Then is added a secret which, as it could not possibly be known to a third person, assures her that the cloud is a true messenger.

    And one thing more:  thou layest once asleep,
  Clasping my neck, then wakening with a scream;
    And when I wondered why, thou couldst but weep
  A while, and then a smile began to beam: 
  “Rogue!  Rogue!  I saw thee with another girl in dream.”

  XLIX

    This memory shows me cheerful, gentle wife;
  Then let no gossip thy suspicions move: 
    They say the affections strangely forfeit life
  In separation, but in truth they prove
  Toward the absent dear, a growing bulk of tenderest love.’”

  L

  The Yaksha then begs the cloud to return
  with a message of comfort.

    Console her patient heart, to breaking full
  In our first separation; having spoken,
    Fly from the mountain ploughed by Shiva’s bull;
  Make strong with message and with tender token
  My life, so easily, like morning jasmines, broken.

  LI

    I hope, sweet friend, thou grantest all my suit,
  Nor read refusal in thy solemn air;
    When thirsty birds complain, thou givest mute
  The rain from heaven:  such simple hearts are rare,
  Whose only answer is fulfilment of the prayer.

  LII

  and dismisses him, with a prayer for his
  welfare.

    Thus, though I pray unworthy, answer me
  For friendship’s sake, or pity’s, magnified
    By the sight of my distress; then wander free
  In rainy loveliness, and ne’er abide
  One moment’s separation from thy lightning bride.

* * * * *

THE SEASONS

The Seasons is an unpretentious poem, describing in six short cantos the six seasons into which the Hindus divide the year.  The title is perhaps a little misleading, as the description is not objective, but deals with the feelings awakened by each season in a pair of young lovers.  Indeed, the poem might be called a Lover’s Calendar.  Kalidasa’s authorship has been doubted, without very cogent argument.  The question is not of much interest, as The Seasons would neither add greatly to his reputation nor subtract from it.

The whole poem contains one hundred and forty-four stanzas, or something less than six hundred lines of verse.  There follow a few stanzas selected from each canto.

  SUMMER

  Pitiless heat from heaven pours
    By day, but nights are cool;
  Continual bathing gently lowers
    The water in the pool;
  The evening brings a charming peace: 
    For summer-time is here
  When love that never knows surcease,
    Is less imperious, dear.

  Yet love can never fall asleep;
    For he is waked to-day
  By songs that all their sweetness keep
    And lutes that softly play,
  By fans with sandal-water wet
    That bring us drowsy rest,
  By strings of pearls that gently fret
    Full many a lovely breast.