XC. THE SAME CONTINUEDAnd as they talked, sweet sleep overcame Earth's Mother. Her father laid her on the bed. At break of day Himagiri's queen[257] came to the shrine where Umā lay. Her being all intense with overflowing love, she waves the lights of happiness,[258] and calls her daughter back to consciousness. The queen calls to her, calls, and calls again: 'Awake, little mother, awake. The sun is up, the night has passed. The sheldrake's mate[259] with her exulting song drives away her grief. 'Arise, arise, Gaurī, dear as life; Giri is standing near. No longer should you slumber.' Poet,[260] rhapsodist and panegyrist with folded hands entreat you: 'Have done with sleep, have done with it, have done with it. 'You who are merciful, arise, and let me see your mercy. 'Go to Mandākinī's[261] waters; go, take you leaves of bel, and offer your worship unto Śiva. 'Listen, little mother, listen to your Mother's words.' [90] The smiles broke slowly over Gaurī's lovely face; she knew her Mother's voice. The kōkilas [262] are singing, cold breezes are blowing. The moon has no radiance now. The water-lily sees her lord[263] robbed of his glory, and stands with saddened face, a shivering image. The hapless Kavirañjana[264] says: O Durgā, who art merciful toward the wretched, save me, O save me, I pray. Look in mercy upon me, and deliver me from the waters of the dread ocean of life. Take me across to its further shore.[265] This and LXXXIX are from the Kālīkīrtan; not an Āgāmanī; song, strictly, but included here as giving a glimpse of Umā's early years in her mountain-home. The Western reader will be struck by the resemblance in spirit to the Homeric hymns; and in the first part in Rāmprasād's closing comment Persephone becomes Demeter. The translators cannot forbear to draw attention to the extreme beauty of the opening of the second part. FOOTNOTES: [257] Menakā. [258] Āratī;, a lamp of metal with several jets of light, which is waved before the image of a god morning and evening. Until recent times, this was commonly done to honoured persons in Hindu families. See Dubois, 148. [259] When Rāma was lamenting the loss of Sītā, a pair of sheldrakes were joyously courting. He cursed them with eternal separation at night, but they are allowed to reunite each dawn. [260] Court-poets awakened kings in Ancient India. This is an episode, while the poet in imagination adds his entreaties to those of Umā's mother. [261] The river of Indra's paradise; the Ganges ere it descends to earth. [262] The hawk-cuckoo, noisiest and (in the judgment of North Indian poets) sweetest-voiced of birds; clamorous in winter dawns. [263] The sun is the lover of the lotus, the moon of the humbler water-lily. [264] He who pleases Poets; Rāmprasād's title from the Kṛishṇagar court. [265] The conclusion, as so often, is a pious irrelevance. XCI. MENAKĀ HAS DISCOVERED UMĀ'S GREATNESS My Umā is no common maid. Thy daughter, Giri, is not that, is not that. I am afraid to tell what I have seen in a dream. Oh, our Umā sat upon the heads of the Four-Faced[266] and Five-Faced[267] Ones. Queen of kings, [91]she speaks with laughing lips.[268] He, the dark-robed One, who rides on Garuḍa,[269] stands humbly in her presence, with palms together in supplication. Prasād says: This is she whom sages cannot win by meditation. Blessed art thou, O Giri! What merit hast thou achieved to possess such a daughter! Again, not an Āgāmanī; song, but another glimpse of Umā's early years. FOOTNOTES: [266] Brahmā. [267] Śiva. [268] As a child in Menakā's home. [269] Vishṇu rides on Garuḍa, the great kite.
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