CHAPTER XXV.In the forest grove of moonlight, where the river sweetly hummed, where the nightbird's plaintive chant broke in ecstasy the silence, where the drooping flowers opened wide their sleep-kissed eyelids to the night and beheld the wondrous vision of the dancing maids and Krishna.In that hour when every maiden felt her heart grow big to bursting for the love that in her swelled up in that hour, when every maiden saw beside her Glorious Krishna, with His brow made fair with flowers and His loins wreathed with lotus, when the heart of each sweet maiden foolish because of pride, as she saw the one All Beauteous, lightly treading at her side to the music of the dance.One there was of all those Gopis, she the chiefest of them all, one who knew naught else but Him; every thought of self had vanished, every thought of aught but Him.At His side she lightly stepped nor felt the grass 'neath her feet, nor knew the strains of rapturous music that fell like wine upon each heart; all she knew was Love was there, naught but this remembered she.To the winds that came from hillsides, to the shadows that the trees cast, did she whisper over and over that confession of her love, till over-weighed by the sweet burden, did the winds, in languorous love, chant and sigh, then die in silence.And the shadows of the trees trembled at the depth of love that the maid did whisper to them as He passed them in the dance.Rādhā was she, youthful, lovely, she. His playmate of the forest, she, with love-look in her face, she, the Queen of Love among them, giving all and asking naught.By the mighty will of Him she had come on earth to dwell, she, who ever reigned with Him in Glory, she now walked with Him on earth.She, the fairest of these maidens, she the rarest of them all, knowing Love in its intensity, living all its bliss.And when He, the Lord of Love, vanished from the dancing Gopis, she, sweet Rādhā, with Him vanished.And they wandered in the deep groves, these, the Twain, Who in Glory dwelt, she the loving, He the Lover, both the Blissful, both the Purest.He the dew-kissed flowers gathered, twining them about the maiden. But the flowers in their beauty were not half as fair as she; and sweet Rādhā, pearl of maidens, gazed with love-light in her eyes, knowing naught was half so lovely as the hands that placed them there.Thus 'they roamed in shadowy moonlight, rested here in softened shadows, chanting love-songs to each other, knowing naught but pure delight, till a-wearied with her roaming, Rādhā begged to cool her feet in the smiling waves of Jumnā, that she spied there in the moonlight.Krishna, greatest of all lovers, lightly stooped to lift the maiden, and in loving arms to bear her where the smiling waters rippled.But within the breast of Rādhā, at that act, pride sprang to being, and within that home of Love vanity crept and nestled there.For a moment Krishna held her, then with lightning swiftness from her side He vanished.But in that twinkle of a moment Rādhā knew what her sin was and, aware of her enemy, the selfless love, which was her Self, her deity supreme, arose and quenched all thirst of vanity.Quickly gliding through the forest, she again did join the Gopis, spying in the further distance Krishna soothing one and all. To His side she lightly stepped, she, the radiant, she. His Heaven-Mate, purged from sin and lightly clothed with the love that knew but Him.
CHAPTER XXV.In the forest grove of moonlight, where the river sweetly hummed, where the nightbird's plaintive chant broke in ecstasy the silence, where the drooping flowers opened wide their sleep-kissed eyelids to the night and beheld the wondrous vision of the dancing maids and Krishna.In that hour when every maiden felt her heart grow big to bursting for the love that in her swelled up in that hour, when every maiden saw beside her Glorious Krishna, with His brow made fair with flowers and His loins wreathed with lotus, when the heart of each sweet maiden foolish because of pride, as she saw the one All Beauteous, lightly treading at her side to the music of the dance.One there was of all those Gopis, she the chiefest of them all, one who knew naught else but Him; every thought of self had vanished, every thought of aught but Him.At His side she lightly stepped nor felt the grass 'neath her feet, nor knew the strains of rapturous music that fell like wine upon each heart; all she knew was Love was there, naught but this remembered she.To the winds that came from hillsides, to the shadows that the trees cast, did she whisper over and over that confession of her love, till over-weighed by the sweet burden, did the winds, in languorous love, chant and sigh, then die in silence.And the shadows of the trees trembled at the depth of love that the maid did whisper to them as He passed them in the dance.Rādhā was she, youthful, lovely, she. His playmate of the forest, she, with love-look in her face, she, the Queen of Love among them, giving all and asking naught.By the mighty will of Him she had come on earth to dwell, she, who ever reigned with Him in Glory, she now walked with Him on earth.She, the fairest of these maidens, she the rarest of them all, knowing Love in its intensity, living all its bliss.And when He, the Lord of Love, vanished from the dancing Gopis, she, sweet Rādhā, with Him vanished.And they wandered in the deep groves, these, the Twain, Who in Glory dwelt, she the loving, He the Lover, both the Blissful, both the Purest.He the dew-kissed flowers gathered, twining them about the maiden. But the flowers in their beauty were not half as fair as she; and sweet Rādhā, pearl of maidens, gazed with love-light in her eyes, knowing naught was half so lovely as the hands that placed them there.Thus 'they roamed in shadowy moonlight, rested here in softened shadows, chanting love-songs to each other, knowing naught but pure delight, till a-wearied with her roaming, Rādhā begged to cool her feet in the smiling waves of Jumnā, that she spied there in the moonlight.Krishna, greatest of all lovers, lightly stooped to lift the maiden, and in loving arms to bear her where the smiling waters rippled.But within the breast of Rādhā, at that act, pride sprang to being, and within that home of Love vanity crept and nestled there.For a moment Krishna held her, then with lightning swiftness from her side He vanished.But in that twinkle of a moment Rādhā knew what her sin was and, aware of her enemy, the selfless love, which was her Self, her deity supreme, arose and quenched all thirst of vanity.Quickly gliding through the forest, she again did join the Gopis, spying in the further distance Krishna soothing one and all. To His side she lightly stepped, she, the radiant, she. His Heaven-Mate, purged from sin and lightly clothed with the love that knew but Him.
CHAPTER XXV.In the forest grove of moonlight, where the river sweetly hummed, where the nightbird's plaintive chant broke in ecstasy the silence, where the drooping flowers opened wide their sleep-kissed eyelids to the night and beheld the wondrous vision of the dancing maids and Krishna.In that hour when every maiden felt her heart grow big to bursting for the love that in her swelled up in that hour, when every maiden saw beside her Glorious Krishna, with His brow made fair with flowers and His loins wreathed with lotus, when the heart of each sweet maiden foolish because of pride, as she saw the one All Beauteous, lightly treading at her side to the music of the dance.One there was of all those Gopis, she the chiefest of them all, one who knew naught else but Him; every thought of self had vanished, every thought of aught but Him.At His side she lightly stepped nor felt the grass 'neath her feet, nor knew the strains of rapturous music that fell like wine upon each heart; all she knew was Love was there, naught but this remembered she.To the winds that came from hillsides, to the shadows that the trees cast, did she whisper over and over that confession of her love, till over-weighed by the sweet burden, did the winds, in languorous love, chant and sigh, then die in silence.And the shadows of the trees trembled at the depth of love that the maid did whisper to them as He passed them in the dance.Rādhā was she, youthful, lovely, she. His playmate of the forest, she, with love-look in her face, she, the Queen of Love among them, giving all and asking naught.By the mighty will of Him she had come on earth to dwell, she, who ever reigned with Him in Glory, she now walked with Him on earth.She, the fairest of these maidens, she the rarest of them all, knowing Love in its intensity, living all its bliss.And when He, the Lord of Love, vanished from the dancing Gopis, she, sweet Rādhā, with Him vanished.And they wandered in the deep groves, these, the Twain, Who in Glory dwelt, she the loving, He the Lover, both the Blissful, both the Purest.He the dew-kissed flowers gathered, twining them about the maiden. But the flowers in their beauty were not half as fair as she; and sweet Rādhā, pearl of maidens, gazed with love-light in her eyes, knowing naught was half so lovely as the hands that placed them there.Thus 'they roamed in shadowy moonlight, rested here in softened shadows, chanting love-songs to each other, knowing naught but pure delight, till a-wearied with her roaming, Rādhā begged to cool her feet in the smiling waves of Jumnā, that she spied there in the moonlight.Krishna, greatest of all lovers, lightly stooped to lift the maiden, and in loving arms to bear her where the smiling waters rippled.But within the breast of Rādhā, at that act, pride sprang to being, and within that home of Love vanity crept and nestled there.For a moment Krishna held her, then with lightning swiftness from her side He vanished.But in that twinkle of a moment Rādhā knew what her sin was and, aware of her enemy, the selfless love, which was her Self, her deity supreme, arose and quenched all thirst of vanity.Quickly gliding through the forest, she again did join the Gopis, spying in the further distance Krishna soothing one and all. To His side she lightly stepped, she, the radiant, she. His Heaven-Mate, purged from sin and lightly clothed with the love that knew but Him.
In the forest grove of moonlight, where the river sweetly hummed, where the nightbird's plaintive chant broke in ecstasy the silence, where the drooping flowers opened wide their sleep-kissed eyelids to the night and beheld the wondrous vision of the dancing maids and Krishna.
In that hour when every maiden felt her heart grow big to bursting for the love that in her swelled up in that hour, when every maiden saw beside her Glorious Krishna, with His brow made fair with flowers and His loins wreathed with lotus, when the heart of each sweet maiden foolish because of pride, as she saw the one All Beauteous, lightly treading at her side to the music of the dance.
One there was of all those Gopis, she the chiefest of them all, one who knew naught else but Him; every thought of self had vanished, every thought of aught but Him.
At His side she lightly stepped nor felt the grass 'neath her feet, nor knew the strains of rapturous music that fell like wine upon each heart; all she knew was Love was there, naught but this remembered she.
To the winds that came from hillsides, to the shadows that the trees cast, did she whisper over and over that confession of her love, till over-weighed by the sweet burden, did the winds, in languorous love, chant and sigh, then die in silence.
And the shadows of the trees trembled at the depth of love that the maid did whisper to them as He passed them in the dance.
Rādhā was she, youthful, lovely, she. His playmate of the forest, she, with love-look in her face, she, the Queen of Love among them, giving all and asking naught.
By the mighty will of Him she had come on earth to dwell, she, who ever reigned with Him in Glory, she now walked with Him on earth.
She, the fairest of these maidens, she the rarest of them all, knowing Love in its intensity, living all its bliss.
And when He, the Lord of Love, vanished from the dancing Gopis, she, sweet Rādhā, with Him vanished.
And they wandered in the deep groves, these, the Twain, Who in Glory dwelt, she the loving, He the Lover, both the Blissful, both the Purest.
He the dew-kissed flowers gathered, twining them about the maiden. But the flowers in their beauty were not half as fair as she; and sweet Rādhā, pearl of maidens, gazed with love-light in her eyes, knowing naught was half so lovely as the hands that placed them there.
Thus 'they roamed in shadowy moonlight, rested here in softened shadows, chanting love-songs to each other, knowing naught but pure delight, till a-wearied with her roaming, Rādhā begged to cool her feet in the smiling waves of Jumnā, that she spied there in the moonlight.
Krishna, greatest of all lovers, lightly stooped to lift the maiden, and in loving arms to bear her where the smiling waters rippled.
But within the breast of Rādhā, at that act, pride sprang to being, and within that home of Love vanity crept and nestled there.
For a moment Krishna held her, then with lightning swiftness from her side He vanished.
But in that twinkle of a moment Rādhā knew what her sin was and, aware of her enemy, the selfless love, which was her Self, her deity supreme, arose and quenched all thirst of vanity.
Quickly gliding through the forest, she again did join the Gopis, spying in the further distance Krishna soothing one and all. To His side she lightly stepped, she, the radiant, she. His Heaven-Mate, purged from sin and lightly clothed with the love that knew but Him.