Dohá 14.
The green earth is so choked with grass that the paths can no longer be distinguished, like holy books obscured by the wrangling of heretics.
Chaupái.
On all sides there is a lively croaking of frogs, like a party of Bráhman students repeating the Vedas. All the trees put forth their new leaves, like pious souls that have come to matured wisdom. The ák and jawása plants lose their leaves: as in a well-governed realm the schemes of the wicked come to nought. Search as you like, the dusty foot-path is no longer to be traced; like as when religion is put out of sight by passion. The earth rich with crops makes as goodly a show as the prosperity of the benevolent. The fire-flies glitter in the darkness of the cloudy night, like a mustered band of hypocritical pretenders. The ridges of the fields are broken down by the heavy rains, like women ruined by too much license. The diligent cultivators weed their lands, like philosophers who root up ignorance, vanity and pride. The chakwá and other birds are nowhere to be seen, like virtue that fled at the coming of the iron age. However much it may rain, no grass springs upon barren ground; so lust takes no root in the heart of Hari's worshippers. The earth gleams with swarms of living creatures of every kind; so the people multiply under good government. Here and there weary wayfarers stay and rest, like a man's bodily senses after the attainment of wisdom.
Dohá 15.
At times a strong wind disperses the clouds in all directions, like the birth of a bad son, who destroys all the pious practices of his family.
Chaupái.
Now the rains are over and the season of autumn has returned; see Lakshman, how exquisitely beautiful everything is. The whole earth is covered with the flowering káns grass, as though the rains had exposed its old age. The rising of Canopus[1] has dried up the water on the roads, like as greed is dried up by contenment. The surface of every river and lake is as pure and bright as is the soul of the saints devoid of all vanity and delusion; drop by drop their
depths are diminished, like as the enlightened gradually lose all notions of self. The wagtails know the autumn season and come out once more, like virtuous deeds in an auspicious time. There is neither mud nor dust; the earth is as
- ↑ The heliacal rising of the constellation Agastya, i.e., Canopus, takes place on the seventh day after the new moon of Bhádon, in the rainy season.
