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NOVEMBER, 1876.]
BHARTRIHARI'S VAIRÁGYA SATAKAM.
305
METRICAL TRANSLATION OF BHARTRIHARI'S VAIRAGYA SATAKAM.
BY PROF. C. H. TAWNEY, M.A., CALCUTTA.
(Concluded from page 286.) W HILE the Soul's temple still stands firm, The man whose bed is made of rock, whose and Eld still bides afar,
mansion's but a cave, While sense is keen, and Life with Death still Who's clothed in bark and fed on fruits, who wages equal war,
drinks the crystal wave, The wise to gain the spirit's peace should strive Whose friends are deer, alone can boast of with strong desire.
splendour on this earth; What, boots to dig a well when all the house is For he alone ne'er bows the head to power, or wrapped in fire ?
wealth, or birth. I have not learnt the wrangler's art, or less pre
While flows the triple stream from Siva's head, tentious lore,
While the boon earth yields garments, food, Nor cleft in fight the war-beasts' skulls on
and bed, Fame's broad wings to soar,
Who'd face the porter at the rich man's gate Nor sipped the fair one's honeyed lip while
If not through pity for his children's fate? soft the moonbeam falls ;
Out of Banâras who can live that boasts the My youth is wasted like a lamp in vast un- sage's name, peopled halls.
Where rags are counted splendid clothes, and
begging held no blame, Knowledge abates the wise man's pride, Wheru gardens yield to all who need their But kindles it in all beside;
bounteous supplies, That loneliness which shields the saint
Where saints subdue the flesh, where Death's Lets sinners sin without restraint.
the gate of Paradise ? The youthful freshness of my heart is worn Leave those proud doors where surly slaves with old decay,
growl out “Our lord's asleep, The beauty of my limbs hath passed unrecog. "We cannot wake him; if we do, his wrath no nized away,
bounds will keep;" Grim Fate brings nigh with giant strides the But haunt the temple of that god who rules unrelenting hour,
this mighty whole, What hope but in the feet of him who smote Whose gate no ill-bred porter keeps, who fills Love's wanton power ?
with bliss the soul. If parching thirst dries up the throat,
Our mind is but a lump of clay How sweet the brimming stream;
Which Fate, grim potter, holds If hunger pinches, rice and herbs
On Sorrow's wheel that rolls alway, Imperial dainties seem.
And, as he pleases, moulds. We hug this fond belief,--that we
Siva controls earth, heav'n, and hell, A solid pleasure gain,
Vishnu pervades each part, When all we've done is to remove
Their rank in being who can tell ? The momentary pain.
But Siva has my heart, When shall I bathe in Ganga's stream and Why, Cupid, wound thy hand with twanging
please Thee, Lord, with fruits and flowers, still the bow? Thinking of that one worthy theme, on beds of Why, cuckoo, sound for nought thy soft lovestone through midnight hours
moving strain ? Ħonouring my Father in the faith, striving to Why, bashful maiden, still thy sidelong glances lift my heart above?
throw? When shall I fling my woes aside? Help me, My soul the nectarcus wine of Siva's love thou enery of Love.
doth drain. * le. Siva.
+ Siva.
