But lo ! Presently at his side, the queen,
Her ringlets flying to the morning breeze,
Like water nymph or forest Dryad stepped;
And looked steadfast with eye unlided like
Some modern mesmerist over his subject,
At that fair prince. But he, like one in trance
Mesmeric, stood absorbed.
And she advantaged by his absent mood.
Stole softly round his neck her snowy arm
And softly thus began, "Marketh thou prince
How now the Lord of Day from every bud
Kisses the sleep away, that blushing wakes
And opens her fairy lids? The butterfly
Robbed in his gaudy silks wooes every bloom,
But wooes to quit – reckless wanton he !
And lo ! that malati twining as it does
The Kulaya's tall and aged trunk holds up
Her odorous blooms to frolic Zephyr's kiss.
In nature all his playful, all his mirth,
And beauteous things to beauteous things are linked."
And here a meaning look she cast at him,
But he a ghastly look returned, and slipped
From her side as if to pluck a lotus
That at the margin blew.
"Softly my prince !
Disturb not so the amours of the pair
Of ruddy geese, from nights' separation sore,
That lately met. 'Tis but a dreary waste
గురుజాడలు
6
కవితలు
