(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.
XCI.
Kavi: Shyāma is drunk with Madan's drowsy wine,
With smiles he takes the moon-face on his lap—
Wanton glances, gentle laughter,
Leaning of limbs, amorous murmuring.
Amorous she, and passionate Kān,
Heart upon heart, face on face,
Both are drunken, both are archers:
Such song of love shapes Vidyāpati.
XCII.
Rādhā: If you would have my love, O Mādhava
Make Madan witness to this document:
'You will abandon dalliance 'neath the kadamb,
You will have no more regard to parents.
Even in dreams you will see only me,
And never drink but to my eyes,
Night and day will sing my praise,
And take no other maiden on your lap.'
When I shall have such covenant in hand,
Then I will speak of love with you!