"The sky is clouded; and the wood resembles The sky, thick-arched with black Tamala boughs; O Radha, Radha take this Soul, that trembles In life's deep midnight, to Thy golden house." So Nanda spoke, -and, led by Radha's spirit, The feet of Krishna found the road aright; Wherefore, in bliss which all high hearts inherit, Together taste they Love's divine delight. He who wrote these things for thee, Of the Son of Wassoodee, Was the poet Jayadeva; Him Saraswati gave ever Fancies fair his mind to throng, Like pictures palace-walls along; Ever to his notes of love Lakshmi's mystic dancers move. If thy spirit seeks to brood On Hari glorious, Hari good; If it feeds on solemn numbers. Dim as dreams and soft as slumbers, Lend thine ear to Jayadev, Lord of all the spells that save. Umapatidhara's strain Glows like roses after rain; Sharan's stream-like song is grand, If its tide ye understand; Bard more wise beneath the sun Is not found than Govardhun; Dhoyi holds the listener still With his shlokes of subtle skill; But for sweet words suited well Jayadeva doth excel."