpati:_ _Why did you not return to the water?_

LXXXVI.

_Rādhā:_ My mother-in-law was asleep, and I lay in her lap, And love-learned Kānu was lurking behind. Somehow I made it clear to him by signs: 'Will you give over fooling, or shall I begone?

'Refrain this affection, O foolish lover,-- As at this time your prayers are not to be granted! (Can there be any pleasure in embraces from behind, Shall thirst for water be slaked with milk?)'

Bending his face to mine, how did he drink the nectar of my lips How often silently he laid his hand upon my breasts, Nor let betray him any panting breath,-- What laughing battles were fought with flashing teeth!

_My mother-in-law awoke, and Kāna ran away:_ _My hopes were not fulfilled, says Vidyāpati._

LXXXVII.

_Rādhā:_ I was alone, and weaving garlands, My skirt and bodice were unloosed, And then came Kānu with quiet smiles! (How shall I hide my bosom and my girdlestead?)

My darling clasped me with a merry laugh, Modesty and shame departed to the underworld-- (How may I dout the lamp, that's out of reach of hands?) And yet my brazen life dies not of shame!

_This is the very work of love, says Vidyāpati:_ _Wherefore this shame of him to whom your life is dedicate?_

LXXXVIII.

_Rādhā:_ To-day my awkward shame was far away, He realised his heart's desires: What shall I say, my dear? (I smile to speak of it,) So very marvellous was the dalliance of to-day.

The toppling clouds fell down on earth, The pleasant mountain-kings rose up on high: I likewise, gazing in the emerald mirror, Fell there where neither up nor down are known.

Newly advised was Kān, my lord, His sayings overpowered me: He gave a refuge to the homeless-- Shamefast I was and hid my heart's fire.

The prince of wantons folded me upon his lap. And with the wimple wiped the dews of weariness, Fanning me gently, I fell asleep. _Vidyāpati exclaims: Delight beyond compare!_

LXXXIX.

_Rādhā:_ What can I say, my dear? 'Tis measureless! Whether this was a dream, or real, I cannot tell, Or very near, or far away.

Beneath the winding lightning, darkness came to birth, Within, a river of heavenly nectar: The wavering darkness swallowed the sun and moon. On every hand the stars were falling!

The heavens fell, the hills were overthrown, The earth quaked hard, Stormily rose the sighing winds, The swarms of bees buzzed:

Like an ocean of chaos the waters overflowed,-- Yet this was not an æon's ending! _How can I trow this contrary tale?_ _Vidyāpati makes enquiry._

XC.

_Sakhī:_ Her wandering hair was mingled with the circle of her face-- A wreath of clouds across the moon: Jewelled earrings swung from her ears, Her tilka ran with sweat.

(Beauty, of fortune-yielding face: If you should still wage Rati's war, How may Hari-Hara save?)

Bracelets musical, and bangles noisy, Anklets clinking: Drunk with the wine of love, Love yielded,-- Victory, Victory! by beat of drum!

For when from the loins arose a muffled sound, The warrior was crushed: _Vidyāpati's Master wins such bliss,--_ _Yamunā and Gangā mingling._

XCI.

_Kavi:_ Shyāma is drunk with Madan's drowsy wine, With smiles he takes the moon-face on his lap-- Wanton glances, gentle laughter, Leaning of limbs, amorous murmuring.

Amorous she, and passionate Kān, Heart upon heart, face on face, Both are drunken, both are archers: _Such song of love shapes Vidyāpati._

XCII.

_Rādhā:_ If you would have my love, O Mādhava Make Madan witness to this document:

'You will abandon dalliance 'neath the kadamb, You will have no more regard to parents. Even in dreams you will see only me, And never drink but to my eyes, Night and day will sing my praise, And take no other maiden on your lap.'

When I shall have such covenant in hand, Then I will speak of love with you!

_Hearken, brave Kān, to Vidyāpatis advice,--_ _Preserve your dignity even at cost of life!_

XCIII.

_Rādhā:_ Like to the tool that trims the jewels of her toes, Gokula's darling grovelled on the ground: Unceasing tears were flowing down his face, How many ways my love besought me!

O evil day! for I was proud,-- And now my brazen heart declines to die! Who would have thought black wrath could be so dangerous, Or that a jewel could be changed to clay?

I have been luckless in my woman's lot: My refuge is in death, I was too proud! _Hearken, lady Rāi, says Vidyāpati:_ _I shall explain the reason of your weeping._

ĀKSHEPA ANUYOGA O VIRAHA

XCIV.

_Sakhī:_ The mournful beauty, gazing on Kānu's face, Was sobbing loud with brimming eyes: The peerless moon-face, when he said 'Farewell,' Fell fey upon the ground, with cries of 'Hari, Hari!'

How distractedly did Hari comfort her,-- 'Now I shall not go to Mathura': When this sweet sound reached her ears, The lovesick nymph revived.

And taking Kānu's hands in hers. She lifted them to touch her head: 'Say unmistakeably, good Kān, my lord, 'I will not go to Mathura.''

And when the damsel had this comfort, She raised herself again, and sighed no more. _Murāri went his way, when Rāi was soothed--_ _Vidyāpati refrains from words!_

XCV.

_Dūtika:_ Mādhava, O moon-face, Never can you have known the sting of separation! Hearing you are departed to another land, she wastes away: O wretched Rāi, bereft of wit by force of love!

Refusing even buds of flowers, she lies exhausted on the ground, The calling of the koil fills her with fear, Her tears have washed the beauty-spots away, Her wasted arms let slip their ornaments.

With hanging head Rādhā regards her throat, Now are her fingers raw with writing on the ground: _Says Vidyāpati: Recollecting all his ways,_ _And taking count of them, she fainted._

XCVI.

_Rādhā:_ A sorry end to all my love, my dear, To let my life depend upon a wanton,-- Nowhere to look for help!

I could not see the hidden well, But as I ran, I fell therein: At first I nowise knew the heavy from the light,-- Now would I might return!

His honey-speech I understood for love, At first I knew no better: I yielded all my skill into another's hands, Pride had fled afar my heart.

Till now I led another way of life, But now I know what drowning is: I with my own hands sharped the stake, Whom can I blame now?

_Hearken, fair young thing says Vidyāpati:_ _No other thought be in your heart!_ _Oft is life lost for sake of love,_ _Who does not know this in the world?_

XCVII.

Rādhā: Why would you burn my body, O thou Bodiless? I am not Shankara, but a gentle girl,

This is my flowing hair, not matted locks, Not Gangā, but a jasmine garland on my head.

This is a pearl tiara, not the moon, No eye upon my forehead, but a scarlet beauty-spot:

Not poison, but a trace of musk upon my throat, A necklace on my breast, and not the lord of serpents.

Blue silk my robe, and not a tiger's skin, This is a lotus of delight, and not a skull!

_All this is loveliness, says Vidyāpati:_ _Not ashes on her limbs, but dust of Malaya._

XCVIII.

_Dūtika:_ Often, in meditation on the name of Mādhava, She changes into Mādhava himself: Forgetful of her own desires and of her own identity, She is enamoured of her own charms.

O Mādhava, your love is peerless! The fire of sundering from herself devours her body in its flames, I doubt if she may live.

Her friends are filled with grief, so sadly she regards them, The tears are pouring from their eyes: The cry of 'Rādhā, Rādhā,' echoing repeatedly, She murmurs broken words.

When she is with Rādhā, she thinks that she is Mādhava, And when with Mādhav, Rādhā: And even so, this bitter love may not be broken asunder. The pang of separation hurts her more and more.

Just as a tree both sides aflame quite utterly consumes Some wretched insect's life: _In such a plight, Vallabha, I saw the nectar-face,_ _Says Vidyāpati._

XCIX.

_Rādhā:_ Where wanton Murāri is wont to sit, There write my name or twice or thrice: Lay by his side the jewels from my body, This is my life's last prayer!

And all the number of my friends, write ye my name,-- Kind was my darling, only fate was cruel. I die indeed, for Kānu's sake: Seek some occasion to ask news of him.

Once on a day let my beloved write my name, And pour the lustring water with his rosy hands! _Hearken fair damsel, says Vidyāpati:_ _Be patient of heart, you shall meet your Murāri!_

C.

_Rādhā:_ Hari has gone to Mathurā town. And Gokula is void to-day, My ribs are all shrunken with weeping, The cows are roaming on the road to Mathurā.

Herdsmen and maidens no more wandering Beside the Jamunā's banks,-- I shall cast my life away in the waves, And I will be born again as Kānu!

Then shall Kānu be Rādhā, To suffer the pangs of love. _Vidyāpati gives this advice:_ _No need for weeping now!_

CI.

_Rādhā:_ Now Mādhav has gone to Mathurā town, (Who can have stolen the jewel of Gokula?) Gokul resounds with the noise of weeping. See how the waves are swollen with tears!

Empty the temple, empty the lover, Empty each airt, empty all! How can I go to Jamunā's banks? How can I look on the booths and the groves?

How can I look on the place and live, Where he smothered my friends with flowers? _Vidyāpati says: Be well advised,_ _Maybe he is hiding there in jest!_

CII.

_Sakhī:_ Watching with streaming eyes the way her darling went, Half a second seems an aeon,-- 'Fate is most bitter, sundering thus Murāri far from me!

'What shall I do, my dear? What karma's fruit is this, my dear one gone abroad? Perpetually pierce me the pangs of Madan.

'O that a woman's sighs, may fall beside my dear! (By whom is my beloved sitting?) Were I but a bird, I would fly to his side, And describe to him all my distress!

'Bring me my darling, and save my life,-- Will no one take pity?' _Vidyāpati says: Soon ye shall meet,_ _Possess your heart in patience._

CIII.

_Rādhā:_ I am a girl on fire, in the temple bird-alone, No friend is here with me: The rain comes on, my love is gone abroad, And cruel Love is hostile.

This is my day of dissolution, Fresh clouds are driving in every quarter, My life is flying from the sight.

Again the thunder roars, my life is shaken as I listen, My heart is pounding: The cruel peewit, calling 'Piu, piu,' Reminds me of his lap.

And since it rains incessantly, I know my life will end, As though in flames of fire. _Vidyāpati says: Hearken, fair lady,_ _The worthy lover shall be yours._

CIV.

_Rādhā:_ Even the moon's cool rays are scorching-hot, The Spring is comen in: Even from a crow's mouth not a word of Kānta! What makes this cruel Madan?

I know, my dear, my evil day is come: At what a time has Fate opposed me, Denying me to see him more!

So many days, I kept my body carefully And now I know my end is near: My last faint hope is but a legend now,-- How long my wicked heart endures!

_Evil is Madan's mood, says Vidyāpati:_ _To whom may you confide your care?_ _Fiercer than flames of a sea of fire_ _This bitter severance from your darling!_

CV.