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"Yea Lady! in the self-same spot he waits
Where with thy kiss thou taught'st him utmost love,
And drew him, as none else draws, with thy look;
And all day long, and all night long, his cry
Is 'Radha, Radha' like a spell said o'er
And in his heart there lives no wish nor hope
Save only this, to slake his spirit's thirst
For Radha's love with Radha's lips; and find
Peace on the immortal beauty of thy breast.
(What follows is the Music Gurjjari and the Mode Ekatali.)
Mistress, sweet and bright and holy!
Meet him in that place;
Change his cheerless melancholy
Into joy and grace;
If thou hast forgiven, vex not:
If thou lovest, go,
Watching ever by the river,
Krishna listens low:
Listens low, and on his reed there
Softly sounds thy name,
Making even mute things plead there
For his hope: 'tis shame
That, while winds are welcome to him,
If from thee they blow,
Mournful ever by the river
Krishna waits thee so!
When a bird's wing stirs the roses,
When a leaf falls dead,
Twenty times he recomposes
The flower-seat he has spread:
Twenty-times, with anxious glances
Seeking thee in vain,
Sighing ever by the river,
Krishna droops again.
Loosen from thy foot the bangle,
Lest its golden bell,
With a tiny tattling jangle,
Any false tale tell:
If though fearest the moonlight
Will thy glad face know,
Draw those dark braids lower, Lady!
But to Krishna go.
Swift and still as lightning's splendour
Let thy beauty come.
Sudden, gracious, dazzling, tender,
To his arms---its home.
Swift as Indra's yellow lightning,
Shining through the night,
Glide to Krishna's lonely bosom,
Take him love and light.
Grant, at last, love's utmost measure,
Giving the whole:
Keep back nothing of the treasure
Of thy priceless soul:
Hold with both hands out unto him
Thy chalice, let him drain
The nectar of its dearest draught,
Till not a wish remain.
Only go---the stars are setting,
And thy Krishna grieves;
Doubt and anger quite forgetting,
Hasten through the leaves:
Wherefore didst thou lead him heav'nward
But for this thing's sake?
Comfort him with pity, Radha!
Or his heart must break.
But while Jayadeva writes
This rare tale of deep delights---
Jayadev, whose heart is given
Unto Jari, Lord in Heaven---
See that ye too, as ye read,
With a glad and humble heed,
Bend your brows before His face,
That he may have bliss and grace."