<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=428277" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Birth of The War-God (Canto Third ) - The Death of Love</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Is eager gaze the sovereign of the skies<br>looked full on Káma with his thousand eyes:<br>E'en such a gaze as trembling suppliants bend,<br>When danger threatens, on a mighty friend.<br>Close by his side, where Indra bade him rest,<br>The Love-God sate, and thus his lord addressed:<br>'All-knowing Indra, deign, my Prince, to tell<br>Thy heart's desire in earth, or heaven, or hell:<br>Double the favour, mighty sovereign, thou<br>Hast thought on Káma, O, command him now:<br>Who angers thee by toiling for the prize,<br>By penance, prayer, or holy sacrifice?<br>What mortal being dost thou count thy foe?<br>Speak, I will tame him with my darts and bow.<br>Has some one feared the endless change of birth,<br>And sought the path that leads the soul from earth?<br>Slave to a glancing eye thy foe shall bow,<br>And own the witchery of a woman's brow;<br>E'en though the object of thine envious rage<br>Were taught high wisdom by the immortal sage,<br>With billowy passions will I whelm his soul,<br>Like rushing waves that spurn the bank's control.<br>Or has the ripe full beauty of a spouse,<br>Too fondly faithful to her bridal vows,<br>Ravished thy spirit from thee? Thine, all thine<br>Around thy neck her loving arms shall twine.<br>Has thy love, jealous of another's charms,<br>Spurned thee in wrath when flying to her arms?<br>I'll rack her yielding bosom with such pain,<br>Soon shall she be all love and warmth again,<br>And wildly fly in fevered haste to rest<br>Her aching heart close, close to thy dear breast.<br>Lay, Indra, lay thy threatening bolt aside:<br>My gentle darts shall tame the haughtiest pride,<br>And all that war with heaven and thee shall know<br>The magic influence of thy Káma's bow;<br>For woman's curling lip shall bow them down,<br>Fainting in terror at her threatening frown.<br>Flowers are my arms, mine only warrior Spring,<br>Yet in thy favour am I strong, great King.<br>What can their strength who draw the bow avail<br>Against my matchless power when I assail?<br>Strong is the Trident-bearing God, yet he,<br>The mighty Śiva, e'en, must yield to me.'<br>Then Indra answered with a dawning smile,<br>Resting his foot upon a stool the while:<br>'Dear God of Love, thou truly hast displayed<br>The power unrivalled of thy promised aid.<br>My hope is all in thee: my weapons are<br>The thunderbolt and thou, more mighty far.<br>But vain, all vain the bolt of heaven to fright<br>Those holy Saints whom penance arms aright.<br>Thy power exceeds all bound: thou, only thou,<br>All-conquering Deity, canst help me now!<br>Full well I know thy nature, and assign<br>This toil to thee, which needs a strength like thine:<br>As on that snake alone will Krishṇa rest,<br>That bears the earth upon his haughty crest.<br>Our task is well-nigh done: thy boasted dart<br>Has power to conquer even Śiva's heart.<br>Hear what the Gods, oppressed with woe, would fain<br>From mighty Śiva through thine aid obtain.<br>He may beget—and none in heaven but he—A<br>chief to lead our hosts to victory.<br>But all his mind with holiest lore is fraught,<br>Bent on the Godhead is his every thought.<br>Thy darts, O Love, alone can reach him now,<br>And lure his spirit from the hermit vow.<br>Go, seek Himálaya's Mountain-child, and aid<br>With all thy loveliest charms the lovely maid,<br>So may she please his fancy: only she<br>May wed with Śiva: such the fixt decree.<br>E'en now my bands of heavenly maids have spied<br>Fair Umá dwelling by the Hermit's side.<br>There by her father's bidding rests she still,<br>Sweet minister, upon the cold bleak hill.<br>Go, Káma, go! perform this great emprise,<br>And free from fear the Rulers of the Skies;<br>We need thy favour, as the new-sown grain<br>Calls for the influence of the gentle rain.<br>Go, Káma, go! thy flowery darts shall be<br>Crowned with success o'er this great deity.<br>Yea, and thy task is e'en already done,<br>For praise and glory are that instant won<br>When a bold heart dares manfully essay<br>The deed which others shrink from in dismay.<br>Gods are thy suppliants, Káma, and on thee<br>Depends the triple world's security.<br>No cruel deed will stain thy flowery bow:<br>With all thy gentlest, mightiest valour, go!<br>And now, Disturber of the spirit, see<br>Spring, thy beloved, will thy comrade be,<br>And gladly aid thee Śiva's heart to tame:<br>None bids the whispering Wind, and yet he fans the flame.'<br>He spake, and Káma bowed his bright head down,<br>And took his bidding like a flowery crown.<br>Above his wavy curls great Indra bent,<br>And fondly touched his soldier ere he went,<br>With that hard hand—but, O, how gentle now—<br>That fell so heavy on his elephant's brow.<br>Then for that snow-crowned hill he turned away,<br>Where all alone the heavenly Hermit lay.<br>His fearful Rati and his comrade Spring<br>Followed the guidance of Love's mighty king.<br>There will he battle in unwonted strife,<br>Return a conqueror or be reft of life.<br>How fair was Spring! To fill the heart with love,<br>And lure the Hermit from his thoughts above,<br>In that pure grove he grew so heavenly bright<br>That Káma's envy wakened at the sight.<br>Now the bright Day-God turned his burning ray<br>To where Kuvera holds his royal sway,<br>While the sad South in whispering breezes sighed<br>And mourned his absence like a tearful bride.<br>Then from its stem the red Aśoka threw<br>Full buds and flowerets of celestial hue,<br>Nor waited for the maiden's touch, the sweet<br>beloved pressure of her tinkling feet.<br>There grew Love's arrow, his dear mango spray,<br>Winged with young leaves to speed its airy way,<br>And at the call of Spring the wild bees came,<br>Grouping the syllables of Káma's name.<br>How sighed the spirit o'er that loveliest flower<br>That boasts no fragrance to enrich its dower!<br>For Nature, wisest mother, oft prefers<br>To part more fairly those good gifts of hers.<br>There from the tree Palása blossoms spread,<br>Curved like the crescent moon, their rosiest red,<br>With opening buds that looked as if young Spring<br>Had pressed his nails there in his dallying:<br>Sweet wanton Spring, to whose enchanting face<br>His flowery Tilaka gave fairer grace:<br>Who loves to tint his lip, the mango spray,<br>With the fresh colours of the early day,<br>And powder its fine red with many a bee<br>That sips the oozing nectar rapturously.<br>The cool gale speeding o'er the shady lawns<br>Shook down the sounding leaves, while startled fawns<br>Ran wildly at the viewless foe, all blind<br>With pollen wafted by the fragrant wind.<br>Sweet was the Köil's voice, his neck still red<br>With mango buds on which he late had fed:<br>Twas as the voice of Love to bid the dame<br>Spurn her cold pride, nor quench the gentle flame.<br>What though the heat has stained the tints that dyed<br>With marvellous bloom the heavenly minstrel's bride?<br>Neither her smile nor sunny glances fail:<br>Bright is her lip, although her check be pale<br>E'en the pure hermits owned the secret power<br>Of warm Spring coming in unwonted hour,<br>While Love's delightful witchery gently stole<br>With strong sweet influence o'er the saintly soul.<br>On came the Archer-God, and at his side<br>The timid Rati, his own darling bride,<br>While breathing nature showed how deep it felt,<br>At passion's glowing touch, the senses melt.<br>For there in eager love the wild bee dipp'd<br>In the dark flower-cup where his partner sipp'd.<br>Here in the shade the hart his horn declined,<br>And, while joy closed her eyes, caressed the hind.<br>There from her trunk the elephant had poured<br>A lily-scented stream to cool her lord,<br>While the fond love-bird by the silver flood<br>Gave to his mate the tasted lotus bud.<br>Full in his song the minstrel stayed to sip<br>The heavenlier nectar of his darling's lip.<br>Pure pearls of heat had late distained the dye,<br>But flowery wine was sparkling in her eye.<br>How the young creeper's beauty charmed the view,<br>Fair as the fairest maid, as playful too!<br>Here some bright blossoms, lovelier than the rest,<br>In full round beauty matched her swelling breast.<br>Here in a thin bright line, some delicate spray,<br>Red as her lip, ravished the soul away.<br>And then how loving, and how close they clung<br>To the tall trees that fondly o'er them hung!<br>Bright, heavenly wantons poured the witching strain,<br>Quiring for Śiva's ear, but all in vain.<br>No charmer's spell may check the firm control<br>Won by the holy o'er the impassioned soul.<br>The Hermit's servant hasted to the door:<br>In his left hand a branch of gold he bore.<br>He touched his lip for silence: 'Peace! be still!<br>Nor mar the quiet of this holy hill.'<br>He spake: no dweller of the forest stirred,<br>No wild bee murmured, hushed was every bird.<br>Still and unmoved, as in a picture stood<br>All life that breathed within the waving wood.<br>As some great monarch when he goes to war<br>Shuns the fierce aspect of a baleful star,<br>So Káma hid him from the Hermit's eye,<br>And sought a path that led unnoticed by,<br>Where tangled flowers and clustering trailers spread<br>Their grateful canopy o'er Śiva's head.<br>Bent on his hardy enterprise, with awe<br>The Three-eyed Lord—great Penitent—he saw.<br>There sate the God beneath a pine-tree's shade,<br>Where on a mound a tiger's skin was laid.<br>Absorbed in holiest thought, erect and still,<br>The Hermit rested on the gentle hill.<br>His shoulders drooping down, each foot was bent<br>Beneath the body of the Penitent.<br>With open palms the hands were firmly pressed,<br>As though a lotus lay upon his breast.<br>A double rosary in each ear, behind<br>With wreathing serpents were his locks entwined.<br>His coat of hide shone blacker to the view<br>Against his neck of brightly beaming blue.<br>How wild the look, how terrible the frown<br>Of his dark eyebrows bending sternly down!<br>How fiercely glared his eyes' unmoving blaze<br>Fixed in devotion's meditating gaze:<br>Calm as a full cloud resting on a hill,<br>A waveless lake when every breeze is still,<br>Like a torch burning in a sheltered spot,<br>So still was he, unmoving, breathing not.<br>So full the stream of marvellous glory poured<br>from the bright forehead of that mighty Lord,<br>Pale seemed the crescent moon upon his head,<br>And slenderer than a slender lotus thread.<br>At all the body's nine-fold gates of sense<br>He had barred in the pure Intelligence,<br>To ponder on the Soul which sages call<br>Eternal Spirit, highest, over all.<br>How sad was Káma at the awful sight,<br>How failed his courage in a swoon of fright!<br>As near and nearer to the God he came<br>Whom wildest thought could never hope to tame,<br>Unconsciously his hands, in fear and woe,<br>Dropped the sweet arrows and his flowery bow.<br>But Umá came with all her maiden throng,<br>And Káma's fainting heart again was strong;<br>Bright flowers of spring, in every lovely hue,<br>Around the lady's form rare beauty threw.<br>Some clasped her neck like strings of purest pearls,<br>Some shot their glory through her wavy curls.<br>Bending her graceful head as half-oppressed<br>With swelling charms even too richly blest,<br>Fancy might deem that beautiful young maiden<br>Some slender tree with its sweet flowers o'erladen.<br>From time to time her gentle hand replaced<br>The flowery girdle slipping from her waist:<br>It seemed that Love could find no place more fair,<br>So hung his newest, dearest bowstring there.<br>A greedy bee kept hovering round to sip<br>The fragrant nectar of her blooming lip.<br>She closed her eyes in terror of the thief,<br>And beat him from her with a lotus leaf.<br>The angry curl of Rati's lip confessed<br>The shade of envy that stole o'er her breast.<br>Through Káma's soul fresh hope and courage flew,<br>As that sweet vision blessed his eager view.<br>So bright, so fair, so winning soft was she,<br>Who could not conquer in such company?<br>Now Umá came, fair maid, his destined bride,<br>With timid steps approaching Śiva's side.<br>In contemplation will he brood no more,<br>He sees the Godhead, and his task is o'er.<br>He breathes, he moves, the earth begins to rock,<br>The Snake, her bearer, trembling at the shock.<br>Due homage then his own dear servant paid,<br>And told him of the coming of the maid.<br>He learnt his Master's pleasure by the nod,<br>And led Himálaya's daughter to the God.<br>Before his feet her young companions spread<br>Fresh leaves and blossoms as they bowed the head,<br>While Umá stooped so low, that from her hair<br>Dropped the bright flower that starred the midnight there.<br>To him whose ensign bears the bull she bent,<br>Till each spray fell, her ear's rich ornament.<br>'Sweet maid,' cried Śiva, 'surely thou shalt be<br>Blessed with a husband who loves none but thee!'<br>Her fear was banished, and her hope was high:<br>A God had spoken, and Gods cannot lie.<br>Rash as some giddy moth that wooes the flame,<br>Love seized the moment, and prepared to aim.<br>Close by the daughter of the Mountain-King,<br>He looked on Śiva, and he eyed his string.<br>While with her radiant hand fair Umá gave<br>A rosary, of the lotuses that lave<br>Their beauties in the heavenly Gangá's wave,<br>And the great Three-Eyed God was fain to take<br>The offering for the well-loved suppliant's sake,<br>On his bright bow Love placed the unerring dart,<br>The soft beguiler of the stricken heart.<br>Like the Moon's influence on the sea at rest,<br>Came passion stealing o'er the Hermit's breast,<br>While on the maiden's lip that mocked the dye<br>Of ripe red fruit, he bent his melting eye.<br>And oh! how showed the lady's love for him,<br>The heaving bosom, and each quivering limb!<br>Like young Kadambas, when the leaf-buds swell,<br>At the warm touch of Spring they love so well.<br>But still, with downcast eyes, she sought the ground,<br>And durst not turn their burning glances round.<br>Then with strong effort, Śiva lulled to rest,<br>The storm of passion in his troubled breast,<br>And seeks, with angry eyes that round him roll,<br>Whence came the tempest o'er his tranquil soul.<br>He looked, and saw the bold young archer stand,<br>His bow bent ready in his skilful hand,<br>Drawn towards the eye; his shoulder well depressed,<br>And the left foot thrown forward as a rest.<br>Then was the Hermit-God to madness lashed,<br>Then from his eye red flames of fury flashed.<br>So changed the beauty of that glorious brow,<br>Scarce could the gaze support its terror now.<br>Hark! heavenly voices sighing through the air:<br>'Be calm, great Śiva, O be calm and spare!'<br>Alas! that angry eye's resistless flashes<br>Have scorched the gentle King of Love to ashes!<br>But Rati saw not, for she swooned away;<br>Senseless and breathless on the earth she lay;<br>Sleep while thou mayst, unconscious lady, sleep!<br>Soon wilt thou rise to sigh and wake to weep.<br>E'en as the red bolt rives the leafy bough,<br>So Śiva smote the hinderer of his vow;<br>Then fled with all his train to some lone place<br>Far from the witchery of a female face.<br>Sad was Himaláya's daughter: grief and shame<br>O'er the young spirit of the maiden came:<br>Grief—for she loved, and all her love was vain;<br>Shame—she was spurned before her youthful train.<br>She turned away, with fear and woe oppressed,<br>To hide her sorrow on her father's breast;<br>Then, in the fond arms of her pitying sire,<br>Closed her sad eyes for fear of Śiva's ire.<br>Still in his grasp the weary maiden lay,<br>While he sped swiftly on his homeward way.<br>Thus have I seen the elephant stoop to drink,<br>And lift a lily from the fountain's brink.<br>Thus, when he rears his mighty head on high,<br>Across his tusks I've seen that lily lie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Kalidasa">Kalidasa</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=428277" data-title="The Birth of The War-God (Canto Third ) - The Death of Love de Kalidasa" data-description="Is eager gaze the sovereign of the skies looked full on Káma with his thousand eyes: E'en such a gaze as trembling suppliants bend, When danger threatens, on a mighty friend. Close by his side, where Indra bade him rest, The Love-God sate, and th..."></div> </div> </div>

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