‘I go to battle, and I swear that my foes shall never see the backs of my steeds; for the rest, fate directs the destiny of the wavering fight; I promise nothing, but shall take defeat or victory as it pleases destiny.’ A verse of love is:[3]
prasāde vartasva prakaṭaya mudaṁ saṁtyaja ruṣam
priye çuṣyanty an̄gāny amṛtam iva te siñcatu vacaḥ
nidhānaṁ saukhyānāṁ kṣaṇam abhimukhaṁ sthāpaya mukham
na mugdhe pratyetum bhavati gataḥ kālahariṇaḥ.
‘Be gentle; show a little joy; lay aside thy anger; beloved, my limbs are dried up, let thy speech pour ambrosia upon them. Turn to me for a moment thy face, the abode of happiness; foolish one, time is an antelope which, gone, cannot be recalled.’ The other citations we have show skill both in tragic and erotic sentiment.
Candraka was evidently admired by the authorities on poetics; we find in the commentary on the Daçarūpa[4] a verse, elsewhere ascribed to him, cited as an example where diverse sentiments blend but where one, that of coming parting of lovers, is predominant:
ekenākṣṇā paritataruṣā vīkṣate vyomasaṁstham
bhānor bimbaṁ sajalalulitenāpareṇātmakāntam
ahnaç chede dayitavirahāçan̄kinī cakravākī