The Birth of Kumāra 3.68

3.68

vivṛṇvatī śailasutāpi bhāvamaṅgaiḥ sphuradbālakadambakalpaiḥ |
sācīkṛtā cārutareṇa tasthau mukhena paryastavilocanena ||

Rash as some giddy moth that wooes the flame,
Love seized the moment, and prepared to aim,
Close by the daughter of the Mountain-King,
He looked on Siva, and he eyed his string.
While with her radiant hand fair Uma gave
A rosary, of the Lotuses that lave
Their beauties in the heavenly Ganga's wave,—
And the great Three-Eyed God was fain to take
The offering for the well-loved suppliant's sake,
On his bright bow Love placed the unerring dart,
The soft beguiler of the stricken heart.
Like the Moon's influence on the Sea at rest.
Came Passion stealing o'er the Hermit's breast,
While on the Maiden's lip that mocked the dye
Of ripe red fruit, he bent his melting eye;
And oh! how showed the Lady's love for him.
The heaving bosom, and each quivering limb!
Like young Kadambas, when the leaf-buds swell.
At the warm touch of Spring they love so well;
But still, with downcast eyes, she sought the ground,
And durst not turn their burning glances round.
Then with strong effort, Siva lulled to rest,
The storm of passion in his troubled breast.
And seeks, with angry eyes that round him roll,
Whence came the tempest o'er his tranquil soul.
He looked, and saw the bold young Archer stand,
His bow bent ready in his skilful hand.
Drawn towards the eye—his shoulder well depressed,
And the left foot thrown forward as a rest.