A Rajput Love Song

(Parvati at her lattice)

O Love! were you a basil-wreath to twine

among my tresses,

A jewelled clasp of shining gold to bind around my sleeve,

O Love! were you the keora's soul that haunts

my silken raiment,

A bright, vermilion tassel in the girdles that I weave;

O Love! were you the scented fan

that lies upon my pillow,

A sandal lute, or silver lamp that burns before my shrine,

Why should I fear the jealous dawn

that spreads with cruel laughter,

Sad veils of separation between your face and mine?

Haste, O wild-bee hours, to the gardens of the sun set!

Fly, wild-parrot day, to the orchards of the west!

Come, O tender night, with your sweet,

consoling darkness,

And bring me my Beloved to the shelter of my breast!

(Amar Singh in the saddle)

O Love! were you the hooded hawk upon my hand

that flutters,

Its collar-band of gleaming bells atinkle as I ride,

O Love! were you a turban-spray or

floating heron-feather,

The radiant, swift, unconquered sword

that swingeth at my side;

O Love! were you a shield against the

arrows of my foemen,

An amulet of jade against the perils of the way,

How should the drum-beats of the dawn

divide me from your bosom,

Or the union of the midnight be ended with the day?

Haste, O wild-deer hours, to the meadows of the sunset!

Fly, wild stallion day, to the pastures of the west!

Come, O tranquil night, with your soft,

consenting darkness,

And bear me to the fragrance of my Beloved's breast!