Page:TheBirth of the War-God.djvu/58

46 Red as its leaves her lips of coral hue, Red as those qnivering leaves they quivered too.

Of all stern Penance it is called the chief, To nourish life upon the fallen leaf; But even this the Ascetic Maiden spurned, And for all time a glorious title earned, — —Lady of the unbroken fast! — Have Sages called her, Saints who knew the past. Fair as the Lotus' fibres, soft as they, In these stern vows she passed her night and day. No mighty anchoret had e'er essayed The ceaseless Penance of this gentle Maid.

There came a Hermit—reverend was he, As the First Rank's embodied sanctity— With coat of skin, with staff and matted hair, His face was radiant, and he spake her fair. Up rose the Maid the holy man to greet, And humbly bowed before the Hermit's feet; Though meditation fill the pious breast, It finds a welcome for a glorious guest: The Sage received the honour duly paid. And fixed his earnest gaze upon the Maid; While through her frame unwonted vigour ran Thus, in his silver speech, the blameless Saint began— "How can thy tender frame, sweet Lady, bear In thy firm spirit's task its fearful share? Canst thou the grass and fuel duly bring, And still unwearied seek the freshening spring? Say, do the creeper's slender shoots expand, Seeking each day fresh water from thy hand.