The Birth of Kumāra 2.37

2.37

tasyopāyanayogyāni ratnāni saritāṃ patiḥ |
kathamapyambhasāmantarā niṣpatteḥ pratīkṣate ||

Then Indra turned his thousand glorious eyes.
Glancing like lilies when the soft wind sighs.
And in the Gods' behalf, their mighty Chief
Urged the Most Eloquent to tell their grief.
Then rose the Heavenly Teacher, by whose side
Dim seemed the glories of the Thousand-eyed,
And with his hands outspread, to Brahma spake.
Couched on his own dear flower, the daughter of the lake:—
"O mighty Being! surely thou dost know
The unceasing fury of our ruthless foe;
For thou dost see the secret thoughts that lie
Deep in the heart, yet open to thine eye;
The vengeful Tárak, in resistless might,
Like some dire Comet, gleaming wild affright,
O'er all the Worlds an evil influence sheds,
And, in thy favour strong, destruction spreads.
All bow before him;—on his palace wall
The Sun's first ray and parting splendour fall;
Ne'er could he waken with a lovelier glance
His own dear Lotus from her nightly trance;
For him, proud Fiend, the Moon no waning knows,
But with unminished full-orbed lustre glows.
He would not brook its crescent glory set
Amid the blaze of Siva's coronet.
How fair his garden, where the obedient breeze
Dares steal no blossom from the slumbering trees!
The wild wind checks his blustering pinions there.
And gently whispering, fans the balmy air;
While through the inverted year the Seasons pour,
To win the Demon's grace, their flowery store.
For him, the River-god beneath the stream,
Marks the young pearl increase its silver gleam.
Until, its beauty and its growth complete,

He bears the offering to his master's feet.
The Serpents, led by Vásuki, their king,
Across his nightly path their lustre fling;
Bright as a torch, their flashing jewels blaze.
Nor wind, nor rain, can dim their dazzling rays.
E'en Indra, sovereign of the blissful skies,
To gain his love by flattering homage tries,
And sends him oft those flowers of wondrous hue
That on the Heavenly Tree in beauty grew;
Yet all these offerings brought from day to day—
This flattery—fail his ruthless hand to stay;
Earth, Hell, and Heaven, beneath his rage must groan,
Till force can hurl him from his evil throne.
Alas! where glowed the bright celestial bowers,
And gentle Fair Ones nursed the opening flowers,—
Where heavenly trees a heavenly odour shed,
O'er a sad desert ruin reigns instead.
He roots up Meru's sacred peaks, where stray
The fiery coursers of the God of Day,
To form bright slopes, and glittering mounds of ease,
In the broad gardens of his palaces.
There, on his couch, the mighty Lord is fanned
Into sweet slumber by a heavenly band—
Poor captive Nymphs, who stand in anguish by,
Drop the big tear, and heave the ceaseless sigh.
And now have Indra's elephants defiled
The sparkling stream where heavenly Ganga smiled,
And her gold Lotuses the Fiend has taken
To deck his pools, and left her all forsaken.
The Gods of Heaven no more delight to roam
O'er all the world, far from their glorious home;
They dread the Demon's impious might, nor dare