A History of Sanskrit Literature c16.65

c16.65

*This mountain with its towering rocks delights*
*The eye: its peaks grow dark with gathering clouds;*
*Its groves are thronged with peacocks eloquent*
*In joy; the trees upon its slopes are bright*
*With birds that flit about their nests; the caves*
*Reverberate the growl of bears; the scent*
*Of incense-trees is wafted, sharp and cool,*
*From branches broken off by elephants.*