The peacock's shrill-voiced cry Implores it to draw nigh; And ardent cranes on high Embrace it lovingly. The wistful swans espy The lotus-sweeter sky; The darkest colors lie On heaven clingingly. 23 _Courtier._ True. For see! A thousand lotuses that bloom by night, A thousand blooming when the day is bright, Nor close nor ope their eyes to heaven's sight; There is no night nor day. The face of heaven, thus shrouded in the night, Is only for a single instant bright, When momentary lightning gives us sight; Else is it dark alway. Now sleeps the world as still as in the night Within the house of rain where naught is bright, Where hosts of swollen clouds seem to our sight One covering veil of gray. 24 P. 143.20] _Vasantasenā._ True. And see! The stars are lost like mercies given To men of evil heart; Like lonely-parted wives, the heaven Sees all her charms depart. And, molten in the cruel heat Of Indra's bolt, it seems As if the sky fell at our feet In liquid, flowing streams. 25 And yet again: The clouds first darkly rise, then darkly fall, Send forth their floods of rain, and thunder all; Assuming postures strange and manifold, Like men but newly blest with wealth untold. 26 _Courtier._ True. The heaven is radiant with the lightning's glare; Its laughter is the cry of myriad cranes; Its voice, the bolts that whistle through the air; Its dance, that bow whose arrows are the rains. It staggers at the winds, and seems to smoke With clouds, which form its black and snaky cloak. 27 _Vasantasenā._ O shameless, shameless sky! To thunder thus, while I To him I love draw nigh. Why do thy thunders frighten me and pain? Why am I seized upon by hands of rain? 28 O Indra, mighty Indra! Did I then give thee of my love before, That now thy clouds like mighty lions roar? Ah no! Thou shouldst not send thy streaming rain, To fill my journey to my love with pain. 29 [83.23. S. Remember: For Ahalyā's sweet sake thou once didst lie; Thou knowest lover's pain. As thou didst suffer then, now suffer I; O cruel, cease thy rain. 30 And yet: Thunder and rain and lighten hundredfold Forth from thy sky above; The woman canst thou not delay nor hold Who journeys to her love. 31 Let thunders roar, for men were cruel ever; But oh, thou maiden lightning! didst thou never Know pains that maidens know? 32 _Courtier._ But mistress, do not scold the lightning. She is your friend,