Collected Poems

The Tale of Nala - II

Nala, Nishadha's king, paced by a stream
That sings to jasmine-bushes where they dream
Dropping their petal kisses on the flood.
A mountain purple-vague
Wide-watching, half-reclined against the sky,
The drowsy earth with its stone-lidded eye,
Pressing upon the nearness blue and dense
Its shoulder in a mighty indolence.
The birds were silent on the unruffled trees;
The spotted lizard in a dull-eyed ease
Basked on his sentinel-stone; a lonely kite
Circled above, half rusty-gold, half-white.
Shrill and dissatisfied the wanderer's sky
To an unlistening ear sailed shadowy-high.
He saw with absent eyes the ripple-run
Of waters curling in the noonday sun.
His thoughts were with a face his dreams had seen,
And like a floating charm it came between
His vision and the jasmines' virgin glow,
Warmer than clusterings of their moon-flaked snow.
He listened to a name his dreams had heard
Sweeter than passion of a crooning bird.
In long and softly-wreathing sounds were twined
The delicate syllables yearning through his mind;
His beating heart was to their charm compelled.
But now he raised his eyelids and beheld
Possess the air in act to climb and seize

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Heaven's sapphire longing for earth's green unease,
The summit self-uplifted to the sky
With undecipherable charactery
Of woods half-outlined in a passionate haze.
Bright violently as if to force his gaze
Broke from the blue-stoled secrecy of the hill
Such radiance as when softly visible
Breaks stealing from a purple-covered breast
A lovely glint of whiteness. Now, increased,
Like a snow-feathered arrow-head it flew
Splintering the sapphire with its silvery hue.
But before long there gleamed a flame-bright flock
Flying like one and breasting with its shock
Of faery speed the widenesses of noon.
So rapidly the wonder travelled, soon
He saw distinct the feathers proud and fine
Not only with a splendour argentine,
But shaken from the wings was shed a hail
Of gold that left the sunbeam's glory pale.
They flew not like the snowy cranes, a wreath
Of flowers driven in the rainwind's breath,
But ranked in lovely lines magnificent came
Filling the eyes with silver and with flame.
They over Nala's garden flying round
Whirring descended with a far-heard sound,
A gentle thunder falling sweetly slack
As line by line they filled the slumbering lake.
A hundred wonderful shapes in mystic crowd
Covered the water like a living cloud.
Next on the stream they spread their glorious bosoms
And preening over the waves like curving blossoms
Their long and delicate necks came floating on.

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