Page:TheBirth of the War-God.djvu/68

Fair strings of pearl their radiant fingers hold,
Clothed are their limbs in hermit-coats of gold;
Their rosaries, large gems of countless price,
Shone like the fruit that glows in Paradise,
As though the glorious trees that blossom there
Had sought the forest for a Life of Prayer.
With all his thousand beams the God of Day,
Urging his coursers down the sloping way.
His banner furled at the approach of Night,
Looks up in reverence on those Lords of Light.
Ancient Creators!—thus the Wise, who know,
Gave them a name in ages long ago—
With Brahma joining in Creation's plan.
And perfecting the work His will began;
Still firm in Penance, though the hermit-vow
Bears a ripe harvest for the Sages now.
Brighest in glory mid that glorious band
Did the fair Queen, the Heavenly Lady, stand;
Fixing her loving eyes upon her spouse.
She seemed just sent to crown the Sage's vows
With sweet immortal joy—the dearest prize
Strong prayer could merit from the envious skies.
With equal honour on the Queen and all
Did the kind glance of Siva's welcome fall;
No partial favour by the Good is shown,
They count not station, but the deed alone.
So fair she shone upon his raptured view.
He longed for Wedlock's heavenly pleasures too,—
What hath such power to lead the soul above
By Virtue's pathway, as a dear Wife's love!
Scarce had the holy motive lent its aid
To knit great Siva to the Mountain-Maid,