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Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel
thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh
This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales,
and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.
At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits
in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.
Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small
hands of mine. Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there
is room to fill.
When thou commandest me to sing it seems that my heart would break
and I look to thy face, and tears come to my
All that is harsh and dissonant in my life melts into one sweet
harmony---and my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on its
flight across the sea.
I know thou takest pleasure in my singing. I know that only as a
singer I come before thy presence.
I touch by the edge of the far-spreading wing of my song thy feet
which I could never aspire to reach.
Drunk with the joy of singing I forget myself and call thee
friend who art my lord.&&
I know not how thou singest, my master! I ever listen in silent
amazement.
The light of thy music illumines the world. The life breath of thy
music runs from sky to sky. The holy stream of thy music breaks
through all stony obstacles and rushes on.
My heart longs to join in thy song, but vainly struggles for a
voice. I would speak, but speech breaks not into song, and I cry
out baffled. Ah, thou hast made my heart captive in the endless
meshes of thy music, my master!
Life of my life, I shall ever try to keep my body pure, knowing
that thy living touch is upon all my limbs.
I shall ever try to keep all untruths out from my thoughts, knowing
that thou art that truth which has kindled the light of reason in
I shall ever try to drive all evils away from my heart and keep my
love in flower, knowing that thou hast thy seat in the inmost
shrine of my heart.
And it shall be my endeavour to reveal thee in my actions, knowing
it is thy power gives me strength to act.
I ask for a moment's indulgence to sit by thy side. The works that
I have in hand I will finish afterwards.
Away from the sight of thy face my heart knows no rest nor respite,
and my work becomes an endless toil in a shoreless sea of
Today the summer has come at my window with i
and the bees are plying their minstrelsy at the court of the
flowering grove.
Now it is time to sit quite, face to face with thee, and to
sing dedication of live in this silent and overflowing
Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! I fear lest it
droop and drop into the dust.
may not find a place in thy garland, but honour it with a touch of
pain from thy hand and pluck it. I fear lest the day end before I
am aware, and the time of offering go by.
Though its colour be not deep and its smell be faint, use this
flower in thy service and pluck it while there is time.
My song has put off her adornments. She has no pride of dress and
decoration. Ornaments they would come between
their jingling would drown thy whispers.
My poet's vanity dies in shame before thy sight. O master
poet, I have sat down at thy feet. Only let me make my life simple
and straight, like a flute of reed for thee to fill with
The child who is decked with prince's robes and who has jewelled
chains round his neck loses all
hampers him at every step.
In fear that it may be frayed, or stained with dust he keeps
himself from the world, and is afraid even to move.
Mother, it is no gain, thy bondage of finery, if it keeps one shut
off from the healthful dust of the earth, if it rob one of the
right of entrance to the great fair of common human
O Fool, try to carry thyself upon thy own shoulders! O beggar, to
come beg at thy own door!
Leave all thy burdens on his hands who can bear all, and never look
behind in regret.
Thy desire at once puts out the light from the lamp it touches with
its breath. It is unholy---take not thy gifts through its unclean
hands. Accept only what is offered by sacred love.
Here is thy footstool and there rest thy feet where live the
poorest, and lowliest, and lost.
When I try to bow to thee, my obeisance cannot reach down to the
depth where thy feet rest among the poorest, and lowliest, and
Pride can never approach to where thou walkest in the clothes of
the humble among the poorest, and lowliest, and lost.
My heart can never find its way to where thou keepest company with
the companionless among the poorest, the lowliest, and the
Leave this chanting and singing and telling of beads! Whom dost
thou worship in this lonely dark corner of a temple with doors all
shut? Open thine eyes and see thy God is not before
He is there where the tiller is tilling the hard ground and where
the pathmaker is breaking stones. He is with them in sun and in
shower, and his garment is covered with dust. Put of thy holy
mantle and even like him come down on the dusty soil!
Deliverance? Where is this deliverance to be found? Our master
himself has joyfully taken upon him t he is
bound with us all for ever.
Come out of thy meditations and leave aside thy flowers and
incense! What harm is there if thy clothes become tattered and
stained? Meet him and stand by him in toil and in sweat of thy
The time that my journey takes is long and the way of it
I came out on the chariot of the first gleam of light, and pursued
my voyage through the wildernesses of worlds leaving my track on
many a star and planet.
It is the most distant course that comes nearest to thyself, and
that training is the most intricate which leads to the utter
simplicity of a tune.
The traveller has to knock at every alien door to come to his own,
and one has to wander through all the outer worlds to reach the
innermost shrine at the end.
My eyes strayed far and wide before I shut them and said `Here art
The question and the cry 'Oh, where?' melt into tears of a thousand
streams and deluge the world with the flood of the assurance 'I
The song that I came to sing remains unsung to this day.
I have spent my days in stringing and in unstringing my
instrument.
The time has not come true, the words have
only there is the agony of wishing in my heart.
The bl only the wind is sighing by.
I have not seen his face, nor have I l only I
have heard his gentle footsteps from the road before my
The livelong day has passed in spreading h but
the lamp has not been lit and I cannot ask him into my
I live in the hope but this meeting is not
My desires are many and my cry is pitiful, but ever didst thou save
and this strong mercy has been wrought into my
life through and through.
Day by day thou art making me worthy of the simple, great gifts
that thou gavest to me unasked---this sky and the light, this body
and the life and the mind---saving me from perils of overmuch
There are times when I languidly linger and times when I awaken and
but cruelly thou hidest thyself from
before me.
Day by day thou art making me worthy of thy full acceptance by
refusing me ever and anon, saving me from perils of weak, uncertain
I am here to sing thee songs. In this hall of thine I have a corner
In thy world I my useless life can only break
out in tunes without a purpose.
When the hour strikes for thy silent worship at the dark temple of
midnight, command me, my master, to stand before thee to
When in the morning air the golden harp is tuned, honour me,
commanding my presence.
I have had my invitation to this world's festival, and thus my life
has been blessed. My eyes have seen and my ears have heard.It was
my part at this feast to play upon my instrument, and I have done
all I could.
Now, I ask, has the time come at last when I may go in and see thy
face and offer thee my silent salutation?
I am only waiting for love to give myself up at last into his
hands. That is why it is so late and why I have been guilty of such
omissions.They come with their laws and their codes to bind me
but I evade them ever, for I am only waiting for love to give
myself up at last into his hands.
People blame me and call me
I doubt not they are right in their blame.
The market day is over and
work is all done for the busy. Those who came to call me in vain
have gone back in anger. I am only waiting for love to give myself
up at last into his hands.
Clouds heap upon clouds and it darkens. Ah, love, why dost thou let
me wait outside at the door all alone?
In the busy moments of the noontide work I am with the crowd, but
on this dark lonely day it is only for thee that I hope.
If thou showest me not thy face, if thou leavest me wholly aside, I
know not how I am to pass these long, rainy hours.
I keep gazing on the far-away gloom of the sky, and my heart
wanders wailing with the restless wind.
If thou speakest not I will fill my heart with thy silence and
endure it. I will keep still and wait like the night with starry
vigil and its head bent low with patience. The morning will surely
come, the darkness will vanish, and thy voice pour down in golden
streams breaking through the sky.
Then thy words will take wing in songs from every one of my birds'
nests, and thy melodies will break forth in flowers in all my
forest groves.
On the day when the lotus bloomed, alas, my mind was straying, and
I knew it not. My basket was empty and the flower remained
Only now and again a sadness fell upon me, and I started up from my
dream and felt a sweet trace of a strange fragrance in the south
That vague sweetness made my heart ache with longing and it seemed
to me that is was the eager breath of the summer seeking for its
completion.
I knew not then that it was so near, that it was mine, and that
this perfect sweetness had blossomed in the depth of my own
I must launch out my boat. The languid hours pass by on the
shore---Alas for me!
The spring has done its flowering and taken leave. And now with the
burden of faded futile flowers I wait and linger.
The waves have become clamorous, and upon the bank in the shady
lane the yellow leaves flutter and fall.
What emptiness do you gaze upon! Do you not feel a thrill passing
through the air with the notes of the far-away song floating from
the other shore?
In the deep shadows of the rainy July, with secret steps, thou
walkest, silent as night, eluding all watchers.
Today the morning has closed its eyes, heedless of the insistent
calls of the loud east wind, and a thick veil has been drawn over
the ever-wakeful blue sky.
The woodlands have hushed their songs, and doors are all shut at
every house. Thou art the solitary wayfarer in this deserted
street. Oh my only friend, my best beloved, the gates are open in
my house---do not pass by like a dream.
Art thou abroad on this stormy night on thy journey of love, my
friend? The sky groans like one in despair.
&I have no
sleep tonight. Ever and again I open my door and look out on the
darkness, my friend!
I can see nothing before me. I wonder where lies thy
By what dim shore of the ink-black river, by what far edge of the
frowning forest, through what mazy depth of gloom art thou
threading thy course to come to me, my friend?
If the day is done, if birds sing no more, if the wind has flagged
tired, then draw the veil of darkness thick upon me, even as thou
hast wrapt the earth with the coverlet of sleep and tenderly closed
the petals of the drooping lotus at dusk.
From the traveller, whose sack of provisions is empty before the
voyage is ended, whose garment is torn and dustladen, whose
strength is exhausted, remove shame and poverty, and renew his life
like a flower under the cover of thy kindly night.
In the night of weariness let me give myself up to sleep without
struggle, resting my trust upon thee.
Let me not force my flagging spirit into a poor preparation for thy
It is thou who drawest the veil of night upon the tired eyes of the
day to renew its sight in a fresher gladness of
awakening.
He came and sat by my side but I woke not. What a cursed sleep it
was, O miserable me!
He came when he had his harp in his hands, and
my dreams became resonant with its melodies.
Alas, why are my nights all thus lost? Ah, why do I ever miss his
sight whose breath touches my sleep?
Light, oh where is the light? Kindle it with the burning fire of
There is the lamp but never a flicker of a flame---is such thy
fate, my heart? Ah, death were better by far for thee!
Misery knocks at thy door, and her message is that thy lord is
wakeful, and he calls thee to the love-tryst through the darkness
The sky is overcast with clouds and the rain is ceaseless. I know
not what this is that stirs in me---I know not its
A moment's flash of lightning drags down a deeper gloom on my
sight, and my heart gropes for the path to where the music of the
night calls me.
Light, oh where is the light! Kindle it with the burning fire of
desire! It thunders and the wind rushes screaming through the void.
The night is black as a black stone. Let not the hours pass by in
the dark. Kindle the lamp of love with thy life.
Obstinate are the trammels, but my heart aches when I try to break
Freedom is all I want, but to hope for it I feel
I am certain that priceless wealth is in thee, and that thou art my
best friend, but I have not the heart to sweep away the tinsel that
fills my room.
The shroud that covers me is a shro I hate it,
yet hug it in love.
My debts are large, my failures great, my sh
yet when I come to ask for my good, I quake in fear lest my prayer
be granted.
He whom I enclose with my name is weeping in this dungeon. I am
ever busy building
and as this wall goes up
into the sky day by day I lose sight of my true being in its dark
I take pride in this great wall, and I plaster it with dust and
sand lest a least hole should
and for all the
care I take I lose sight of my true being.
I came out alone on my way to my tryst. But who is this that
follows me in the silent dark?
I move aside to avoid his presence but I escape him not.
He makes the dust rise from the ea he adds his
loud voice to every word that I utter.
He is my own little self, my lord, but I am
ashamed to come to thy door in his company.
'Prisoner, tell me, who was it that bound you?'
'It was my master,' said the prisoner. 'I thought I could outdo
everybody in the world in wealth and power, and I amassed in my own
treasure-house the money due to my king. When sleep overcame me I
lay upon the bad that was for my lord, and on waking up I found I
was a prisoner in my own treasure-house.'
'Prisoner, tell me, who was it that wrought this unbreakable
'It was I,' said the prisoner, `who forged this chain very
carefully. I thought my invincible power would hold the world
captive leaving me in a freedom undisturbed. Thus night and day I
worked at the chain with huge fires and cruel hard strokes. When at
last the work was done and the links were complete and unbreakable,
I found that it held me in its grip.'
By all means they try to hold me secure who love me in this world.
But it is otherwise with thy love which is greater than theirs, and
thou keepest me free.
Lest I forget them they never venture to leave me alone. But day
passes by after day and thou art not seen.
If I call not thee in my prayers, if I keep not thee in my heart,
thy love for me still waits for my love.
When it was day they came into my house and said, 'We shall only
take the smallest room here.'
They said, 'We shall help you in the worship of your God and humbly
accept only our own share in his grace'; and then they took their
seat in a corner and they sat quiet and meek.
But in the darkness of night I find they break into my sacred
shrine, strong and turbulent, and snatch with unholy greed the
offerings from God's altar.
Let only that little be left of me whereby I may name thee my
Let only that little be left of my will whereby I may feel thee on
every side, and come to thee in everything, and offer to thee my
love every moment.
Let only that little be left of me whereby I may never hide
Let only that little of my fetters be left whereby I am bound with
thy will, and thy purpose is carried out in my life---and that is
the fetter of thy love.
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow
Where words come out fro
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the
dreary deser
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought
and action---
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country
This is my prayer to thee, my lord---strike, strike at the root of
penury in my heart.
Give me the strength lightly to bear my joys and
Give me the strength to make my love fruitful in
Give me the strength never to disown the poor or bend my knees
before insolent might.
Give me the strength to raise my mind high above daily
And give me the strength to surrender my strength to thy will with
I thought that my voyage had come to its end at the last limit of
my power,---that the path before me was closed, that provisions
were exhausted and the time come to take shelter in a silent
obscurity.
But I find that thy will knows no end in me. And when old words die
out on the tongue, new melodies break
where the old tracks are lost, new country is revealed with its
That I want thee, only thee---let my heart repeat without end. All
desires that distract me, day and night, are false and empty to the
As the night keeps hidden in its gloom the petition for light, even
thus in the depth of my unconsciousness rings the cry---`I want
thee, only thee'.
As the storm still seeks its end in peace when it strikes against
peace with all its might, even thus my rebellion strikes against
thy love and still its cry is---`I want thee, only
When the heart is hard and parched up, come upon me with a shower
&When grace
is lost from life, come with a burst of song.
When tumultuous work raises its din on all sides shutting me out
from beyond, come to me, my lord of silence, with thy peace and
When my beggarly heart sits crouched, shut up in a corner, break
open the door, my king, and come with the ceremony of a
When desire blinds the mind with delusion and dust, O thou holy
one, thou wakeful, come with thy light and thy thunder.
The rain has held back for days and days, my God, in my arid heart.
The horizon is fiercely naked---not the thinnest cover of a soft
cloud, not the vaguest hint of a distant cool shower.
Send thy angry storm, dark with death, if it is thy wish, and with
lashes of lightning startle the sky from end to end.
But call back, my lord, call back this pervading silent heat, still
and keen and cruel, burning the heart with dire despair.
Let the cloud of grace bend low from above like the tearful look of
the mother on the day of the father's wrath.
Where dost thou stand behind them all, my lover, hiding thyself in
the shadows? They push thee and pass thee by on the dusty road,
taking thee for naught. I wait here weary hours spreading my
offerings for thee, while passers-by come and take my flowers, one
by one, and my basket is nearly empty.
The morning time is past, and the noon. In the shade of evening my
eyes are drowsy with sleep. Men going home glance at me and smile
and fill me with shame. I sit like a beggar maid, drawing my skirt
over my face, and when they ask me, what it is I want, I drop my
eyes and answer them not.
Oh, how, indeed, could I tell them that for thee I wait, and that
thou hast promised to come. How could I utter for shame that I keep
for my dowry this poverty. Ah, I hug this pride in the secret of my
I sit on the grass and gaze upon the sky and dream of the sudden
splendour of thy coming---all the lights ablaze, golden pennons
flying over thy car, and they at the roadside standing agape, when
they see thee come down from thy seat to raise me from the dust,
and set at thy side this ragged beggar girl a-tremble with shame
and pride, like a creeper in a summer breeze.
But time glides on and still no sound of the wheels of thy chariot.
Many a procession passes by with noise and shouts and glamour of
glory. Is it only thou who wouldst stand in the shadow silent and
behind them all? And only I who would wait and weep and wear out my
heart in vain longing?
Early in the day it was whispered that we should sail in a boat,
only thou and I, and never a soul in the world would know of this
our pilgrimage to no country and to no end.
In that shoreless ocean, at thy silently listening smile my songs
would swell in melodies, free as waves, free from all bondage of
Is the time not come yet? Are there works still to do? Lo, the
evening has come down upon the shore and in the fading light the
seabirds come flying to their nests.
Who knows when the chains will be off, and the boat, like the last
glimmer of sunset, vanish into the night?
The day was when I did not keep myself i and
entering my heart unbidden even as one of the common crowd, unknown
to me, my king, thou didst press the signet of eternity upon many a
fleeting moment of my life.
And today when by chance I light upon them and see thy signature, I
find they have lain scattered in the dust mixed with the memory of
joys and sorrows of my trivial days forgotten.
Thou didst not turn in contempt from my childish play among dust,
and the steps that I heard in my playroom are the same that are
echoing from star to star.
This is my delight, thus to wait and watch at the wayside where
shadow chases light and the rain comes in the wake of the
Messengers, with tidings from unknown skies, greet me and speed
along the road. My heart is glad within, and the breath of the
passing breeze is sweet.
From dawn till dusk I sit here before my door, and I know that of a
sudden the happy moment will arrive when I shall see.
In the meanwhile I smile and I sing all alone. In the meanwhile the
air is filling with the perfume of promise.
Have you not heard his silent steps? He comes, comes, ever
Every moment and every age, every day and every night he comes,
comes, ever comes.
Many a song have I sung in many a mood of mind, but all their notes
have always proclaimed, `He comes, comes, ever comes.'
In the fragrant days of sunny April through the forest path he
comes, comes, ever comes.
In the rainy gloom of July nights on the thundering chariot of
clouds he comes, comes, ever comes.
In sorrow after sorrow it is his steps that press upon my heart,
and it is the golden touch of his feet that makes my joy to
I know not from what distant time thou art ever coming nearer to
Thy sun and stars can never keep thee hidden from me for
In many a morning and eve thy footsteps have been heard and thy
messenger has come within my heart and called me in
I know not only why today my life is all astir, and a feeling of
tremulous joy is passing through my heart.
It is as if the time were come to wind up my work, and I feel in
the air a faint smell of thy sweet presence.
The night is nearly spent waiting for him in vain. I fear lest in
the morning he suddenly come to my door when I have fallen asleep
wearied out. Oh friends, leave the way open to him---forbid him
If the sounds of his steps does not wake me, do not try to rouse
me, I pray. I wish not to be called from my sleep by the clamorous
choir of birds, by the riot of wind at the festival of morning
light. Let me sleep undisturbed even if my lord comes of a sudden
to my door.
Ah, my sleep, precious sleep, which only waits for his touch to
vanish. Ah, my closed eyes that would open their lids only to the
light of his smile when he stands before me like a dream emerging
from darkness of sleep.
Let him appear before my sight as the first of all lights and all
forms. The first thrill of joy to my awakened soul let it come from
his glance. And let my return to myself be immediate return to
The morning sea of silence broke into r and
the flowers were all m and the wealth of gold
was scattered through the rift of the clouds while we busily went
on our way and paid no heed.
We sang no g we went not to the village for
we spoke n we lingered not on the way.
We quickened our pave more and more as the time sped by.
The sun rose to the mid sky and doves cooed in the shade. Withered
leaves danced and whirled in the hot air of noon. The shepherd boy
drowsed and dreamed in the shadow of the banyan tree, and I laid
myself down by the water and stretched my tired limbs on the
My companions la they held their heads high
they never lo they vanished in
the distant blue haze. They crossed many meadows and hills, and
passed through strange, far-away countries. All honour to you,
heroic host of the interminable path! Mockery and reproach pricked
me to rise, but found no response in me. I gave myself up for lost
in the depth of a glad humiliation---in the shadow of a dim
The repose of the sun-embroidered green gloom slowly spread over my
heart. I forgot for what I had travelled, and I surrendered my mind
without struggle to the maze of shadows and songs.
At last, when I woke from my slumber and opened my eyes, I saw thee
standing by me, flooding my sleep with thy smile. How I had feared
that the path was long and wearisome, and the struggle to reach
thee was hard!
You came down from your throne and stood at my cottage
I was singing all alone in a corner, and the melody caught your
ear. You came down and stood at my cottage door.
Masters are many in your hall, and songs are sung there at all
hours. But the simple carol of this novice struck at your love. One
plaintive little strain mingled with the great music of the world,
and with a flower for a prize you came down and stopped at my
cottage door.
I had gone a-begging from door to door in the village path, when
thy golden chariot appeared in the distance like a gorgeous dream
and I wondered who was this King of all kings!
My hopes rose high and methought my evil days were at an end, and I
stood waiting for alms to be given unasked and for wealth scattered
on all sides in the dust.
The chariot stopped where I stood. Thy glance fell on me and thou
camest down with a smile. I felt that the luck of my life had come
at last. Then of a sudden thou didst hold out thy right hand and
say `What hast thou to give to me?'
Ah, what a kingly jest was it to open thy palm to a beggar to beg!
I was confused and stood undecided, and then from my wallet I
slowly took out the least little grain of corn and gave it to
But how great my surprise when at the day's end I emptied my bag on
the floor to find a least little gram of gold among the poor heap.
I bitterly wept and wished that I had had the heart to give thee my
The night darkened. Our day's works had been done. We thought that
the last guest had arrived for the night and the doors in the
village were all shut. Only some said the king was to come. We
laughed and said `No, it cannot be!'
It seemed there were knocks at the door and we said it was nothing
but the wind. We put out the lamps and lay down to sleep. Only some
said, `It is the messenger!' We laughed and said `No, it must be
the wind!'
There came a sound in the dead of the night. We sleepily thought it
was the distant thunder. The earth shook, the walls rocked, and it
troubled us in our sleep. Only some said it was the sound of
wheels. We said in a drowsy murmur, `No, it must be the rumbling of
The night was still dark when the drum sounded. The voice came
`Wake up! delay not!' We pressed our hands on our hearts and
shuddered with fear. Some said, `Lo, there is the king's flag!' We
stood up on our feet and cried `There is no time for
The king has come---but where are lights, where are wreaths? Where
is the throne to seat him? Oh, shame! Oh utter shame! Where is the
hall, the decorations? Someone has said, `Vain is this cry! Greet
him with empty hands, lead him into thy rooms all bare!'
Open the doors, let the conch-shells be sounded! in the depth of
the night has come the king of our dark, dreary house. The thunder
roars in the sky. The darkness shudders with lightning. Bring out
thy tattered piece of mat and spread it in the courtyard. With the
storm has come of a sudden our king of the fearful
I thought I should ask of thee---but I dared not---the rose wreath
thou hadst on thy neck. Thus I waited for the morning, when thou
didst depart, to find a few fragments on the bed. And like a beggar
I searched in the dawn only for a stray petal or two.
Ah me, what is it I find? What token left of thy love? It is no
flower, no spices, no vase of perfumed water. It is thy mighty
sword, flashing as a flame, heavy as a bolt of thunder. The young
light of morning comes through the window and spread itself upon
thy bed. The morning bird twitters and asks, `Woman, what hast thou
got?' No, it is no flower, nor spices, nor vase of perfumed
water---it is thy dreadful sword.
I sit and muse in wonder, what gift is this of thine. I can find no
place to hide it. I am ashamed to wear it, frail as I am, and it
hurts me when press it to my bosom. Yet shall I bear in my heart
this honour of the burden of pain, this gift of thine.
From now there shall be no fear left for me in this world, and thou
shalt be victorious in all my strife. Thou hast left death for my
companion and I shall crown him with my life. Thy sword is with me
to cut asunder my bonds, and there shall be no fear left for me in
the world.
From now I leave off all petty decorations. Lord of my heart, no
more shall there be for me waiting and weeping in corners, no more
coyness and sweetness of demeanour. Thou hast given me thy sword
for adornment. No more doll's decorations for me!
Beautiful is thy wristlet, decked with stars and cunningly wrought
in myriad-coloured jewels. But more beautiful to me thy sword with
its curve of lightning like the outspread wings of the divine bird
of Vishnu, perfectly poised in the angry red light of the
It quivers like the one last response of life in ecstasy of pain at
the f it shines like the pure flame of being
burning up earthly sense with one fierce flash.
Beautiful is thy wristlet, dec but thy sword,
O lord of thunder, is wrought with uttermost beauty, terrible to
behold or think of.
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