Chapter LXXXVII

_Rādhā:_ I was alone, and weaving garlands,
My skirt and bodice were unloosed,
And then came Kānu with quiet smiles!
(How shall I hide my bosom and my girdlestead?)

My darling clasped me with a merry laugh,
Modesty and shame departed to the underworld--
(How may I dout the lamp, that's out of reach of hands?)
And yet my brazen life dies not of shame!

_This is the very work of love, says Vidyāpati:_
_Wherefore this shame of him to whom your life is dedicate?_

LXXXVIII.

_Rādhā:_ To-day my awkward shame was far away,
He realised his heart's desires:
What shall I say, my dear? (I smile to speak of it,)
So very marvellous was the dalliance of to-day.

The toppling clouds fell down on earth,
The pleasant mountain-kings rose up on high:
I likewise, gazing in the emerald mirror,
Fell there where neither up nor down are known.

Newly advised was Kān, my lord,
His sayings overpowered me:
He gave a refuge to the homeless--
Shamefast I was and hid my heart's fire.

The prince of wantons folded me upon his lap.
And with the wimple wiped the dews of weariness,
Fanning me gently, I fell asleep.
_Vidyāpati exclaims: Delight beyond compare!_

LXXXIX.

_Rādhā:_ What can I say, my dear? 'Tis measureless!
Whether this was a dream, or real, I cannot tell,
Or very near, or far away.

Beneath the winding lightning, darkness came to birth,
Within, a river of heavenly nectar:
The wavering darkness swallowed the sun and moon.
On every hand the stars were falling!

The heavens fell, the hills were overthrown,
The earth quaked hard,
Stormily rose the sighing winds,
The swarms of bees buzzed:

Like an ocean of chaos the waters overflowed,--
Yet this was not an æon's ending!
_How can I trow this contrary tale?_
_Vidyāpati makes enquiry._

XC.

_Sakhī:_ Her wandering hair was mingled with the circle of her face--
A wreath of clouds across the moon:
Jewelled earrings swung from her ears,
Her tilka ran with sweat.

(Beauty, of fortune-yielding face:
If you should still wage Rati's war,
How may Hari-Hara save?)

Bracelets musical, and bangles noisy,
Anklets clinking:
Drunk with the wine of love, Love yielded,--
Victory, Victory! by beat of drum!

For when from the loins arose a muffled sound,
The warrior was crushed:
_Vidyāpati's Master wins such bliss,--_
_Yamunā and Gangā mingling._