The Golden Threshold [9]
gird And armour with impregnable delight Of Hope's triumphant keen flame-carven sword?
THE QUEEN'S RIVAL
QUEEN Gulnaar sat on her ivory bed, Around her countless treasures were spread;
Her chamber walls were richly inlaid With agate, porphory, onyx and jade;
The tissues that veiled her delicate breast, Glowed with the hues of a lapwing's crest;
But still she gazed in her mirror and sighed "O King, my heart is unsatisfied."
King Feroz bent from his ebony seat: "Is thy least desire unfulfilled, O Sweet?
"Let thy mouth speak and my life be spent To clear the sky of thy discontent."
"I tire of my beauty, I tire of this Empty splendour and shadowless bliss;
"With none to envy and none gainsay, No savour or salt hath my dream or day."
Queen Gulnaar sighed like a murmuring rose: "Give me a rival, O King Feroz."
II
King Feroz spoke to his Chief Vizier: "Lo! ere to-morrow's dawn be here,
"Send forth my messengers over the sea, To seek seven beautiful brides for me;
"Radiant of feature and regal of mien, Seven handmaids meet for the Persian Queen."
. . . . .
Seven new moon tides at the Vesper call, King Feroz led to Queen Gulnaar's hall
A young queen eyed like the morning star: "I bring thee a rival, O Queen Gulnaar."
But still she gazed in her mirror and sighed: "O King, my heart is unsatisfied."
Seven queens shone round her ivory bed, Like seven soft gems on a silken thread,
Like seven fair lamps in a royal tower, Like seven bright petals of Beauty's flower
Queen Gulnaar sighed like a murmuring rose "Where is my rival, O King Feroz?"
III
When spring winds wakened the mountain floods, And kindled the flame of the tulip buds, When bees grew loud and the days grew long, And the peach groves thrilled to the oriole's song,
Queen Gulnaar sat on her ivory bed, Decking with jewels her exquisite head;
And still she gazed in her mirror and sighed: "O King, my heart is unsatisfied."
Queen Gulnsar's daughter two spring times old, In blue robes bordered with tassels of gold,
Ran to her knee like a wildwood fay, And plucked from her hand the mirror away.
Quickly she set on her own light curls Her mother's fillet with fringes of pearls;
Quickly she turned with a child's caprice And pressed on the mirror a swift, glad kiss.
Queen Gulnaar laughed like a tremulous rose: "Here is my rival, O King Feroz."
THE POET TO DEATH
Tarry a while, O Death, I cannot die While yet my sweet life burgeons with its spring; Fair is my youth, and rich the echoing boughs Where dhadikulas sing.
Tarry a while, O Death, I cannot die With all my blossoming hopes unharvested, My joys ungarnered, all my songs unsung, And all my tears unshed.
Tarry a while, till I am satisfied Of love and grief, of earth and altering sky; Till all my human hungers are fulfilled, O Death, I cannot die!
THE INDIAN GIPSY
In tattered robes that hoard a glittering trace Of bygone colours, broidered to the knee, Behold her, daughter of a wandering race, Tameless, with the bold falcon's agile grace, And the lithe tiger's sinuous majesty.
With frugal skill her simple wants she tends, She folds her tawny heifers and her sheep On lonely meadows when the daylight ends, Ere the quick night upon her flock descends Like a black panther from the caves of sleep.
Time's river winds in foaming centuries Its changing, swift, irrevocable course To far off and incalculable seas; She is twin-born with primal mysteries, And drinks of life at Time's forgotten source.
TO MY CHILDREN
Jaya Surya, aetat 4
Golden sun of victory, born In my life's unclouded morn, In my lambent sky of love, May your growing glory prove Sacred to your consecration, To my heart and to my nation. Sun of victory, may you be Sun of song and liberty.
Padmaja, aetat 3
Lotus-maiden, you who claim All the sweetness of your name, Lakshmi, fortune's queen, defend you, Lotus-born like you, and send you Balmy moons of love to bless you, Gentle joy-winds to caress you.
THE QUEEN'S RIVAL
QUEEN Gulnaar sat on her ivory bed, Around her countless treasures were spread;
Her chamber walls were richly inlaid With agate, porphory, onyx and jade;
The tissues that veiled her delicate breast, Glowed with the hues of a lapwing's crest;
But still she gazed in her mirror and sighed "O King, my heart is unsatisfied."
King Feroz bent from his ebony seat: "Is thy least desire unfulfilled, O Sweet?
"Let thy mouth speak and my life be spent To clear the sky of thy discontent."
"I tire of my beauty, I tire of this Empty splendour and shadowless bliss;
"With none to envy and none gainsay, No savour or salt hath my dream or day."
Queen Gulnaar sighed like a murmuring rose: "Give me a rival, O King Feroz."
II
King Feroz spoke to his Chief Vizier: "Lo! ere to-morrow's dawn be here,
"Send forth my messengers over the sea, To seek seven beautiful brides for me;
"Radiant of feature and regal of mien, Seven handmaids meet for the Persian Queen."
. . . . .
Seven new moon tides at the Vesper call, King Feroz led to Queen Gulnaar's hall
A young queen eyed like the morning star: "I bring thee a rival, O Queen Gulnaar."
But still she gazed in her mirror and sighed: "O King, my heart is unsatisfied."
Seven queens shone round her ivory bed, Like seven soft gems on a silken thread,
Like seven fair lamps in a royal tower, Like seven bright petals of Beauty's flower
Queen Gulnaar sighed like a murmuring rose "Where is my rival, O King Feroz?"
III
When spring winds wakened the mountain floods, And kindled the flame of the tulip buds, When bees grew loud and the days grew long, And the peach groves thrilled to the oriole's song,
Queen Gulnaar sat on her ivory bed, Decking with jewels her exquisite head;
And still she gazed in her mirror and sighed: "O King, my heart is unsatisfied."
Queen Gulnsar's daughter two spring times old, In blue robes bordered with tassels of gold,
Ran to her knee like a wildwood fay, And plucked from her hand the mirror away.
Quickly she set on her own light curls Her mother's fillet with fringes of pearls;
Quickly she turned with a child's caprice And pressed on the mirror a swift, glad kiss.
Queen Gulnaar laughed like a tremulous rose: "Here is my rival, O King Feroz."
THE POET TO DEATH
Tarry a while, O Death, I cannot die While yet my sweet life burgeons with its spring; Fair is my youth, and rich the echoing boughs Where dhadikulas sing.
Tarry a while, O Death, I cannot die With all my blossoming hopes unharvested, My joys ungarnered, all my songs unsung, And all my tears unshed.
Tarry a while, till I am satisfied Of love and grief, of earth and altering sky; Till all my human hungers are fulfilled, O Death, I cannot die!
THE INDIAN GIPSY
In tattered robes that hoard a glittering trace Of bygone colours, broidered to the knee, Behold her, daughter of a wandering race, Tameless, with the bold falcon's agile grace, And the lithe tiger's sinuous majesty.
With frugal skill her simple wants she tends, She folds her tawny heifers and her sheep On lonely meadows when the daylight ends, Ere the quick night upon her flock descends Like a black panther from the caves of sleep.
Time's river winds in foaming centuries Its changing, swift, irrevocable course To far off and incalculable seas; She is twin-born with primal mysteries, And drinks of life at Time's forgotten source.
TO MY CHILDREN
Jaya Surya, aetat 4
Golden sun of victory, born In my life's unclouded morn, In my lambent sky of love, May your growing glory prove Sacred to your consecration, To my heart and to my nation. Sun of victory, may you be Sun of song and liberty.
Padmaja, aetat 3
Lotus-maiden, you who claim All the sweetness of your name, Lakshmi, fortune's queen, defend you, Lotus-born like you, and send you Balmy moons of love to bless you, Gentle joy-winds to caress you.