Uma's Penance and Love
I
For she loved and lost, — sweet Uma
Did herself no longer prize, —
What is woman's winning beauty
If it please not lover's eyes?
She would move by lofty penance
If her graces failed to move, —
Win by worth and not by beauty
Life's fruition, — heart's true love!
Vainly strove the doting mother
To restrain the wayward child,
Held her in her loving bosom,
Spake to her in accents mild:
" Stay at home, for arduous penance
Suits not, child, thy tender make,Light-winged bees may rest on blossoms,
Birds their silken frame would break! "
Still with mother's love she pleaded,
Vainly urged a mother's force,
Woman's will and running river,
Who can turn them from their course?
By her maids did silent Uma
To her sire her purpose own, —
She would be a lonely hermit,
She would dwell in forests lone;
He had read her secret purpose,
He approved her dauntless will, —
Uma in her youth and beauty
Went to Gauri's lonely hill!
II
Pearls, that in a graceful cluster
On her neck and shoulders fell,
She forsook; and barks of wild trees
Scarce enclosed her bosom's swell;
And her rich and raven tresses
Wildly matted now she wore,
So on wild moss blows the lotus
Where no bee purloins its store!
Holy strings of grass of Munja
Did her girdle chain replace,
Dyed her skin with deeper crimson
By its rustic rude embrace.
Brow and bosom, lip and eyelash
Knew no more the toilet's need,
For her soft and reddened fingers
Culled the grass and told the bead.
Flowers that dropped from scented tresses
Strewed no more a royal bed,
On the bare rocks Uma rested
Pillowed on her arms her head!
To the creeper, zephyr-shaken,
Yielded she her movements light,
To the antelope of forest
Lent her glances soft and bright;
To the plants with mother's tendance
Drink of water did she pour,
Like a first born dear to Uma,
Dear as child she later bore;
To the trusting deer of forest
Gave she grain for which they came,
Loved their eyes so soft and tender
Till her maidens blushed with shame!
Baths performed, the fires she lighted,
Hymns she sang of holy love,
Till the sages came to see her,
Holiest hermit in the grove;
Beasts forgot their mutual struggle,
Trees with gifts of blossoms stood,
Bright fires blazed upon the altar,
Holy was her hermit-wood!
III
Sterner rites and penance
Now the maid begun,
For by highest effort
Highest meed is won!
And her frame so tender
Hermit's toil did bear,
Like a golden lotus
Strong, though fresh and fair!
Flaming fires in summer
Round her radiant shone,
As she sat in prayer
Gazing on the sun;
Like a sun-browned lotus,
Crimsoned was her face,
And a darker shadow
Dimmed her eye's soft grace;
Springs that fed the creeper
Drink to Uma brought,
Save the moon's sweet moisture,
Food she never sought!
Rains that after summer
Cooled the parched soil,
Drew a sigh of gladness
From her in her toil;
On her eye and red lip,
On her bosom's swell,
Rolled the fresh born rain drop,
Glistening as it fell;
And the midnight witnessed,
With its lightning eye,
Her in rain and tempest
'Neath the open sky!
After rains the winter
Saw the tireless maid
In the ice-bound water
Where the Chukwas played;
And her lips were parted,
Fragrant was her face,
Like a water lotus
Soft and sweet her grace!
Fruit and shoot spontaneous
Are the hermit's due,
She no wild fruit tasted,
She no young shoot knew;
Thus by long endurance,
Tender though her frame,
She than holiest hermits
Won a holier fame!
IV
Beaming with a righteous radiance,
Came a youth when spring time came,
Wearing skins and matted tresses,
Glassing Heaven in human fame!
Honour to the lofty stranger
And obeisance Uma paid,
Even on her, a forest dweller,
Grace of form its impress made;
She unto the pious pilgrim
Fruit and crystal water brought,
He unto fair Mena's daughter
Courteously disclosed his thought.
" Doth this wood provide, fair maiden,
Grass and fuel for thy rite,
Water for thy day's ablutions,
For thy worship blossoms bright?
Doth the creeper of the woodland,
Nourished by thy tender care,
Ceaseless bloom in leaf and blossom
Like thy pale lips soft and fair?
And the red deer of the forest,
Fed by thee both morn and late,
Do they claim thy sweet affection
As thy glance they imitate?
Grace of form hides inner beauty,
Truly thus our sages say,
For thy deeds to holy hermits
Well may point the righteous way.
Not this sky-descended Ganga,
Wafting flowers from heavenly hands,
Like thy spotless fame and virtue
Sanctifies these sacred lands!
Holy rites than worldly objects,
Sure a higher charm must claim,
Since despising rank and riches
Thou dost long for hermit's fame.
Deem me, fair one, not a stranger,
Since thou holdst me as thy guest,
On brief words in candour spoken
Love and friendship often rest;
Pardon, then, a friend's presumption,
If as friend I dare to speak,
Brahmans are by nature curious,
And for further light I seek.
V
" Thou art born of highest lineage,
Decked with charms few women know, —
Wherefore then this arduous penance,
What more gifts can Heaven bestow?
Women stung with shame and insult
Oft in forest shades reside, —
Can such sorrow touch thee maiden
In thy youth and beauty's pride?
Who could in thy father's mansions,
Princess, cause thy heart to bleed,
Who could from the jewelled serpent
Wrest the jewel in his greed?
Wherefore hidest in these wild barks
Bloom of youth and beauty's might,
Doth the young night, star-resplendent,
Wear the morning's garish light?
Not for joys of heaven thy penance,
For this realm is bright as sky,
And for loved and worthy suitor,
Need a beauteous maiden sigh?
Yet that sigh, that heaving bosom,
Speaks a woman's secret smart,
Who could be thy loved and chosen,
Chosen, who could loveless part?
Can he mark unmoved thy penance,
Forehead which no flowers adorn,
Bloodless brow and matted tresses
Dust-embrowed like ripened corn?
Can he coldly view thy bosom,
Lighted erst by gem and stone,
Shaded now by summer's radiance,
Lightless like the morning moon?
Drunk with fortune's fickle favour,
Darkly lives he in a trance,
Who with eager love and passion
Meets not Uma's loving glance!
Speak thy secret! If thy feelings
To some errant youth incline,
I have somewhat earned by penance,
Half of what I own be thine! "
VI
Uma silent listened,
Spake not in reply,
To her waiting maiden
Turned her bashful eye;
She by Uma's mandate
Mournful tale revealed,
Why she toiled in penance,
Why her love concealed?
" She the gods despising
Fixed on Him her thought,
Who hath conquered passion, —
Beauty moves him not!
Young Love's cruel arrow,
Useless on the God,
Fell on Uma's bosom, —
Drank her dearest blood!
In her father's mansions
Then she found no rest,
In the icy grottos
Ceaseless burnt her breast;
In the midnight silence
She of Siva sung,
Nymphs of wood and mountain
Wept to hear her song!
Pale light of the morning
Saw her in a dream,
Clasping empty shadow,
Calling Siva's name;
Red light of the gloaming
Saw his face pourtrayed,
To the painted image
She her thoughts conveyed!
Till at last despairing,
Left her father's home,
To engage in penance
And in woods to roam.
On the trees she planted
Red ripe fruit hath grown,
But her love's young sapling
Joy nor hope hath known.
Will the cruel Siva
Ever quench her sorrow,
As the rain of summer
Fills the thirsty furrow? "
Uma still was silent,
Still enquired the youth,
If this was a fable,
If this was the truth;
Counting beads of crystal,
Bending down her head,
Bashful, tearful Uma
In a whisper said:
" Thou hast heard all truly
What this heart hath moved,
If I hoped too wildly,
Greatly I have loved! "
VII
" Known to me, " — the hermit answered —
" He, the object of thy love,
And forgive me, gentle maiden,
If thy choice, I scarce approve!
Scarce I fathom, lovely Uma,
How these gentle hands of thine
Shall, with wedding wreath encircled,
Clasp his hands which snakes entwine;
And a young wife's bridal garment,
Traced with birds of plumage fair,
Scarce will match his blood-stained mantle,
Skins and barks he loves to wear!
In thy father's stately mansions
Flowery paths thy feet have trod, —
Wilt thou now on sites unholy
Wander with a homeless God?
Fragrant with the scent of Chandan
Is thy young and virgin breast, —
On his bosom and smeared with ashes
Wilt thou Uma, take thy rest?
Royal tuskers decked with trappings
Well beseem a royal bride, —
Wilt thou learn, my gentle princess,
Siva's graceless bull to ride?
Lightless is the lunar crescent
Which depends from Siva's head, —
Loveless too shall be the consort
Whom the uncouth God shall wed!
Wild his mein, obscure his lineage,
Wealth nor rank his guise betrays,
Grace he owns nor courtly virtue,
By which bridegrooms win our praise!
Turn, O turn from such a suitor,
Nor to him thy beauty yield,
Not on darksome funeral places
Holy men their altars build! "
VIII
Quivering lip and arched eyebrow,
And her bosom's angry swell,
Spake of Uma's rising passion
As on him her glances fell!
" Knowing little, speakest lightly, " —
Proudly thus the maid replied, —
" Lofty souls of unknown splendour
Flippant mortals thus deride!
Refuge of the wide creation,
Ruler of Immortals' fate,
Doth he brook our mortal customs,
Pomp and pageantry and state?
Void of wealth, — but source of riches,
Homeless, — ranging earth and sky,
Wild of mein, — his grace pervadeth,
Who can comprehend the High?
Wearing gems or coiling serpents,
Broidered lace or skin and skull,
Who can guess his real image,
Glassed in worlds, pervading all?
And if ashes smear his bosom,
They can bless and sanctify
Men below and bright Immortals,
Dwellers of the azure sky!
And if sacred bull his emblem,
Indra with obeisance meet
From his crown of heavenly blossoms
Drops the flower-dust on its feet!
Didst thou say, — obscure his lineage
And unknown his race on earth? —
Bright Gods own him as Creator,
First Creator hath no birth!
But thou speakest as thou knowest,
Cease thy wrangling and depart,
Be his virtues great or scanty,
He hath won my faithful heart!
Open not thy lips unholy,
Tell me not that tale of shame,
Not alone the man who slanders,
He who listens shares the blame! "
IX
Turned away the damsel
From the stranger guest, —
Through the bursting wild bark
Heaved her angry breast!
Smiling he embraced her,
All disguise removed, —
Uma gazed in wonder,
'Twas her lost and loved!
Like a trembling lotus
Shook her tender frame,
O'er her brow and bosom
Quick the red blood came!
Still with foot uplifted,
Stayed not, could not go,
Like a rock bound torrent,
Stopped its onward flow!
" Maiden, " so spake Siva,
" Take this hand of mine,
Won by love and penance
Henceforth I am thine! "
With a holier beauty
Heavenly Uma shone,
For by toil and duty
Destiny is won!
For she loved and lost, — sweet Uma
Did herself no longer prize, —
What is woman's winning beauty
If it please not lover's eyes?
She would move by lofty penance
If her graces failed to move, —
Win by worth and not by beauty
Life's fruition, — heart's true love!
Vainly strove the doting mother
To restrain the wayward child,
Held her in her loving bosom,
Spake to her in accents mild:
" Stay at home, for arduous penance
Suits not, child, thy tender make,Light-winged bees may rest on blossoms,
Birds their silken frame would break! "
Still with mother's love she pleaded,
Vainly urged a mother's force,
Woman's will and running river,
Who can turn them from their course?
By her maids did silent Uma
To her sire her purpose own, —
She would be a lonely hermit,
She would dwell in forests lone;
He had read her secret purpose,
He approved her dauntless will, —
Uma in her youth and beauty
Went to Gauri's lonely hill!
II
Pearls, that in a graceful cluster
On her neck and shoulders fell,
She forsook; and barks of wild trees
Scarce enclosed her bosom's swell;
And her rich and raven tresses
Wildly matted now she wore,
So on wild moss blows the lotus
Where no bee purloins its store!
Holy strings of grass of Munja
Did her girdle chain replace,
Dyed her skin with deeper crimson
By its rustic rude embrace.
Brow and bosom, lip and eyelash
Knew no more the toilet's need,
For her soft and reddened fingers
Culled the grass and told the bead.
Flowers that dropped from scented tresses
Strewed no more a royal bed,
On the bare rocks Uma rested
Pillowed on her arms her head!
To the creeper, zephyr-shaken,
Yielded she her movements light,
To the antelope of forest
Lent her glances soft and bright;
To the plants with mother's tendance
Drink of water did she pour,
Like a first born dear to Uma,
Dear as child she later bore;
To the trusting deer of forest
Gave she grain for which they came,
Loved their eyes so soft and tender
Till her maidens blushed with shame!
Baths performed, the fires she lighted,
Hymns she sang of holy love,
Till the sages came to see her,
Holiest hermit in the grove;
Beasts forgot their mutual struggle,
Trees with gifts of blossoms stood,
Bright fires blazed upon the altar,
Holy was her hermit-wood!
III
Sterner rites and penance
Now the maid begun,
For by highest effort
Highest meed is won!
And her frame so tender
Hermit's toil did bear,
Like a golden lotus
Strong, though fresh and fair!
Flaming fires in summer
Round her radiant shone,
As she sat in prayer
Gazing on the sun;
Like a sun-browned lotus,
Crimsoned was her face,
And a darker shadow
Dimmed her eye's soft grace;
Springs that fed the creeper
Drink to Uma brought,
Save the moon's sweet moisture,
Food she never sought!
Rains that after summer
Cooled the parched soil,
Drew a sigh of gladness
From her in her toil;
On her eye and red lip,
On her bosom's swell,
Rolled the fresh born rain drop,
Glistening as it fell;
And the midnight witnessed,
With its lightning eye,
Her in rain and tempest
'Neath the open sky!
After rains the winter
Saw the tireless maid
In the ice-bound water
Where the Chukwas played;
And her lips were parted,
Fragrant was her face,
Like a water lotus
Soft and sweet her grace!
Fruit and shoot spontaneous
Are the hermit's due,
She no wild fruit tasted,
She no young shoot knew;
Thus by long endurance,
Tender though her frame,
She than holiest hermits
Won a holier fame!
IV
Beaming with a righteous radiance,
Came a youth when spring time came,
Wearing skins and matted tresses,
Glassing Heaven in human fame!
Honour to the lofty stranger
And obeisance Uma paid,
Even on her, a forest dweller,
Grace of form its impress made;
She unto the pious pilgrim
Fruit and crystal water brought,
He unto fair Mena's daughter
Courteously disclosed his thought.
" Doth this wood provide, fair maiden,
Grass and fuel for thy rite,
Water for thy day's ablutions,
For thy worship blossoms bright?
Doth the creeper of the woodland,
Nourished by thy tender care,
Ceaseless bloom in leaf and blossom
Like thy pale lips soft and fair?
And the red deer of the forest,
Fed by thee both morn and late,
Do they claim thy sweet affection
As thy glance they imitate?
Grace of form hides inner beauty,
Truly thus our sages say,
For thy deeds to holy hermits
Well may point the righteous way.
Not this sky-descended Ganga,
Wafting flowers from heavenly hands,
Like thy spotless fame and virtue
Sanctifies these sacred lands!
Holy rites than worldly objects,
Sure a higher charm must claim,
Since despising rank and riches
Thou dost long for hermit's fame.
Deem me, fair one, not a stranger,
Since thou holdst me as thy guest,
On brief words in candour spoken
Love and friendship often rest;
Pardon, then, a friend's presumption,
If as friend I dare to speak,
Brahmans are by nature curious,
And for further light I seek.
V
" Thou art born of highest lineage,
Decked with charms few women know, —
Wherefore then this arduous penance,
What more gifts can Heaven bestow?
Women stung with shame and insult
Oft in forest shades reside, —
Can such sorrow touch thee maiden
In thy youth and beauty's pride?
Who could in thy father's mansions,
Princess, cause thy heart to bleed,
Who could from the jewelled serpent
Wrest the jewel in his greed?
Wherefore hidest in these wild barks
Bloom of youth and beauty's might,
Doth the young night, star-resplendent,
Wear the morning's garish light?
Not for joys of heaven thy penance,
For this realm is bright as sky,
And for loved and worthy suitor,
Need a beauteous maiden sigh?
Yet that sigh, that heaving bosom,
Speaks a woman's secret smart,
Who could be thy loved and chosen,
Chosen, who could loveless part?
Can he mark unmoved thy penance,
Forehead which no flowers adorn,
Bloodless brow and matted tresses
Dust-embrowed like ripened corn?
Can he coldly view thy bosom,
Lighted erst by gem and stone,
Shaded now by summer's radiance,
Lightless like the morning moon?
Drunk with fortune's fickle favour,
Darkly lives he in a trance,
Who with eager love and passion
Meets not Uma's loving glance!
Speak thy secret! If thy feelings
To some errant youth incline,
I have somewhat earned by penance,
Half of what I own be thine! "
VI
Uma silent listened,
Spake not in reply,
To her waiting maiden
Turned her bashful eye;
She by Uma's mandate
Mournful tale revealed,
Why she toiled in penance,
Why her love concealed?
" She the gods despising
Fixed on Him her thought,
Who hath conquered passion, —
Beauty moves him not!
Young Love's cruel arrow,
Useless on the God,
Fell on Uma's bosom, —
Drank her dearest blood!
In her father's mansions
Then she found no rest,
In the icy grottos
Ceaseless burnt her breast;
In the midnight silence
She of Siva sung,
Nymphs of wood and mountain
Wept to hear her song!
Pale light of the morning
Saw her in a dream,
Clasping empty shadow,
Calling Siva's name;
Red light of the gloaming
Saw his face pourtrayed,
To the painted image
She her thoughts conveyed!
Till at last despairing,
Left her father's home,
To engage in penance
And in woods to roam.
On the trees she planted
Red ripe fruit hath grown,
But her love's young sapling
Joy nor hope hath known.
Will the cruel Siva
Ever quench her sorrow,
As the rain of summer
Fills the thirsty furrow? "
Uma still was silent,
Still enquired the youth,
If this was a fable,
If this was the truth;
Counting beads of crystal,
Bending down her head,
Bashful, tearful Uma
In a whisper said:
" Thou hast heard all truly
What this heart hath moved,
If I hoped too wildly,
Greatly I have loved! "
VII
" Known to me, " — the hermit answered —
" He, the object of thy love,
And forgive me, gentle maiden,
If thy choice, I scarce approve!
Scarce I fathom, lovely Uma,
How these gentle hands of thine
Shall, with wedding wreath encircled,
Clasp his hands which snakes entwine;
And a young wife's bridal garment,
Traced with birds of plumage fair,
Scarce will match his blood-stained mantle,
Skins and barks he loves to wear!
In thy father's stately mansions
Flowery paths thy feet have trod, —
Wilt thou now on sites unholy
Wander with a homeless God?
Fragrant with the scent of Chandan
Is thy young and virgin breast, —
On his bosom and smeared with ashes
Wilt thou Uma, take thy rest?
Royal tuskers decked with trappings
Well beseem a royal bride, —
Wilt thou learn, my gentle princess,
Siva's graceless bull to ride?
Lightless is the lunar crescent
Which depends from Siva's head, —
Loveless too shall be the consort
Whom the uncouth God shall wed!
Wild his mein, obscure his lineage,
Wealth nor rank his guise betrays,
Grace he owns nor courtly virtue,
By which bridegrooms win our praise!
Turn, O turn from such a suitor,
Nor to him thy beauty yield,
Not on darksome funeral places
Holy men their altars build! "
VIII
Quivering lip and arched eyebrow,
And her bosom's angry swell,
Spake of Uma's rising passion
As on him her glances fell!
" Knowing little, speakest lightly, " —
Proudly thus the maid replied, —
" Lofty souls of unknown splendour
Flippant mortals thus deride!
Refuge of the wide creation,
Ruler of Immortals' fate,
Doth he brook our mortal customs,
Pomp and pageantry and state?
Void of wealth, — but source of riches,
Homeless, — ranging earth and sky,
Wild of mein, — his grace pervadeth,
Who can comprehend the High?
Wearing gems or coiling serpents,
Broidered lace or skin and skull,
Who can guess his real image,
Glassed in worlds, pervading all?
And if ashes smear his bosom,
They can bless and sanctify
Men below and bright Immortals,
Dwellers of the azure sky!
And if sacred bull his emblem,
Indra with obeisance meet
From his crown of heavenly blossoms
Drops the flower-dust on its feet!
Didst thou say, — obscure his lineage
And unknown his race on earth? —
Bright Gods own him as Creator,
First Creator hath no birth!
But thou speakest as thou knowest,
Cease thy wrangling and depart,
Be his virtues great or scanty,
He hath won my faithful heart!
Open not thy lips unholy,
Tell me not that tale of shame,
Not alone the man who slanders,
He who listens shares the blame! "
IX
Turned away the damsel
From the stranger guest, —
Through the bursting wild bark
Heaved her angry breast!
Smiling he embraced her,
All disguise removed, —
Uma gazed in wonder,
'Twas her lost and loved!
Like a trembling lotus
Shook her tender frame,
O'er her brow and bosom
Quick the red blood came!
Still with foot uplifted,
Stayed not, could not go,
Like a rock bound torrent,
Stopped its onward flow!
" Maiden, " so spake Siva,
" Take this hand of mine,
Won by love and penance
Henceforth I am thine! "
With a holier beauty
Heavenly Uma shone,
For by toil and duty
Destiny is won!
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