 | Poems |  |
103
MADANA.
[_]
The invisible Madana (or Kama), the Hindu Cupid, is armed with a bow of Sugar-cane, strung with bees, and five arrows, each tipped with a flower exercising a peculiar and distinct influence on the heart; among these, one alone of fatal and unerring flight is headed, and the head covered with honeycomb.
Summer! Summer! soft around,
With a hushed and dream-like sound,
From a beating heart that knows
Too much rapture for repose,
Breathless, tremulous, arise
Murmurs; thick mysterious sighs:
Whispers, faintly wandering by,
Breathe a warning out and die;
Lightly o'er the bending grass,
Changeful gleams and shadows pass;
Through the leaves a conscious thrill
Lightly runs, and all is still;
Like the tree whose branch and stem
Flame with many a sudden gem,
Blushing in its haste to greet
Touch of Beauty's slender feet;
Earth with inner joy opprest,
Shaken from her central rest,
Through her bursting bloom reveals
Hidden ecstasy she feels:
Now the rich, unfolding Rose
Through its crimson splendour glows;
Jasmine blossoms manifold
Shed their stars of paly gold;
On the lake's broad bosom borne,
Redd'ning to the redd'ning dawn,
Flashes many a floating cup
Raised to drink the sunbeams up;
Drooping on the heavy air
Faint with sweetness that they bear,
Now the Mango buds grow pale
O'er their passion-breathing tale;
And the Champak's leaves disclose
Where, amid their vestal snows,
Kindling at deep gleaming eyes
Fiery-hearted fragrance lies;
Summer! Summer! now the air
Trembles—Madana is there!
Watch not for his flitting wing,
List not for the bounding string,
Floating 'mid the groves to choose
Gorgeous blossoms, mingled hues,
Viewless as the viewless wind,
Weaving spells for heart and mind,
Flower-armed, flower-crowned Deity,
Light his unseen arrows fly!
Tremble not! the archer's smile
Plays but carelessly the while
Summer lightning o'er the sky
Flashing, flick'ring restlessly;
Sporting with the passing hours,
He hath winged their flight with flowers;
Gentle witchery and brief,
He hath breathed o'er bud and leaf;
That hath lent to glance and tone
Light and sweetness not their own;
And as these shall fade away,
Will the pleasant charm decay,
Droop, and leave no trace behind
Where its clasping tendrils twined,
Fading, fleeting, like the sigh
Of some wandering melody;
Like a blissful dream that flings
Light upon the coming day,
Like a bird whose gorgeous wings
Glitter as it flits away;
So they vanish! yet the heart
Ere its gentle guests depart
Links a thought for after hours,—
Summer! to thy songs and flowers!
With a hushed and dream-like sound,
From a beating heart that knows
Too much rapture for repose,
Breathless, tremulous, arise
Murmurs; thick mysterious sighs:
Whispers, faintly wandering by,
Breathe a warning out and die;
Lightly o'er the bending grass,
Changeful gleams and shadows pass;
Through the leaves a conscious thrill
Lightly runs, and all is still;
Like the tree whose branch and stem
Flame with many a sudden gem,
Blushing in its haste to greet
Touch of Beauty's slender feet;
104
Shaken from her central rest,
Through her bursting bloom reveals
Hidden ecstasy she feels:
Now the rich, unfolding Rose
Through its crimson splendour glows;
Jasmine blossoms manifold
Shed their stars of paly gold;
On the lake's broad bosom borne,
Redd'ning to the redd'ning dawn,
Flashes many a floating cup
Raised to drink the sunbeams up;
Drooping on the heavy air
Faint with sweetness that they bear,
Now the Mango buds grow pale
O'er their passion-breathing tale;
And the Champak's leaves disclose
Where, amid their vestal snows,
Kindling at deep gleaming eyes
Fiery-hearted fragrance lies;
Summer! Summer! now the air
Trembles—Madana is there!
Watch not for his flitting wing,
List not for the bounding string,
Floating 'mid the groves to choose
Gorgeous blossoms, mingled hues,
Viewless as the viewless wind,
Weaving spells for heart and mind,
Flower-armed, flower-crowned Deity,
Light his unseen arrows fly!
105
Plays but carelessly the while
Summer lightning o'er the sky
Flashing, flick'ring restlessly;
Sporting with the passing hours,
He hath winged their flight with flowers;
Gentle witchery and brief,
He hath breathed o'er bud and leaf;
That hath lent to glance and tone
Light and sweetness not their own;
And as these shall fade away,
Will the pleasant charm decay,
Droop, and leave no trace behind
Where its clasping tendrils twined,
Fading, fleeting, like the sigh
Of some wandering melody;
Like a blissful dream that flings
Light upon the coming day,
Like a bird whose gorgeous wings
Glitter as it flits away;
So they vanish! yet the heart
Ere its gentle guests depart
Links a thought for after hours,—
Summer! to thy songs and flowers!
Yet beware the hidden power,
Madana hath yet his hour:
These were but the chords that thrill
Lightly to a master's will,—
Tones, his wand'ring fingers fling
Breeze-like from the trembling string,
Ere he call forth all the fire,
All the passion of the Lyre;
Ere he stir through one deep strain
All the founts of joy and pain,
One full chord is yet unshaken,
One wild note hath yet to waken,
One keen arrow yet to fly—
Tremble! Madana is nigh!
O'er the fatal shaft is thrown
Sweetness all the archer's own;
For his strength in sweetness lies—
Sweetness, that through gentle eyes
(E'en in gazing half withdrawn)
Sheds upon the soul a dawn;
Sweetness ling'ring in a word,
Softly uttered, faintly heard,
Yet within the heart to dwell,
Treasured deep in many a cell,
Long with haunting echoes rife,
When the sounds have died to life;
From that subtle arrow's might,
Vain is wisdom, vain is flight!
Vain the charmer's boasted spell
Mightier charms than his to quell;
Groves of sandal and of balm
Yield no soothing, yield no calm,
Though their odorous branches shed
Fragrant tears upon thy head,
Vainly o'er thine aching brow
Droops the incense-breathing bough,
Not the cooling Lotus leaf
Gives to hurt like thine relief;
To thy throbbing temples prest,
Bound upon thy burning breast;
Vainly! still through pulse and vein
Glows the dull unceasing pain;
Vainly, vainly! still the smart
Rankles in thy stricken heart.
Therefore from the earth a sound,
Hushed, and dream-like, and profound,
Gathers—warning whispers rise,
Murmurs, thick, mysterious sighs!
Therefore all the haunted air
Trembles—Madana is there!
Madana hath yet his hour:
These were but the chords that thrill
Lightly to a master's will,—
106
Breeze-like from the trembling string,
Ere he call forth all the fire,
All the passion of the Lyre;
Ere he stir through one deep strain
All the founts of joy and pain,
One full chord is yet unshaken,
One wild note hath yet to waken,
One keen arrow yet to fly—
Tremble! Madana is nigh!
O'er the fatal shaft is thrown
Sweetness all the archer's own;
For his strength in sweetness lies—
Sweetness, that through gentle eyes
(E'en in gazing half withdrawn)
Sheds upon the soul a dawn;
Sweetness ling'ring in a word,
Softly uttered, faintly heard,
Yet within the heart to dwell,
Treasured deep in many a cell,
Long with haunting echoes rife,
When the sounds have died to life;
From that subtle arrow's might,
Vain is wisdom, vain is flight!
Vain the charmer's boasted spell
Mightier charms than his to quell;
Groves of sandal and of balm
Yield no soothing, yield no calm,
Though their odorous branches shed
Fragrant tears upon thy head,
107
Droops the incense-breathing bough,
Not the cooling Lotus leaf
Gives to hurt like thine relief;
To thy throbbing temples prest,
Bound upon thy burning breast;
Vainly! still through pulse and vein
Glows the dull unceasing pain;
Vainly, vainly! still the smart
Rankles in thy stricken heart.
Therefore from the earth a sound,
Hushed, and dream-like, and profound,
Gathers—warning whispers rise,
Murmurs, thick, mysterious sighs!
Therefore all the haunted air
Trembles—Madana is there!
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