FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   305   306   307   308   309   310   311   312   313   314   315   316   317   318   >>  
g leaves, There lived a pair of doves. Never were they two separate, And lo, in idle mood, I took a sling and ball, elate In wicked sport and rude-- And killed one bird--it was the male, Oh cruel deed and base! The female gave a plaintive wail And looked me in the face! The wail and sad reproachful look In plain words seemed to say, A widowed life I cannot brook, The forfeit thou must pay. What was my darling's crime that thou Him wantonly shouldst kill? The curse of blood is on thee now, Blood calls for red blood still. And so I die--a bloody death-- But not for this I mourn, To feel the world pass with my breath I gladly could have borne, But for my parents, who are blind, And have no other stay-- This, this, weighs sore upon my mind, And fills me with dismay. Upon the eleventh day of the moon They keep a rigorous fast, All yesterday they fasted; soon For water and repast They shall upon me feebly call! Ah, must they call in vain? Bear thou the pitcher, friend--'tis all I ask--down that steep lane." He pointed--ceased--then sudden died! The king took up the corpse, And with the pitcher slowly hied, Attended by Remorse, Down the steep lane--unto the hut Girt round with _Bela_-trees; Gleamed far a light--the door not shut Was open to the breeze. PART III "Oh why does not our child return? Too long he surely stays."-- Thus to the _Muni_, blind and stern, His partner gently says. "For fruits and water when he goes He never stays so long, Oh can it be, beset by foes, He suffers cruel wrong? Some distance he has gone, I fear, A more circuitous round-- Yet why should he? The fruits are near, The river near our bound. I die of thirst--it matters not If Sindhu be but safe, What if he leave us, and this spot, Poor birds in cages chafe. Peevish and fretful oft we are-- Ah, no--that cannot be: Of our blind eyes he is the star, Without him, what were we? Too much he loves us to forsake, But something ominous, Here in my heart, a dreadful ache, Says, he is gone from us. Why do my bowels for him yearn, What ill has crossed his pa
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   305   306   307   308   309   310   311   312   313   314   315   316   317   318   >>  



Top keywords:

pitcher

 

fruits

 

breeze

 
dreadful
 
surely
 

ominous

 
return
 

crossed

 

Remorse

 

slowly


Attended
 

Gleamed

 

bowels

 

Peevish

 

fretful

 
corpse
 

circuitous

 

thirst

 

matters

 
Sindhu

partner

 
gently
 

distance

 

suffers

 

Without

 

forsake

 

widowed

 
looked
 

plaintive

 

reproachful


forfeit

 

shouldst

 

wantonly

 

darling

 

female

 

separate

 

leaves

 

killed

 

wicked

 

fasted


repast

 

feebly

 

yesterday

 

rigorous

 

ceased

 

sudden

 
pointed
 

friend

 

eleventh

 

breath