Selected Poems
of
NIDHU BABU
I
EYES of the hind, you are my jailors, sweetest;
My heart with the hind’s frightened motion fleetest
In terror strange would flee.
But find no issue, sweet; for thy quick smiling,
Thy tresses like a net with threads beguiling
Detain it utterly.
I am afraid of thy great eyes and well-like,
I am afraid of thy small ears and shell-like,
And everything in thee.
Comfort my fainting heart with soft assurance
And soon it will grow tame and love its durance,
Hearing such melody.
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II
LINE not with these dark rings thy bright eyes ever!
Such keen shafts arc enough to slay unaided;
To tip the barbs with venom why endeavour?
O then no heart could live thy glance invaded.
Why any live wouldst thou have explanation?
Three powers have thine eyes of grievous passion.
The first is poison making them death’s portal,
The second wine of strong intoxication;
The third is nectar that makes gods immortal.
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III
IF the heart’s hope were never satisfied,
Then no man could for long his life retain.
The cloud to which the impatient rain-lark cried
Contents at last the suffering bird with rain
And bids him not to thirst forever.
And see the lamp with the moth flitting near it;
A little forward and he swells the fire.
But he invites that end and does not fear it,
Gladly he burns himself at love’s desire.
In bliss to die is his endeavour.
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IV
WHAT else have I to give thee? I have yielded "
My heart at thy discretion,
And is there than the heart a closer-shielded
Reluctant sweet possession?
Dear, if thou know of such as yet ungiven,
I will not grudge but yielding think if heaven.
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V
MY eyes arc lost in thine as in great rivers,
My soul is in their depths of beauty drowned.
Love in thine eyes three sacred streams delivers,
Whose waves with crests of rushing speed are crowned.
The wind of love has stirred thy fluttering lashes,
The tide of love heaves in thy sweet emotion;
My beating heart feels as it seaward washes
Billows of passion rush a stormy ocean.
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VI
SWEET, gaze not always on thine own face in the mirror,
Lest looking so on thine own wondrous beauty,
Thou lose the habit of thy queenly duty
And thy poor subject quite forget.
Well may I fear such fatal error,
Since they who always on their own wealth look
Grow misers and to spend it cannot brook.
Lest thou like these grow miser of thy beauty, sweet.
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VII
WHY gazing in the glass I stand nor move
As rapt in bliss, hast thou not then divined?
Because thy home is in my eyes, dear love
And gazing there I gaze on thee enshrined.
And therefore must my face seen in the glass
In beauty my own former face surpass.
Thane own eyes, sweet suspecter, long have known
I love my beauty for their sake alone.
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VIII
THE whom I woo makes with me no abiding;
He whom I shun1 parts not for all my chiding.
Absence I quite contemn; he loves nor loves me;
Union my life is; ever he deceives me.
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IX
CEASE, clouds of autumn, cease to roll;
Your
Love of my heart, in distant lands thou roamest.
The musical rich sound of rain
But touching me, ah, turns to pain.
The pleasant daylight brings delay
Of added infelicity
Because of one face far away,
Grief of heart where joy should be.
The glorious lightning as it burns
Goes shuddering through my body faint
And my sad eyes remembrance turns
Into moist fountains of complaint.
Cease, clouds of autumn, cease to roll;
Your thunders slay a poor girl’s soul.
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X
THE spring is here, sweet friend, the spring is here
And
How many dreadful armed things appear
One by
The cuckoo of his black bands captain is,
The full moon marshals his white companies.
The nectared moon grown poisonous as a snake,
A venomed arrow is the murmuring bee.
The cuckoo’s cunning note my heart doth break Utterly.
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XI
ERE I had taken half my will of joy,
Why hast
To slay a woman’s heart with sad annoy,
O ruddy Dawn, thou openest in the cast.
The whispering world begins in dawn’s red shining,
Nor will Night stay one hour for lovers’ pining.
Ere love is done, must Dawn our love discover?
Ah why should lover’s blissful meeting
Mix so soon with parting’s sorrow?
On happy night come heavy morrow?
Night will not stay for love’s entreating.
Ere love was done, ah me! the night was over.
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XII
NAY, though thy absence was a tardy fire,
Yet in such meeting is a worse derision;
For never yet the passionate eyes’ desire
Drew comfort from such momentary vision.
Who ever heard of great heats soon expended,
Huge fire with a little burning ended?
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XIII
T SAID in anger, "When next time he prays,
I will be sullen and repulse his charms."
Ah me! but when I saw my lover’s face,
I quite forgot and rushed into his arms.
Mine eyes said, "We will joy in him no longer;
Vainly let him entreat nor pardon crave."
He came, nor pardon asked; my bonds grew stronger,
I am become more utterly1 his slave.
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XIV
A H sweet, thou hast not understood my love,—
This is my grief, thou hast not understood.
Else would my heart’s pain thy compassion move,
Who in my heart persistest like heart’s blood
When 1 am dead, then wilt thou pity prove
And with thy sorrow on deaf ears intrude?
This is my grief thou hast not understood.
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XV
HOW much thou didst entreat! with what sweet wooing
Thou hast bewitched my soul to love thee!
Now when I’ve loved thee to my own undoing,
O marvel! all my piteous tears and suing
To bless me with thy presence cannot move thee.
Would I, if I had known ere all was over,
Have given my heart for thy sole pleasure?
So sweet thy words, I fell in love with loving
And gave my heart, the very roots removing.
How could I know that thy love had a measure?
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XVI
HOW could I know that he was waiting only
For an excuse to leave me?
I was so sure he loved me, not one lonely
Suspicion came to grieve me.
But now a small offence his pretext making
He has buried Love and left me;
Blithely has gone, his whole will of me taking,
Having of bliss bereft me.
Too well he knows my grief of heart, not caring
Tho’ it break through his disdain.
I sit forsaken, all my beauty wearing
But as a crown of pain.
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XVII
IN TO the hollow of whose hand my heart
I gave once, surely thinking him my lover,
How shall I now forget him? by what art
My captive soul recover?
I look Love’s graver up and slow portrayed
His beauty on my soul with lingering care.
How shall the picture1 from its back-ground fade,
Burnt in so deeply there.
"He has forgotten thee, forget him thou;"
All say to me, "a vain thing is regret."
Ah yes, that day when death is on my brow,
I shall indeed forget.
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XVIII
HAST thou remembered me at last, my own
And therefore come after so many days?
When man has once drained love and elsewhere flown,
Does he return to the forgotten face?
Therefore I think by error thou hast come.
Or else a passing pity led thee home.
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XIX
I DID not dream, O love, that I
Would ever have thee back again.
The sunflower drooping hopelessly
Expects no sun to end her pain.
I did not dream my lord would show
Favour to his poor slave-girl more,
That I should mix my eyes as now
With the
I did not dream my huge desire
Would be filled full and grief be over,
But burning in love’s bitter fire
With hopeless longing for my lover,
One thought alone possessed thy slave,
"Lord of my life, where art thou gone
Wilt thou not come this life to save?
" Dumbly this thought and this alone.
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XX
IN true sweet love what more than utter bliss is,
He only
As moonbird seeks the moon, she seeks his kisses,
Liberal of
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