_Bindu._ My Bipin is now the pole-star in the ocean of dangers! (_with deep sigh_). In this world of short existence, human life is as the bank of a river which has a most violent course and the greatest depth. How very beautiful are the banks, the fields covered over with new grass, most pleasant to the view, the trees full of branches newly coming out; in some places the cottages of fishermen; in others the kine feeding with their young ones. To walk about in such a place enjoying the sweet songs of the beautiful birds, and the charming gale full of the sweet smell of flowers, only wraps the mind in the contemplation of that Being who is full of pleasure. Accidentally, a hole small as a line is observed in the field, and immediately that most pleasant bank falls down into the stream. How very sorrowful! The Bose family of Svaropur is destroyed by Indigo, the great destroyer of honour. How very terrible are the arms of Indigo! The cobra de capello, like the Indigo Planters, with mouths full of poison, threw all happiness into the flame of fire. The father, through injustice, died in the prison; the elder brother in the Indigo-field, and the mother, being insane through grief for her husband and son, murdered with her own hands a most honest woman. Getting her understanding again, and observing my sorrow, the ocean of grief again swelled in her. With that disease of sorrow came the poison of want; and thus without attending to consolation, she also departed this life. Incessantly do I call, Where is my father? Where is my father? Embrace me once more with a smiling face. Crying out, Oh mother! Oh mother! I look on all sides; but that countenance of joy do I find no where. When I used to call, Mama, she immediately took me on her breast, and rubbed my mouth. Who knows the greatness of maternal affection? The cry of mama, mama, mama, mama do I make in the battle-field and the wilderness whenever fear arises in the mind. Oh my brother, dear unto the heart, in the place of whom there is not one, as a friend in this world! Thy Bindu Madhab is come! open thine eyes once more and see. Ah! ah! it bursts my heart, not to know where my hearts Sarala is gone to. The most beautiful, wise, and entirely devoted to me; she walked as the swan,[79] and her eyes were handsome as those of the deer. With a smiling face and with the sweetest voice, thou didst read to me the _Betal_. The mind was charmed by thy sweet reading which was as the singing of the bird in the forest. Thou, Sarala, hadst a most beauteous face, and didst brighten the lake of my heart. Who did take away my lotus with a cruel heart? The beautiful lake became dark. The world I look upon