‘Why, surpassing my speed with thine own, dost thou flee like a snake, filled with fear of the lord of birds? Were I to use my speed I could outstrip the wind itself, but I would make no effort to seize thee, O fair-limbed one.’ Cārudatta praises the rain: [280] dhanyāni teṣāṁ khalu jīvitāni: ye kāminīnāṁ gṛham āgatānām ārdrāṇi meghodakaçītalāni: gātrāṇi gātreṣu pariṣvajanti. ‘Happy the life of those whose limbs embrace the limbs of their loved ones, come to their home, dripping wet and cold with the water of the clouds.’ Moreover, while to later Indian critics the descriptive stanzas of the poet are lacking in that elaboration and cleverness which are admitted by developed taste, to us much of the poetic value of the drama depends on the power of the poet to describe with point and feeling in simple terms which require no effort to appreciate. The whole scene of the storm gains by the stanzas in which its beauties are described, once we consent, as we must do in appreciating any Sanskrit play, to ignore the inappropriateness of these lyric effusions in the actual circumstances. In real life a lady seeking eagerly an interview with her beloved, in resplendent attire, would have no time to display her command of Sanskrit poetry in description, when counsels of prudence urged her to her destination with the least possible delay: [281] mūḍhe nirantarapayodharayā mayaiva: kāntaḥ sahābhiramate kiṁ tavātra? māṁ garjitair iti muhur vinivārayantī: mārgaṁ ruṇaddhi kupiteva niçā sapatnī. ‘“If, foolish one, my beloved has joy clasped in my bosom’s embrace, what is that to thee?” Thus night with her thunders, seeking to stay me, blocks my path, like an angry rival.’ meghā varṣantu garjantu muñcantv açanim eva vā gaṇayanti na çītoṣṇaṁ ramaṇābhimukhāḥ striyaḥ. ‘Let the clouds rain, thunder, or cast down the levin bolt; women who speed to their loved ones reckon nothing of heat or cold.’ [282] gatā nāçaṁ tārā upakṛtam asādhāv iva jane viyuktāḥ kāntena striya iva na rājanti kakubhaḥ prakāmāntastaptaṁ tridaçapatiçastrasya çikhinā dravībhūtam manye patati jalarūpeṇa gaganam. ‘The stars disappear, like a favour bestowed on a worthless man; the quarters lose their radiance, like women severed from their beloved; molten by the fierce fire of Indra’s bolt, the sky, I ween, is poured down upon us in rain.’ [283] unnamati namati varṣati garjati meghaḥ karoti timiraugham prathamaçrīr iva puruṣaḥ karoti rūpāṇy anekāni. ‘The cloud rises aloft, bows down, pours rain, sends thunder and the dark; every show it makes of its wealth like the man newly rich.’ [284] Last we may cite the rebuke of Vasantasenā to the lightning: yadi garjati vāridharo garjatu tannāma niṣṭhurāḥ puruṣāḥ ayi vidyut pramadānāṃ tvam api ca duḥkhaṁ na jānāsi?