THE GITAGOVINDA. Thus again addressed his forgotten mistress: "With a garland of wild flowers, descending even to the yellow mantle that girds his azure limbs, Distinguished by smiling cheeks, and by ear-rings that sparkle as he plays, HERI exults in the assemblage of amorous damsels. One of them presses him with her swelling breast, while she warbles with exquisite melody. Another, affected by a glance from his eye, stands meditating on the lotos of his face. A third, on pretence of whispering a secret in his ear, approaches his temples, and kisses them with ardour. One seizes his mantle, and draws him towards her, pointing to the bower on the banks of Yamuna, where elegant Vanjulas (35) interweave their branches. He applauds another who dances in the sportive circle, whilst her bracelets ring, as she beats time with her palms. Now he caresses one, and kisses another, smiling on a third with complacency; And now he chases her, whose beauty has most allured him. Thus the wanton HERI frolics, in the season of sweets, among the maids of Vraja (36), Who rush to his embraces, as if he were pleasure itself assuming a human form; And one of them, under a pretext of hymning his divine perfections, whispers in his ear, PART II. RADHA remains in the forest: but, resenting the promiscuous passion of HERI, and his neglect of her beauty, which he once thought superior, She retires to a bower of twining plants, the summit of which resounds with the humming of swarms engaged in their sweet labours; And there, fallen languid on the ground, she thus addresses her female companion: Though he take recreation in my absence, and smile on all around him, Yet my soul remembers him, whose beguiling reed modulates an air sweetened by the nectar of his quivering lip, While his ear sparkles with gems, and his eye darts amorous glances; Him, whose looks are decked with the plumes of peacocks resplendent with many-coloured moons; And whose mantle gleams like a dark blue cloud illumined with rainbows; Him, whose graceful smile gives new lustre to his lips, brilliant and soft as a dewy leaf, sweet and ruddy as the blossom of Bandhujiva (37), While they tremble with eagerness to kiss the daughters of the herdsmen ; Him, who disperses the gloom with beams from the jewels which decorate his bosom, his wrists, and his ancles; On whose forehead shines a circlet of sandal wood, which makes even the moon contemptible, when it moves through irradiated clouds; Him, whose ear-rings are formed of entire gems in the shape of the fish Macara (38) on the banners of love. Even the yellow robed god, whose attendants are the chiefs of deities, of holy men, and of demons; Him who reclines under a gay Cadumba (39) tree, who formerly delighted me while he gracefully waved in the dance, And all his soul sparkled in his eye. My weak mind thus enumerates his qualities; and, though offended, strives to banish offence. What else can do it? It cannot part with its affection for CRISHNA, whose love is excited by other damsels, and who sports in the absence of RADHA. Bring, O my sweet friend, that vanquisher of the demon Cesi (40) to sport with me, who am repairing to a secret bower, Who look timidly on all sides, who meditate with amorous fancy on his divine transfiguration. Bring him, whose discourse was once composed of the gentlest words, to converse with me, who am bashful on his first approach, And express my thoughts with a smile sweet as honey. Bring him, who formerly slept on my bosom, to recline with me on a green bed of leaves just gathered, while his lips shed dew, and my arms enfold him. Bring him, who has attained the perfection of skill in love's art, whose hand used to press these firm and delicate spheres, to play with me, Whose voice rivals that of the Cocila, and whose tresses are bound with waving blossoms. Bring him, who formerly drew me by the locks to his embrace, to repose with me whose feet tinkle, as they move, with rings of gold and of gems, Whose loosened zone sounds, as it falls; and whose limbs are slender and flexible as the creeping plant. That god, whose cheeks are beautified by the nectar of his smiles, Whose pipe drops in his ecstasy from his hand, I saw in the grove encircled by the damsels of Vraja, who gazed on him askance from the corners of their eyes. I saw him in the grove with happier damsels, yet the sight of him delighted me. Soft is the gale which breathes over yon clear pool, and expands the clustering blossoms of the voluble Asoca (41); Soft, yet grievous to me in the absence of the foe of MADHU. Delightful are the flowers of Amra trees on the mountain top, while the murmuring bees pursue their voluptuous toil; Delightful, yet afflicting to me, O friend, in the absence of the youthful Cesara." THE GITAGOVINDA. PART III. Mean time, the destroyer of CANSA (42), having brought to his remembrance the amiable RADHA, forsook the beautiful damsels of Vraja. He sought her in all parts of the forest; his whole wound from love's arrow bled again; He repented of his levity; and seated in a bower near the bank of Yamuna, the blue daughter of the sun, Thus poured forth his lamentation: "She is departed; she saw me, no doubt, surrounded by the wanton shepherdesses; Yet, conscious of my fault, I durst not intercept her flight. Woe is me! she feels a sense of injured honour, and is departed in wrath. How will she conduct herself? How will she express her pain in so long a separation? What is wealth to me? What are numerous attendants? What are the pleasures of the world? What joy can I receive from a heavenly abode ? I seem to behold her face with eyebrows contracting themselves through a just resentment; It resembles a fresh lotos, over which two black bees are fluttering. I seem, so present is she to my imagination, even now to caress her with eagerness. Why then do I seek her in this forest? why do I lament her without cause? O slender damsel, I know that anger has torn thy soft bosom ; But whither thou art retired, that I know not. How can I invite thee to return? Thou art seen by me, indeed, in a vision; thou seemest to move before me. Ah! why dost thou not rush, as before, to my embrace? Do but forgive me: never again will I commit a similar offence. Grant me but a sight of thee, O lovely Radhica; for my passion torments me. I am not the terrible Mahesa (43): a garland of water lilies with subtle filaments decks my shoulders; not serpents, with twisted folds. The blue petals of the lotos glitter on my neck; not the azure gleam of poison. Powdered sandal wood is sprinkled on my limbs; not pale ashes. O god of love, mistake me not for Mahadeva (44). Wound me not again; approach me not in anger; I love already but too passionately; yet I have lost my beloved. Hold not in thy hand that shaft barbed with an Amra flower. Brace not thy bow, O conqueror of the world. Is it valour to slay one who faints? My heart is already pierced by arrows from Radha's eyes, black and keen as those of an antelope; Yet my eyes are not gratified with her presence. Her eyes are full of shafts; her eyebrows are bows; and the tips of her ears are silken strings. Thus armed by Ananga (45), the god of desire, she marches, herself a goddess, to insure his triumph over the vanquished universe. I meditate on her delightful embrace, on the ravishing glances darted from her eye, On the fragrant lotos of her mouth, on her nectar-dropping speech, On her lips, ruddy as the berries of the Bimba (46) plant; Yet even my fixed meditation on such an assemblage of charms increases instead of alleviating the misery of separation." PART IV. The damsel, commissioned by RADHA, found the disconsolate god under an arbour of spreading Vaniras by the side of Yamuna; where, presenting herself gracefully before him, she thus described the affliction of his beloved: "She despises essence of sandal wood, and even by moonlight sits brooding over her gloomy sorrow; She declares the gale of Malaya to be venom; and the sandal trees, through which it has breathed, to have been the haunt of serpents. Thus, O MADHAVA, is she afflicted in thy absence with the pain which love's dart has occasioned: her soul is fixed on thee. Fresh arrows of desire are continually assailing her, and she forms a net of lotos leaves as armour for her heart, which thou alone shouldst fortify. She makes her own bed of the arrows darted by the flowery shafted god: but when she hoped for thy embrace, she had formed for thee a couch of soft blossoms. Her face is like a water lily, veiled in the dew of tears; and her eyes appear like moons eclipsed, which let fall their gathered nectar through pain caused by the tooth of the furious dragon. She draws thy image with musk in the character of the deity with five shafts, having subdued the Macar, or horned shark, and holding an arrow tipped with an Amra flower; thus she draws thy picture, and worships it. At the close of every sentence, O MADHAVA, she exclaims, At thy feet am I fallen, and in thy absence even the moon, though it be a vase full of nectar, inflames my limbs. Then by the power of imagination she figures thee standing before her; thee, who art not easily attained; She sighs, she smiles, she mourns, she weeps, she moves from side to side, she laments and rejoices by turns. Her abode is a forest; the circle of her female companions is a net; Her sighs are flames of fire kindled in a thicket; herself (alas! through thy absence) is become a timid roe; and love is the tiger who springs on her like YAMA, the genius of death. THE GITAGOVINDA.. So emaciated is her beautiful body, that even the light garland which waves over her bosom she thinks a load. Such, O bright-haired god, is RADHA when thou art absent. If powder of sandal wood finely levigated be moistened and applied to her bosom, she starts, and mistakes it for poison. Her sighs form a breeze long extended, and burn her like the flame which reduced CANDARPA (47) to ashes. She throws around her eyes, like blue water lilies with broken stalks, dropping lucid streams. Even her bed of tender leaves appears in her sight like a kindled fire. The palm of her hand supports her aching temple, motionless as the crescent rising at eve. HERI, HERI, thus in silence she meditates on thy name, as if her wish were gratified, and she were dying through thy absence. She rends her locks; she pants; she laments inarticulately; She trembles; she pines; she muses; she moves from place to place; she closes her eyes; She falls; she rises again; she faints: in such a fever of love she may live, O celestial physician, if thou administer the remedy; But shouldst thou be unkind, her malady will be desperate. Thus, O divine healer, by the nectar of thy love must RADHA be restored to health; and if thou refuse it, thy heart must be harder than the thunder stone. Long has her soul pined, and long has she been heated with sandal wood, moonlight, and water lilies, with which others are cooled ; Yet she patiently and in secret meditates on thee, who alone canst relieve her. Shouldst thou be inconstant, how can she, wasted as she is to a shadow, support life a single moment? How can she, who lately could not endure thy absence even an instant, forbear sighing now, when she looks with half-closed eyes on the Rasala with blooming branches, which remind her of the vernal season, when she first beheld thee with rapture?" "Here have I chosen my abode: go quickly to RADHA; Soothe her with my message, and conduct her hither." So spoke the foe of MADHU (48) to the anxious damsel, who hastened back, and thus addressed her companion: "Whilst a sweet breeze from the hills of Malaya comes wafting on his plumes the young god of desire, While many a flower points his extended petals to pierce the bosoms of separated lovers, The deity crowned with sylvan blossoms laments, O friend, in thy absence. Even the dewy rays of the moon burn him; and as the shaft of love is descending, he mourns inarticulately with increasing distraction. When the bees murmur softly, he covers his ears; Misery sits fixed in his heart, and every returning night adds anguish to anguish. He quits his radiant palace for the wild forest, where he sinks on a bed of cold clay, and frequently mutters thy name. In yon bower, to which the pilgrims of love are used to repair, he meditates on thy form, repeating in silence some enchanting word which once dropped from thy lips, and thirsting for the nectar which they alone can supply. Delay not, O loveliest of women; follow the lord of thy heart: behold, he seeks the appointed shade, bright with the ornaments of love, and confident of the promised bliss. Having bound his locks with forest flowers, he hastens to yon arbour, where a soft gale breathes over the banks of Yamuna : There, again pronouncing thy name, he modulates his divine reed. Oh! with what rapture doth he gaze on the golden dust, which the breeze shakes from expanded blossoms: The breeze which has kissed thy cheek! With a mind languid as a drooping wing, feeble as a trembling leaf, he doubtfully expects thy approach, and timidly looks on the path which thou must tread. Leave behind thee, O friend, the ring which tinkles on the delicate ancle, when thou sportest in the dance; Hastily cast over thee thy azure mantle, and run to the gloomy bower. The reward of thy speed, O thou who sparklest like lightning, will be to shine on the blue bosom of MURARI (49), Which resembles a vernal cloud, decked with a string of pearls like a flock of white water-birds fluttering in the air. Disappoint not, O thou lotos-eyed, the vanquisher of MADHU; accomplish his desire. But go quickly: it is night; and the night also will quickly depart. Again and again he sighs; he looks around; he re-enters the arbour; he can scarce articulate thy sweet name; He again smooths his flowery couch; he looks wild; he becomes frantic; thy beloved will perish through desire. The bright-beamed god sinks in the west, and thy pain of separation may also be removed; The blackness of the night is increased, and the passionate imagination of GOVINDA (50) has acquired additional gloom. My address to thee has equalled in length and in sweetness the song of the Cocila; delay will make thee miserable, O my beautiful friend. Seize the moment of delight in the place of assignation with the son of DEVACI (51), who descended from heaven to remove the burdens of the universe. He is a blue gem on the forehead of the three worlds, and longs to sip honey like the bee from the fragrant lotos of thy cheek." But the solicitous maid, perceiving that RADHA was unable, through debility, to move from her arbour of flowery creepers, returned to GOVINDA, who was himself disordered with love, and thus described her situation: "She mourns, O sovereign of the world, in her verdant bower; THE GITAGOVINDA. She looks eagerly on all sides in hope of thy approach; then, gaining strength from the delightful idea of the proposed meeting, she advances a few steps, and falls languid on the ground. When she rises, she weaves bracelets of fresh leaves; she dresses herself like her beloved, and looking at herself in sport, exclaims, "Behold the vanquisher of MADHU !" Then she repeats again and again the name of HERI, and catching at a dark blue cloud, strives to embrace it, saying, "It is my beloved who approaches." Thus, while thou art dilatory, she lies expecting thee: she mourns; she weeps; she puts on her gayest ornaments to receive her lord; She compresses her deep sighs within her bosom; and then, meditating on thee, O cruel, she is drowned in a sea of rapturous imaginations. If a leaf but quiver, she supposes thee arrived; she spreads her couch; she forms in her mind a hundred modes of delight; Yet, if thou go not to her bower, she must die this night through excessive anguish. PART V. By this time the moon spread a net of beams over the groves of Vrindavan, And looked like a drop of liquid sandal on the face of the sky, which smiled like a beautiful damsel; While its orb with many spots betrayed, as it were, a consciousness of guilt, in having often attended amorous maids to the loss of their family honour. The moon, with a black fawn couched on its disk, advanced in its nightly course. But MADHAVA had not advanced to the bower of RADHA, who thus bewailed his delay with notes of varied lamentations: "The appointed moment is come; but HERI, alas! comes not to the grove. Must the season of my unblemished youth pass thus idly away? Oh! what refuge can I seek, deluded as I am by the guile of my female adviser? The god with five arrows has wounded my heart; and I am deserted by him, for whose sake I have sought at night the darkest recess of the forest. Since my best beloved friends have deceived me, it is my wish to die; Since my senses are disordered, and my bosom is on fire,-why stay I longer in this world? The coolness of this vernal night gives me pain, instead of refreshment. Some happier damsel enjoys my beloved; whilst I, alas! am looking at the gems of my bracelets, which are blackened by the flames of my passion. My neck, more delicate than the tenderest blossom, is hurt by the garland that encircles it; Flowers are, indeed, the arrows of love, and he plays with them cruelly. I make this wood my dwelling: I regard not the roughness of the Vetas trees; But the destroyer of MADHU holds me not in his remembrance! Why comes he not to the bower of the blooming Vanjulas, assigned for meeting? F Or have his companions detained him with mirthful recreations? Else why roams he not through the cool shades? Perhaps, through weakness, the heartsick lover is unable to advance even a step!" So saying, she raised her eyes; and, seeing her damsel return silent and mournful, unaccompanied by MAD-, HAVA, she was alarmed even to frenzy; And, as if she actually beheld him in the arms of a rival, she thus described the vision which overpowered her intellect: "Yes, in habiliments becoming the war of love, and with tresses waving like flowery banners, A damsel, more alluring than RADHA, enjoys the conqueror of MADHU. Her form is transfigured by the touch of her divine lover; her garland quivers over her swelling bosom ; Her face like the moon is graced with clouds of dark hair, and trembles while she quaffs the nectareous dew of his lip; Her bright ear-rings dance over her cheeks, which they irradiate; and the small bells on her girdle tinkle as she moves. Bashful at first, she smiles at length on her embracer, and expresses her joy with inarticulate murmurs; While she floats on the waves of desire, and closes her eyes dazzled with the blaze of approaching Cama: And now this heroine in love's warfare falls, exhausted and vanquished by the resistless MURARI. But alas! in my bosom prevails the flame of jealousy, and yon moon, which dispels the sorrow of others, increases mine. See again, where the foe of MURA sports in yon grove on the bank of the Yamuna. See how he kisses the lip of my rival, and imprints on her forehead an ornament of pure musk, black as the young antelope on the lunar orb! Now, like the husband of RETI (52), he fixes white blossoms on her dark locks, where they gleam like flashes of lightning among the curled clouds. On her breasts, like two firmaments, he places a string of gems like a radiant constellation. He binds on her arms, graceful as the stalks of the water-lily, and adorned with hands glowing like the petals of its flower, a bracelet of sapphires, which resembles a cluster of bees. Ah! see how he ties round her waist a rich girdle illumined with golden bells, Which seem to laugh, as they tinkle, at the inferior brightness of the leafy garlands, which lovers hang on their bowers to propitiate the god of desire. He places her soft foot, as he reclines by her side, on his ardent bosom, and stains it with the ruddy hue of Yavaca. THE GITAGOVINDA. Say, my friend, why pass I my nights in this tangled forest without joy, and without hope, While the faithless brother of HALADHERA clasps my rival in his arms? Yet why, my companion, shouldst thou mourn, though my perfidious youth has disappointed me? Mark, how my soul, attracted by his irresistible charms, bursts from its mortal frame, and rushes to mix with its beloved. She, whom the god enjoys, crowned with sylvan flowers, Sits carelessly on a bed of leaves with him, whose wanton eyes resemble blue water lilies agitated by the breeze. She feels no flame from the gales of Malaya with him, whose words are sweeter than the water of life. She derides the shafts of soul-born CAMA with him, whose lips are like a red lotos in full bloom. She is cooled by the moon's dewy beams, while she reclines with him, whose hands and feet glow like vernal flowers. No female companion deludes her, while she sports with him, whose vesture blazes like tried gold. She faints not through excess of passion, while she caresses that youth who surpasses in beauty the inhabitants of all worlds. O gale, scented with sandal, who breathest love from the regions of the south, be propitious but for a moment: When thou hast brought my beloved before my eyes, thou mayest freely waft away my And, while the perfidy of my beloved rends my heart, my female friend is my foe; I ask not mercy from thee: no more will I dwell in the cottage of my father. soul. Receive me in thy azure waves, O sister of YAMA (53), that the ardour of my heart may be allayed." PART VI. Pierced by the arrows of love, she passed the night in the agonies of despair, and at early dawn thus rebuked her lover, whom she saw lying prostrate before her, and imploring her forgiveness: "Alas! alas! go, MADHAVA, depart, O CESAVA (54), speak not the language of guile; Follow her, O lotos-eyed god, follow her, who dispels thy care. Look at his eye half-opened, red with continual waking through the pleasurable night, yet smiling still with affection for my rival! Thy teeth, O cerulean youth, are azure as thy complexion from the kisses which thou hast imprinted on the beautiful eyes of thy darling, graced with dark blue powder; And thy limbs marked with punctures in love's warfare exhibit a letter of conquest written on polished sapphires with liquid gold. That broad bosom, stained by the bright lotos of her foot, displays a vesture of ruddy leaves over the tree of thy heart, which trembles within it. The pressure of her lip on thine, wounds me to the soul. Ah! how canst thou assert that we are one, since our sensations differ thus widely? Thy soul, O dark-limbed god, shows its blackness externally. How couldst thou deceive a girl who relied on thee; a girl who burned in the fever of love? Thou rovest in the woods, and females are thy prey-what wonder? Even thy childish heart was malignant; and thou gavest death to the nurse, who would have given thee milk. Since thy tenderness for me, of which these forests used to talk, has now vanished; And since thy breast, reddened by the feet of my rival, glows as if thy ardent passion for her were bursting from it, The sight of thee, O deceiver, makes me (ah! must I say it?) blush at my own affection." Having thus inveighed against her beloved, she sat overwhelmed in grief, and silently meditated on his charms; when her damsel softly addressed her. He is gone: the light air has wafted him away. What pleasure now, my beloved, remains in thy mansion? Continue not, resentful woman, thy indignation against the beautiful MADHAVA. Why shouldst thou render vain those round smooth vases, ample and ripe as the sweet fruit of yon Tala tree? How often and how recently have I said, Forsake not the blooming HERI? Why sittest thou so mournful? Why weepest thou with distraction, when the damsels are laughing around thee? Thou hast formed a couch of soft lotos leaves: let thy darling charm thy sight, while he reposes on it. Afflict not thy soul with extreme anguish but attend to my words, which conceal no guile. Suffer CESAVA to approach; let him speak with exquisite sweetness, and dissipate all thy sorrows. If thou art harsh to him, who is amiable; if thou art proudly silent, when he deprecates thy wrath with lowly prostrations; If thou showest aversion to him, who loves thee passionately; if, when he bends before thee, thy face be turned contemptuously away; By the same rule of contrariety the dust of sandal-wood, which thou hast sprinkled, may become poison; The moon, with cool beams, a scorching sun; the fresh dew, a consuming flame; and the sports of love be changed into agony. MADHAVA was not absent long; he returned to his beloved; whose cheeks were healed by the sultry gale of her sighs. |