University of Virginia Library


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A HYMN TO INDRA.


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But ah! what glories yon blue vault emblaze?
What living meteors from the zenith stream?
Or hath a rapt'rous dream
Perplex'd the isle-born bard in fiction's maze?
He wakes; he hears; views no fancied rays.
'Tis Indra mounted on the sun's bright beam;
And round him revels his empyreal train:
How rich their tints! how sweet their strain!
Like shooting stars around his regal seat
A veil of many-colour'd light they weave,
That eyes unholy would of sense bereave:
Their sparkling hands and lightly-tripping feet
Tir'd gales and panting clouds behind them leave.
With love of song and sacred beauty smit
The mystic dance they kint;
Pursuing, circling, whirling, twining, leading,
Now chasing, now receding;
Till the gay pageant from the sky descends
On charm'd Suméru, who with homage bends.
Hail, mountain of delight,
Palace of glory, bless'd by glory's king!
With prosp'ring shade embow'r me, whilst I sing
Thy wonders yet unreach'd by mortal flight.
Sky-piercing mountain! In thy bow'rs of love
No tears are seen, save where medici'nal stalks
Weep drops balsamic o'er the silver'd walks;
No plaints are heard, save where the restless dove
Of coy repulse and mild reluctance talks;
Mantled in woven gold, with gems enchas'd,

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With em'rald hillocks grac'd,
From whose fresh laps in young fantastic mazes
Soft crystal bounds and blazes
Bathing the lithe convolvulus, that winds
Obsequious, and each flaunting arbour binds.
When sapient Brahma this new world approv'd,
On woody wings eight primal mountains mov'd;
But Indra mark'd Suméru for his own,
And motionless was ev'ry stone.
Dazzling the moon he rears his golden head:
Nor bards inspir'd, nor heav'n's all-perfect speech
Less may unhallow'd rhyme his beauties teach,
Or paint the pavement which th' immortals tread;
Nor thought of man his awful height can reach:
Who sees it, maddens; who approaches, dies;
For, with flame-darting eyes,
Around it roll a thousand sleepless dragons;
While from their diamond flagons
The feasting Gods exhaustless nectar sip,
Which glows and sparkles on each fragrant lip.
This feast, in mem'ry of the churned wave
Great Indra gave, when Amrit first was won
From impious demons, who to Mayà's eyes
Resign'd the prize, and rued the fight begun.
Now, while each ardent Cinnara persuades
The soft-ey'd Apsarà to break the dance,
And leads her loth, yet with love-beaming glance,
To banks of marjoram and Champac shades,
Celestial Genii tow'rd their king advance
(So call'd by men, in heav'n Gandharva's nam'd)
For matchless music fam'd.
Soon, where the bands in lucid rows assemble,
Flutes breathe, and citherns tremble;
Till Chitraratha sings—His painted car,
Yet unconsum'd, gleams like an orient star.
Hush'd was ev'ry breezy pinion,

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Ev'ry stream his fall suspended:
Silence reign'd; whose sole dominion
Soon was rais'd, but soon was ended.
He sings, how ‘whilom from the troubled main
The sov'reign elephant Airavan sprang;
The breathing shell, that peals of conquest rang;
The parent cow, whom none implores in vain;
The milkwhite steed, the bow with deaf'ning clang;
The Goddesses of beauty, wealth, and wine;
Flow'rs, that unfading shine,
Narayan's gem, the moonlight's tender languish;
Blue venom, source of anguish;
The solemn leech, slow-moving o'er the strand,
A vase of long-sought Amrit in his hand.
To soften human ills dread Siva drank
The pois'nous flood, that stain'd his azure neck;
The rest thy mansions deck,
High Swerga, stor'd in many a blazing rank.
Thou, God of thunder, satst on Méru thron'd,
Cloud-riding, mountain-piercing, thousand-ey'd,
With young Pulomaja; thy blooming bride,
Whilst air and skies thy boundless empire own'd;
Hail, Dyupetir, dismay to Bala's pride!
Or speaks Purander best thy martial fame,
Or Sacra, mystic name?
With various praise in odes and hallow'd story
Sweet bards shall hymn thy glory.
Thou, Vasava, from this unmeasur'd height
Shedst pearl, shedst odours o'er the sons of light!’
The Genius rested; for his pow'rful art
Had swell'd the monarch's heart with ardour vain,
That threaten'd rash disdain, and seem'd to low'r
On Gods of loftier pow'r and ampler reign.
He smil'd; and, warbling in a softer mode,
Sang ‘the red light'ning, hail, and whelming rain

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‘O'er Gócul green and Vraja's nymph-lov'd plain
By Indra hurl'd, whose altars ne'er had glow'd,
Since infant Chrishna rul'd the rustic train
Now thrill'd with terrour—Them the heav'nly child
Call'd, and with looks ambrosial smil'd,
Then with one finger rear'd the vast Govérdhen,
Beneath whose rocky burden
On pastures dry the maids and herdsmen trod:
The Lord of thunder felt a mightier God!’
What furies potent modulation soothes!
E'en the dilated heart of Indra shrinks:
His ruffled brow he smoothes,
His lance half-rais'd with listless languor sinks.
A sweeter strain the sage musician chose:
He told, how ‘Sachi, soft as morning light,
Blythe Sachi, from her Lord Indrani hight,
When through clear skies their car ethereal rose,
Fix'd on a garden trim her wand'ring sight,
Where gay pomegranates, fresh with early dew,
Vaunted their blossoms new:
“Oh! pluck, she said, yon gems, which nature dresses
To grace my darker tresses.”
In form a shepherd's boy, a God in soul,
‘He hasten'd, and the bloomy treasure stole.
The reckless peasant, who those glowing flow'rs,
Hopeful of rubied fruit, had foster'd long,
Seiz'd and with cordage strong
Shackled the God, who gave him show'rs.
Straight from sev'n winds immortal Genii flew,
Green Varuna, whom foamy waves obey,
Bright Vahni flaming like the lamp of day,
Cuvéra sought by all, enjoyed by few,
Marut, who bids the winged breezes play,
Stern Yama, ruthless judge, and Isa cold

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With Nairrit mildly bold:
They with the ruddy flash, that points his thunder,
Rend his vain bands asunder.
Th' exulting God resumes his thousand eyes,
Four arms divine, and robes of changing dyes.’
Soft memory retrac'd the youthful scene:
The thund'rer yielded to resistless charms,
Then smil'd enamour'd on his blushing queen,
And melted in her arms.
Such was the vision, which, on Varan's breast
Or Asì pure with offer'd blossoms fill'd,
Dwaipayan slumb'ring saw; (thus Nared will'd)
For waking eye such glory never bless'd,
Nor waking ear such music ever thrill'd.
It vanish'd with light sleep: he, rising, prais'd
The guarded mount high-raised,
And pray'd the thund'ring pow'r, that sheafy treasures,
Mild show'rs and vernal pleasures,
The lab'ring youth in mead and vale might cheer,
And cherish'd herdsmen bless th' abundant year.
Thee, darter of the swift blue bolt, he sang;
Sprinkler of genial dews and fruitful rains
O'er hills and thirsty plains!
‘When through the waves of war thy charger sprang,
Each rock rebellow'd and each forest rang,
Till vanquish'd Asurs felt avenging pains.
Send o'er their seats the snake, that never dies,
But waft the virtuous to thy skies!’