LXXVIII.
Sakhī: 'Tell me, O Beauty, what were the night's delights.
How did your Lord fulfil your hopes?
(How curiously, methinks, has Providence
Created man and maid!)
You are the fairest woman of the world
And have attained Murāri, worthiest of men.'
Rādhā: 'I am not able to recite my lover's love,
The fates have not bestowed on me a myriad mouths!
Doffing his necklace of ivory pearls,
With care he set it on my neck:
Taking my hands, he set me on his lap,
And cooled my limbs with fragrant sandal.
'He loosed my locks (so neatly bound),
And wreathed them with a campak garland;
With honey-honey-glances Kāna gazed on me,
His eyes brimmed over with tears of joy.'
Billows of love, says Vidyāpati:
Hearken, my dear, I sing their Union.
LXXIX.
Sakhī: Measureless virtue! whereso yearning bodies meet—
Now there has been indissoluble union of the twain:
How many a one essayed this way and that,
Yet none availed to put the twain asunder!
Never any household in the wicked world
Has seen such love as this, a very fount of milk!
If one should fetch it to the fire
And stir the milk to separate the water,
The milk, exulting in the heat, boils over—
Goaded by separation pangs, it leaps into the fire!
If any one should pour more water in it,
Then the separation-pangs withdraw afar.
Avows Vidyāpati: Love is such,
And such the love of Rādhā-Mādhava.
LXXX.
Rādha: Very cunning is my Kāna,
Without any spell he broke my wrath!
He appeared to-day in a yogi's weed—
Who can explain such singular gestes?
At the will of my mother-in-law I went to give him alms,
When he saw my face, he began to murmur words of love,
And he said: 'The gift I ask is the jewel of your pride,'—
(Then I could tell what guile was his!)
'Tis shame to recite all that he said.
Nobody knows the Lord of lovers!
Vidyāpati says: lovely Rāi,
How can you plumb the depth of his cunning?
LXXXI.
Rādhā: What can I tell of to-day's affair my dear?
A jewel fell to the hands of a fool
Who knows not the price of gold or glass,
And reckons alike the jewels and gañja seeds,
Who is lacking in lore of crafts of love,
And reckons milk and water the same:
How can I feel affection for him?
Shall a necklace of pearls adorn the neck of a monkey?
Wise in this savour, Vidyāpati asks:
Has pan ever graced the mouth of a monkey?
LXXXII.
Rādhā: What shall I tell you, dear gay friend?
I cannot speak of to-day's disports:
I was lying alone on my flowery bed,
Love was my fellow, armed with his flowery darts.
Kāna came with his tinkling anklets,
In jest I lay with eyes closed:
Kāna came nigh and sat beside me,
I turned my face to hide my laughter.
Hari lifted from my locks their flowery chaplet,
And gave me his crest of peacock feathers:
With elaborate care he took the pearl from my nose
And lifted the necklet from my neck!
Loosing the bodice, my dear one lost his wits!
Then Madan woke, and I bound the thief my arms:
Says Vidyāpati: A learned wanton he—
You may be lovesome, but your lover is a master of the art of love!
In you there is love, but he is a lover all-wise in loving!
LXXXIII.
Rādhā: I was still very wrathful.
But my lover disguised as a girl dissolved my pride:
What can I tell of the pranks of to-day, my dear?
For there came Kān with the maiden-messenger!
He bound his curling hair in a knot,
The Lord of lovers dressed like a girl!
He put on a necklace and made a breast in his bosom,
He put on his feet a jewelled anklet.
First he put his left foot foremost,—
Ratipati danced with his flowery bow;
I looked with amazement,—and fondled him freely,
With downbent glances, I set him in my lap!
When I touched his body so full of love,
The pride of my wrath fled Under-earth,
I stood all astonished, with finger to nose.
Vidyāpati says: The quarrel was ended!
LXXXIV.
Rādhā: My frolicsome friend, what shall I say?
There was another prank, unspeakable:
Naked of any weed, I sat alone at home,
When he of the lotus-eyes appeared unseen!
To hide my body on either side revealed the other,
(O open wide and let me sink into the earth!)
Seeking to cover my breasts with my hands, I could not,—
Just as the snow may not conceal the southern hills.
Out on you, fie! my life, my youth, my honour,
The Lord of Braj gazed on my limbs to-day!
O amorous Rai, Vidyāpati says,
Could you outwit such wit as his?
LXXXV.
Rādhā: O mother mine, what can I say to-day!
The stain sticks fast, for all washing with water:
After my bath, and climbing Kālindī's bank,
The filmy muslin clung to my limbs,
That all my shape was clearly seen,—
And there was Yaduvira just before me!
My buttocks broad were plain to see,
I turned me round and over them shook my hair:
And when he fixed his gaze upon my breasts,
I turned my back on Hari and sat me down.
But cunning Mādhava scanned my body with smiling face,
The body I sought to hide would not be hidden!
You are a witless maid, says Vidyāpati:
Why did you not return to the water?
LXXXVI.
Rādhā: My mother-in-law was asleep, and I lay in her lap,
And love-learned Kānu was lurking behind.
Somehow I made it clear to him by signs:
'Will you give over fooling, or shall I begone?
'Refrain this affection, O foolish lover,—
As at this time your prayers are not to be granted!
(Can there be any pleasure in embraces from behind,
Shall thirst for water be slaked with milk?)'
Bending his face to mine, how did he drink the nectar of my lips
How often silently he laid his hand upon my breasts,
Nor let betray him any panting breath,—
What laughing battles were fought with flashing teeth!
My mother-in-law awoke, and Kāna ran away:
My hopes were not fulfilled, says Vidyāpati.
LXXXVII.
Rādhā: I was alone, and weaving garlands,
My skirt and bodice were unloosed,
And then came Kānu with quiet smiles!
(How shall I hide my bosom and my girdlestead?)
My darling clasped me with a merry laugh,
Modesty and shame departed to the underworld—
(How may I dout the lamp, that's out of reach of hands?)
And yet my brazen life dies not of shame!
This is the very work of love, says Vidyāpati:
Wherefore this shame of him to whom your life is dedicate?
LXXXVIII.
Rādhā: To-day my awkward shame was far away,
He realised his heart's desires:
What shall I say, my dear? (I smile to speak of it,)
So very marvellous was the dalliance of to-day.
The toppling clouds fell down on earth,
The pleasant mountain-kings rose up on high:
I likewise, gazing in the emerald mirror,
Fell there where neither up nor down are known.
Newly advised was Kān, my lord,
His sayings overpowered me:
He gave a refuge to the homeless—
Shamefast I was and hid my heart's fire.
The prince of wantons folded me upon his lap.
And with the wimple wiped the dews of weariness,
Fanning me gently, I fell asleep.
Vidyāpati exclaims: Delight beyond compare!
LXXXIX.
Rādhā: What can I say, my dear? 'Tis measureless!
Whether this was a dream, or real, I cannot tell,
Or very near, or far away.
Beneath the winding lightning, darkness came to birth,
Within, a river of heavenly nectar:
The wavering darkness swallowed the sun and moon.
On every hand the stars were falling!
The heavens fell, the hills were overthrown,
The earth quaked hard,
Stormily rose the sighing winds,
The swarms of bees buzzed:
Like an ocean of chaos the waters overflowed,—
Yet this was not an æon's ending!
How can I trow this contrary tale?
Vidyāpati makes enquiry.
XC.
Sakhī: Her wandering hair was mingled with the circle of her face—
A wreath of clouds across the moon:
Jewelled earrings swung from her ears,
Her tilka ran with sweat.
(Beauty, of fortune-yielding face:
If you should still wage Rati's war,
How may Hari-Hara save?)
Bracelets musical, and bangles noisy,
Anklets clinking:
Drunk with the wine of love, Love yielded,—
Victory, Victory! by beat of drum!
For when from the loins arose a muffled sound,
The warrior was crushed:
Vidyāpati's Master wins such bliss,—
Yamunā and Gangā mingling.