“When her lips smile at thee thou art certain that thou hast found a new heaven, for she uncovers another Milky Way; but when they scorn or show anger then hadst thou better never show thy face again, for sorrow will eat thy soul as leprosy corrodes a body.
“Her hands are so minute and graceful that at the sight of them the bengalies weep and pine away in envy.
“Her feet are so dainty and soft that the flowers and grass which she treads imagine that the butterfly has just kissed them gently.
“All her movements are so beautiful that they seem to be singing to an incessant melody of rhythm, and they are so numerous in their perfection that shouldst thou cast a statue for each gesture of hers thou wouldst have to go to other planets for new marble or precious metal and still thou wouldst not achieve thy task.
“This I saw and I was blinded for my daring, but nevertheless had I as many lives as there are stars in heaven, and were each life as long as a world-cycle, still would I gladly become blind at the beginning of each cycle could I cast one solitary glance at her immortal beauty.”
Thus spake the Poet, and verily only the gods had dared fall in love with Uttara. Surya, the God of the Sun, appeared in the morning in a blaze of golden flames, and at noon his rays became so ardent that Uttara had to run under cover to protect herself against his passion.
More than once was Indra obliged to send to his faithful cloud-gods, the Maruts, to cover the inextinguishable radiance of the impetuous Surya.