The Birth of the War-God canto one : third rendering A God concealed in mountain majesty, Embodied to our cloudy physical sight In dizzy summits and green-gloried slopes, Measuring the earth in an enormous ease, Immense Himaloy dwells and in the moan Of western waters and in eastern floods Plunges his hidden spurs. Such is his strength1 High-piled or thousand-crested is his look That with the scaling greatness of his peaks He seems to uplift to heaven our prostrate soil. He mounts from the green luxury of his vales, Ambitious of the skies; nak

Bhavani Father nor mother, daughter nor son are mine, I obey no master, served am I by none, Learning or means I have not, wife nor kin; My refuge thou, Bhavani, thou alone! Charity I have not learned. Yoga nor trance, Mantra nor hymn nor Tantra have I known, Worship nor dedication’s covenants: My refuge thou, Bhavani, thou alone! Virtue is not mine nor holy pilgrimage, Salvation or world’s joy I have never won, Devotion I have not. Mother, no vows I pledge: My refuge thou, Bhavani, thou alone! From a Sanskrit hymn of Shankaracharya From a Sanskrit hymn of Shankaracharya Page– 212

The Wife* But Sita all the while, unhappy child, Worshipped propitious gods. Her mind in dreams August and splendid coronations dwelt And knew not of that woe. Royal she worshipped, A princess in her mind and mood, and sat With expectation thrilled. To whom there came Rama, downcast and sad, his forehead moist From inner anguish. Dark with thought and shaken He entered his august and jubilant halls. She started from her seat, transfixed, and trembled, For all the beauty of his face was marred, Who when he saw his young beloved wife Endured no longer; all his inner passion Of tortured pride was opened in

Lakshmi* At the mobile passion of thy tread the cold snows faint and fail, Hued by the magic touches — shimmering glow the horizons pale. The heavens thrill with thy appeal, earth's grey moods break and die, In nectarous sound thou lav'st men's hearts with thy voice of eternity. All that was bowed and rapt lifting clasped hands out of pain and night, How hast thou filled with murmuring ecstasy make proud and bright! Thou hast chosen the grateful earth for thy own in her hour of anguish and strife, Surprised by thy rapid feet of joy, 0 Beloved of the Master of Life! * Dilip Kumar Roy Page – 385

MISCELLANEOUS VERSES Definitions What is clear profit? Meeting with good men. A malady ? Of incompetent minds the spell. What is a loss ? Occasion given in vain. True skill of life ? With heavenward thoughts to dwell. A hero ? The heart that is o’er passion lord. A mistress ? She to loving service sworn. Best wealth? Wisdom. True happiness? The sward Of one’s own country, life where it was born. A kingdom ? Swift obedience fruitful found At the low word from hearts of all around. A Rarity Rich in sweet loving words, in harshness poor, From blame of others’ lives averse, content          With one d

Ye Others* Ye others cannot conceive of the love that I bear to Krishna. And your warnings to me are vain like the pleadings of the deaf and mute. The Boy who left his mother's home and was reared by a different mother, — Oh, take me forth to his city of Mathura where He won the field with-out fighting the battle and leave me there. Of no further avail is modesty. For all the neighbours have known of this fully. Would ye really heal me of this ailing and restore me to my pristine state? Then know ye this illness will go if I see Him, the maker of illusions, the youthful one who measured the world. Should you really wish to save me, then take me forth to his home in t

BANDE MATARAM HYMN TO THE MOTHER Bande Mataram Mother, I bow to thee! Rich with thy hurrying streams, Bright with thy orchard gleams, Cool with thy winds of delight, Dark fields waving. Mother of might, Mother free. Glory of moonlight dreams Over thy branches and lordly streams, — Clad in thy blossoming trees, Mother, giver of ease, Laughing low and sweet! Mother, I kiss thy feet, Speaker sweet and low! Mother, to thee I bow. Who hath said thou art weak in thy lands, When the swords flash out in seventy million hands And seventy million

ON THE WICKED Evil Nature A heart unpitying, brawling vain and rude, An eye to others’ wives and wealth inclined, Impatience of true friends and of the good, — These things are self-born in the evil mind. The Human Cobra Avoid the evil man with learning crowned. Lo, the dread cobra, all his hood a gem Of glory, yet he crawls upon the ground. Fear’st thou him less for that bright diadem? Virtue and Slander A spiritless dull block call modesty; Love of long fasts and holy vows must be Mere shows, yon pure heart but a Pharisee, The world-renounci

Speech of Dussaruth to the Assembled States-General of His Empire* Then with a far reverberating sound As of a cloud in heaven or war-drum’s call Deep-voiced to battle and with echoings In the wide roof of his majestic voice That like the resonant surges onward rolled Moving men’s hearts to joy, a King to Kings He spoke and all they heard him. “It is known To you, O princes, how this noblest realm Was by my fathers ruled, the kings of old Who went before me, even as one dearest son Is by his parents cherished; therefore I too Would happier leave than when my youth assumed Their b