Appendix Poems in Greek and in French Greek Epigram Lorsque rien n'existait Sur les grands sommets blancs Note on the Texts Index of Titles Index of First Lines

Urvasi

CANTO III

So was a goddess won to mortal arms;

And for twelve months he held her on the peaks,

In solitary vastnesses of hills

And regions snow-besieged. There in dim gorge

And tenebrous ravine and on wide snows

Clothed with deserted space, o'er precipices

With the far eagles wheeling under them,

Or where large glaciers watch, or under cliffs

O'er-murmured by the streaming waterfalls,

And later in the pleasant lower hills,

He of her beauty world-desired took joy:

And all earth's silent sublime spaces passed

Into his blood and grew a part of thought.

Twelve months in the green forests populous,

Life in sunlight and by delightful streams

He increased rapture. The green tremulous groves,

And solitary rivers white with birds,

And watered hollow's gleam, and sunny boughs

Gorgeous with peacocks or illumining

Bright bosom of doves, in forests' musing day

Or the great night with roar of many beasts, —

All these were Eden round the glorious pair.

And in their third flower-haunted spring of love

A child was born from golden Urvasie.

But when the goddess from maternal pangs

Woke to the child's sweet face and strange tumult

Of new delight and felt the little hands

Erring about her breasts, passionate she cried:

"How long shall we in woods, Pururavus,

Waste the glad days of cheerful human life?

What pleasure is in soulless woods and waves?

But I would go into the homes of men,

Hear the great sound of cities, watch the eager

Faces tending to hall and mart, and talk

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With the bright girls of earth, and kiss the eyes

Of little children, feel smooth floors of stone

Under my feet and the restraint of walls,

And eat earth's food from vessels made and drink

Earth's water cool from jars, and know all joy

And labour of that blithe and busy world."

She said, and he with a slight happy smile

Consented. So to sacred Ganges they

Came and the virgin's city llian.

But when they neared the mighty destined walls,

His virgin-mother from her temple pure

Saw him, and a wild blare of conchs arose.

Rejoicing to the lion-gates they streamed,

The people of Pururavus, a glad

Throng indistinguishable, traders and priests,

Merchants of many gains and craftsmen fine

Oblivious of their daily toils; the carver

Flinging his tool away and hammerless

The giant smith laughing through his vast beard.

And little children ran, all over flowers,

And girls like dawn with a delightful noise

Of anklets, matrons and old men divine,

And half a godhead with great glances came

The large-eyed poets of the Vedic chant;

Before them, all that multitude divided

Honouring them. In gleaming armour came,

And bearing dreadful bows, with sound of swords,

High lords of sacrifice and aged chiefs

War-weary and great heroes with mighty tread.

All these to a high noise of trumpets came.

They with a wide sound going up to heaven

Welcomed their king, and a soft shower of blooms

Fell on him as from warlike fields returned.

Much all they marvelled at his heavenly bride

And worshipped her, half-awed. And young girls came,

Daughters of warriors, to great houses wed,

Sweet faces of delightful laughter, came

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And took into their glad embrace and kissed,

Enamoured of her smiling mouth, and praised

Aloud her beauty. With flowers then they bound

Her soft immortal wrists, and through the gates,

Labouring in vain to bend great bows, waving

Far-glancing steel, and up the bridal streets

Captive the girlish phalanx, bright with swords,

After the old heroic fashion led.

They amid trumpets and the vast acclaim

Of a glad people brought the child of Gods

To her terrestrial home; through the strong doors

They lifted, and upon an earthly floor,

Loosening, let from the gleaming limbs slide down

Her heavenly vesture; next they brought and flung

About her sweet insufferable grace

Mortal habiliments, a clinging robe.

Over her hair the wifely veil was drawn.

Thus was the love of all the world confined

To one man's home. And O too fortunate

Mortal, who could with those auguster joys

Mingle our little happy human pains,

Subduing a fair goddess from her skies

To gentle ordinary things, sweet service

And household tasks making her beautiful,

And trivial daily words, and kisses kind,

And all the meaning dear of wife and home!

Human with earth dwelt golden Urvasie,

And bore to King Pururavus a race

Of glorious children, each a shining god.

She loved that great and simple life of old,

Its marble outlines, strong joys and clear air

Around the soul, loved and made roseate.

The sacred city felt a finer life

Within it; burning inspirations breathed

From hallowed poets; and architects to grace

And fancy their immense conceptions toned;

Numberless heroes emulously drove forth

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And in strong joyous battle rolling back

The dark barbarian borders, flashed through fields,

Brilliant, and sages in their souls saw God.

And from the city of Pururavus

High influences went; Indus and Ganges

And all the golden intermediate lands

Grew with them and a perfect impulse felt.

Seven years the earth rejoiced in Urvasie.

But in their fortunate heavens the high Gods

Dwelt infelicitous, losing the old

Rapture inexplicable and thrill beneath

Their ancient calm. Therefore not long enduring,

They in colossal council marble, said

To that bright sister whom she had loved best,

"Ménaca!" crying "how long shall one man

Divide from heaven its most perfect bliss?

Go down and bring her back, our bright one back,

And we shall love again our luminous halls."

She heard and went, with her ethereal robe

Murmuring about her, to the gates divine,

And looked into the world, and saw the far

Titanic Ilian city like a stone

Sunlit upon the small and distant earth.

Down from heaven's peaks the daughter of the sea

Went flashing and upon a breathless eve

Came to the city of Pururavus,

Air blazing far behind her till she paused.

She over the palace of Pururavus

Stood in shadow. Within the lights yet were;

Still sat the princes and young poets sang

On harps heroical of Urvasie

And strong Pururavus, of Urvasie

The light and lovely spirit golden-limbed,

Son of a virgin strong Pururavus.

"O earth made heaven to Pururavus!

O heaven left earth without sweet Urvasie!

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"Rejoice possessing, O Pururavus!

Be glad who art possessed, O Urvasie!

"Behold the parents of the sacrifice!

When they have met, then they together rush

And in their arms the beautiful fire is born.

"Behold the children of the earth and sky!

When they met, then they loved, O then they clasped,

And from their clasp a lovely presence grew.

"A holy virgin's son we hear of thee

Without a father born, Pururavus,

Without a mother lovely Urvasie.

"Hast thou not brought the sacrifice from heaven,

The unquenched, unkindled fire, Pururavus?

Hast thou not brought delightful Urvasie?

"The fires of sacrifice mount ever up:

To their lost heavens they naturally aspire.

Their tops are weighted with a human prayer.

"The soul of love mounts also towards the sky;

Thence came the spark but hardly shall return;

Its wings are weighted with too fierce a fire.

"Rejoice in the warm earth, O lovely pair,

The green strong earth that gave Pururavus.

"Rejoice in the blithe earth, O lovely pair,

The happy earth all flushed with Urvasie.

"As lightning takes the heart with pleasant dread,

So love is of the strong Pururavus.

"As breathes sweet fragrance from the flower oppressed,

So love from thy bruised bosom, Urvasie."

So sang they and the heart rejoiced. Then rose

The princes and went down the long white street,

Each to his home. Soon every sound had faded;

Heaven and a few bright stars possessed the world.

But in a silent place dim with the west

On that last night of the sweet passionate earth,

The goddess with the mortal hero lay.

For over them victorious Love still showered

His arrows marble-dinting, not flower-tipped

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As our brief fading fires, — naked and large

As heaven the monumental loves of old.

On their rich bed they lay, and the two rams

That once the subtle bright Gundhurvas gave

To Urvasie, were near; they were ever

With her and cherished; hardly even she loved

The tender faces of her children more

Than these choice from flocks heavenly: only these

Remained to her of unforgotten skies.

So lay they under those fierce shafts of Love,

And in the arms of strong Pururavus

Once more were those beloved limbs embraced,

Once more, if never once again on earth.

Before he slept, the lord of Urvasie

Clasped her to him and wooed from her tired lips

One kiss, nor in its passion felt farewell.

But the night darkened over the vague town,

And clouds came gradual up, and through the clouds

In thunderless great flashes stealing came

The subtle-souled Gundhurvas from the peaks

Of distant Paradise. Thunder rolled out,

And through the walls, in a fierce rush of light,

Entered the thieves of heaven and stole the rams,

And fled with the same lightning. Shuddering

The exile of the skies awoke and knew

Her loss, and with a lamentable cry

Turned to her lord. "Arise, Pururavus!"

She wept, "they take from me my snow-white joys."

And starting from his sleep Pururavus,

In that waking when memory is far

And nature of a man unquestioned rules,

Heard of oppression and a space forgot

Fate and his weak tenure of mighty bliss,

Restored to the great nature of a king.

Wrathful he leaped up and on one swift stride

Reached to his bow. Before 'twas grasped he shuddered,

His soul all smitten with a rushing fear.

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Alarmed he turned towards her. Suddenly wide

The whole room stood in splendour manifest,

All lightning, and heroically vast,

In gesture kingly like a statue stayed,

Rose glorious, all a grace of naked limbs,

The hero beautiful, Pururavus,

In that fierce light. Intenser than by day

He for one brilliant moment clear beheld

All the familiar place, the fretted huge

Images on the columns, the high-reared

Walls massively erect and silent floor,

And on the floor the gracious fallen dress

That never should embrace her perfect form,

Lying a glimmer, and each noble curve

Of the strong couch, and delicately distinct

The golden body and the flower-like face:

Beside her with a lovely smile that other,

One small hand pressing back the shining curls

Blown with her speed over her. Then all faded.

Thunder crashed through the heavens jubilant.

For a long while he stood with beating heart

Half-conscious of its loss, and as if waiting

Another flash, into the dimness gazed

For those loved outlines that were far away.

Then with a quiet smile he went and placed

Where she had lain such a short while ago

Both hands, expecting her sweet breasts, but found

Her place all empty to him. Silently

He lay down whispering to his own heart:

"She has arisen and her shining dress

Put round her and gone into the cool alcove

To fetch sweet water for the heavenly rams,

And she will stay awhile perhaps to look

And muse upon the night, and then come back,

And give them drink, and silently lie down

Beside me. I shall see her when it dawns."

And so he slept. But the grey dawn came in

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And raised his lashes. He stretched out his arms

To find her. Then he knew he was alone.

Even so he would not dwell with his despair.

"She is but gone," he said, "for a little gone

Into the infinite silences afar

To see her golden sisters and revisit

The streams she knew and those unearthly skies.

But she will soon come back, — even if her heart

Would let her linger, mine would draw her back; —

Come soon and talk to me of all she left,

And clasp her children, and resume sweet goings

And happy daily tasks and rooms she loved."

So, steadfast, he continued kingly toils

Among a people greatly-destined, giving

In sacred sessions and assemblies calm

Counsels far-seeing, magnanimous decrees

Bronze against Time, and from the judgment seat

Unblamed sentence or reconcilement large.

And perfect trinity of holy fires

He kindled for desirable rain, and went

To concourse of strong men or pleasant crowds,

Or triumphed in great games armipotent.

Yet behind all his moments there was void.

And as when one puts from him desperately

The thought of an inevitable fate,

Blinding himself with present pleasures, often

At a slight sound, a knocking at the door,

A chance word terrible, or even uncalled

His heart grows sick with sudden fear, and ghastly

The face of that dread future through the window

Looks at him; mute he sits then shuddering:

So to Pururavus in session holy,

Or warlike concourse, or alone, speaking,

Or sitting, often a swift dreadful fear

Made his life naked like a lightning flash;

Then his whole being shook and his strong frame,

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As with a fever, and his eyes gazed blind;

Soon with great breaths he repossessed his soul.

Long he endured thus, but when shocks of fear

And brilliant passage of remorseless suns

And wakeful nights wrestling with memory

Invisibly had worn his heart, he then

Going as one desperate, void of thought or aim,

Into that silent place dim with the west,

Saw there her dress empty of her, and bed

Forlorn, and the cold floor where she had lain

At noon and made life sweet to him with her voice.

Sometimes as in an upland reservoir

Built by the hands of early Aryan kings,

Its banks in secret fretted long go down,

Suddenly down with resonant collapse,

Then with a formidable sound the flood

Descends, heard over all the echoing hills,

And marble cities are o'erwhelmed; so sank

The courage of the strong Pururavus,

By memory and anguish overcome

And thoughts of bliss intolerable. Tears

Came from him; the unvanquished hero lay

With outstretched arms and wept. Henceforth his life

Was with that room. If he appeared in high

Session, warlike concourse or pleasant crowd,

Men looked on him as on the silent dead.

Nor did he linger, but from little stay

Would silently return and in hushed rooms

Watch with the little relics left of her,

Things he had hardly borne to see before,

Now clasped them often, often kissed, sometimes

Spoke to them as to sweet and living friends,

And often over his sleeping children hung.

Nor did he count the days, nor weep again,

But looked into the dawn with tearless eyes.

And all the people mourned for their great king,

Silently watching him, and many murmured:

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"This is not he, the King Pururavus,

Hero august, who his impetuous soul

Ruled like a calm and skilful charioteer,

And was the virgin Ila's son, our king.

Would that the enemy's war-cry now might rush

Against our gates and all the air be sound.

Surely he would arise and lift his bow,

And his swift chariot hurling through the gates

Advance upon them like a sea, and triumph,

And be himself among the rushing wheels."

So they would murmur grieving. But the king

When the bright months brought round a lustier earth,

Felt over his numbed soul some touch of flowers,

And rose a little from his grief, and lifted

His eyes against the stars. Then he said low:

"I was not wont so quickly to despair.

O hast thou left me and art lost in light,

Cruel, between the shining hemispheres?

Yet even there I will pursue my joy.

Though all the great immortals jealously

Encompass round with shields thy golden limbs,

I may clash through them yet, or my strong patience

Will pluck my love down from her distant stars.

Still am I Ila's son, Pururavus,

That passionless pure strength though lost, though fallen

From the armed splendid soul which once I was."

So saying he to the hall of session strode,

Mightily like a king, a marble place

With wide Titanic arches imminent,

And from the brooding pillars seized a shell

And blew upon it. Like a storm the sound

Through Pratisthana's streets was blown. Forth came

From lintel proud and happy threshold low

The people pouring out. Majestic chiefs

And strong war-leaders and old famous men

And mighty poets first; behind them streamed

The Ilian people like driving rain, and filled

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With faces the immeasurable hall.

And over them the beautiful great king

Rose bright; anticipations wonderful

Of immortality flashed through his eyes

And round his brow's august circumference.

"My people whom I made, I go from you;

And what shall I say to you, Ilian people,

Who know my glory and know my grief? Now I

Endure no more the desolate wide rooms

And gardens empty of her. I will depart

And find her under imperishable trees

Or secret beside streams. But since I go

And leave my work behind and a young nation

With destiny like an uncertain dawn

Over it — Ayus her son, I give you. He

By beauty and strength incomparable shall rule.

Lo, I have planted earth with deeds and made

The widest heavens my monument, have brought

From Paradise the sempiternal fire

And warred in heaven among the warring Gods.

O people, you have shared my famous actions

Done in a few great years of earthly life,

The battles I fought, edifications vast,

And perfect institutes that I have framed.

High things we have done together, O my people.

But now I go to claim back from the Gods

Her they have taken from me, my dear reward."

He spoke and all the nation listened, dumb.

Then was brought forth the bud of Urvasie,

With Vedic verse intoned and Ganges pure

Was crowned a king, and empire on his curls

Established. But Pururavus went forth,

Through ranks of silent people and gleaming arms,

With the last cloud of sunset up the fields

And darkening meadows. And from Ila's rock,

And from the temple of Ila virginal,

A rushing splendour wonderfully arose

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And shone all round the great departing king.

He in that light turned and saw under him

The mighty city, luminous and vast,

Colossally up-piled towards the heavens,

Temple and street and palace, and the sea

Of sorrowing faces and sad grieving eyes;

A moment saw, and disappeared from light

Into forest. Then a loud wail arose

From Pratisthana, as if barbarous hordes

Were in the streets and all its temples huge

Rising towards heaven in disastrous fire,

But he unlistening into darkness went.

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