ona customs have come in.
Brahmans knowing the eighteen Purans have become Christians;
The son thinks himself better than his father,
The daughter-in-law no longer respects her mother-in-law.
The wife fights with her husband.
The English have made the railways and telegraphs;
The people wondered at the silver rupees and all the country
prospered.

The following is a song about the Nerbudda at Mandla, Rewa being
another name for the river:

The stream of the world springs out breaking apart the hills;
The Rewa cuts her path through the soil, the air is darkened with
her spray.
All the length of her banks are the seats of saints; hermits and
pilgrims worship her.
On seeing the holy river a man's sins fall away as wood is cut
by a saw;
By bathing in her he plucks the fruit of holiness.
When boats are caught in her flood, the people pray: 'We are
sinners, O Rewa, bring us safely to the bank!'
When the Nerbudda is in flood, Mandla is an island and the people
think their end has come:
The rain pours down on all sides, earth and sky become dark as
smoke, and men call on Rama.
The bard says: 'Let it rain as it may, some one will save us as
Krishna saved the people of Brindawan!'

This is a description of a beautiful woman:

A beautiful woman is loved by her neighbours,
But she will let none come to her and answers them not.
They say: 'Since God has made you so beautiful, open your litter
and let yourself be seen!'
He who sees her is struck as by lightning, she shoots her lover
with the darts of her eyes, invisible herself.
She will not go to her husband's house till he has her brought
by the Government.
When she goes her father's village is left empty.
She is so delicate she faints at the sight of a flower,
Her body cannot bear the weight of her cloth,
The garland of jasmine-flowers is a burden on her neck,
The red powder on her feet is too heavy for them.

It is interesting to note that weakness and delicacy in a woman
are emphasised as an attraction, as in English literature of the
eighteenth century.

The last is a gentle intimation that poets, like other people, have
to live:

It is useless to adorn oneself with sandalwood on an empty belly,
Nobody's body gets fat from the scent of flowers;
The singing of songs excites the mind,
But if t