Part 5

(What follows is to the Music MÂLAVAGAUDA and the Mode EKATÂLÎ.)

Go to him,--win him hither,--whisper low How he may find me if he searches well; Say, if he will--joys past his hope to know Await him here; go now to him, and tell Where Radha is, and that henceforth she charms His spirit to her arms.

Yes, go! say, if he will, that he may come-- May come, my love, my longing, my desire; May come forgiven, shriven, to me his home, And make his happy peace; nay, and aspire To uplift Radha's veil, and learn at length What love is in its strength.

Lead him; say softly I shall chide his blindness, And vex him with my angers; yet add this, He shall not vainly sue for loving-kindness, Nor miss to see me close, nor lose the bliss That lives upon my lip, nor be denied The rose-throne at my side.

Say that I--Radha--in my bower languish All widowed, till he find the way to me; Say that mine eyes are dim, my breast all anguish, Until with gentle murmured shame I see His steps come near, his anxious pleading face Bend for my pardoning grace.

While I--what, did he deem light loves so tender, To tarry for them when the vow was made To yield him up my bosom's maiden splendour, And fold him in my fragrance, and unbraid My shining hair for him, and clasp him close To the gold heart of his Rose?

And sing him strains which only spirits know, And make him captive with the silk-soft chain Of twinned-wings brooding round him, and bestow Kisses of Paradise, as pure as rain; My gems, my moonlight-pearls, my girdle-gold, Cymbaling music bold?

While gained for ever, I shall dare to grow Life to life with him, in the realms divine; And--Love's large cup at happy overflow, Yet ever to be filled--his eyes and mine Will meet in that glad look, when Time's great gate Closes and shuts out Fate.

Listen to the unsaid things Of the song that Radha sings, For the soul draws near to bliss, As it comprehendeth this. I am Jayadev, who write All this subtle-rich delight For your teaching. Ponder, then, What it tells to Gods and men. Err not, watching Krishna gay, With those brown girls all at play; Understand how Radha charms Her wandering lover to her arms, Waiting with divinest love Till his dream ends in the grove.

For even now (she sang) I see him pause, Heart-stricken with the waste of heart he makes Amid them;--all the bows of their bent brows Wound him no more: no more for all their sakes Plays he one note upon his amorous lute, But lets the strings lie mute.

Pensive, as if his parted lips should say--

"My feet with the dances are weary, The music has dropped from the song, There is no more delight in the lute-strings, Sweet Shadows! what thing has gone wrong? The wings of the wind have left fanning The palms of the glade; They are dead, and the blossoms seem dying In the place where we played.

"We will play no more, beautiful Shadows! A fancy came solemn and sad, More sweet, with unspeakable longings, Than the best of the pleasures we had: I am not now the Krishna who kissed you; That exquisite dream,-- The Vision I saw in my dancing-- Has spoiled what you seem.

"Ah! delicate phantoms that cheated With eyes that looked lasting and true, I awake,--I have seen her,--my angel-- Farewell to the wood and to you! Oh, whisper of wonderful pity! Oh, fair face that shone! Though thou be a vision, Divinest! This vision is done."

(Here ends that Sarga of the Gîta Govinda entitled KLESHAKESHAVO.)

SARGA THE THIRD.

MUGDHAMADHUSUDANO.

KRISHNA TROUBLED.

Thereat,--as one who welcomes to her throne A new-made Queen, and brings before it bound Her enemies,--so Krishna in his heart Throned Radha; and--all treasonous follies chained-- He played no more with those first play-fellows: But, searching through the shadows of the grove For loveliest Radha,--when he found her not, Faint with the quest, despairing, lonely, lorn, And pierced with shame for wasted love and days, He sate by Jumna, where the canes are thick, And sang to the wood-echoes words like these:

(What follows is to the Music GURJJARÎ and to the Mode YATI)

Radha, Enchantress! Radha, queen of all! Gone--lost, because she found me sinning here; And I so stricken with my foolish fall, I could not stay her out of shame and fear; She will not hear; In her disdain and grief vainly I call.

And if she heard, what would she do? what say? How could I make it good that I forgot? What profit was it to me, night and day, To live, love, dance, and dream, having her not? Soul without spot! I wronged thy patience, till it sighed away.

Sadly I know the truth. Ah! even now Remembering that one look beside the river, Softer the vexed eyes seem, and the proud brow Than lotus-leaves when the bees make them quiver. My love for ever! Too late is Krishna wise--too far art thou!

Yet all day long in my deep heart I woo thee, And all night long with thee my dreams are sweet; Why, then, so vainly must my steps pursue thee? Why can I never reach thee, to entreat, Low at thy feet, Dear vanished Splendour! till my tears subdue thee?

Surpassing One! I knew thou didst not brook Half-hearted worship, and a love that wavers; Haho! there is the wisdom I mistook, Therefore I seek with desperate endeavours; That fault dissevers Me from my heaven, astray--condemned--forsook!

And yet I seem to feel, to know, thee near me; Thy steps make music, measured music, near: Radha! my Radha! will not sorrow clear me? Shine once! speak one word pitiful and dear! Wilt thou not hear? Canst thou--because I did forget--forsake me?

Forgive! the sin is sinned, is past, is over; No thought I think shall do thee wrong again; Turn thy dark eyes again upon thy lover Bright Spirit! or I perish of this pain. Loving again! In dread of doom to love, but not recover.

So did Krishna sing and sigh By the river-bank; and I, Jayadev of Kinduvilva, Resting--as the moon of silver Sits upon the solemn ocean-- On full faith, in deep devotion; Tell it that ye may perceive How the heart must fret and grieve; How the soul doth tire of earth, When the love from Heav'n hath birth.