A SANSCRIT POEM BY SHRI HARSHA. 



337 



Altho' my language sounds sonorously, 

 'Tis not the empty sound of falling rocks. 

 Its meaning will be found a sea of milk, 

 Which to the churner, will abundance yield 

 Of nectar most delicious to the taste. 

 It is confessed that knotty points exist, 

 And such it was my object to present. 

 Let not the reader in conceit despise, 

 What all at once, he cannot comprehend ; 

 But rather let him seek a skilful man. 

 Who can explain what seems to be obscure, 

 And bathe himself in the poetic stream. 



It would be easy to institute a lengthened inquiry into the merits of 

 Shri Harsha in comparison with some of the Latin Poets ; we shall satisfy 

 ourselves with a single remark. In glowing descriptions of the passions 

 and particularly the passion of love, he resembles Ovid ; in the easy flow 

 of his language he is Virgil's equal or perhaps superior ; in the variety 

 of his metres and moral reflexions, he competes with Horace : while in 

 pomp of expression, diversity of imagery, and minuteness of delineation he 

 far exceeds them all. 



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