Lo, the lion,—forest king— Through the wood is wandering; By the maddening thirst opprest Ceaseless heaves his panting chest. Though the elephant pass by Scarcely turns his languid eye Bleeding mouth and failing limb, What is now his prey to him? Where the sparkling lake before Filled its bed from shore to shore, Roots and twisting fibres wind, Dying fish in nets to bind; There the cranes in anguish seek Water with the thirsty beak. Elephants all mad with thirst From the woods in fury burst: From their mountain-caverns see Buffaloes rush furiously. With hanging tongue and foam-fleck’d hide, Tossing high their nostrils wide, Eager still their sides to cool In the thick and shrunken pool.’ Footnote 1: Translated by Griffiths. Here is an equally graphic description of rain, from the same poem:— ‘Who is this that driveth near, Heralded by sounds of fear? Red his flag the lightning’s glare Flashing through the murky air. Pealing thunder for his drums— Royally the monarch comes. See! he rides amid the crowd, On his elephant of cloud Marshalling his kingly train: Welcome, oh, thou lord of rain. Gathered clouds, as black as night Hide the face of heaven from sight: Sailing on their airy road Sinking with their watery load. See, the peacocks hail the rain, Spreading wide their jewelled train, They will revel, dance and play In their wildest joy to-day!’ Coming down to a period as late as the twelfth century of our era were works representative of the Hindu poet of that time. Here is a translation of a poem, a pastoral drama, by Jayadeva, of which it is said ‘the exquisite melody of the verse can only be appreciated by those who can enjoy the original Sanskrit.’ Krishna, the herdsman, loves Râdhâ, the shepherdess, but has wandered from her to amuse himself with other maidens. Nanda, Krishna’s foster father, gives her warning, saying:— ‘Go, gentle Râdhâ, seek thy wand’ring love; Dusk are the woodlands,—black the sky above. Bring thy dear wanderer home, and bid him rest His weary head upon thy faithful breast.’