9.
On song’s exulting pinion
I’ll bear thee, my sweetheart fair,
Where Ganges holds his dominion,—
The sweetest of spots know I there.
There a red blooming garden is lying
In the moonlight silent and clear;
The lotos flowers are sighing
For their sister so pretty and dear
The violets prattle and titter,
And gaze on the stars high above
The roses mysteriously twitter
Their fragrant stories of love.
The gazelles so gentle and clever
Skip lightly in frolicsome mood
And in the distance roars ever
The holy river’s loud flood.
And there, while joyously sinking
Beneath the palm by the stream,
And love and repose while drinking
Of blissful visions we’ll dream.
10.
The lotos flower is troubled
At the sun’s resplendent light
With sunken head and sadly
She dreamily waits for the night.
The moon appears as her wooer,
She wakes at his fond embrace;
For him she kindly uncovers
Her sweetly flowering face.
She blooms and glows and glistens,
And mutely gazes above;
She weeps and exhales and trembles
With love and the sorrows of love.