Читать книгу Indian Poetry - Sir Edwin Arnold - Страница 6

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"The sky is clouded; and the wood resembles

The sky, thick-arched with black Tamâla boughs;

O Radha, Radha! take this Soul, that trembles

In life's deep midnight, to Thy golden house."

So Nanda spoke—and, led by Radha's spirit,

The feet of Krishna found the road aright;

Wherefore, in bliss which all high hearts inherit,

Together taste they Love's divine delight.

He who wrote these things for thee, Of the Son of Wassoodee, Was the poet Jayadeva; Him Saraswati gave ever Fancies fair his mind to throng, Like pictures palace-walls along; Ever to his notes of love Lakshmi's mystic dancers move. If thy spirit seeks to brood On Hari glorious, Hari good; If it feeds on solemn numbers. Dim as dreams and soft as slumbers, Lend thine ear to Jayadev, Lord of all the spells that save. Umapatidhara's strain Glows like roses after rain; Sharan's stream-like song is grand, If its tide ye understand; Bard more wise beneath the sun Is not found than Govardhun; Dhoyi holds the listener still With his shlokes of subtle skill; But for sweet words suited well Jayadeva doth excel.

(What follows is to the Music Mâlava and the Mode Rupaka.)