All poems in English including sonnets, lyrical poems, narrative poems, and metrical experiments in various forms.
Poems
This volume consists of all poems in English including sonnets, lyrical poems, narrative poems, and metrical experiments in various forms. All such poems published by Sri Aurobindo during his lifetime are included here, as well as poems found among his manuscripts after his passing. Sri Aurobindo worked on these poems over the course of seven decades. The first one was published in 1883 when he was ten; a number of poems were written or revised more than sixty years later, in the late 1940s.
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Pururavus from Titan conflict ceased Turned worldwards, through illimitable space Had travelled like a star 'twixt earth and heaven Slowly and brightly. Late our mortal air He breathed; for downward now the hooves divine Trampling out fire with sound before them went, And the great earth rushed up towards him, green. With the first line of dawn he touched the peaks, Nor paused upon those savage heights, but reached Inferior summits subject to the rain, And rested. Looking northwards thence he saw The giant snows upclimbing to the sky, And felt the mighty silence. In his ear The noise of a retreating battle was, Wide crash of wheels and hard impetuous blare Of trumpets and the sullen march of hosts. Therefore with joy he drank into his soul The virgin silence inaccessible Of mountains and divined his mother's breasts. But as he listened to the hush, a thought Came to him from the spring and he turned round And gazed into the quiet maiden East, Watching that birth of day, as if a line Of some great poem out of dimness grew, Slowly unfolding into perfect speech. The grey lucidity and pearliness Bloomed more and more, and over earth chaste again The freshness of the primal dawn returned, Life coming with a virginal sharp strength, Renewed as from the streams of Paradise. Nearer it drew now to him and he saw Out of the widening glory move a face Of dawn, a body fresh from mystery, Enveloped with a prophecy of light More rich than perfect splendours. It was she,
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The golden virgin, Usha, mother of life, Yet virgin. In a silence sweet she came, Unveiled, soft-smiling, like a bride, rose-cheeked, Her bosom full of flowers, the morning wind Stirring her hair and all about her gold. Nor sole she came. Behind her faces laughed Delicious, girls of heaven whose beauties ease The labour of the battle-weary Gods; They in the golden dawn of things sprang gold, From youth of the immortal Ocean born, They youthful and immortal, and the waves Were in their feet and in their voices fresh As foam, and Ocean in their souls was love. Laughing they ran among the clouds, their hair And raiment all a tempest in the breeze. The sky grew glorious with them and their feet A restless loveliness and glad eyes full Of morning and divine faces bent back For the imperious kisses of the wind. So danced they numberless as dew-drops gleam, Ménaca, Misracayshie, Mullica, Rumbha, Nelabha, Shela, Nolinie, Lolita, Lavonya and Tilôttama,— Many delightful names; among them she. And seeing her Pururavus the king Shuddered as of felicity afraid, And all the wide heart of Pururavus Moved like the sea—when with a coming wind Great Ocean lifts in far expectancy Waiting to feel the shock, so was he moved By expectation of her face. For this Was secret in its own divinity Like a high sun of splendour, or half seen All troubled with her hair. Yet Paradise Breathed from her limbs and tresses wonderful, With odours and with dreams. Then for a space Voiceless the great king stood and, troubled, watched
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That lovely advent, laughter and delight Gaining upon the world. At last he sighed And the vague passion broke from him in speech Heard by the solitude. "O thou strong god, Who art thou graspest me with hands of fire, Making my soul all colour? Surely I thought The hills would move and the eternal stars Deviate from their rounds immutable, Never Pururavus; yet lo! I fall. My soul whirls alien and I hear amazed The galloping of uncontrollable steeds. Men said of me: The King Pururavus Grows more than man; he lifts to azure heaven In vast equality his spirit sublime.' Why sink I now towards attractive earth? And thou, who art thou, mystery! golden wonder! Moving enchantress! Wast thou not a part Of soft auspicious evenings I have loved? Have I not seen thy beauty on the clouds? In moonlight and in starlight and in fire? Some flower whose brightness was a trouble? a face Whose memory like a picture lived with me? A thought I had, but lost? O was thy voice A vernal repetition in some grove, Telling of lilies clustered o'er with bees And quiet waters open to the moon? Surely in some past life I loved thy name, And syllable by syllable now strive Its sweetness to recall. It seems the grace Of visible things, of hushed and lonely snows And burning great inexorable noons, And towns and valleys and the mountain winds. All beauty of earthliness is in thee, all Luxurious experience of the soul. O comest thou because I left thy charm Aiming at purity, O comest thou, Goddess, to avenge thyself with beauty? Come!
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Unveil thyself from light! limit thyself, O infinite grace, that I may find, may clasp. For surely in my heart I know thou bearest A name that naturally weds with mine, And I perceive our union magically Inevitable as a perfect verse Of Veda. Set thy feet upon my heart, O Goddess! woman, to my bosom move! I am Pururavus, O Urvasie." As when a man to the grey face of dawn Awaking from an unremembered dream, Repines at life awhile and buffets back The wave of old familiar thoughts, and hating His usual happiness and usual cares Strives to recall a dream's felicity;— Long strives in vain and rolls his painful thought Through many alien ways, when sudden comes A flash, another, and the vision burns Like lightning in the brain, so leaped that name Into the musing of the troubled king. Joyous he cried aloud and lashed his steeds: They, rearing, leaped from Himalaya high And trampled with their hooves the southern wind.
But now a cry broke from the lovely crowd Of fear and tremulous astonishment; And they huddled together like doves dismayed Who see the inevitable talons near And rush of cruel wings. 'Twas not from him, For him they saw not yet, but from the north A fear was on them, and Pururavus Heard a low roar as of a distant cloud. He turned half-wrathful. In the far northwest Heaven stood thick, concentrated in gloom, Darkness in darkness hidden; for the cloud Rose firmament on sullen firmament, As if all brightness to entomb. Across
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Great thundrous whispers rolled, and lightning quivered From edge to edge, a savage pallor. Down The south wind dropped appalled. Then for a while Stood pregnant with the thunderbolt and wearing Rain like a colour, the monumental cloud Sublime and voiceless. Long the heart was stilled And the ear waited listening. Suddenly From motionless battalions as outride A speed disperse of horsemen, from that mass Of livid menace went a frail light cloud Rushing through heaven, and behind it streamed The downpour all in wet and greenish lines. Swift rushed the splendid anarchy admired, And reached, and broke, and with a roar of rain And tumult on the wings of wind and clasp Of the o'erwhelmed horizons and with bursts Of thunder breaking all the body with sound And lightning 'twixt the eyes intolerable, Like heaven's vast eagle all that blackness swept Down over the inferior snowless heights And swallowed up the dawn. Pururavus, Lost in the streaming tumult, stood amazed: But as he watched, he was aware of locks Flying and a wild face and terrible And fierce familiar eyes. Again he looked And knew him in a hundred battles crossed, The giant Cayshie. It seemed but yesterday That over the waves of fight their angry eyes Had met. He in the dim disguise of rain, All swift with storm, came passionate and huge, Filling the regions with himself. Immense He stooped upon the brides of heaven. They Like flowers in a gust scattered and blown Fled every way; but he upon that beauty Magical sprang and seized and lifted up, As the storm lifts a lily, and arrow-like Up towards the snow-bound heights in rising cloud
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Rushed with the goddess to the trembling East. But with more formidable speed and fast Storming through heaven King Pururavus Hurled after him. The giant turned and knew The sound of those victorious wheels and light In a man's face more dangerous to evil Than all the shining Gods. He stood, he raised One dreadful arm that stretched across the heavens, And shook his baffling lance on high. But vast, But magnified by speed came threatening on With echoing hooves and battle in its wheels The chariot of the King Pururavus Bearing a formidable charioteer, Pururavus. The fiend paused, he rolled his eyes Full of defiance, passion and despair Upon the swooning goddess in his arms And that avenger. Violence and fear Poised him a moment on a wave of fate This way to death cadent, that way to shame. Then groaning in his great tumultuous breast He dropped upon the snow heaven's ravished flower And fled, a blackness in the East. New sky Replenished from the sullen cloud dawned out; The great pure azure rose in sunlight wide. Nor King Pururavus pursued but checked His rushing chariot on the quiet snow And sprang towards her and knelt down and trembled. Perfect she lay amid her tresses wide, Like a mishandled lily luminous, As she had fallen. From the lucid robe One shoulder gleamed and golden breast left bare, Divinely lifting, one gold arm was flung, A warm rich splendour exquisitely outlined Against the dazzling whiteness, and her face Was as a fallen moon among the snows. And King Pururavus, beholding, glowed Through all his limbs and maddened with a love
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He feared and cherished. Overawed and hushed, Hardly even breathing, long he knelt, a greatness Made stone with sudden dread and passion. Love With fiery attempt plucked him all down to her, But fear forbade his lips the perfect curls. At length he raised her still unkissed and laid In his bright chariot, next himself ascended And resting on one arm with fearful joy Her drooping head, with the other ruled the car;— With one arm ruled, but his eyes were for her Studying her fallen lids and to heart-beats Guessing the sweetness of the soul concealed. And soon she moved. Those wonderful wide orbs Dawned into his, quietly, as if in muse. A lovely slow surprise crept into them Afterwards; last, something far lovelier, Which was herself, and was delight, and love. As when a child falls asleep unawares At a closed window on a stormy day, Looking into the weary rain, and long Sleeps, and wakes quietly into a life Of ancient moonlight, first the thoughtfulness Of that felicitous world to which the soul Is visitor in sleep, keeps her sublime Discurtained eyes; human dismay comes next, Slowly; last, sudden, they brighten and grow wide With recognition of an altered world, Delighted: so woke Urvasie to love.
But, hardly now that luminous inner dawn Bridged joy between their eyes, laughter broke in And the returning world; for Ménaca, Standing a lily in the snows, laughed back Those irresistible wheels and spoke like song;— She tremulous and glad from bygone fear; But all those flowerlike came, increasing light, Their bosoms quick and panting, bright, like waves
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That under sunshine lift remembering storm. And before all Ménaca tremulously Smiling: "Whither, O King Pururavus, Bear'st thou thy victory? Wilt thou set her A golden triumph in thy halls? But she Is other than thy marble caryatids And austere doors, purity colourless. Read not too much thy glory in her eyes. Will not that hueless inner stream yet serve Where thou wast wont to know thy perfect deeds? But give her back, give us our sister back, And in return take all thyself with thee." So with flushed cheeks and smiling Ménaca. And great Pururavus set down the nymph In her bright sister's arms and stood awhile Stormily calm in vast incertitude, Quivering. Then divine Tilôttama: "O King, O mortal mightier than the Gods! For Gods change not their strength, but are of old And as of old, and man, though less than these, May yet proceed to greater, self-evolved. Man, by experience of passion purged, His myriad faculty perfecting, widens His nature as it rises till it grows With God conterminous. For one who tames His hot tremulousness of soul unblest And feels around him like an atmosphere A quiet perfectness of joy and peace, He, like the sunflower sole of all the year, Images the divine to which he tends: So thou, sole among men. And thou today Hast a high deed perfected, saved from death The great Gods of the solar world the first, And saved with them the stars; but her today Without whom all that world would grow to shade Or grow to fire, but each way cease to live. And thou shalt gather strange rewards, O King,
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Hurting thyself with good, and lose thy life To have the life of all the solar world, Draw infinite gain out of more infinite loss, And, for the lowest, endless fame. Today Retire nor pluck the slowly-ripening fates; Since who anticipates the patient Gods, Finds his crown ashes and his empire grief. So choose blind Titans in their violent souls Unseeing, forfeiting the beautiful world For momentary splendours." She was silent, And he replied no word, but gathering His reins swept from the golden group. His car Through those mute Himalayan doors of earth And all that silent life before our life Solitary and great and merciless, Went groaning down the wind. He, the sole living, Over the dead deep-plunging precipices Passed bright and small in a wide dazzling world Illimitable, where eye flags and ear Listening feels inhuman loneliness. He tended towards Gungotri's solemn peaks And savage glaciers and the caverns pure Whence Ganges leaps, our mother, virgin-cold. But ere he plunged into the human vales And kindlier grandeurs, King Pururavus Looked back upon a gust of his great heart, And saw her. On a separate peak, divine, In blowing raiment and a glory of hair She stood and watched him go with serious eyes And a soft wonder in them and a light. One hand was in her streaming folds, one shaded Her eyes as if the vision that she saw Were brighter even than deathless eyes endure. Over her shoulder pressed a laughing crowd Of luminous faces. And Pururavus Staggered as smitten, and shaking wide his reins Rushed like a star into the infinite air;
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So curving downwards on precipitate wheels, His spirit all a storm, came with the wind Far-sounding into Ila's peaceful town.
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But from the dawn and mountains Urvasie Went marvelling and glad, not as of old A careless beam; for an august constraint, Unfelt before, ruled her extravagant grace And wayward beauty; and familiar things Grew strange to her, and to her eyes came mists Of mortal vision. Love was with her there, But not of Paradise nor that great guest Perpetual who makes his golden couch Between the Opsara's ever-heaving breasts. For this was rapturous, troubled, self-absorbed, A gracious human presence which she loved, And wondered at, and hid deep in her heart. And whether in the immortal's dance she moved, A billow, or her fingers like sunbeams Brightened the harps of heaven, or going out With the white dawn to bathe in Swerga's streams, Or in the woods of Eden wandering, Or happy sitting under peaceful boughs In a great golden evening, all she did, Celestial occupations, all she thought And all she was, though still the same, had changed. There was a happy trouble in her ways And movements; her felicitous lashes drooped As with a burden; all her daily acts Were like a statue's imitating life, Not single-hearted like the sovran Gods. Now as the days of heaven went by in quiet And there was peaceful summer 'mid the Gods, In Swerga song increased and dances swayed In multitudinous beauty, jasmine-crowned; And often in high Indra's hall the spirits Immortal met to watch the shows divine Of action and celestial theatre.
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For not of earth alone are delicate arts And noble imitations, but in heaven Have their rich prototypes. So on that day Before a divine audience there was staged The Choice of Luxmie. Urvasie enacted The goddess, Ocean's child, and Ménaca Was Varunie, and other girls of heaven Assembled the august desiring Gods. Full strangely sweet those delicate mimics were; Moonbeam faces imitated the strength And silence of great spirits battle-worn, And little hands the awful muniments Of empire grasped and powers that shake the world. Then with a golden wave of arm sublime Ménaca towards the warlike consistory, Under half-drooping lashes indicating Where calm eternal Vishnu like a cloud Sat discus-armed, said to her sister bright: "Daughter of Ocean, sister, for whom heaven Is passionate, thou hast reviewed the powers Eternal and their dreadful beauty scanned, And heard their blissful names. Say, unafraid Before these listening faces, whom thou lovest Above all Gods and more than earth and more Than joy of Swerga's streams?" And Urvasie, Musing with wide unseeing eyes, replied In a far voice: "The King Pururavus." Then, as a wind among the leaves, there swept A gust of laughter through the assembled Gods, A happy summer sound. But not in mirth Bharuth, the mighty dramatist of heaven, Passionate to see his smooth work marred and spell Broken of scenic fancies finely-touched: "Since thou hast brought the breath of mortal air Into the pure solemnities of heaven, And since thou givest up to other ends Than the one need for which God made thee form,
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Thy being and hast here transferred from earth Human failure from the divided soul, Marring my great creation, Urvasie, I curse thee to possess thy heart's desire. Exiled from Swerga's streams and golden groves Thou, by terrestrial Ganges or on sad Majestic mountains or in troubled towns, Enjoy thy love, but hope not here to breathe Felicity in regions built for peace Of who, erect in their own nature, keep Living by fated toils the glorious world." He ceased and there was silence of the Gods. Then Indra answered, smiling, though ill-pleased: "Bharuth, not well nor by the fates allowed To exile without limit from the skies Who of the skies is part. Her wilt thou banish From the felicity of grove and stream, Making our Eden empty of her smiles? But what felicity in stream or grove And she not secret there? And hast thou taxed Her passion, yet in passion wouldst deface The beautiful world because thy work is vain?" Bharuth replied, the high poet severe: "Irrevocable is the doom pronounced Once by my lips. Fates too are born of song. But if of limit thou speakest and the term By nature fixed to the divorce of her From the felicity in which she moves, Nature that fixed the limit, still effects Inevitably its fated ends. For Fate, The dim great presence, is but nature made Irrevocable in its fruits. Let her To the pure banks of sacred Ganges wend. There she may keep her exile, from of old Intended for perfection of the earth Through her sweet change. Heaven too shall flash and grow Fairer with her returning feet though changed,—
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Though changed, yet lovelier from beneficence. For she will come soft with maternal cheeks And flushed from nuptial arms and human-blest With touches of the warm delightful earth." He said and Urvasie from the dumb place And thoughtful presence of the Gods departed Into the breezy noon of Swerga. Under Green well-known boughs laden with nameless fruit And over blissful swards and perfect flowers And through the wandering alleys she arrived To heavenly Ganges where it streams o'er stones; There from the banks of summer downward stepped, One little golden hand gathering her dress Above her naked knees, and, lovely, passed Through the divine pellucid river on To Swerga's portals, pausing on the slope Which goes toward the world. There she looked down With yearning eyes far into endless space. Behind her stood the green felicitous peaks And trembling tops of woods and pulse of blue With those calm cloudless summits quivering. All heaven was behind her, but she sent No look to those eternal seats of joy. She down the sunbeams gazed where mountains rose In snow, the bleak and mighty hills of earth, And virgin forests vast, great infant streams And cities young in the heroic dawn Of history and insurgent human art Titanic on the old stupendous hills. Towards these she gazed down under eyelids glad. And to her gazing came Tilôttama, Bright out of heaven, and clasped her quiet hand And murmured softly, "Sister, let us go." Then they went down into the waiting world, The golden women, and through gorges mute Past Budricayshwur in the silent snow Came silent to Pururavus Urvasie.
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For not in Ilian streets Pururavus Sojourned, nor in the happy throng of men, But with the infinite and the lonely hills. For he grew weary of walls and luminous carved Imperial pillars bearing up huge weight Of architectural stone, and the long street, And thoughtful temple wide, and sharp cymbals Protecting the august pure place with sound; The battled tramp of men, sessions of kings, The lightning from sharp weapons, jubilant crash Of chariots, and the Veda's mighty chant; The bright booths of the merchants, the loud looms And the smith's hammer clanging music out, And stalwart men driving the patient plow Indomitable in fierce breath of noon. Of these he now grew weary and the blaze Of kingship, its immense and iron toils, With one hand shielding in the people's ease, With one hand smiting back the tireless foe, And difficulty of equal justice cold, And kind beneficent works harmonious kept With terrible control; the father's face, The man's heart, the steeled intellect of power Insolubly one; and after sleepless nights Labouring greatly for a great reward, Frequent failure and vigorous success, And sweet reward of voices filial grown. These that were once his life, he loved no more. They held not his desire nor were alive, But pale magnificent ghosts out of the past With sad obsession closing him from warm Life and the future in far sunlight gold. For in his heart and in his musing eyes There was a light on the cold snows, a blush Upon the virgin quiet of the East And storm and slowly-lifting lids. Therefore He left the city Ilian and plains
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Whence with a mighty motion eastward flows Ganges, heroical and young, a swift Mother of strenuous nations, nor yet reaches Her musing age in ardent deep Bengal. He journeyed to the cold north and the hills Austere, past Budricayshwur ever north, Till, in the sixth month of his pilgrimage Uneasy, to a silent place he came Within a heaped enormous region piled With prone far-drifting hills, huge peaks o'erwhelmed Under the vast illimitable snows,— Snow on ravine, and snow on cliff, and snow Sweeping in strenuous outlines to heaven, With distant gleaming vales and turbulent rocks, Giant precipices black-hewn and bold Daring the universal whiteness; last, A mystic gorge into some secret world.
He in that region waste and wonderful Sojourned, and morning-star and evening-star Shone over him and faded, and immense Darkness wrapped the hushed mountain solitudes And moonlight's brilliant muse and the cold stars And day upon the summits brightening. But ere day grew the hero nympholept Climbed the immortal summits towards the dawn And came with falling evening down and lay Watching the marvellous sky, but called not sleep That beat her gentle wings over his eyes, Nor food he needed who was grown a god. And in the seventh month of his waiting long Summit or cliff he climbed no more, but added To the surrounding hush sat motionless, Gazing towards the dim unfathomed gorge. Six days he sat and on the seventh they came Through the dumb gorge, a breath of heaven, a stir, Then Eden's girls stepping with moonbeam feet
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Over the barren rocks and dazzling snows, That grew less dazzling, their tresses half unbound And delicate raiment girdled enchantingly. Silent the perfect presences of heaven Came towards him and stood a little away, Like flowers waiting for a sunbeam. He Stirred not, but without voice, in vision merged, Sat, as one sleeping momently expects The end of a dear dream he sees, and knows It is a dream, and quietly resigned Waits for the fragile bliss to break or fade. Then nearer drew divine Tilôttama And stood before his silence statuesque, Holding her sister's hand; for she hung back, Not as an earthly maiden, cheeks suffused, Lids drooping, but as men from patience called Before supreme felicity hang back, A little awed, a little doubtful, fearing To enter radiant Paradise, so bright It seems; thus she and quailed before her bliss. But her sister, extending one bright arm: "Pururavus, thou hast conquered and I bring No dream into thy life, but Urvasie." And at that name the strong Pururavus Rose swaying to his feet like one struck blind; Or when a great thought flashes through his brain, A poet starts up and almost cries aloud As at a voice,—so he arose and heard. And slowly said divine Tilôttama: "Yet, son of Ila, one is man and other The Opsaras of heaven, daughters of the sea, Unlimited in being, Ocean-like. They not to one lord yield nor in one face Limit the universe, but like sweet air, Water unowned and beautiful common light In unrestrained surrender remain pure. In patient paths of Nature upon earth
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And over all the toiling stars we fill With sacred passion large high-venturing spirits And visit them with bliss; so are they moved To immense creative anguish, glad if through Heart-breaking toil once in bare seasons dawn Our golden breasts between their hands or rush Our passionate presence on them like a wave. In heaven bright-limbed with bodily embrace We clasp the Gods, and clasp the souls of men, And know with winds and flowers liberty. But what hast thou with us or winds or flowers? O thou who wast so white, wilt thou not keep Thy pure and lonely eminence and move For ever towards morning like a star? Or as thy earthly Ganges rolling down Between the homes and passionate deeds of men, And bearing many boats and white with oars, From all that life quite separate, only lives Towards Ocean, so thou doest human work, Making a mighty nation, doing high And necessary deeds, but, all untouched By action, livest in thy soul apart And to the immortal zenith climbest pure." But he, blind as from dazzling dreams, said low: "One I thought spoke far-off of purity And whiteness and the human soul in God. These things were with me once, but now I see The Spring a golden child and shaken fields. All beautiful things draw near and come to me. I dream upon a woman's glorious breasts, And watch the dew-drop and am glad with birds, And love the perfect coilings of the snake, And cry with fire in the burning trees, And am a wave towards desired shores. I move to these and move towards her bosom And mystic eyes where all these are one dream. And what shall God profit me or his glory,
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Who love one small face more than all his worlds?" He woke with his own voice. His words that first Dreamed like a languid wave, sudden were foam; And he beheld her standing and his look Grew strong; he yearned towards her like a wave, And she received him in her eyes as earth Receives the rain. Then bright Tilôttama Cried in a shining glory over them: "O happy lover and O fortunate loved, Who make love heavenlier by loss! Ah yet, The Gods give no irrecoverable gifts, Nor unconditioned, O Pururavus, Is highest bliss even to most favoured men. And thy deep joy must tremble o'er her with soul On guard, all overshadowed by a fear. For one year thou shalt know her on the peaks, In solitary vastnesses of hills And regions snow-besieged; and for one year In the green forests populous and free Life in sunlight and by delightful streams Thou shalt enjoy her; and for one year where The busy tramp of men goes ceaseless by, Subduing her to lovely human cares: And so long after as one law observed Save her to thee, O King; for never man With Opsara may dwell and both be known: Either a rapture she invisible Or he a mystic body and mystic soul. Reveal not then thy being naked to hers, O virgin Ila's son, nor suffer ever Light round thy body naked to her eyes, Lest day dawn not on thy felicity, Sole among men." She left them, shining up Into the sunlight, and was lost in noon. And King Pururavus stood for a space, Like the entranced calm before great winds And thunder. Then through all his limbs there flashed
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Youth and the beauty and the warmth of earth And joy of her left lonely to his will. He moved, he came towards her. She, a leaf Before a gust among the nearing trees, Cowered. But, all a sea of mighty joy Rushing and swallowing up the golden sand, With a great cry and glad Pururavus Seized her and caught her to his bosom thrilled, Clinging and shuddering. All her wonderful hair Loosened and the wind seized and bore it streaming Over the shoulder of Pururavus And on his cheek a softness. She, o'erborne, Panting, with inarticulate murmurs lay, Like a slim tree half seen through driving hail, Her naked arms clasping his neck, her cheek And golden throat averted, and wide trouble In her large eyes bewildered with their bliss. Amid her wind-blown hair their faces met. With her sweet limbs all his, feeling her breasts Tumultuous up against his beating heart, He kissed the glorious mouth of heaven's desire. So clung they as two shipwrecked in a surge. Then strong Pururavus, with godlike eyes Mastering hers, cried tremulous: "O beloved, O miser of thy rich and happy voice, One word, one word to tell me that thou lovest." And Urvasie, all broken on his bosom, Her godhead in his passion lost, moaned out From her imprisoned breasts, "My lord, my love!"
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So was a goddess won to mortal arms; And for twelve months he held her on the peaks, In solitary vastnesses of hills And regions snow-besieged. There in dim gorge And tenebrous ravine and on wide snows Clothed with deserted space, o'er precipices With the far eagles wheeling under them, Or where large glaciers watch, or under cliffs O'er-murmured by the streaming waterfalls, And later in the pleasant lower hills, He of her beauty world-desired took joy: And all earth's silent sublime spaces passed Into his blood and grew a part of thought. Twelve months in the green forests populous, Life in sunlight and by delightful streams He increased rapture. The green tremulous groves, And solitary rivers white with birds, And watered hollow's gleam, and sunny boughs Gorgeous with peacocks or illumining Bright bosom of doves, in forests' musing day Or the great night with roar of many beasts,— All these were Eden round the glorious pair. And in their third flower-haunted spring of love A child was born from golden Urvasie. But when the goddess from maternal pangs Woke to the child's sweet face and strange tumult Of new delight and felt the little hands Erring about her breasts, passionate she cried: "How long shall we in woods, Pururavus, Waste the glad days of cheerful human life? What pleasure is in soulless woods and waves? But I would go into the homes of men, Hear the great sound of cities, watch the eager Faces tending to hall and mart, and talk
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With the bright girls of earth, and kiss the eyes Of little children, feel smooth floors of stone Under my feet and the restraint of walls, And eat earth's food from vessels made and drink Earth's water cool from jars, and know all joy And labour of that blithe and busy world." She said, and he with a slight happy smile Consented. So to sacred Ganges they Came and the virgin's city llian. But when they neared the mighty destined walls, His virgin-mother from her temple pure Saw him, and a wild blare of conchs arose. Rejoicing to the lion-gates they streamed, The people of Pururavus, a glad Throng indistinguishable, traders and priests, Merchants of many gains and craftsmen fine Oblivious of their daily toils; the carver Flinging his tool away and hammerless The giant smith laughing through his vast beard. And little children ran, all over flowers, And girls like dawn with a delightful noise Of anklets, matrons and old men divine, And half a godhead with great glances came The large-eyed poets of the Vedic chant; Before them, all that multitude divided Honouring them. In gleaming armour came, And bearing dreadful bows, with sound of swords, High lords of sacrifice and aged chiefs War-weary and great heroes with mighty tread. All these to a high noise of trumpets came. They with a wide sound going up to heaven Welcomed their king, and a soft shower of blooms Fell on him as from warlike fields returned. Much all they marvelled at his heavenly bride And worshipped her, half-awed. And young girls came, Daughters of warriors, to great houses wed, Sweet faces of delightful laughter, came
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And took into their glad embrace and kissed, Enamoured of her smiling mouth, and praised Aloud her beauty. With flowers then they bound Her soft immortal wrists, and through the gates, Labouring in vain to bend great bows, waving Far-glancing steel, and up the bridal streets Captive the girlish phalanx, bright with swords, After the old heroic fashion led. They amid trumpets and the vast acclaim Of a glad people brought the child of Gods To her terrestrial home; through the strong doors They lifted, and upon an earthly floor, Loosening, let from the gleaming limbs slide down Her heavenly vesture; next they brought and flung About her sweet insufferable grace Mortal habiliments, a clinging robe. Over her hair the wifely veil was drawn. Thus was the love of all the world confined To one man's home. And O too fortunate Mortal, who could with those auguster joys Mingle our little happy human pains, Subduing a fair goddess from her skies To gentle ordinary things, sweet service And household tasks making her beautiful, And trivial daily words, and kisses kind, And all the meaning dear of wife and home! Human with earth dwelt golden Urvasie, And bore to King Pururavus a race Of glorious children, each a shining god. She loved that great and simple life of old, Its marble outlines, strong joys and clear air Around the soul, loved and made roseate. The sacred city felt a finer life Within it; burning inspirations breathed From hallowed poets; and architects to grace And fancy their immense conceptions toned; Numberless heroes emulously drove forth
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And in strong joyous battle rolling back The dark barbarian borders, flashed through fields, Brilliant, and sages in their souls saw God. And from the city of Pururavus High influences went; Indus and Ganges And all the golden intermediate lands Grew with them and a perfect impulse felt. Seven years the earth rejoiced in Urvasie.
But in their fortunate heavens the high Gods Dwelt infelicitous, losing the old Rapture inexplicable and thrill beneath Their ancient calm. Therefore not long enduring, They in colossal council marble, said To that bright sister whom she had loved best, "Ménaca!" crying "how long shall one man Divide from heaven its most perfect bliss? Go down and bring her back, our bright one back, And we shall love again our luminous halls." She heard and went, with her ethereal robe Murmuring about her, to the gates divine, And looked into the world, and saw the far Titanic Ilian city like a stone Sunlit upon the small and distant earth. Down from heaven's peaks the daughter of the sea Went flashing and upon a breathless eve Came to the city of Pururavus, Air blazing far behind her till she paused. She over the palace of Pururavus Stood in shadow. Within the lights yet were; Still sat the princes and young poets sang On harps heroical of Urvasie And strong Pururavus, of Urvasie The light and lovely spirit golden-limbed, Son of a virgin strong Pururavus. "O earth made heaven to Pururavus! O heaven left earth without sweet Urvasie!
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"Rejoice possessing, O Pururavus! Be glad who art possessed, O Urvasie! "Behold the parents of the sacrifice! When they have met, then they together rush And in their arms the beautiful fire is born. "Behold the children of the earth and sky! When they met, then they loved, O then they clasped, And from their clasp a lovely presence grew. "A holy virgin's son we hear of thee Without a father born, Pururavus, Without a mother lovely Urvasie. "Hast thou not brought the sacrifice from heaven, The unquenched, unkindled fire, Pururavus? Hast thou not brought delightful Urvasie? "The fires of sacrifice mount ever up: To their lost heavens they naturally aspire. Their tops are weighted with a human prayer. "The soul of love mounts also towards the sky; Thence came the spark but hardly shall return; Its wings are weighted with too fierce a fire. "Rejoice in the warm earth, O lovely pair, The green strong earth that gave Pururavus. "Rejoice in the blithe earth, O lovely pair, The happy earth all flushed with Urvasie. "As lightning takes the heart with pleasant dread, So love is of the strong Pururavus. "As breathes sweet fragrance from the flower oppressed, So love from thy bruised bosom, Urvasie." So sang they and the heart rejoiced. Then rose The princes and went down the long white street, Each to his home. Soon every sound had faded; Heaven and a few bright stars possessed the world. But in a silent place dim with the west On that last night of the sweet passionate earth, The goddess with the mortal hero lay. For over them victorious Love still showered His arrows marble-dinting, not flower-tipped
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As our brief fading fires,—naked and large As heaven the monumental loves of old. On their rich bed they lay, and the two rams That once the subtle bright Gundhurvas gave To Urvasie, were near; they were ever With her and cherished; hardly even she loved The tender faces of her children more Than these choice from flocks heavenly: only these Remained to her of unforgotten skies. So lay they under those fierce shafts of Love, And in the arms of strong Pururavus Once more were those beloved limbs embraced, Once more, if never once again on earth. Before he slept, the lord of Urvasie Clasped her to him and wooed from her tired lips One kiss, nor in its passion felt farewell. But the night darkened over the vague town, And clouds came gradual up, and through the clouds In thunderless great flashes stealing came The subtle-souled Gundhurvas from the peaks Of distant Paradise. Thunder rolled out, And through the walls, in a fierce rush of light, Entered the thieves of heaven and stole the rams, And fled with the same lightning. Shuddering The exile of the skies awoke and knew Her loss, and with a lamentable cry Turned to her lord. "Arise, Pururavus!" She wept, "they take from me my snow-white joys." And starting from his sleep Pururavus, In that waking when memory is far And nature of a man unquestioned rules, Heard of oppression and a space forgot Fate and his weak tenure of mighty bliss, Restored to the great nature of a king. Wrathful he leaped up and on one swift stride Reached to his bow. Before 'twas grasped he shuddered, His soul all smitten with a rushing fear.
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Alarmed he turned towards her. Suddenly wide The whole room stood in splendour manifest, All lightning, and heroically vast, In gesture kingly like a statue stayed, Rose glorious, all a grace of naked limbs, The hero beautiful, Pururavus, In that fierce light. Intenser than by day He for one brilliant moment clear beheld All the familiar place, the fretted huge Images on the columns, the high-reared Walls massively erect and silent floor, And on the floor the gracious fallen dress That never should embrace her perfect form, Lying a glimmer, and each noble curve Of the strong couch, and delicately distinct The golden body and the flower-like face: Beside her with a lovely smile that other, One small hand pressing back the shining curls Blown with her speed over her. Then all faded. Thunder crashed through the heavens jubilant. For a long while he stood with beating heart Half-conscious of its loss, and as if waiting Another flash, into the dimness gazed For those loved outlines that were far away. Then with a quiet smile he went and placed Where she had lain such a short while ago Both hands, expecting her sweet breasts, but found Her place all empty to him. Silently He lay down whispering to his own heart: "She has arisen and her shining dress Put round her and gone into the cool alcove To fetch sweet water for the heavenly rams, And she will stay awhile perhaps to look And muse upon the night, and then come back, And give them drink, and silently lie down Beside me. I shall see her when it dawns." And so he slept. But the grey dawn came in
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And raised his lashes. He stretched out his arms To find her. Then he knew he was alone.
Even so he would not dwell with his despair. "She is but gone," he said, "for a little gone Into the infinite silences afar To see her golden sisters and revisit The streams she knew and those unearthly skies. But she will soon come back,—even if her heart Would let her linger, mine would draw her back;— Come soon and talk to me of all she left, And clasp her children, and resume sweet goings And happy daily tasks and rooms she loved." So, steadfast, he continued kingly toils Among a people greatly-destined, giving In sacred sessions and assemblies calm Counsels far-seeing, magnanimous decrees Bronze against Time, and from the judgment seat Unblamed sentence or reconcilement large. And perfect trinity of holy fires He kindled for desirable rain, and went To concourse of strong men or pleasant crowds, Or triumphed in great games armipotent. Yet behind all his moments there was void. And as when one puts from him desperately The thought of an inevitable fate, Blinding himself with present pleasures, often At a slight sound, a knocking at the door, A chance word terrible, or even uncalled His heart grows sick with sudden fear, and ghastly The face of that dread future through the window Looks at him; mute he sits then shuddering: So to Pururavus in session holy, Or warlike concourse, or alone, speaking, Or sitting, often a swift dreadful fear Made his life naked like a lightning flash; Then his whole being shook and his strong frame,
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As with a fever, and his eyes gazed blind; Soon with great breaths he repossessed his soul. Long he endured thus, but when shocks of fear And brilliant passage of remorseless suns And wakeful nights wrestling with memory Invisibly had worn his heart, he then Going as one desperate, void of thought or aim, Into that silent place dim with the west, Saw there her dress empty of her, and bed Forlorn, and the cold floor where she had lain At noon and made life sweet to him with her voice. Sometimes as in an upland reservoir Built by the hands of early Aryan kings, Its banks in secret fretted long go down, Suddenly down with resonant collapse, Then with a formidable sound the flood Descends, heard over all the echoing hills, And marble cities are o'erwhelmed; so sank The courage of the strong Pururavus, By memory and anguish overcome And thoughts of bliss intolerable. Tears Came from him; the unvanquished hero lay With outstretched arms and wept. Henceforth his life Was with that room. If he appeared in high Session, warlike concourse or pleasant crowd, Men looked on him as on the silent dead. Nor did he linger, but from little stay Would silently return and in hushed rooms Watch with the little relics left of her, Things he had hardly borne to see before, Now clasped them often, often kissed, sometimes Spoke to them as to sweet and living friends, And often over his sleeping children hung. Nor did he count the days, nor weep again, But looked into the dawn with tearless eyes. And all the people mourned for their great king, Silently watching him, and many murmured:
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"This is not he, the King Pururavus, Hero august, who his impetuous soul Ruled like a calm and skilful charioteer, And was the virgin Ila's son, our king. Would that the enemy's war-cry now might rush Against our gates and all the air be sound. Surely he would arise and lift his bow, And his swift chariot hurling through the gates Advance upon them like a sea, and triumph, And be himself among the rushing wheels." So they would murmur grieving. But the king When the bright months brought round a lustier earth, Felt over his numbed soul some touch of flowers, And rose a little from his grief, and lifted His eyes against the stars. Then he said low: "I was not wont so quickly to despair. O hast thou left me and art lost in light, Cruel, between the shining hemispheres? Yet even there I will pursue my joy. Though all the great immortals jealously Encompass round with shields thy golden limbs, I may clash through them yet, or my strong patience Will pluck my love down from her distant stars. Still am I Ila's son, Pururavus, That passionless pure strength though lost, though fallen From the armed splendid soul which once I was." So saying he to the hall of session strode, Mightily like a king, a marble place With wide Titanic arches imminent, And from the brooding pillars seized a shell And blew upon it. Like a storm the sound Through Pratisthana's streets was blown. Forth came From lintel proud and happy threshold low The people pouring out. Majestic chiefs And strong war-leaders and old famous men And mighty poets first; behind them streamed The Ilian people like driving rain, and filled
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With faces the immeasurable hall. And over them the beautiful great king Rose bright; anticipations wonderful Of immortality flashed through his eyes And round his brow's august circumference. "My people whom I made, I go from you; And what shall I say to you, Ilian people, Who know my glory and know my grief? Now I Endure no more the desolate wide rooms And gardens empty of her. I will depart And find her under imperishable trees Or secret beside streams. But since I go And leave my work behind and a young nation With destiny like an uncertain dawn Over it—Ayus her son, I give you. He By beauty and strength incomparable shall rule. Lo, I have planted earth with deeds and made The widest heavens my monument, have brought From Paradise the sempiternal fire And warred in heaven among the warring Gods. O people, you have shared my famous actions Done in a few great years of earthly life, The battles I fought, edifications vast, And perfect institutes that I have framed. High things we have done together, O my people. But now I go to claim back from the Gods Her they have taken from me, my dear reward." He spoke and all the nation listened, dumb. Then was brought forth the bud of Urvasie, With Vedic verse intoned and Ganges pure Was crowned a king, and empire on his curls Established. But Pururavus went forth, Through ranks of silent people and gleaming arms, With the last cloud of sunset up the fields And darkening meadows. And from Ila's rock, And from the temple of Ila virginal, A rushing splendour wonderfully arose
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And shone all round the great departing king. He in that light turned and saw under him The mighty city, luminous and vast, Colossally up-piled towards the heavens, Temple and street and palace, and the sea Of sorrowing faces and sad grieving eyes; A moment saw, and disappeared from light Into forest. Then a loud wail arose From Pratisthana, as if barbarous hordes Were in the streets and all its temples huge Rising towards heaven in disastrous fire, But he unlistening into darkness went.
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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
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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
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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
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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,
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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.
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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
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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
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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
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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,
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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.
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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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