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Urvasi CANTO IV
Through darkness and immense dim night he went Mid phantom outlines of approaching trees, And all the day in green leaves, till he came To peopled forests and sweet clamorous streams And marvellous shining meadows where he lived With Urvasie his love in seasons old. These like domestic faces waiting were. He knew each wind-blown tree, each different field; And could distinguish all the sounding rivers Each by its own voice and peculiar flow. Here were the happy shades where they had lain Inarmed and murmuring, here half-lustrous groves Still voiceful with a sacred sound at noon, And these the rivers from her beauty bright. There straying in field and forest he to each Familiar spot so full of her would speak, Pausing by banks and memorable trees. "O sacred fig-tree, under thee she paused Musing amid her tresses, and her eyes Were sweet and grave. And, O delicious shade, Thou hast experienced brightness from her feet, O cool and dark green shelterer, perfect place! And lo! the boughs all ruinous towards earth With blossoms. Here she lay, her arms thrown back, Smiling up to me, and the flowers rained Upon her lips and eyes and bosom bare. And here a secret opening where she stood Waiting in narrow twilight; round her all Was green and secret with a mystic, dewy Half invitation into emerald worlds. O river, from thee she moved towards the glade Breathing and wet and fresh as if a flower All bare from rain. And thou, great holy glade, Sawest her face maternal o’er her child." Then ceasing he would wait and listen, half
Page – 99 Expecting her. But all was silent; only Perhaps a bird darted bright-winged away, Or a grey snake slipped through the brilliant leaves. Thus wandering, thus in every mindful place Renewing old forgotten scenes that rose, Gleam after gleam, upon his mind, as stars Return at night; thus drawing from his heart Where they lay covered, old sweet incidents To live before his eyes; thus calling back Uncertain moods, brief moments of her face, And transient postures strangely beautiful, Pleasures, and little happy mists of tears Heart-freeing, he, materializing dreams, Upon her very body almost seized. Always a sense of imperfection slipped Between him and that passionate success. Therefore he murmured at last unsatisfied: "She is not here; though every mystic glade And sunbright pasture breathe alone of her And quiver as with her presence, I find not Her very limbs, her very face; yet dreamed That here infallibly I should restrain Her fugitive feet or hold her by the robe. O once she was the luminous soul of these, And in her body lived the summer and spring And seed and blossoming, ripening and fall, Hiding of Beauty in the wood and glen, And flashing out into the sunlit fields All flowers and laughter. All the happy moods And all the beautiful amorous ways of earth She was; but they now seem only her dress Left by her. Therefore, O ye seaward rivers, O forests, since ye have deceived my hope, I go from you to dazzling cruel ravines And find her on inclement mountains pure."
Then northward blown upon a storm of hope
Page – 100 The hero self-discrowned, Pururavus, Went swiftly up the burning plains and through The portals of the old Saivaalic hills To the inferior heights, nor lingered long, Though pulsing with fierce memories, though thrilled With shocks of a great passion touching earth; But plunged o’er difficult gorge and prone ravine And rivers thundering between dim walls, Driven by immense desire, until he came To dreadful silence of the peaks and trod Regions as vast and lonely as his love. Then with a confident sublime appeal He to the listening summits stretched his hands: "O desolate strong Himalaya, great Thy peaks alone with heaven and dreadful hush In which the Soul of all the world is felt Meditating creation! Thou, O mountain, My bridal chamber wast. On thee we lay With summits towards the moon or with near stars Watching us in some wild inhuman vale, Thy silence over us like a coverlid Or a far avalanche for bridal song. Lo, she is fled into your silences! I come to you, O mountains, with a heart Desolate like you, like you snow-swept, and stretch Towards your solemn summits kindred hands. Give back to me, O mountains, give her back." He ceased and Himalaya bent towards him, white. The mountains seemed to recognize a soul Immense as they, reaching as they to heaven And capable of infinite solitude. Long he, in meditation deep immersed, Strove to dissolve his soul among the hills Into the thought of Urvasie. The snow Stole down from heaven and touched his cheek and hair, The storm-blast from the peaks leaped down and smote But woke him not, and the white drops in vain
Page – 101 Froze in his locks or crusted all his garb. For he lived only with his passionate heart. But as the months with slow unnoticed tread Passed o’er the hills nor brought sweet change of spring Nor autumn wet with dew, a voice at last Moved from far heavens, other than our sky. And he arose as one impelled and came Past the supreme great ridges northward, came Into the wonderful land far up the world Dim-looming, where the Northern Kurus dwell, The ancients of the world, invisible, Among forgotten mists. Through mists he moved Feeling a sense of unseen cities, hearing No sound, nor seeing face, but conscious ever Of an immense traditionary life Throbbing round him and dreams historical. For as he went, old kingly memories surged, And with vast forward faces driving came Origins and stabilities and empires, Huge passionate creations, impulses National realizing themselves in stone. Lastly with rolling of the mists afar He saw beneath him the primeval rocks Plunge down into the valley, and upsoar To light wide thoughtful domes and measureless Ramparts, and mid them in a glory walk The ancients of the world with eyes august. Next towards the sun he looked and saw enthroned Upon the summit one whose regal hair Crowned her, and purple in waves down to her feet Flowed, Indira, the goddess, Ocean’s child, Giver of empire who all beauty keeps Between her hands, all glory, all wealth, all power. Severe and beautiful she leaned her face. "What passion, Ilian Pururavus, Has led thee here to my great capital And ancient men in the forgotten mists,
Page – 102 The fathers of the Aryan race? Of glory Enamoured hast thou come, or for thy people Empire soliciting? But other beauty Is on thy brow and light no longer mine. Yet not for self wast thou of virgin born, Perfect, and the aerial paths of gods Permitted to thy steps; nor for themselves, But to the voice of Vedic litanies, Sacredly placed are the dread crowns of Kings For bright felicities and cruel toils. And thou, O Ilian Pururavus, For passion dost thou leave thy strenuous grandeurs, A nation’s destinies, and hast not feared The sad inferior Ganges lapsing down With mournful rumour through the shades of Hell?" Then with calm eyes the hero Ilian: "O Goddess, patroness of Aryasthan, Lover of banyan and of lotus, I Not from the fear of Hell or hope of Heaven Do good or ill. Reigning I reigned o’er self, And with a kingly soul did kingly deeds. Now driven by a termless wide desire I wander over snow and countries vague." And like a viol Luxmie answered him: "Sprung of the moon, thy grandsire’s fault in thee Yet lives; but since thy love is singly great, Doubtless thou shalt possess thy whole desire. Yet hast thou maimed the future and discrowned The Aryan people; for though Ila’s sons, In Hustina, the city of elephants, And Indraprustha, future towns, shall rule Drawing my peoples to one sceptre, at last Their power by excess of beauty falls, — Thy sin, Pururavus — of beauty and love: And this the land divine to impure grasp Yields of barbarians from the outer shores." She ceased and the oblivious mists rolled down.
Page – 103 But the strong hero uncrowned, Pururavus, Eastward, all dreaming with his great desire, Wandered as when a man in sleep arises, And goes into the night, and under stars Through the black spaces moves, nor knows his feet Nor where they guide him, but dread unseen power Walks by him and leads his unerring steps To some weird forest or gaunt mountain-side; There he awakes, a horror in his soul, And shudders alien amid places strange. So wandered, driven by an unknown power, Pururavus. Over hushed dreadful hills And snows more breathless to the quiet banks Of a wide lake mid rocks and bending woods He came, and saw calm mountains over it, And knew in his awed heart the hill of God, Coilas, and Mainaac with its summits gold. Awed he in heart, yet with a quicker stride He moved and eyes of silent joy, like one Who coming from long travel, sees the old Village and children’s faces at the doors. In a wild faery place where mountain streams Glimmer from the dim rocks and meet the lake Amid a wrestle of tangled trees and heaped Moss-grown disordered stones, and all the water Is hidden with its lotuses and sways Shimmering between leaves or strains through bloom, She sat, the mother of the Aryans, white With a sublime pallor beneath her hair. Musing, with wide creative brows, she sat In a slight lovely dress fastened with flowers, All heaped with her large tresses. Golden swans Preened in the waters by her dipping feet. One hand propped her fair marble cheek, the other The mystic lotus hardly held. Seeing her Pururavus bent to her and adored. And she looked up and musing towards him
Page – 104 Said low: "O son, I knew thy steps afar. Of me thou wast; for as I suffered rapture, Invaded by the sea of images Breaking upon me from all winds, and saw Indus and Ganges with prophetic mind, A virginal impulse gleamed from my bosom And on the earth took beauty and form. I saw Thee from that glory issue and rejoiced. But now thou comest quite discrowned. From me, O son, thou hadst the impulse beautiful That made thy soul all colour. For I strive Towards the insufferable heights and flash With haloes of that sacred light intense. But lo! the spring and all its flowers, and lo! How bright the Soma juice. What golden joys, What living passions, what immortal tears! I lift the veil that hides the Immortal — Ah! My lids faint. Ah! the veil was lovelier. My flowers wither in that height, my swan Spreads not his wings felicitous so far. O one day I shall turn from the great verse And marble aspiration to sing sweetly Of lovers and the pomps of wealth and wine And warm delights and warm desires and earth. O mine own son, Pururavus, I fall By thy vast failure from my dazzling skies." And Ila’s son made answer, "O white-armed, O mother of the Aryans, of my life Creatress! fates colossal overrule. But lo! I wander like a wave, nor find Limit to the desire that wastes my soul." Then with a sweet immortal smile the mother Gave to him in the hollow of her hand Wonderful water of the lake. He drank, And understood infinity, and saw Time like a snake coiling among the stars; And earth he saw, and mortal nights and days
Page – 105 Grew to him moments, and his limbs became Undying and his thoughts as marble endured. Then to the hero deified the goddess, "O strong immortal, now pursue thy joy: Yet first rise up the peaks of Coilas; there The Mighty Mother sits, whose sovran voice Shall ratify to thee thy future fair," Said and caressed his brow with lips divine. And bright Pururavus rose up the hill Towards the breathless summit. Thence, enshrined In deep concealing glories, came a voice, And clearer he discerned as one whose eyes, Long cognizant of darkness, coming forth, Grow gradually habituated to light, The calm compassionate face, the heaven-wide brow, And the robust great limbs that bear the world. Prophetical and deep her voice came down: "Thou then hast failed, bright soul; but God blames not Nor punishes. Impartially he deals To every strenuous spirit its chosen reward. And since no work, however maimed, no smallest Energy added to the mighty sum Of action fails of its exact result, Empire shall in thy line and forceful brain Persist, the boundless impulse towards rule Of grandiose souls perpetually recur, And minds immense and personalities With battle and with passion and with storm Shall burn through Aryan history, the speech Of ages. In thy line the Spirit Supreme Shall bound existence with one human form; In Mathura and ocean Dwarca Man Earthly perfectibility of soul Example: son of thy line and eulogist, The vast clear poet of the golden verse, Whose song shall be as wide as is the world. But all by huge self-will or violence marred
Page – 106 Of passionate uncontrol; if pure, their work By touch of later turbulent hands unsphered Or fames by legend stained. Upon my heights Breathing God’s air, strong as the sky and pure, Dwell only Ixvaacou’s children; destined theirs Heaven’s perfect praise, earth’s sole unequalled song. But thou, O Ila’s son, take up thy joy. For thee in sweet Gundhurva world eternal Rapture and clasp unloosed of Urvasie, Till the long night when God asleep shall fall."
Ceased the great voice and strong Pururavus Glad of his high reward, however dearly Purchased, purchased with infinite downfall, With footing now divine went up the world. Mid regions sweet and peaks of milk-white snow And lovely corners and delicious lakes, He saw a road all sunlight and the gates Of the Gundhurvas’ home. O never ship From Ocean into Ocean erring knew Such joy through all its patient sails at sight Of final haven near as the tried heart Of earth’s successful son at that fair goal. Towards the gates he hastened, and one bright With angel face who at those portals stood Cried down, "We wait for thee, Pururavus." Then to his hearing musical, the hinges Called; he beheld the subtle faces look Down on him and the crowd of luminous forms, And entered to immortal sound of lyres. Up through the streets a silver cry went on Before him of high instruments. From all The winds the marvellous musicians pressed To welcome that immortal lover. One Whose pure-limned brows aerial wore by right Faery authority, stood from the crowd. "O Ila’s son, far-famed Pururavus,
Page – 107 Destined to joys by mortals all unhoped! Move to thy sacred glories as a star Into its destined place, shine over us Here greatest as upon thy greener earth." They through the thrilling regions musical Led him and marvelled at him and praised with song His fair sublimity of form and brow And warlike limbs and grace heroical. He heeded not, for all his soul was straining With expectation of a near delight. His eyes that sought her ever, beheld a wall Of mighty trees and, where they arched to part, Those two of all their sisters brightest rise, One blithe as is a happy brook, the other With her grave smile; and each took a strong hand In her soft clasp, and led him to a place Distinct mid faery-leaved ethereal trees And magic banks and sweet low curves of hills, And over all the sunlight like a charm. There by a sounding river downward thrown From under low green-curtaining boughs was she. Mute she arose and with wide quiet eyes Came towards him. In their immortal looks Was a deep feeling too august for joy, The sense that all eternity must follow One perfect moment. Then that comrade bright With slow grave smile, "O after absence wide Who meet and shall not sunder any more Till slumber of the Supreme, strong be your souls To bear unchanging rapture; strong you were By patience to compel unwilling Gods." And they were left alone in that clear world. Then all his soul towards her leaning, took Pururavus into his clasp and felt, Seriously glad, the golden bosom on his Of Urvasie, his love; so pressing back The longed-for sacred face, lingering he kissed.
Page – 108 Then Love in his sweet heavens was satisfied. But far below through silent mighty space The green and strenuous earth abandoned rolled.
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