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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=115352" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Brides of Indra</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lo, 'tis Indra! he who kindles, God of celestial fire;<br> Who lights the thoughts of man with the flame of wild desire.<br> Have you watched the changeful sky, crimson, amethyst, and gold?<br> 'T is his mantle, and the stars shine from every beaming fold.<br> He rides the snow-white elephant, lashed from the pale sea-foam.<br> From his hand the rushing thunderbolt, the arrowy lightning come.<br> Have you heard the shrieking east-wind when the trees were rent and strown,<br> And the white salt dust of the sea in the face of heaven was blown?<br> It is the wrath of Indra; and the sunlight is his smile.<br> When the clouds expire in raindrops, then Indra weeps the while.<br> In his beauty, none like him the earth or heaven have had:<br> With the wistful passion of a man, and the splendor of a god,<br> He has thrilled the earth's dark places, a supernal flash of fire,<br> He has sounded all the depths of guilt, and sorrow, and desire.<br> Now sinking in the struggle, now exalted soaring high,<br> The dark, wild heart of man strives with his divinity,<br> God of sunlight, God of storm, still the world his voice obeys,<br> And the sea of human passion, his mighty power still sways,<br> On its threshold, looking out on the changing world of life,<br> With its movement and its crowd, its uproar and its strife,<br> Stood a group of lovely maidens, charmed and dazzled by the glare.<br> The gaze of Indra fell upon them, and beholding them so fair<br> He loved them. Flashing earthward in a form of fire he came,<br> Kissed their lips, and then he left them, with blanched cheeks, and eyes aflame.<br> And they knew a god thus thrilled them; and had sought his home again<br> Ere they tasted aught of love, save its first and sudden pain.<br> Then they, with vague desire, in their innocence went forth;<br> Seeking what, or whom, they knew not, they wandered o'er the earth;<br> And Love, who only breathes in the clearer, upper air,<br> Led them to the hilly land, where the stars were shining near.<br> And there, though far beyond them, looking down from cloudless skies,<br> They saw the great god Indra, with outstretched arms and passionate eyes.<br> Then their hearts sank faint within them; fain was each one to turn back.<br> But the soul within had found its wings, and bore them rushing o'er the track,<br> In a superhuman ecstasy, along the dizzy space,<br> Till the arms of Indra clasped them in the fire of his embrace.<br> All unconscious of the bitter cost to those to whom 't is given<br> Thus to awaken the desire of the ardent sun of heaven,<br> With quivering lips and beating hearts was the sacrifice achieved,<br> And the sorrowful great gift---the love of Indra---they received.<br> Bear me witness, O ye mortals, by the kiss of fire refined,<br> How closely do the rapture and the anguish intertwine!<br> I know not which is greatest, for the bliss and suffering strain---<br> Strain alike, and all too fiercely, on the human heart and brain.<br> Yet who would cage his soul, when the mighty sun-god came<br> To thrill his being through, to draw his spirit forth in flame?<br> But the maidens, knowing naught of an Immortal's love,<br> Against the crown that Indra laid upon them, wildly, vainly strove;<br> Though it wrapped them in a glory, their young brows it scorched and tore,<br> And its golden hues the life-blood of the wearers crimsoned o'er.<br> "We are faint," they cried, "and weary; from our cheeks the blood has fled;<br> Our eyes are tired with beauty; in our souls the youth is dead;<br> The light is but a splendid pain; and, drooping, worn, and rent<br> With this eternal rapture, our weary hearts are spent;<br> We turn away in anguish, exhausted and oppressed.<br> From this fever of our lives, give us rest, give us rest."<br> They mourned thus until, at length, by resistless impulse led,<br> From the mountain of Méru, the brides of Indra fled;<br> Fled and sought those shadowy valleys where the stream of time flows by<br> Only measured by the seasons; and the mortal dwellers die<br> Of the slowly creeping years---not of sin, or shame, or wrong;<br> Not because they have lived too much, but because they 've lived too long.<br> Oh, what a pleasant land was that! Surely there might peace be found.<br> A sweet slumberous repose softly lay on all around.<br> No extreme of heat or cold, excess of light or depth of gloom,<br> Ever broke the wondrous calm of that wilderness of bloom.<br> And the hearts of those that dwelt there, emotion ne'er could move,<br> Or wake the slumbering ecstasies of hate, despair, or love.<br> Ever young and ever lovely were the women of that land,<br> And the men who ruled its councils were both courteous and bland.<br> No labor there was needed, no hardened hand of toil,<br> For all the heart could ask for sprang spontaneous from the soil.<br> Old age, disease, and poverty, and suffering could not stay,<br> For a dark and terrible river ever hurried them away,<br> As it poured its troubled waters through the shining land of gold,<br> Washing all its peaceful borders, muttering fiercely, as it rolled,<br> Words of menace and despair through its sinister black flood,<br> Which the smiling people on its banks heard, but never understood.<br> Wretched, flying, worn, and weary, to this luxurious land<br> Hither came these hapless wanderers, the fugitive fair band.<br> Their strange beauty and their wanness, born of passions here unknown<br> To the passionless who dwelt here, touched their hearts and they were won---<br> Touched their hearts with sweet compassion for each lovely fugitive,<br> And they cried, "Oh, stay here with us; we'll share with you, while we live."<br> Now pale, and with lustrous eyes, wandering daily side by side,<br> The once beloved of Indra in loneliness abide;<br> No friendly voices greet them as, dejected and apart,<br> They pass the idle throng, slow of step and sad at heart.<br> Each morning wakes anew a gnawing, fierce desire,<br> That the evening, in despair and in misery, sees expire;<br> And a curse pursues them ever like an avenging ghost---<br> The curse that haunts and maddens, of a glory won and lost.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anne+Lynch+Botta">Anne Lynch Botta</a> from <i>Poems</i><div class=q>
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