Page:Ancient Ballads and Legends of Hindustan.djvu/97

Rh To pay thee,'—thus she said,—'or cry
 * He has no money, tell him straight

The box vermilion-streaked to try,
 * That's near the shrine.'" "Well, wait, friend, wait!"

The priest said thoughtful, and he ran
 * And with the open box came back,

"Here is the price exact, my man,
 * No surplus over, and no lack.

How strange! how strange! Oh blest art thou
 * To have beheld her, touched her hand,

Before whom Vishnu's self must bow,
 * And Brahma and his heavenly band!

Here have I worshipped her for years
 * And never seen the vision bright;

Vigils and fasts and secret tears
 * Have almost quenched my outward sight;

And yet that dazzling form and face
 * I have not seen, and thou, dear friend,

To thee, unsought for, comes the grace,
 * What may its purport be, and end?

How strange! How strange! Oh happy thou!
 * And couldst thou ask no other boon

Than thy poor bracelet's price? That brow
 * Resplendent as the autumn moon