XXV

    A moment rest on Nichais’ mountain then,
  Where madder-bushes don their blossom coat
    As thrilling to thy touch; where city men
  O’er youth’s unbridled pleasures fondly gloat
  In caverns whence the perfumes of gay women float.

  XXVI

    Fly on refreshed; and sprinkle buds that fade
  On jasmine-vines in gardens wild and rare
    By forest rivers; and with loving shade
  Caress the flower-girls’ heated faces fair,
  Whereon the lotuses droop withering from their hair.

  XXVII

The famous old city of Ujjain, the home of the poet, and dearly beloved by him;

    Swerve from thy northern path; for westward rise
  The palace balconies thou mayst not slight
    In fair Ujjain; and if bewitching eyes
  That flutter at thy gleams, should not delight
  Thine amorous bosom, useless were thy gift of sight.

  XXVIII

and the river, personified as a loving woman, whom the cloud will meet just before he reaches the city.

    The neighbouring mountain stream that gliding grants
  A glimpse of charms in whirling eddies pursed,
    While noisy swans accompany her dance
  Like a tinkling zone, will slake thy loving thirst—­
  A woman always tells her love in gestures first.

  XXIX

    Thou only, happy lover! canst repair
  The desolation that thine absence made: 
    Her shrinking current seems the careless hair
  That brides deserted wear in single braid,
  And dead leaves falling give her face a paler shade.

  XXX

The city of Ujjain is fully described,

  Sufficed, though fallen from heaven, to bring down heaven on earth!

  XXXI

    Where the river-breeze at dawn, with fragrant gain
  From friendly lotus-blossoms, lengthens out
    The clear, sweet passion-warbling of the crane,
  To cure the women’s languishing, and flout
  With a lover’s coaxing all their hesitating doubt.

  XXXII

    Enriched with odours through the windows drifting
  From perfumed hair, and greeted as a friend
    By peacock pets their wings in dances lifting,
  On flower-sweet balconies thy labour end,
  Where prints of dear pink feet an added glory lend.

  XXXIII

especially its famous shrine to Shiva, called Mahakala;

    Black as the neck of Shiva, very God,
  Dear therefore to his hosts, thou mayest go
    To his dread shrine, round which the gardens nod
  When breezes rich with lotus-pollen blow
  And ointments that the gaily bathing maidens know.

  XXXIV

    Reaching that temple at another time,
  Wait till the sun is lost to human eyes;
    For if thou mayest play the part sublime
  Of Shiva’s drum at evening sacrifice,
  Then hast thou in thy thunders grave a priceless prize.