Chapter XXXII

_Rādhā:_ Leave me, dear maid, I pray you,--
I will not go whereas he is:
Nought do I know the skill of words,
Or art of signs, nor how to pretend offense.

All of my friends arraying me at once,--
I cannot even bind my own hair!
I never have heard what dalliance means,
How may I mix with Mādhava?

He is learned in love, a passionate swain,
And I a weak girl of scanty wisdom.
_Says Vidyāpati: What counsel do I give?_
_'Tis that there should be union._

PRATHAMA MILNA

XXXIII.

_Dūtika:_ Hearken, hearken, beautiful Kānāi:
I give the maiden Rādhā to your care,
A lotus-damsel, softly-wrought,
And thirstier bee than you.

The feast of honey is prepared,--
Only forget the Archer's cruelty,
Touching her bosom gently
As an olifant a lily.

Making excuse to count her necklace pearls,
Your hands may lift the burden of her breasts:
She does not understand the ways of love,
But now consents, and now refuses.

The shirīsh-flower is not more delicate than she, therefore
Inure her to the Archer's way by little steps,--
_The poet Vidyāpati lays down_
_This prayer of a messenger upon your feet._