And hearing this the maiden's heart dissolved in tears,
And his desires were realised.
Vidyāpati says: There was reunion;
All were astonished at the tale!
LXVIII.
Krishna: Your high round breasts—like golden cups—
And curving eyes, have stolen my wits away:
O lady fair, forbear your bitter fury,
And give the frenzied bee his draught of honey!
I clasp your hands, my fair sweet girl,
Be not so cruel, have pity on my lot:
How many times must I advise you
I may no more sustain the sting of love!
Vidyāpati says: You know full well.
That hope deferred is worse than death.
LXIX.
Dutikā: Hearken, O Mādhava: Rādhā is waxen wilful,—
How carefully and in how many ways I warned her.
And yet the beauty gave no answer!
The lovely creature when she hears your name,
Covers her ears with her hands:
She who thought that your love was for ever new.
Now will not even hear you speak!
I laid before her a lock of your hair.
Flowers and grass and pan:
But the wrathful face of a lily she would not turn,—
She sat unmoved, with face averted.