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THE DEATH OF LOVE.
23

But vain, all vain the bolt of Heaven to fright
Those holy Saints whom Penance arms aright;
Thy power knows no bound—thou, only thou.
All-conquering Deity, canst help me now!
Full well I know thy nature, and assign
This toil to thee, which needs a strength like thine:
As on that Snake alone will Krishna rest.
That bears the Earth upon his haughty crest.
Our task is well-nigh done—thy boasted dart
Has power to conquer even Siva's heart;
Hear what the Gods, oppressed with woe, would fain
From mighty Siva through thine aid obtain;
He may beget—and none in Heaven but he—
A chief to lead our hosts to victory;
But all his mind with holiest lore is fraught.
Bent on the Godhead is his every thought;
Thy darts, Love, alone can reach him now.
And lure his spirit from the hermit vow.
Go, seek Himálaya's Mountain-child, and aid
With all thy loveliest charms the lovely Maid,
So may she please his fancy—only she
May wed with Siva—such the fixed decree.

E'en now my bands of Heavenly Maids have spied
Fair Uma dwelling by the Hermit's side—
There by her father's bidding rests she still,
Sweet minister, upon the cold bleak hill.
Go, Káma, go! perform this great emprise,
And free from fear the Rulers of the Skies;
We need thy favour, as the new-sown grain
Calls for the influence of the gentle rain.