Chapter XXXIV

_Sakhī:_ When first the damsel to her leman came,
Her heart beat fast with shame and fear:
Like to a golden image, Rādhā stood quite still,
Nor moving forward, nor returning.

Taking her hands, he sets her by his side,
And she in shame and anger veils her face:
When he unfolds her face and kisses her upon her mouth,
She hides the shamefast face in Mādhav's breast.

_This is the merry song of Vidyāpati the poet,_
_Delighting Rājā Shivasimha's heart._

XXXV.

_Sakhī:_ The sakhī soothed her fears, and led her lovingly,--
Her leman's heart was gladdened, he took her by the hand:
But Rādhā paled at Kānu's touch,
A lotus fading in the moon's embrace.

She cries: _Oh no, no, no!_ and tears are pouring
from her eyes,
She lies outstretched upon the margin of the bed,
His close embrace has not unloosed her zone,--
Even of handling of her breasts has been but little.

She lifts the wimple up to hide her face,
She cannot rest, but trembles through and through.
_Says Vidyāpati: The heart of it is patience:_
_Step by step may Madan claim his own._

XXXVI.

_Sakhī:_ Ah damsel fair! in dalliance is no delight,
For Madan wounds the heart with double pains.

The maidens all together setting her by Kānu's side,
The damsel breathes in frightened gasps:
When Kānu lifts her to his lap, she bends her body back,
Like the young snake, untamed by spells.

'But shut your eyes this once, my fair one,
As a sick man drinks his draught:
A little moment's pain, and then the birth of bliss,--
Why do you turn your face away from this, my girl?'

_Hearken, Murāri, saith Vidyāpati:_
_You are the ocean of desire, and she is artless._