Page:TheBirth of the War-God.djvu/61

Take then the half, thy secret purpose name,
Nor in stern hardships wear thy tender frame!"

The holy Brahman ceased—but Uma's breast
In silence heaved, by love and fear opprest;
In mute appeal she turned her languid eye,
Darkened with weeping, not with softening dye,
To bid her maiden's friendly tongue declare
The cherished secret of her deep despair:—
"Hear, holy Father, if thou still wouldst know,
Why her frail form endures this pain and woe—
As the soft Lotus makes a screen to stay
The noontide fury of the God of Day;
Proudly disdaining all the Lords above.
With heart and soul she seeks for Siva's love,
For him alone, the Trident-wielding God,
The thorny paths of Penance hath she trod;
But since that mighty one hath Káma slain.
Vain every hope, and every effort vain;
E'en as life fled, a keen but flowery dart
Young Love, the Archer, aimed at Siva's heart;
The God in anger hurled the shaft away,
But deep in Uma's tender soul it lay;
Alas, poor Maid! she knows no comfort now.
Her soul's on fire—her wild locks hide her brow;
She quits her father's halls, and frenzied roves
The icy mountain and the lonely groves;
Oft as the Maidens of the Minstrel throng
To hymn great Siva's praises raised the song,
The lovelorn Lady's sobs and deep-drawn sighs
Drew tears of pity from their gentle eyes.