Ah, Blessed Lord!  Oh, High Deliverer!  Forgive this feeble script which doth Thee wrong Measuring with little wit Thy lofty Love.  Ah, Lover!  Brother!  Guide!  Lamp of the Law!  I take my refuge in Thy name and Thee!  I take my refuge in Thy Law of God!  I take my refuge in Thy Order! Om! The Dew is on the lotus—­rise, great Sun!  And lift my leaf and mix me with the wave. Om mani padme hum, the Sunrise comes!  The Dewdrop slips into the Shining Sea!

From Harper’s Monthly, copyright 1886, by Harper & Brothers

GRISHMA; OR THE SEASON OF HEAT

Translated from Kalidasa’s ‘Ritu Sanhara’

With fierce noons beaming, moons of glory gleaming,
Full conduits streaming, where fair bathers lie,
With sunsets splendid, when the strong day, ended,
Melts into peace, like a tired lover’s sigh—­
So cometh summer nigh.

And nights of ebon blackness, laced with lustres
From starry clusters; courts of calm retreat,
Where wan rills warble over glistening marble;
Cold jewels, and the sandal, moist and sweet—­
These for the time are meet

Of “Suchi,” dear one of the bright days, bringing
Love songs for singing which all hearts enthrall,
Wine cups that sparkle at the lips of lovers,
Odors and pleasures in the palace hall: 
In “Suchi” these befall.

For then, with wide hips richly girt, and bosoms
Fragrant with blossoms, and with pearl strings gay,
Their new-laved hair unbound, and spreading round
Faint scents, the palace maids in tender play
The ardent heats allay

Of princely playmates.  Through the gates their feet,
With lac-dye rosy and neat, and anklets ringing,
In music trip along, echoing the song
Of wild swans, all men’s hearts by subtle singing
To Kama’s service bringing;

For who, their sandal-scented breasts perceiving,
Their white pearls—­weaving with the saffron stars
Girdles and diadems—­their gold and gems
Linked upon waist and thigh, in Love’s soft snares
Is not caught unawares?

Then lay they by their robes—­no longer light
For the warm midnight—­and their beauty cover
With woven veil too airy to conceal
Its dew-pearled softness; so, with youth clad over,
Each seeks her eager lover.

And sweet airs winnowed from the sandal fans,
Faint balm that nests between those gem-bound breasts,
Voices of stream and bird, and clear notes heard
From vina strings amid the songs’ unrests,
Wake passion.  With light jests,

And sidelong glances, and coy smiles and dances,
Each maid enhances newly sprung delight;
Quick leaps the fire of Love’s divine desire,
So kindled in the season when the Night
With broadest moons is bright;

Till on the silvered terraces, sleep-sunken,
With Love’s draughts drunken, those close lovers lie;
And—­all for sorrow there shall come To-morrow—­
The Moon, who watched them, pales in the gray sky,
While the still Night doth die.