AMRA. 63 



himself everlasting felicity. But while Sarma was thus absorbed in 

 holy abstraction, where were Govinda and Amra ? 



In a spot fairer than the poet's creative pencil ever wrought into a 

 picture for fancy to dwell on where, at the extremity of the Brah- 

 man's garden, the broad and beautiful stream that bounded it ran 

 swiftly to mingle its waves with those of the thrice-holy Ganges ; 

 where mangoes raised their huge twisted roots in a thousand fantas- 

 tic forms, while from their boughs hung suspended the nests of the 

 little Bay a birds, which waved to and fro in the evening breeze 

 there had Amr^ and Govirida met together, it might be, without de- 

 sign. The sun had set, the Cistus flowers began to fall, and the 

 rich blossoms of the night-loving Nilica diffused their rich -odour. 

 The Peyoo awoke to warble forth his song, and the fire flies were 

 just visible, as they flitted under the shade of the Champac trees. 

 Upon a bank, covered with that soft and beautiful grass which, 

 whenever it is pressed or trodden on, yields a delicious perfume, were 

 Amra and Govinda seated side by side. Two of her attendants, at 

 some little distance, were occupied in twining wreaths of flowers. 

 Amra had a basket at her feet, in which were two small vessels of 

 porcelain. One contained cakes of rice, honey, and clarified butter, 

 kneaded by her own hand ; in the other were mangoes, rose-apples, 

 and musk-melons ; and garlands of the holy palasa blossoms, sacred 

 to the dead, were flung around the whole. This was the votive offer- 

 ing, which Amra had prepared for the tomb of her mother, who was 

 buried in the garden. And now, with her elbow resting on her knee, 

 and her soft cheek leaning on her hand, she sat gazing up at the sky, 

 where the stars came flashing forth one by one ; and she watched 

 the auspicious moment for offering her pious oblation. But Govinda 

 looked neither on the earth nor on the sky. What to him were the 

 stars, or the flowers, or the moon rising in dewy splendour ? His 

 eyes were fixed upon one, who was brighter to him than the stars, 

 lovelier than the moon when she drives her antelopes through the 

 heavens, sweeter than the night flower which opens in her beam. 



"Oh Amra ! " he said at length, and while he spoke his voice trem- 

 bled even at its own tenderness, " Amra ! beautiful and beloved sister ! 

 thine eyes are filled with the glory of that sparkling firmament ! the 

 breath of the evening which agitates the silky filaments of the Seris, 

 is as pleasant to thee as to me : but the beauty, which I see, thou 

 canst not see ; the power of deep joy, which thrills over my heart 

 like the breeze over these floating lotuses oh ! this thou canst not 

 feel ! Let me take away those pearls and gems scattered among thy 

 radiant tresses, and replace them with those fragrant and golden 



