Wide to the wondering earth her glories told,
And bade e'en Swerga's gods her worth behold.
These rites indifferent had the Déva seen,

Or own'd unmov'd the merits of the queen :

But cool indifference Love permits no more;

These rites they rouse him now t' admire-adore; 140 Nerbudda deeming fond a blazing star,

Through heaven's high mansions beaming bright and far. But ah her beauties!-through each throbbing vein,

In mix'd disorder, trembling tumults reign.

The sobbing sigh high heaves his mighty breast;
Quick throbs his heart with raging flames distrest.
Great Máya works-His picturing fancy warm
Blends in Nerbudda splendour, grace, and form;
Gives to the garland* crown its braided place,
And spreads the musky patches on her face;

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Bids them 'mong smiles live on each dimpling cheek,

While o'er her forehead reigns the golden teic;

Hangs on each ear, to dance in gay delight,

The Condal gemm'd with Indra's flashing light;

"Yadava decked her braided hair and neck with fresh

garlands." Gitagovinda.

Sheds the black dust* that brightens on her eyes,
And o'er her temples leads the radiant dyes;
Forms her with neck of antelope, fawn-ey'd,

Teeth that the chunda+ blossoms fair deride;
Shapes like rich pomegranates her bosom's swell,
Bids there in sport her sapphire necklace dwell. 160
See graceful wave the lotos' stalk her arms!
Strive not, vain bracelet, to improve their charms.
Fair lotos' flowers, her taper fingers glow,
Ting'd bright by Lacsha, like each slender toe.

*« Madhava embellished her eyes with additional blackness, and dyed her temples with radiant hues." Gitagovinda. These are probably the marks of sects, drawn in different coloured lines upon the forehead and temples. The former refers to the preparation of antimony, with which the Asiatic women tinge the inside of their eye-lids, to improve the brilliancy of their eyes.

"The chunda blossom yields to thy teeth." Gitagov.

"Madhava binds on her arms, graceful as the stalks of the water-lily, adorned with hands glowing like the petals of its flowers, a bracelet of sapphires." Gitagov.

"Another wood-nymph pressed the juice of Lacsha, to dye her feet exquisitely red." Sacontola, Act IV. Scene I.

10

Gay round the gem her form the garlands twine ;
And rings gold-beaming on her ancles shine.

Her waist-bells seem with tinkling mirth to move,
And call the soul to ecstasies of love:

While powder'd sandal-wood* and musk bespread

O'er her soft limbs their grateful fragrance shed. 170
The fair idea thus his fancy fills:

Such through his soul Nerbudda's image thrills.
Like oil it feeds the soul-consuming fire,

Like heat enflames the fever† of desire.
Thee, hapless Sona, drooping and forlorn,
The wonted garlands now no more adorn.
Sad sorrow hides the moon-beams of thy face,
Thy form neglect and wretchedness disgrace.
In vain thy slaves the sandal-wood prepare,
Thou deem'st it poison in thy wild despair:

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* "Powdered sandal-wood is sprinkled on my limbs." Ibid. +"Radha sought him long in vain: her thoughts were confounded by the fever of desire." Gitagov. "The fever of love." Ibid.

"If powder of sandal-wood, finely levigated, be moistened

The evening cool that wakes the mountain gales,
Seems but to pour infection through the vales.

Thy throbbing breast, it heaves with constant sighs,
And wings a breeze hot hissing as it flies.
O'er every limb extends the fatal flame

That erst consum'd Candarpa's heavenly frame.
His prey as strikes the pard* with darted paw,
While Yáma, death's grim genius, arms his jaw:
Thus, Sona, love with onset quick assails

Thy fainting powers, and o'er thy powers prevails, 190
Rends thy strong strength, and sucks without control,
In savage joy, thy energies of soul.

Ye lovely vales-once Sona's blest abode,

Mourn the lost favour of your guardian god.

No more his well-tun'd pipe with mirthful sound
Pours, at cool eve, or joy or peace around,

and applied to the breasts, she starts and mistakes it for poiHer sighs form a breeze long extended, and burn like the flame which reduced Candarpa to ashes." Gitagovinda.

son.

* "Love is the tiger who springs on her like Váma, the genius of death." Gitagovinda.

But sad betrays, in many a broken strain,
His frantic passion and his stinging pain.
Mourn too, ye sickening plants, once Sona's care,
And learn your patron's keenest pangs to share:
Fresh health to you no more his power supplies,
The blossom droops and fades, and fruitless dies.
And you, O herds, in lowing moans express,
Since Sona guards you not, your sad distress.
Forth from the jungle now, in murderous mood,
The tiger springs, and dyes his step with blood.
Wide roams the wolf; and now with bold essay
E'en howling shakals seize the living prey.
Oft too your steps disturb the fatal snake

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Stretch'd in the grass, or coil'd up in the brake.

While vex'd, your waning tribes, by furious storms,

Murrains assail, or leanness foul deforms.

Nor stays fair hope, with promis'd bliss to cheer

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The woes you suffer, or the woes you fear :

For vainly strive the Déva's slaves to move
Nerbudda's breast with tales of offer'd love;
In vain permission, for their lord they crave,
To meet her face, and call himself her slave.