Page:Little Clay Cart (Ryder 1905).djvu/46

10 Servant. Stop, courtezan, stop!

In fear you flee

Away from me,

As a summer peahen should;

But my lord and master

Struts fast and faster,

Like a woodcock in the wood.

Courtier. Vasantasenā! Stop, stop!

Why should you tremble, should you flee,

A-quiver like the plantain tree?

Your garment's border, red and fair,

Is all a-shiver in the air;

Now and again, a lotus-bud

Falls to the ground, as red as blood.

A red realgar vein you seem,

Whence, smitten, drops of crimson stream.

Sansthānaka. Shtop, Vasantasenā, shtop!

You wake my passion, my desire, my love;

You drive away my shleep in bed at night;

Both fear and terror sheem your heart to move;

You trip and shtumble in your headlong flight.

But Rāvana forced Kuntī to his will;

Jusht sho shall I enjoy you to the fill.

Courtier. Ah, Vasantasenā,

Why should your fleeter flight

Outstrip my flying feet?

Why, like a snake in fright

Before the bird-king's might,

Thus seek to flee, my sweet?