blossoms of yon Amra, waving on the green stalk, are fresh and light as the breath of this vernal month. I must present the goddess Retí with a basket of them.
Second Dams. Why, my Parabhriticá, dost thou mean to present it alone?
First Dams. O my friend Madhucaricá, when a female Cócilà, which my name implies, sees a blooming Amra, she becomes entranced, and loses her recollection.
Second Dams. [With transport.] What! is the season of sweets actually returned?
First Dams. Yes; the season in which we must sing of nothing but wine, and love.
Second Dams. Support me, then, while I climb up this tree, and strip it of its fragrant gems, which we will carry as an offering to Cáma.
First Dams. If I assist, I must have a moiety of the reward which the god will bestow.
Second Dams. To be sure, and without any previous bargain. We are only one soul, you know, though Brahma has given it two bodies.—[She climbs up, and gathers the flowers.] Ah! the buds are hardly opened.—Here is one a little expanded, which diffuses a charming odour.—[Taking a handful of buds.]—This flower is sacred to the god who bears a fish on his banner.—O sweet blossom, which I now consecrate, thou well deservest to point the sixth arrow of Cámadéva, who now takes his bow to pierce myriads of youthful hearts.
