The Indian Song of Songs (tr. Arnold)/The Indian Song of Songs/Sarga the Eleventh

by Jayadeva

SARGA THE ELEVENTH.

RADHIKAMILANE SANANDADAMODARO.

THE UNION OF RADHA AND KRISHNA.

Thus followed soft and lasting peace, and griefs
Died while she listened to his tender tongue,
Her eyes of antelope alight with love;
And while he led the way to the bride-bower
The maidens of her train adorned her fair
With golden marriage-cloths, and sang this song,

(What follows is to the Music Vasanta and the Mode Yati.)

 

Follow, happy Radha! follow,—
In the quiet falling twilight—
The steps of him who followed thee
So steadfastly and far;
Let us bring thee where the Banjulas
Have spread a roof of crimson,
Lit up by many a marriage-lamp
Of planet, sun, and star:
For the hours of doubt are over,
And thy glad and faithful lover
Hath found the road by tears and prayers
To thy divinest side;
And thou wilt not now deny him
One delight of all thy beauty,
But yield up open-hearted
His desire, his prize, his bride.

Oh, follow! while we fill the air
With songs and softest music;
Lauding thy wedded loveliness,
Dear Mistress past compare!
For there is not any splendour
Of Apsarasas immortal—
No glory of their beauty rich—
But Radha has a share;
Oh, follow while we sing the song
That fills the worlds with longing,
The music of the Lord of love
Who melts all hearts with bliss;
For now is born the gladness
That springs from mortal sadness,
And all soft thoughts and things and hopes
Were presages of this.

Then, follow, happiest Lady!
Follow him thou lovest wholly;
The hour is come to follow now
The soul thy spells have led;
His are thy breasts like jasper-cups,
And his thine eyes like planets;
Thy fragrant hair, thy stately neck,
Thy queenly sumptuous head;
Thy soft small feet, thy perfect lips,
Thy teeth like jasmine petals,
Thy gleaming rounded shoulders,
And long caressing arms,
Being thine to give, are his; and his
The twin strings of thy girdle,
And his the priceless treasure
Of thine utter-sweetest charms.

So follow! while the flowers break forth
In white and amber clusters,
At the breath of thy pure presence,
And the radiance on thy brow;
Oh, follow where the Asokas wave
Their sprays of gold and purple,
As if to beckon thee the way
That Krishna passed but now;
He is gone a little forward!
Though thy steps are faint for pleasure,
Let him hear the tattling ripple
Of the bangles round thy feet;
Moving slowly o'er the blossoms
On the path which he has shown thee,
That when he turns to listen
It may make his fond heart beat.

And loose thy jewelled girdle
A little, that its rubies
May tinkle softest music too,
And whisper thou art near;
Though now, if in the forest
Thou should'st bend one blade of Kushia
With silken touch of passing foot,
His heart would know and hear;
Would hear the wood-buds saying,
"It is Radha's foot that passes;"
Would hear the wind sigh love-sick,
"It is Radha's fragrance, this;"
Would hear thine own heart beating
Within thy panting bosom,
And know thee coming, coming,
His—ever,—ever—his!

Mine!"—hark! we are near enough for hearing—
"Soon she will come—she will smile—she will say
Honey-sweet words of heavenly endearing;
O soul! listen; my Bride is on her way!"
Hear'st him not, my Radha?
Lo, night bendeth o'er thee—
Darker than dark Tamâla-leaves—
To list thy marriage-song;
Dark as the touchstone that tries gold,
And see now—on before thee—
Those lines of tender light that creep
The clouded sky along:
O night! that trieth gold of love,
This love is proven perfect!
O lines that streak the touchstone sky,
Flash forth true shining gold!
O rose-leaf feet, go boldly!
O night!—that lovest lovers—
Thy softest robe of silence
About these bridals fold!

See'st thou not, my Radha?
Lo, the night, thy bridesmaid,
Comes!—her eyes thick-painted
With soorma of the gloom—
The night that binds the planet-worlds
For jewels on her forehead,
And for emblem and for garland
Loves the blue-black lotus-bloom;
The night that scents her breath so sweet
With cool and musky odours,
That joys to spread her veil of shade
Over the limbs of love;
And when, with loving weary,
Yet dreaming love, they slumber,
Sets the far stars for silver lamps
To light them from above.

 

So came she where he stood, awaiting her
At the bower's entry, like a god to see,
With marriage-gladness and the grace of heaven.
The great pearl set upon his glorious head
Shone like a moon among the leaves, and shone
Like stars the gems that kept her gold gown close:
But still a little while she paused—abashed
At her delight, of her deep joy afraid—
And they that tended her sang once more this,

(What follows is to the Music Varâdi and the Mode Rupaka.)

Enter, thrice-happy! enter, thrice-desired!
And let the gates of Hari shut thee in
With the soul destined to thee from of old.

Tremble not! lay thy lovely shame aside;
Lay it aside with thine unfastened zone,
And love him with the love that knows not fear;

Because it fears not change; enter thou in,
Flower of all sweet and stainless womanhood!
For ever to grow bright, for ever new;

Enter beneath the flowers, O flower-fair!
Beneath these tendrils, Loveliest! that entwine
And clasp, and wreathe and cling, with kissing stems;

Enter, with tender-blowing airs of heaven
Soft as love's breath and gentle as the tones
Of lover's whispers, when the lips come close:

Enter the house of Love, O loveliest!
Enter the marriage-bower, most beautiful!
And take and give the joy that Hari grants.

Thy heart has entered, let thy feet go too!
Lo, Krishna! lo, the one that thirsts for thee!
Give him the drink of amrit from thy lips.

Then she, no more delaying, entered straight;
Her step a little faltered, but her face
Shone with unutterable quick love; and—while
The music of her bangles passed the porch—
Shame, which had lingered in her downcast eyes,
Departed shamed^[1] . . . and like the mighty deep,
Which sees the moon and rises, all his life
Uprose to drink her beams.

(Here ends that Sarga of the Gîta Govinda entitled
Radhikamilane Sanandadamodaro.)

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Hari keep you! He whose might,
On the King of Serpents seated,
Flashes forth in dazzling light
From the Great Snake's gems repeated:
Hari keep you! He whose graces,
Manifold in majesty,—
Multiplied in heavenly places—
Multiply on earth—to see
Better with a hundred eyes
Her bright charms who by him lies.
————————
What skill may be in singing,
What worship sound in song,
What lore be taught in loving,
What right divined from wrong:
Such things hath Jayadeva—
In this his Hymn of Love,
Which lauds Govinda ever,—
Displayed; may all approve!

 

THE END OF THE INDIAN SONG OF SONGS.

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1. This complete anticipation (salajjâ lajjâpi) of the line—

   "Upon whose brow shame is ashamed to sit"

   —occurs at the close of the Sarga, part of which is here perforce omitted, along with the whole of the last one.