poem – psalm 45 part 2

Christ and his church.

The King of saints, how fair his face,
Adorned with majesty and grace!
He comes with blessings from above,
And wins the nations to his love.

At his right hand our eyes behold
The queen arrayed in purest gold;
The world admires her heav’nly dress,
Her robe of joy and righteousness.

He forms her beauties like his own;
He calls and seats her near his throne:
Fair stranger, let thine heart forget
The idols of thy native state.

So shall the King the more rejoice
In thee, the favorite of his choice;
Let him be loved, and yet adored,
For he’s thy Maker and thy Lord.

O happy hour, when thou shalt rise
To his fair palace in the skies,
And all thy sons (a numerous train)
Each like a prince in glory reign!

Let endless honors crown his head;
Let every age his praises spread;
While we with cheerful songs approve
The condescensions of his love.

poem – psalm 33 part 2

Creatures vain, and God all-sufficient.

Blest is the nation where the Lord
Hath fixed his gracious throne,
Where he reveals his heav’nly word,
And calls their tribes his own.

His eye with infinite survey
Does the whole world behold;
He formed us all of equal clay,
And knows our feeble mold.

Kings are not rescued by the force
Of armies from the grave;
Nor speed nor courage of a horse
Can the bold rider save.

Vain is the strength of beasts or men,
To hope for safety thence;
But holy souls from God obtain
A strong and sure defence.

God is their fear, and God their trust;
When plagues or famine spread,
His watchful eye secures the just
Among ten thousand dead.

Lord, let our hearts in thee rejoice,
And bless us from thy throne;
For we have made thy word our choice,
And trust thy grace alone.

Poems – The Cloud Messenger – Part 2 – Kalidasa 

Your naturally beautiful reflection will gain entry into the clear waters of the 
Gambhira River, as into a clear mind. Therefore it is not fitting that you, out 

of obstinancy, should render futile her glances which are the darting leaps of 

little fish, as white as night-lotus flowers. 

Removing her blue garment which is her water, exposing her hips which are 

her banks, it is clutched by cane-branches as if grasped by her hands. 

Departure will inevitably be difficult for you who tarries, O friend. Who, 

having experienced enjoyment, is able to forsake another whose loins are laid 

bare? 

A cool breeze, grown pleasant through contact with the scent of the earth 

refreshed by your showers, which is inhaled by elephants with a pleasing 

sound at their nostrils, and which is the ripener of wild figs in the forest, 

gently fans you who desire to proceed to Devagiri. 

There, you, taking the form of a cloud of flowers, should bathe Skanda, who 

always resides there, with a shower of flowers, wet with the water of the 

heavenly Ganges. For he is the energy surpassing the sun, that was born into 

the mouth of the fire by the bearer of the crescent moon6 for the purpose of 

protecting the forces of of the sons of Indra. 

Then, with claps of thunder, magnified by their own echoes, you should cause 

to dance the peacock of the son of Agni, the corners of whose eyes are bathed 

by the light of the crescent moon at the head of Shiva and whose discarded 

tail-feather, ringed by rays of light, Parvati placed behind her ear, next 

to the petal of the blue lotus, out of her love for her son.

Having worshipped that god born in a reedbed, after you have travelled 

further, your route abandoned by siddha-couples carrying lutes because they 

fear rain-drops, you should descend while paying homage to the glory of 

Randideva, born from the slaughter of the daughter of Surabhi, and who 

arose on earth in the form or a river. 

When you, the robber of the complexion of bearer of the bow Sharnga, stoop 

to drink the water of that river, which is broad but appears narrow from a 

distance, those who range the skies, when they look down, will certainly see 

that the stream resembles a single string of pearls on the earth, enlarged at 

its centre with a sapphire. 

Having crossed the river, go on, making yourself into a form worthy of the 

curiosity of the eyes of the women of Dashapura, adept in the amorous play of 

their tendril-like eyebrows, whose dark and variageted brilliance flashes up at 

the fluttering of their eyelashes, and whose splendour has been stolen from the 

bees attendant on tossing kunda flowers. 

Then, entering the district of Brahmavarta, accompanied by your shadow, you 

should proceed to the plain of the Kurus, evocative of the battle of the 

warriors, where the one whose bow is Gandiva brought down showers of 

hundreds of sharp arrows, just as you bring down showers of rain on the faces 

of the lotuses. 

Having partaken of the waters of the Sarasvati which were enjoyed by the 

bearer of the plough who was averse to war on account of his love for his 

kinsfolk, after he had forsaken the wine of agreeable flavour which was 

marked by the reflection of Revati’s eyes, you, friend, will be purified within: 

only your colour will be black. 

From there you should go to the daughter of Jahnu above the Kanakhula 

mountains, where she emerges from the Himalaya, who provided a flight of 

steps to heaven for the sons of Sagara, and who laughing with her foam at the 

frown on the face of Gauri, made a grab at the hair of Shambhu and clasped 

his crescent moon with her wave-hands. 

If you, like an elephant of the gods, your front partly inclining down from the 

sky to drink her waters which are pure as crystal, in an instrant, because of 

your reflection on her gliding current, she would become very lovely, as if 

united with the Yamuna in second location. 

Having reached the mountain which is the source of that very river, whose 

crags are made fragrant with the scent of the musk of the deer that recline 

there, white with snow, reposing on the summit which dispells the fatigue of 

travel, you will take on the splendour like that of the white soil cast up 

by the bull of the three-eyed one. 

If, when the wind is blowing, a forest fire were to afflict the mountain, 

ignited by the friction of branches of the sarala trees, burning with its 

flames the tailhairs of the yaks, it would befit you to extinguish it 

completely with thousands of torrents of water, for the resources of the 

great have as their fruit the alleviation of those who suffer misfortune. 

The sharabha there, intent on springing in anger at you who departs from 

their path, would lunge at you, only to break their own limbs. You should 

cover them with a tumultuous storm of hail and rain. Who, intent upon a 

fruitless endeavour, would not be the object of contempt? 

There, with your body bowed in devotion, you should circumambulate the 

foot-print of the one wears the half-moon diadem, which is continually 

heaped with offerings from ascetics, and at the sight of which, at their 

departure from the bodies, cleansed of their misdeeds, the faithful are able to 

achieve the immuteable state of membership of Shiva’s following. 

The bamboo canes filled with the wind sound sweetly. Victory over the three 

cities is celebrated in song by the Kinnari demi-gods. If your rumbling like a 

muraja drum resounds in the caves, the theme of a concert for Shiva will be 

complete. 

Having passed various features on the flanks of the Himalayas, proceed thence 

north to Krauncarandhra, gateway for wild geese, which was the route to glory 

for Bhrgupati—you whose beautiful form is flat and long, like the dark blue 

foot of Vishnu uplifted for the suppression of Bali. 

And having gone further, become the guest of Mt Kailasa, the seams of whose 

peaks were rent by the arms of the ten-faced one and which is a mirror for 

the consorts of the Thirty Gods, and which, extending with lofty peaks like 

white lotuses, stands in the sky like the loud laughter of the three-eyed 

one accumulated day by day. 

I foresee that when you, resembling glossy powdered kohl, reach the foot of 

that mountain as white as a freshly cut piece of ivory, the imminent beauty 

will be fit to be gazed upon with an unerring eye, like the dark blue garment 

placed on the shoulder of the plough-carrier. 

And if Gauri should take a walk on the foot of that pleasure-hill, lent a hand 

by Shiva who has set aside his serpent-bracelet, your shape transformed into a 

flight of steps, your torrents of water withheld within yourself, become a 

stairway rising in front of her for the ascent of the jewel-slopes. 

There the young women of the gods will use you as a shower—you whose 

waters are brought forth by the striking together of the diamonds in their 

bracelets. If, friend, you were unable to release yourself from them, being 

encountered in the hot season, startle them who are intent on playing with 

you, with claps of thunder, harsh to the ear. 

Partaking of the waters of Manasa which bring forth golden lotuses, bringing 

at pleasure momentary delight like a cloth upon the face of Airavata, shaking 

with your winds the sprouts of wish-fulfilling trees like garments, enjoy the 

king of mountains with various playful actions, O cloud. 

Once you, who wander at will, have seen Alaka seated in the lap of the 

mountain like a lover, with the Ganges like a garment that has slipped, you 

will not fail to recognise her again with her lofty palaces and bearing hosts of 

clouds with showers of rain at the time of year when you are present, 

resembling a woman whose tresses are interwoven with strings of pearls.