Page:The Bengali Book of English Verse.djvu/112

80 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 Must have bewildered thee, I trow, And made thee lose thy senses all." A dim light on the pedlar now Began to dawn; and he let fall His bracelet basket in his haste, And backward ran the way he came; What meant the vision fair and chaste, Whose eyes were they,—those eyes of flame?