Send peace on all the lands and flickering corn.-- O, may tranquillity walk by his elbow When wandering in the forest, if he love No other.--Hear, and may the indolent flocks Be plentiful.--And if he love another, May panthers end him.--Hear, and load our king With wisdom hour by hour.--May we two stand, When we are dead, beyond the setting suns, A little from the other shades apart, With mingling hair, and play upon one lute. VIJAYA [_entering and throwing a lily at her_] Hail! hail, my Anashuya. ANASHUYA No: be still. I, priestess of this temple, offer up Prayers for the land. VIJAYA I will wait here, Amrita. ANASHUYA By mighty Brahma's ever rustling robe, Who is Amrita? Sorrow of all sorrows! Another fills your mind. VIJAYA My mother's name. ANASHUYA [_sings, coming out of the temple_] _A sad, sad thought went by me slowly: Sigh, O you little stars! O, sigh and shake your blue apparel! The sad, sad thought has gone from me now wholly: Sing, O you little stars! O, sing and raise your rapturous carol To mighty Brahma, he who made you many as the sands, And laid you on the gates of evening with his quiet hands._ [_Sits down on the steps of the temple._] Vijaya, I have brought my evening rice; The sun has laid his chin on the gray wood, Weary, with all his poppies gathered round him. VIJAYA The hour when Kama, full of sleepy laughter, Rises, and showers abroad his fragrant arrows, Piercing the twilight with their murmuring barbs. ANASHUYA See how the sacred old flamingoes come, Painting with shadow all the marble steps: Aged and wise, they seek their wonted perches Within the temple, devious walking, made To wander by their melancholy minds. Yon tall one eyes my supper; swiftly chase him Far, far away. I named him after you. He is a famous fisher; hour by hour He ruffles with his bill the minnowed streams. Ah! there he snaps my rice. I told you so. Now cuff him off. He's off! A kiss for you, Because you saved my rice. Have you no thanks? VIJAYA [_sings_] _Sing you of her, O first few stars, Whom Brahma, touching with his finger, praises, for you hold_ _The van of wandering quiet; ere you be too calm and old, Sing, turning in your cars, Sing, till you raise your hands and sigh, and from your car heads peer, With all your whirling hair, and drop many an azure tear._ ANASHUYA What know the pilots of the stars of tears? VIJAYA