A little Indian temple in the Golden Age. Around it a garden; around that the forest. Anashuya, the young priestess, kneeling within the temple.
| Anashuya. Send peace on all the lands and flickering corn.— |
| O, may tranquillity walk by his elbow |
| When wandering in the forest, if he love |
| No other.—Hear, and may the indolent flocks |
| Be plentiful.—And if he love another, |
| May panthers end him.—Hear, and load our king |
| With wisdom hour by hour.—May we two stand, |
| When we are dead, beyond the setting suns, |
| A little from the other shades apart, |
| With mingling hair, and play upon one lute. |
| Vijaya [entering and throwing a lily at her]. Hail! hail, my Anashuya. |
| Anashuya. No: be still. |
| I, priestess of this temple, offer up |
| Prayers for the land. |
| Vijaya. I will wait here, Amrita. |
| Anashuya. By mighty Brahma’s ever-rustling robe, |
| Who is Amrita? Sorrow of all sorrows! |
| Another fills your mind. |
| Vijaya. My mother’s name. |
| Anashuya [sings, coming out of the temple]. |
| A sad, sad thought went by me slowly: |
| Sigh, O you little stars! O sigh and shake your blue apparel! |
| The sad, sad thought has gone from me now wholly: |
| Sing, O you little stars! O sing and raise your rapturous carol |
| To mighty Brahma, he who made you many as the sands, |
| And laid you on the gates of evening with his quiet hands. |
| [Sits down on the steps of the temple.] |
| Vijaya, I have brought my evening rice; |
| The sun has laid his chin on the grey wood, |
| Weary, with all his poppies gathered round him. |
| Vijaya. The hour when Kama, full of sleepy laughter, |
| Rises, and showers abroad his fragrant arrows, |
| Piercing the twilight with their murmuring barbs. |
| Anashuya. See how the sacred old flamingoes come, |
| Painting with shadow all the marble steps: |
| Aged and wise, they seek their wonted perches |
| Within the temple, devious walking, made |
| To wander by their melancholy minds. |
| Yon tall one eyes my supper; chase him away, |
| Far, far away. I named him after you. |
| He is a famous fisher; hour by hour |
| He ruffles with his bill the minnowed streams. |
| Ah! there he snaps my rice. I told you so. |
| Now cuff him off. He’s off! A kiss for you, |
| Because you saved my rice. Have you no thanks? |
| Vijaya [sings]. Sing you of her, O first few stars, |
| Whom Brahma, touching with his finger, praises, for you hold |
| The van of wandering quiet; ere you be too calm and old, |
| Sing, turning in your cars, |
| Sing, till you raise your hands and sigh, and from your car-heads peer, |
| With all your whirling hair, and drop many an azure tear. |
| Anashuya. What know the pilots of the stars of tears? |
| Vijaya. Their faces are all worn, and in their eyes |
| Flashes the fire of sadness, for they see |
| The icicles that famish all the North, |
| Where men lie frozen in the glimmering snow; |
| And in the flaming forests cower the lion |
| And lioness, with all their whimpering cubs; |
| And, ever pacing on the verge of things, |
| The phantom, Beauty, in a mist of tears; |
| While we alone have round us woven woods, |
| And feel the softness of each other’s hand, |
| Amrita, while—— |
| Anashuya [going away from him]. |
| Ah me! you love another, |
| [Bursting into tears.] |
| And may some sudden dreadful ill befall her! |
| Vijaya. I loved another; now I love no other. |
| Among the mouldering of ancient woods |
| You live, and on the village border she, |
| With her old father the blind wood-cutter; |
| I saw her standing in her door but now. |
| Anashuya. Vijaya, swear to love her never more. |
| Vijaya. Ay, ay. |
| Anashuya. Swear by the parents of the gods, |
| Dread oath, who dwell on sacred Himalay, |
| On the far Golden Peak; enormous shapes, |
| Who still were old when the great sea was young; |
| On their vast faces mystery and dreams; |
| Their hair along the mountains rolled and filled |
| From year to year by the unnumbered nests |
| Of aweless birds, and round their stirless feet |
| The joyous flocks of deer and antelope, |
| Who never hear the unforgiving hound. |
| Swear! |
| Vijaya. By the parents of the gods, I swear. |
| Anashuya [sings]. I have forgiven, O new star! |
| Maybe you have not heard of us, you have come forth so newly, |
| You hunter of the fields afar! |
| Ah, you will know my loved one by his hunter’s arrows truly, |
| Shoot on him shafts of quietness, that he may ever keep |
| A lonely laughter, and may kiss his hands to me in sleep. |
| Farewell, Vijaya. Nay, no word, no word; |
| I, priestess of this temple, offer up |
| Prayers for the land. |
| [Vijaya goes.] |
| O Brahma, guard in sleep |
| The merry lambs and the complacent kine, |
| The flies below the leaves, and the young mice |
| In the tree roots, and all the sacred flocks |
| Of red flamingoes; and my love, Vijaya; |
| And may no restless fay with fidget finger |
| Trouble his sleeping: give him dreams of me. |