Stars of the Desert/Lalla Radha and the Churel
Lalla Radha and the Churel
His sixteen years had left him very fair,
Tinted his cheeks with soft and delicate bloom,
Added new lustre to his clustered hair,
And filled his amber eyes with tender gloom.
He sought some unknown thing, he knew not what,
His scarce-seen bride, a child, was far away,
Desiring love, as yet he knew it not,
Sleepless by night he grew, forlorn by day.
Priest
"Ah, go not near the Peepul trees,
That shiver in the evening breeze,
A young Churel might hide in these!
"And should she see thee, and desire,
Then will she burn thee in soft fire,
Till in her arms thou shalt expire!"
Lalla Radha
"But who and what is this Churel,
Who loves in Peepul trees to dwell,
The Peepul, where the Koel sings
In frenzied songs, of amorous things?"
Priest
"When, with her child unborn, a woman dies,
Her spirit takes the form of a Churel,
A maiden's form, with soft, alluring eyes,
Where promises of future rapture dwell.
Yet is her loveliness, though passing sweet,
Marred by the backward-turning of her feet.
"She sits in branches of the Peepul trees,
Until beneath, a passing youth she sees.
Should she desire him, swift, she will alight,
Entreating softly 'Stay with me to-night!'
No safety then for him; unless he flies,
Soon, in the furnace of her love, he dies!"
Lalla Radha
"But if indeed these things are so,
Yet what am I, that she should care,
To watch me as I pass below,
Or notice me and find me fair?"
Priest
"Yours are the happiest gifts that the Gods have given,
Who have never been over ready with gifts to part.
Youth, the divine reminiscence of some lost Heaven,
Beauty, the dream of the eyes, the desire of the heart.
"Beauty, that women adore and secretly pray for,
To find, to possess, to bequeath to the world again,
The loveliest stake that Life allows them to play for,
At the risk of death; with certain foreknowledge of pain."
Dancing Girl (singing in the distance)
"What will you do with your seventeenth year,
You with the eyes of a dove?
Give it to Love, he will hold you lightly,
Betray you and wound you more than slightly,
But lead you into Paradise nightly,
Give it to Love!!"
He heard and waited awhile, but the days flew by,
And brought a more brilliant sun to the azure sky.
The scent of the flowers grew stronger, grew keen as pain,
And Youth's sweet ferment rose from his heart to his brain
Until, when the west was red, and the evening breeze
Broke fresh on his lips, he went to the Peepul trees.
Song of the Churel
"Ah, come to me, I want you so!
Why will you make me wait?
The golden sunsets burn and glow,
The twilight moments come and go,
I watch you wander to and fro,
Why do you hesitate?
"So very brief Youth's season is,
Ah, wherefore waste a single night?
Put up your lips for mine to kiss,
Take the first promise of delight.
"Upon Life's pale and tragic face,
Youth passes like a blush.
It blooms, an evanescent grace,
Alas, for such a little space,
And fading, hardly leaves a trace,
Of all its radiant flush.
"We cannot force one night to last,
Or stay a single star at will,
And though the Pulse of Youth is fast,
The Wings of Time are swifter still.
"So much I want your silken hair,
Your youth, intact and free,
A thousand nights, serenely fair,
With scented silence everywhere,
Consenting stars and pliant air,
Would pass too soon for me.
"Too soon the rising flood of morn
Our isle of night would overflow,
And force upon our eyes forlorn
Its lovely but unwanted glow.
"The magic Garden of Delight
Is ours; I hold the key.
Take up Love's sceptre, yours by right
And learn his mystery and might,
Ah, come and reign with me to-night,
In silent ecstasy!
"Come, while the silver stars above
Rain down their light serene and still,
And if you cannot come for love,
Ah, come on any terms you will!"
•••••
How should the youth resist, deny,
Or turn his lips from hers away?
Nightly, beneath th' unheeding sky,
The fierce Churel caressed her prey.
Nightly, the flickering Peepul trees,
Echoed his soft and broken sighs,
While the faint eddies of the breeze
In pity fanned his sleepless eyes.
Frailer he grew, more wan and pale,
Possession only fed Desire,
Like wax he felt his forces fail
Consumed in her insistent fire.
Till lost in dreams, his fainting breath
Shed on her lips in one last sigh,
He neither knew nor noticed death.
This is the loveliest way to die!
Beneath the Peepuls dead he lay,
Pale on his face the starlight fell,
In ecstasy he passed away.
Such is the love of the Churel.