With devotion served by twice
As many hands that ably hold
The sharp and shining rapier bold,
—Thou a weakling we are told![1]
Proud in strength and prowess thou art,
Redeemer of thy children thou;
Chastiser of aggressive foes;
Mother, to thee thy child I bow.
Thou art knowledge, thou my faith.
Thou my heart and thou my mind.
Nay more, thou art the vital air
That moves my body from behind.
Of my hands thou art the strength,
At my heart devotion thou,
In each temple and each shrine,
To thy image it is we bow.
Durga bold who wields her arms
With half a score of hands,
The science-goddess, Vani too,
And Lakshmi who on lotus stands,—
What are they but, mother, thou,
To thee in all these forms I bow!
To thee! Fortune-giver, that art
To fault unknown, beyond compare,
Who dost with sweetest waters flow
And on thy children in thy care
Dainty fruits dost rich bestow,
To thee, mother, to thee I bow!
To thee I bow, that art so green
And so rich bedecked; with smile
Thy face doth glow; thou dost sustain
And hold us—still unknown to guile!
Hail thee mother! To thee I bow!
Mahendra saw that the outlaw was weeping as he sang. He then asked in wonder "Who may you be, please?"
- ↑ Another reading would give "why art thou so weak with so much strength?"
