rasa' said either of an individual or of a work of art).

It is a canon of Indian dramatic criticism, not only that rasa is unique, but that those only can experience rasa who are temperamentally qualified to do so by virtue acquired in a former life,—Poeta nascitur nonjit. All these associations give great weight to Vidyapati's splendid aphorism:

Rasa bujha, i rasamanta

'None knoweth love but the lover, none ecstasy save the ecstatic.'

If we apply this to life and art, it means what Blake meant when he said that enthusiasm is the first and last principle of criticism.

It should not be forgotten that Vidyāpati's songs, like those of all the Vaishnava poets—from Jayadeva to Rabīndranath Tagore—were meant to be sung; and as the latter says himself, "In a book of songs the main thing is left out: to set forth the music's vehicle, and leave out the music itself, is just like keeping the mouse and leaving out Ganapati himself" ('Jiban-smrti,' p. 148). The padas of Vidyāpati may still be heard on the lips of Bengali singers, albeit often in corrupt forms. It may also be noted that song was constantly illustrated by the conventional language of descriptive gesture. We are able to partly compensate the lack of this in reproducing the eleven illustrations from Indian sources; for although not designed directly to illustrate Vidyāpati's text, there is to be found in these an immediate expression of the same ideas. A further account of all the illustrations is appended to the 'Notes.'

Finally, in the matter of transliteration: since these versions are intended rather for the rasika than for the pandit, we have done no more that mark the long and short vowels of Indian names and words occurring in this Introduction or in the text. The reader will not go far wrong if he pronounces such words as if in Italian. C has the the sound of ch in church: for ś and ṣ we have used sh throughout.

It is by an inexcusable oversight that the poet's name has been printed as Vidhyāpati throughout the text. (Transcriber's note: This has been corrected).

ANANDA COOMARASWAMY.

Britford, December, 1914.

KRISHNA PŪRBBARĀGA

I.

Krishna:            Some damsel I saw, supremely fair—
A moon unstained, that slowly rose,
Or a golden vine.

Eyes twin lotus-blooms, dyed with sūrm,
The playground of waves of love—
Twin timid partridges, snared by Nature
With nought but a rope of collyrium!

A garland of ivory-pearls caressed the burden
Of her mountain breasts—
Kāma pouring celestial streams from a brimming conch
On a golden Shambhu!

The sacrificer of a hundred offerings on a sacred shore
Were blest by such reward!
Vidyāpati says: It is Gokula's lord.
The herd-girls' darling.

II.

Krishna:      Your hair dismays the yak, the mountain sinks into the vale,
Fearing your face, the moon is fading in the sky,
The antelope is fearful of your eyes, your voice dismays the koil.
Your gait alarms the olifant, he hides him in the wood:

Why came you not for speech with me, fair may?
All these have fled afar in fear of you,
How then should you in turn fear me?

Dismayed by your breasts, the unblown lily lingers under lake.
The globéd jar leaps into fire.
The honey-apple and the pomegranate abide aloft.
And Shambhu drinks his poison.

Dismayéd by your arms, the golden lily-root leaves not the mud.
Affrighted by your fingers, the flower-stems are shivering!
Vidyāpati asks: How many shall I cite
Of spells of Love like these?

III.

Krishna:      Which of the gods this fair face fashioned?
Beauty-surpassing, heart's-bliss-granting,
Garland-victress of the Triple Worlds.

The sun-bright eyes of her fair face
Are tricked with sūrm—
Restless