Rukmein, or Radha, the most adored of the amorous deities, and mother of the god of love; here again corresponding with our popular Venus, the mother of Cupid. In the avatara of Rama, Lakshmi was his faithful spouse, in the form of Sita; in that of Narsingha she was Narsinhi, or Nrisinhi; when Varaha, Varahi; and as the Sakti of Narayana she is by her own sectaries called Narayni; and in most of the many incarnations of Vishnu she appears to have descended with him, frequently under his own celestial name: as his consort generally she is called Vaishnavi. Lakshmi and Bhavani are both considered queens of beauty, and their characters are said to "melt into each other." Lakshmi being commonly seen with a Kamal or Lotos, the emblem of female beauty, in her hand, she is called Kamala: the word is by some--by Sir W. Jones, indeed, in his earlier lucubrations on Hindu mythology, spelled Kemel. In his profound and spirited hymn to Narayana, which every inquirer into its subject would do well to consult with attention, that deity, a personification of the Spirit of Brahme, as "he heavenly pensive on the Lotus lay," said to Brahma, "Go; bid all the worlds exist!" and the Lotus is thus apostrophised:-- "Hail, primal blossom! hail, empyreal gem! Kemel, or Pedma, or whate'er high name Delight thee; say, what four-formed Godhead came, With graceful stole, and bearing diadem, Forth from thy verdant stem?-- Full-gifted Brahma."[20] The following extract from the "Loves of Krishna and Radha" shews the deep poetic sentiment associated with flowers, and especially with the Lotos. Krishna, afflicted by the jealous anger of Radha, exclaims-- "Grant me but a sight of thee, O lovely Radhica! for my passion torments me. I am not the terrible Mahesa: a garland of water-lilies, with subtile threads, decks my shoulders--not serpents with twisted folds: the blue petals of the Lotos glitter on my neck--not the azure gleam of poison: powdered sandal wood is sprinkled on my limbs--not pale ashes. O god of love! mistake me not for Mahadeva; wound me not again; approach me not in anger; hold not in thy hand the shaft barbed with an amra flower. My heart is already pierced by arrows from Radha's eyes, black and keen as those of an antelope; yet mine eyes are not gratified by her presence. Her's are full of shafts; her eyebrows are bows, and the tips of her ears are silken strings: thus armed by Ananga, the god of desire, she marches, herself a goddess, to ensure his triumph over the vanquished remorse. I meditate on her delightful embrace: on the vanishing glances darted from the fragrant Lotos of her mouth: on her nectar-dropping speech; on her lips, ruddy as the berries of the Bimba." Radha, half pacified, thus tenderly reproaches him--