The Sanskrit Epics

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The Sanskrit Epics Page 962

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  Deceive and tempt the forest deer,

  And with a soft and chastened radiance

  Mingle with the sunbeams clear!

  And the pollen from the blossoms,

  Wafted from the flowering trees,

  Like a golden canopy

  Floats upon the evening breeze! (39)

  “Oft at early dawn are seen

  Unequal footprints by the rills,

  For Umâ with the mighty Siva

  Loves to haunt these sacred hills!

  And oft at noon, through leafy trees,

  The day-god’s struggling, radiant beam

  Strikes on the bright and crystal rock,

  And makes it like a mirror gleam!

  And oft at night, on distant peaks,

  Great Siva’s snow-white bull is seen,

  And wondering females gaze and ask,

  Is it the full-orbed rising moon?

  What though the rainbow’s broken arch

  On fleecy clouds is faint and pale,

  Borrowing fulness from the gems

  It bends sublime o’er rock and vale!

  What though the gloom in moonless nights

  O’ershadows valley, hill and lea,

  The moon on Siva’s ample crest

  Pours forth a light on flower and tree! (44)

  “Yonder hill with golden caverns

  Is to mighty Indra dear;

  How its peaks with golden lustre

  Woods and spreading forests cheer!

  And oft when mountain breezes blow,

  And move luxuriant creepers thick,

  The golden beams of that bright hill

  Even like the flashing lightning break!

  Celestial tuskers range that hill,

  And shake the scented Chandan tree;

  Before their might all earthly creatures

  In their terror turn and flee!

  And sapphires here with azure tints

  Make soft the sun’s effulgent ray;

  And darksome clouds in glorious masses

  Temper here the light of day! (48)

  “There Kshatriya-like thy penance do,

  As by the saintly Vyâsa told; —

  By noble efforts, constant toil,

  Achieve their fame the great and bold!

  May Siva grant thee strength and might,

  Bestow on thee his blessed grace;

  And be the gods thy constant help,

  And bless thy labours with success!”

  Thus spoke, and hied unto his home

  The Yaksha, gentle, kind, and good;

  And Arjun pensive saw him part,

  And for a moment sorrowing stood. (51)

  He reached the hill, uncrossed by living wight,

  With luscious fruits and blossoms on its height;

  And as he gazed upon the lofty hill,

  Great thoughts of noble deeds his heart did fill! (52)

  BOOK VI. ARJUNA’S PENANCE.

  ARJUN, on his penance bent,

  Followed Ganga’s rocky course,

  Scaled the hill, as Vishnu mounts,

  The golden bird which heavenward soars.

  Forest trees like worshippers

  Sang his praise with hum of bees,

  Bent their heads and rained their blossoms,

  Gently shaken by the breeze!

  And the sweet and scented zephyrs,

  Saturate with Gangâ’s spray,

  Softly blew on Arjun’s forehead,

  And embraced him in their play!

  And the roar of wild cascades,

  Wafted o’er the woodland hum,

  And the notes of forest birds

  Stirred him like the beat of drum! (4)

  Cascades and rapid mountain torrents

  Sweep the tall trees in their course,

  But the gentle bending creeper

  Escapes their wild resistless force.

  And tuneful ducks before him fly,

  And with their voices fill the brake,

  In burnished gold swim on the waves,

  A golden mantle on the lake!

  In deepest wilds the tuskers roam,

  And mark the banks with many a scar;

  The swarming bees fly to the spot,

  And streaming moisture scents the air!

  The golden Chakravâk is lost

  Midst waves in golden tints that shine,

  And Arjun hears the tender female

  Call her mate in gentle tone!

  Varying tints upon the stream

  Proclaim the gems in rocks below,

  As colours on the changeful face

  The workings of the mind oft show.

  But oft the surges, lashed by wind,

  Spread far and wide their foam awhile,

  White as Ketak’s snowy flower,

  Brightening the woods with their bright smile!

  But mark those spots, like peacock’s feather,

  Floating on the lucid wave;

  Wild elephants their juice exude,

  As they within the waters lave.

  And Arjun views the yawning oysters,

  Lying on their sandy bed,

  Beauteous with their glistening pearls,

  Or are they tears in sorrow shed?

  The creepers crimson budding shoot,

  Which oft the snowy dewdrop tips,

  Recalls unto the lovers mind

  His nymph’s fair teeth, her maddening lips

  And tuskers gambol in the wave,

  And frolic in the streamlets fair;

  The waters own their mighty lords,

  And odours scent the loaded air!

  But often from the placid lake

  The coily snake darts in the air,

  And breathes its poisoned breath in bubbles

  White as clouds in autumn fair. (15)

  Arjun many a streamlet crossed,

  With fishes, bright as woman’s eye,

  Like maidens waiting on their queen,

  The streamlets to great Gangâ hie!

  And then he scaled the towering hill,

  And found a spot, alone, apart,

  Begirt by many a flowering tree,

  And pure as purity of heart!

  The creepers decked with forest flowers,

  And trees where fruits in clusters hung,

  Inclined great Arjun’s pious heart

  To pious rites and penance long.

  By rules ordained he fixed his heart

  On penance which the saintly know; —

  What though the penance was severe,

  Who conquers self can feel no woe.

  He quelled his passions by his will,

  Dispelled all sins by virtue’s light,

  And rose in merit day by day

  Like waxing moon of autumn night.

  All thoughts and cravings of the flesh

  By contemplation were dispelled,

  Until a righteous holy peace

  Great Arjun’s saintly bosom filled.

  By holy hymns and worship due

  He sought the mighty King of skies,

  And in his heart harmonious dwelt,

  A lofty power, a holy peace! (22)

  He wore his plaited manlike locks

  Red as anchorites should wear;

  The tall tree wears its crest of leaves

  Fringed by morning’s red beams fair!

  Begirt in arms! — but like great saints

  In holy deed and gentle soul!

  The forest creatures knew his love,

  For love of heart endeareth all!

  The breezes softly blew on him,

  And shed a fragrance as it went;

  The tropic sun forgot its heat,

  And but a chastened radiance lent.

  And when the hero plucked the flowers,

  The stately tall trees bent their head;

  The earth put forth her tender grass

  To make the hero’s nightly bed!

  The cloudless sky auspicious sent
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  Untimely rain the dust to lay;

  And kindly nature helped his toil,

  And nursed the hero night and day.

  The blossom of his glorious fate

  By laws divine its fruit thus bore;

  But signs like these moved not his heart,

  The great are firm for evermore! (28)

  Great Indra’s menials in the forest

  Heard of Arjun’s rites severe,

  His mighty merit, lofty virtue,

  To their monarch went in fear.

  Before the monarch of the sky

  The menials their obeisance made,

  And in a humble graceful speech

  Thus of the unknown hermit said. (30)

  “Like a luminary of the sky,

  Though clad in barks, on yonder hill,

  A man intent on purpose high

  Doth penances! And earth is still!

  In arms, whose muscles snake-like coil,

  He holds a mighty powerful bow;

  But gentle are his deeds and rites,

  No gentler hermit lives below.

  The wind blows soft, the sward is green,

  And gentle rains the dust allay;

  By worth subdued the elements

  In one accord obeisance pay.

  The forest beasts their strife forget,

  And listen to his beck and word;

  For him the trees with blossoms wait,

  The mountains own him as their lord!

  His toil bespeaks a purpose high,

  His mien denotes success is near;

  A gentle hermit! but his eye

  Instils a sense of secret fear!

  If from great saints he counts descent,

  From Daityas sprung or kingly line,

  We know not, Lord! Nor why in woods

  He penance doth and rites divine.

  Perchance he toils for purpose high,

  Perchance it is our ignorance,

  But as we feel, so speak we, Lord!

  We foresters are poor in sense!” (37)

  Dear to Indra, what they told

  Of holy rites which Arjun did;

  But wishing still his faith to try,

  His rising joy within him hid.

  Awhile he thought; and then pretending

  Not to know great Arjun’s mind,

  He sought for means to try the saint,

  And to the nymphs spoke soft and kind. (39)

  “Sweetly subtle, gently piercing,

  Heavenly nymphs! your eye’s keen dart!

  No arrow speedeth in its flight

  So true, unerring, to the heart!

  For righteous lore seek anchorites

  To conquer sins and ills of life;

  That potent lore, obtained by toil,

  Before your merry glance is weak!

  All lovely things in universe,

  All beauteous form and winning charm,

  Combine to shape your heavenly grace!

  Then wield that grace, the saint disarm!

  Go forth with sweet musicians skilled,

  Destroy the mortal’s useless rite;

  Great anchorites have felt thy power,

  A youth will feel thy conquering might!

  ’Tis sure he seeks for joys of earth

  But by the conquest of his foe;

  Who seeks for heaven strives not so,

  Who seeks for peace wields not the bow!

  And dread not from a mighty warrior

  Curse, as from an anchorite;

  For kind to females, full of sweetness

  Are great warriors in their might.”

  Honoured thus with high behest

  The nymphs bowed to great Indra’s will,

  And with a lovelier beauty shone,

  For honours heightened powers instil! (46)

  The nymphs obeisance made, and slow retired,

  With lovelier charms and pleasing hopes inspired;

  And Indra with his lotus eyes gazed still

  Upon their swelling charms, nor gazed his fill! (47)

  BOOK VII. THE NYMPHS.

  THE beauteous nymphs then left the sky,

  Attended by Gandharvas skilled,

  And joyous notes of drum and shell

  And sound of cars the blue vault filled.

  And eager denizens of the sky

  Poured forth to greet them as they went;

  The orb of day with upward beams

  Upon the nymphs his radiance lent.

  The toil of the unwonted march,

  The blowing breeze, the sun’s bright shine,

  Crimsoned their blushing cheeks and brow

  As with the gentle flush of wine!

  Celestial coursers fresh and powerful

  Drew the cars with speed of wind;

  Scarce the wheels did seem to roll,

  But sky and space flew quick behind!

  From regions far, close to the sun,

  Where his red rays are bright and strong,

  Far far they went, where like a braid

  Celestial Gangâ rolls along.

  Cooling zephyrs, gently blowing,

  Saturate with Gangâ’s spray,

  Scented by the heavenly lotus,

  Cheered the damsels on their way.

  And in many a fold the clouds

  Spanned the space ‘twixt earth and sky,

  And the steeds by drivers checked

  Lighted on the earth from high.

  The scented woods of Himalay,

  Blooming creepers, beauteous trees,

  Hailed the heavenly nymphs with joy,

  Honoured by their matchless grace! (8)

  And now the nymphs in quest of flowers

  Wandered through the woodland way,

  Unheeding many a shrub and blossom,

  So thick the flowers, so merry they!

  The maddened bee forsook the bush

  To cull the nectar from their arms;

  Their pink white hands were like young shoots,

  Their fingers wore the blossom’s charms!

  Sweetly flowed the mountain rill,

  Her sands were robed with Kusa chaste,

  And graceful strings of tuneful ducks

  Like chain of gold bedecked her waist!

  Cascades in silver masses fell,

  And spread afar in ripples bright;

  And all the wild woods seemed to smile

  With the spray so pearly white.

  And creepers oped their gentle blossoms

  Decked with strings of dark blue bees,

  Like tender-hearted gentle maidens

  With their soft and trustful eyes! (13)

  All around the blossoms hung

  As through the woods the damsels moved,

  With female art, for needless help,

  They asked the fond Gandharvas loved.

  Some nymph with lifted, blushing face,

  Still hung on soft tales whispered nigh;

  Her idle hand no blossom culled,

  The loosened robe forgot to tie!

  Some with flower-buds decked her ringlets,

  With her beauteous tapering arms,

  And scarce rebuked the loving swain

  Who gently clasped her swelling charms!

  Some sought her lover’s gentle aid

  To blow the pollen from her eye,

  And scarce the lover could regret

  The sweet mishap that drew him nigh!

  Laden with flowers the nymphs returned

  From flowering woods, a merry band,

  Their weary feet scarce knew the way,

  And often slipped on even land!

  Their girdles rich in sparkling gems,

  Hung loose below their slender waist;

  The loosened zone proclaimed their languor,

  And their panting heaving breast!

  Their velvet cheeks were dewed with toil,

  Like lotus dimmed with streaks of snow!

  The gods in rapture viewed the nymphs,.
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br />   Their languid charms, their movements slow! (20)

  To Gangâ’s sparkling cooling wave

  The languid damsels slow repair;

  Where fishes glance through lilies blown,

  And notes of wild fowl fill the air.

  The eager waters clasped the nymphs,

  And played with garlands on their hair,

  And rashly washed their Chandain paints,

  In little wavelets fled afar!

  Some damsel hid, and others searched,

  Are those her eyes or lotus bright?

  Is that her hair or string of bees?

  Are those her teeth or lilies sweet?

  Some nymph on others water threw,

  Or washed and wet, yet lovelier shone!

  Her face was flushed, her bosom heaved,

  Scarce held her robe the loosened zone!

  The sportive nymphs arose at last,

  Like rain-washed lilies doubly bright,

  Still sparkling with the glistening drops,

  And radiant as the starry night! (25)

  So closed the day, and darkness fell

  O’er stream and forest, far and nigh,

  And beauty left the things of earth

  And shone upon the starry sky.

  Until the brightening eastern heaven,

  Streaked with silver, faintly shone,

  And pure and white as Ketak flower

  Spread the light of rising moon!

  Slowly rolled the flood of light

  O’er the dark and nightly sky,

  Like the Gangâ’s ruddy wave

  Mingling with the azure sea!

  Like a disk of burnished gold,

  Flooding earth and sky with light,

  From the distant eastern main

  Rose the glorious Lord of night!

  And he drew the veil of gloom

  From the face of earth so wide,

  As a kinsman draws the veil

  For to bless a bashful bride! (30)

  At dawn the heavenly nymphs arose,

  Decked themselves with jewels rare;

  Went to Arjun’s hermitage

  With sweet glances, graces rare!

  On their feet the tinkling bells,

  On their waists the sounding chain;

  With soft music filled the woods

  Till the birds sang back the strain!

  Pale with penances and rites,

  Clad in arms, but calm and great,

  Peaceful as the mighty Vedas,

  Arjun great at last they met!

  Radiant in a robe of light

  On the lofty hill he stood,

  Like the beauteous lord of night

  Seemed the lord of all the wood!

  Pale with penances, but great,

  Warlike, in his peaceful bower,

  Alone, but strong as hosts in war,

  A saint, but wielding Indra’s power! (35)

  To him, more than mortals mighty,

  Slow the artful damsels come,

  Conscious of their matchless beauty,

 

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