In India this _fervor_ was particularly encouraged: for “as the Hindoos depend on their children for performing those ceremonies to their names, which they believe tend to mitigate punishment in a _future state_, they consider the being deprived of them as a severe misfortune and the sign of an offended God.”[97] They accordingly had recourse to all the stratagems which ingenuity could devise to recommend this passion to the inner senses, and dignify its nature by the studied imagery of metaphor and grace. In conformity with this sentiment we are favoured by Sir William Jones with the copy of a hymn, which they were in the habit of addressing to the above-mentioned “Padma-devi,” or “Mollium mater sæva cupidinum,” which he thus prefaces with her figurative descent:-- It is Camadeva, that is, the _god_ of desire, the opposite sex he speaks of, but the principle is the same. “Peor, his other name, when he enticed Israel in Sittim, on their march from Nile, To do him wanton rites, which cost them sore.”[98] “According to the Hindu mythology, he was the son of Maya, or the general attracting power;[99] that he was married to Ritty, or Affection; and that his bosom friend is Vassant, or the Spring: that he is represented as a beautiful youth, sometimes conversing with his mother, or consort, in the midst of his gardens and temples; sometimes riding by moonlight on a parrot, and attended by dancing girls, or nymphs, the foremost of whom bears his colours, which are a fish on a red ground: that his favourite place of resort is a large tract of country round Agra, and principally the plain of Mathra, where Kreshen also, and the nine Gopia usually spend the night with music and dance: that his bow is of sugar-cane or flowers, the sting of bees, and his five arrows are each painted with an Indian blossom of an healing quality.” Tedious and diffuse as has been the dissertation already, I cannot resist the inclination of transcribing the hymn also. “What potent god, from Agra’s orient bowers, Floats through the lucid air; whilst living flowers, With sunny twine, the vocal arbours wreathe, And gales enamoured heavenly fragrance breathe? Hail, Power unknown! for at thy beck Vales and groves their bosoms deck, And every laughing blossom dresses, With gems of dew, his musky tresses. I feel, I feel thy genial flame divine, And hallow thee, and kiss thy _shrine_. Knowest thou not me?-- Yes, son of Maya, yes, I know Thy bloomy shafts and cany bow, Thy scaly standard, thy mysterious arms, And all thy pains and all thy charms. Almighty Cama! or doth Smara bright, Or proud Aranga, give thee more delight? Whate’er thy seat, whate’er thy name, Seas, earth, and air, thy reign proclaim; All to thee their tribute bring, And hail thee universal king.