The Birth of Kumāra 1.54

1.54

sa kṛttivāsāstapase yatātmā gaṅgāpravāhokṣitadevadāru |
prasthaṃ himādrermṛganābhigandhi kiñcit kvaṇatkinnaramadhyuvāsa ||

Since the sad moment when his gentle bride
In the full glory of her beauty died,
The mournful Siva in the holy grove
Had dwelt in solitude, and known not love:
High on that hill where musky breezes throw
Their balmy odours o'er eternal snow,
Where Heavenly Minstrels pour their notes divine
And rippling Ganga laves the mountain pine.
Clad in a coat of skin all rudely wrought
He lived for prayer and solitary thought;
The faithful band that served the Hermit's will
Lay in the hollows of the rocky hill.
Where from the clefts the dark bitumen flowed;
Tinted with mineral dyes their bodies glowed.
Their garb, rude mantles of the birch-tree's rind,
With bright red garlands was their hair entwined;
The holy Bull before his master's feet
Shook the hard-frozen earth with echoing feet.
And as he heard the lion's roaring swell
In distant thunder from the rocky dell.
In angry pride he raised his voice of fear
And from the mountain drove the startled deer.
Bright fire—a shape the God would sometimes wear
Who takes eight various forms—was glowing there;
Then the great Deity who gives the prize
Of penance, prayer, and holy exercise,
As though to earn the meed he grants to man,
Himself the penance and the pain began.
Now to that holy Lord, to whom is given
Honour and glory by the Gods in Heaven,
The worship of a gift Himálaya paid.
And towards his dwelling sent the lovely maid;
Her task, attended by her youthful train.
To woo his widowed heart to love again.