Third canto.  The burning of Love.—­Indra waits upon Love, who asks for his commands.  Indra explains the matter, and asks Love to inflame Shiva with passion for Parvati.  Love thereupon sets out, accompanied by his wife Charm and his friend Spring.  When they reach the mountain where Shiva dwells, Spring shows his power.  The snow disappears; the trees put forth blossoms; bees, deer, and birds waken to new life.  The only living being that is not influenced by the sudden change of season is Shiva, who continues his meditation, unmoved.  Love himself is discouraged, until he sees the beauty of Parvati, when he takes heart again.  At this moment, Shiva chances to relax his meditation, and Parvati approaches to do him homage.  Love seizes the lucky moment, and prepares to shoot his bewildering arrow at Shiva.  But the great god sees him, and before the arrow is discharged, darts fire from his eye, whereby Love is consumed.  Charm falls in a swoon, Shiva vanishes, and the wretched Parvati is carried away by her father.

Fourth canto.  The lament of Charm.—­This canto is given entire.

  The wife of Love lay helpless in a swoon,
    Till wakened by a fate whose deadliest sting
  Was preparation of herself full soon
    To taste the youthful widow’s sorrowing.

  Her opening eyes were fixed with anxious thought
    On every spot where he might be, in vain,
  Were gladdened nowhere by the sight she sought,
    The lover she should never see again.

  She rose and cried aloud:  “Dost thou yet live,
    Lord of my life?” And at the last she found
  Him whom the wrathful god could not forgive,
    Her Love, a trace of ashes on the ground.

  With breaking heart, with lovely bosom stained
    By cold embrace of earth, with flying hair,
  She wept and to the forest world complained,
    As if the forest in her grief might share.

  “Thy beauty slew the pride that maidens cherish;
    Perfect its loveliness in every part;
  I saw that beauty fade away and perish,
    Yet did not die.  How hard is woman’s heart!

  Where art thou gone?  Thy love a moment only
    Endured, and I for ever need its power;
  Gone like the stream that leaves the lily lonely,
    When the dam breaks, to mourn her dying flower.

  Thou never didst a thing to cause me anguish;
    I never did a thing to work thee harm;
  Why should I thus in vain affliction languish? 
    Why not return to bless thy grieving Charm?

  Of playful chastisements art thou reminded,
    Thy flirtings punished by my girdle-strands,
  Thine eyes by flying dust of blossoms blinded,
    Held for thy meet correction in these hands?

  I loved to hear the name thou gav’st me often
    ‘Heart of my heart,’ Alas!  It was not true,
  But lulling phrase, my coming grief to soften: 
    Else in thy death, my life had ended, too.