If the lofty and amazonian character of this patriarchal maid of Gokal should (as it no doubt must do) prove an incitement to the nobler energies of her beauteous sex, how much ought the naturally felicitous manner with which she managed to preserve the momentous secret of the existence and abode of Krishna, to excite our admiration of her prudence and circumspection; and how much might we not have expected that her philippic would have caused Cansa to stand rebuked, and to have desisted from his iniquitous cruelties. But these expectations, like the bright but fleeting visions of youth, fade before the wisdom of experience; and we find the tyrant, so far from feeling compunction, adopting further measures to effect his flagitious purposes. He accordingly employed the giantess Pootena, whom some describe as his eldest sister, and others as a nurse, to proceed in the disguise of an interesting woman to Gokal, and endeavour to find means to get Krishna to suck her breasts, which she had previously rubbed with a deadly juice. She succeeded in placing one of her nipples in his mouth, when, protected by the power of Mahadeo from poison, he drew it with such force, that he not only sucked her milk, but also the blood from her veins, and she fell dead at his feet. In falling, her disguise vanished, and she resumed her natural form, which, as may be readily imagined, could have been of no common size, when it is affirmed that it covered a space of twelve square miles, and convulsed the wide expanse of heaven and earth so much as it fell, that the affrighted shepherds of Gokal imagined the Kalki avatar had prematurely arrived, and that the dissolution of nature was taking place.

Cansa lost no time in resorting to other stratagems to effect the destruction of the infant, who, either by his incarnate knowledge or Herculean strength, rendered them all abortive. His next feat was to crush the bones of the giant Seedhu, who sought to kill him and his brother. He then slew Ternaveret, who having first raised a tempest to darken the earth, seized Krishna while sleeping in his cradle, and carried him aloft in the air: but the giant soon came tumbling down with a noise, like the fall of Pootena. One day he happened, in a sleepy fit, to gape, and his nurse taking that opportunity to look in his mouth beheld what astonished her more than if

she had unexpectedly seen so near to her the teeth of a monstrous and voracious shark, being nothing less than the three worlds, with Brahma, Vishnu, and Siva sitting in all their glory on their heavenly thrones. At another time he thought proper to get into a precious passion, because, when he awoke, his nurse was out of the way, and his breakfast not ready in exact time; so he began kicking about him most violently, and in a few minutes dashed into fragments an enormous patriarchal chariot, which happened incautiously to have been left near him. He afterwards killed the large serpent Kali-naga, which poisoned the waters of the river Jumna. He destroyed the giant Shishoo-palu; also another giant, in the shape of an immense bird, which sought to peck out the eyes of himself and his brother; and another, in the shape of a wild ass. He burnt the entrails of Peck Assoor, who had swallowed him in the shape of an alligator; and choked Aghi Assoor, who had made a similar meal of him in the shape of a dragon. He extinguished a destructive fire which had been kindled to exterminate the Gopas and Gopias. Although living among cow-herds, he became intuitively the greatest scholar in the world, and learnt to walk by taking hold of a calf's tail. He then broke the tremendous bow Danook, and overcame the celebrated wrestler Chandoor. These are a few of the acts which illustrate the life of this redoubtable deity: but he intermediately performed an infinite variety of others equally notable, which are not in our times of such frequent occurrence; and finally destroyed Cansa and took possession of his throne. But as I have largely, though not wholly, performed my promise to my reader, and must entertain some respect towards his time and patience, I shall leave the remainder of his numerous martial deeds to be related by the more elaborate historians of his life.

I therefore close my relation of his feats of arms; but it must not be supposed that the hero of so many far-famed actions can be yet finally dismissed from our consideration. Love and glory, it has been asserted, usually go hand in hand; and it will not be a matter of surprise that we find the invincible conqueror of so many giants and assoors a second Juan among the Gopias. Hitherto my course, as an historian of his renown, has been so smooth and easy that scarce a ripple has disturbed the

surface of the historic stream; but I am now, unfortunately, thrown between the horns of a difficult and overwhelming dilemma, as I have still a duty to perform toward my readers, and am aware that the loves of heroes should commonly be buried in their roseate and blissful bowers. True it is (and few will deny that truth, in the face of so many learned authorities), that there must be many and eminent exceptions to this generally prudential rule, of which Krishna's wanderings must be allowed to stand a part.

Lest, however, it should be imagined by those who have not been oriental travellers, that the pastoral maids of Gokal resembled the rosy-cheeked damsels of the delightful plains of Devon, or the herd-spangled vallies of Buckingham, I most emphatically assure them that they have formed supremely erroneous notions of the nymphs in question; but as proofs are at all times better than assertions, the reader shall have something beyond my simple averment to direct him. Let him, then, if his soul be sensible to the raptures of love, listen to the voice of Jayadeva, whose notes are both sweet and brilliant :

Bring home the wanderer (Krishna) to my rustic mansion," spoke the fortunate herdsman Nanda to the lovely Radha. "The firmament is obscured by clouds, the woodlands are black with tamala trees: that youth who roves in the forest will be fearful in the gloom of night. Go, my daughter, bring the wanderer home."

Radha saught him long in vain.

She roved among the twining vasantis covered with soft blossoms, when a damsel thus addressed her:-*

"The gale that has wantoned round the beautiful clove plants, breathes now from the hills of Malaya. The full blown cesara gleams like the sceptre of the world's monarch, Love; and the pointed thyrse of the cétaca resembles the darts by which lovers are wounded. See the bunches of patali flowers filled with bees, like the quiver of Smara full of shafts, while the amrita tree, with blooming tresses, is embraced by the gay creeper atimucta, and the blue streams of the Yamuna wind round the groves of

The addresses of this loquacious young lady were considerably longer than I have given them, as I have merely abstracted a few of the parts.

Vrindhavan. A breeze, like the breath of love from the fragrant flowers of the cétaca, kindles every heart, whilst it perfumes the woods with the dust which it shakes from the mallica with half-opened buds; and the cocila* bursts into song, when he sees the blossoms glistening on the lovely rasála. In this charming season, young Heri (Krishna) dances with a company of damsels."

This agreeable speech was intended, in the true spirit of female kindness, to answer a similar purpose to many made in our modern boudoirs, that is, to give pain to the auditor. The jealous Radha, however, gave no answer; when her amiable friend pointed out Krishna, "with a garland of wild flowers descending even to the yellow mantle that girds his azure limbs; distinguished by smiling cheeks, and by earrings that sparkle as he plays," enjoying the rapturous embraces of his fair companions. One presses him to her swelling bosom; another meditates on the lotus of his face; a third points to a vanjula bower. He caresses one, kisses another, and smiles on a third; while a fourth, under the pretext of hymning his divine perfections, whispers in his ear, "thy lips, my beloved, are nectar."

Radha remained in the forest lamenting to her confidant the wanderings of her faithless swain. "I saw him," she exclaimed, "in the grove with happier damsels, yet the sight of him delighted me. Soft is the gale that breathes over yon clear pool and expands the clustering blossoms of the voluble asóca; soft, yet grievous to me, in the absence of the foe of Madhu. Delightful are the flowers of the amru-trees on the mountain-top, while the murmuring bees pursue their voluptuous toil; delightful, yet afflicting to me, O friend, in the absence of the youthful Césava." †

Krishna now repented of his levity, and sought a reconciliation with Radha; who, while she ardently wished for, appeared somewhat coquetishly to shun it. At length she yielded to the plaintive solicitations of her despairing lover, whose messenger tells her, "that the deity, crowned with silver blossoms, mourns in her absence; that even the dewy rays of the moon can bring no relief to the ardent flame which consumes him; that he

* A bird of sweet song, with green plumage, and red beak and feet.
A name of Krishna.

quits the bower of love to throw himself on the cold clay, and repeat words which he had heard his beloved express: then, having bound his locks with forest flowers, he hastens to yon arbour, when a soft gale breathes over the banks of Yamuna; then again, pronouncing her name, he modulates his divine reed. Oh! with what rapture doth he gaze on the golden dust which the breeze shakes from expanded blossoms; the breeze, which hath kissed her cheek. With a mind languid as a dropping wing, feeble as a trembling leaf, he doubtfully expects her approach."

Radha was unable to move from her arbour of flowery creepers through debility, but her damsel hastened to Krishna to tell him he was expected. "The moon had spread a net of beams over the groves of Vrindhavan,” but alas he came not; for, in habiliments becoming the war of love, and with traces waving like flowery Bannias, a damsel more alluring than Radha had, pending the negociation, captivated the heart of the fickle god.

Here follows a description, the bare perusal of which might send some of my romantic readers on a pilgrimage to the banks of the Yamuna. I shall therefore pass on to say, that after some varying incidents, described in the most glowing style of oriental imagery, the lovers were reconciled, and Radha sought the blossom-illumined bower of Govinda (Krishna). In the morning she rose disarrayed, and her eyes betrayed a night without slumber; when the yellow-robed god, who gazed on her with transport, thus meditated on her charms in his heavenly mind: “ Though her locks be diffused at random, though the lustre of her lips be faded, though her garland and zone be fallen from their enchanting stations, yet, even though thus disarrayed, she fills me with extatic delight."

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Radha turned from his gaze, and sportively bade him array her. He obeyed her behests, and placed musky spots on her bosom and forehead, dyed her temples with radiant hues, embellished her eyes with additional blackness, decked her braided hair and her neck with fresh garlands, and tied on her wrists the loosened bracelets, on her ankles the beamy rings, and round her waist the zone of bells that sounded with ravishing melody. Thus sang Jayadéva.*

* Translated by the accomplished and learned Sir William Jones. Asiatic Researches, vol. iii.

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