the beauty of Ashmani. O thou who humblest the pride of beauteous damsels! O thou creator of cart-loads of confounded, big, elegant, compound words, do but once grant me shelter in a corner of thy feet; for I am about to describe a beauty. O thou giver of the milk and honey coveted by scholars, thou who scarcely favorest the illiterate! O thou saviour of the base! O thou mother of that perilous phenomenon—cacoethes scribendi! O thou who replenishest the lamp of learning at Bartala,[1] do thou once vouchsafe to ullumine
"——What in me is dark."
Mother, I know that thou hast two several forms. Do not, I beseech thee, make my poor shoulders ache by riding them in that form in which thou didst bless Kalidasa—that form which breathed inspiration into the author of Raghuvansa and Kumarsamvaba, Meghaduta and Sakuntala—under whose inspiration Valmiki composed his Ramayana—Bhababhuti his Malatimadhava and Bharabi his Kiratarjuniam. But descend thou on my head in that form which inspired Sri Harsha in producing his Naisadha—which has enabled Bharata Chandra to fascinate all Bengal by his incomparable Vidya,[2]—which smiled on the birth of Dasarathi Ray,[3] and which still illumines the depositories of Bartala; for I am going to describe the beauty of Ashmani.
Ashmani's flowing braid was like the snake. Owing to this, the pride of that animal was wounded. "What is the use of
