Classic Poem

Beautiful Radha, jasmine-bosomed Radha,
All in the springtime waited by the wood
For Krishna fair, Krishna the all-forgetful —
Krishna with earthly love's false fire consuming —
And some one of her maidens sang this song:

" I know where Krishna tarries in these early days of spring,
When every wind from warm Malay brings fragrance on its wing;
Brings fragrance stolen far away from thickets of the clove,
In jungles where the bees hum and the Koil flutes her love;
He dances with the dancers, of a merry morris one,
All in the budding springtime, for 'tis sad to be alone.

I know how Krishna passes these hours of blue and gold,
When parted lovers sigh to meet and greet and closely hold
Hand fast to hand; and every branch upon the Vakul-tree
Droops downward with a hundred blooms, in every bloom a bee;
He is dancing with the dancers to a laughter-moving tone,
In the soft awakening springtime, when 'tis hard to live alone. "

Then she, the maid of Radha, spake again;
And pointing far away between the leaves
Guided her lovely mistress where to look,
And note how Krishna wantoned in the wood
Now with this one, now that; his heart, her prize,
Panting with foolish passions, and his eyes
Beaming with too much love for those fair girls —
Fair, but not so as Radha; and she sang:

" See, Lady! how thy Krishna passes these idle hours
Decked forth in fold of woven gold, and crowned with forest-flowers;
And scented with the sandal, and gay with gems of price —
Rubies to mate his laughing lips, and diamonds like his eyes —
In the company of damsels, who dance and sing and play,
Lies Krishna, laughing, toying, dreaming his spring away.

One, with star-blossomed champak wreathed, wooes him to rest his head
On the dark pillow of her breast so tenderly outspread;
And o'er his brow with roses blown she fans a fragrance rare,
That falls on the enchanted sense like rain in thirsty air,
While the company of damsels wave many an odourous spray,
And Krishna, laughing, toying, sighs the soft spring away.

Another of that dazzling band of dwellers in the wood —
Body and bosom panting with the pulse of youthful blood —
Leans over him, as in his ear a lightsome thing to speak,
And then with leaf-soft lip imprints a kiss below his cheek;
A kiss that thrills, and Krishna turns at the silken touch
To give it back — ah, Radha! forgetting thee too much. "

Thus lingered Krishna in the deep, green wood,
And gave himself, too prodigal, to those;
But Radha, heart-sick at his falling off,
Seeing her heavenly beauty slighted so,
Withdrew; and, in a bower of Paradise —
Where nectarous blossoms wove a shrine of shade,
Haunted by birds and bees of unknown skies —
She sate deep-sorrowful, and sang this strain:

" Ah, my Beloved! taken with those glances,
Ah, my Beloved! dancing those rash dances,
Ah, Minstrel! playing wrongful strains so well;
Ah, Krishna! Krishna, with the honeyed lip!
Ah, Wanderer into foolish fellowship!
My Dancer, my Delight! — I love thee still.

O Dancer! strip thy peacock-crown away,
Rise! thou whose forehead is the star of day,
With beauty for its silver halo set;
Come! thou whose greatness gleams beneath its shroud
Like Indra's rainbow shining through the cloud —
Come, for I love thee, my Beloved! yet. "

" 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. "

" Low whispers the wind from Malaya
Overladen with love;
On the hills all the grass is burned yellow;
And the trees in the grove
Droop with tendrils that mock by their clinging
The thoughts of the parted;
And there lies, sore-sighing for thee,
Thy love, altered-hearted.

To him the moon's icy-chill silver
Is a sun at midday;
The fever he burns with is deeper
Than starlight can stay:
Like one who falls stricken by arrows,
With the colour departed
From all but his red wounds, so lies
Thy love, bleeding-hearted.

Mistress, sweet and bright and holy!
Meet him in that place;
Change his cheerless melancholy
Into joy and grace;
If thou hast forgiven, vex not;
If thou lovest, go,
Watching ever by the river,
Krishna listens low:

When a bird's wing stirs the roses,
When a leaf falls dead,
Twenty times he recomposes
The flower-seat he has spread:
Twenty times, with anxious glances
Seeking thee in vain,
Sighing ever by the river,
Krishna droops again.

Loosen from thy foot the bangle,
Lest its golden bell,
With a tiny, tattling jangle,
Any false tale tell:
If thou fearest that the moonlight
Will thy glad face know,
Draw those dark braids lower, Lady!
But to Krishna go.

" 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.

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 bridal-bower
The maidens of her train adorned her fair
With golden marriage-cloths, and sang this song:

" 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. "

So came she where he stood, awaiting her
At the bower's entry, like a god to see,
With marriage-gladness and the grace of heaven.
The great pearl set upon his glorious head
Shone like a moon among the leaves, and shone
Like stars the gems that kept her gold gown close:
But still a little while she paused — abashed
At her delight, of her deep joy afraid —
And they that tended her sang once more this:

" Enter, thrice-happy! enter, thrice-desired!
And let the gates of Hari shut thee in
With the soul destined to thee from of old.

Tremble not! lay thy lovely shame aside;
Lay it aside with thine unfastened zone,
And love him with the love that knows not fear,
Because it fears not change; enter thou in,
Flower of all sweet and stainless womanhood!
Forever to grow bright, forever new.

Enter the house of Love, O loveliest!
Enter the marriage-bower, most beautiful!
And take and give the joy that Hari grants.
Thy heart has entered, let thy feet go too!
Lo, Krishna! lo, the one that thirsts for thee!
Give him the drink of amrit from thy lips. "
Then she, no more delaying, entered straight;
Her step a little faltered, but her face
Shone with unutterable quick love; and — while
The music of her bangles passed the porch —
Shame, which had lingered in her downcast eyes,
Departed shamed ... and like the mighty deep,
Which sees the moon and rises, all his life
Uprose to drink her beams.