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FROM thee begins the solemn air, | |
Adored Ganésa; next, thy sire we praise | |
(Him, from whose red clustering hair | |
A new-born crescent sheds propitious rays, | |
Fair as Ganga’s curling foam), | 5 |
Dread Is’wara; who loved o’er awful mountains, | |
Rapt in prescience deep, to roam, | |
But chiefly those, whence holy rivers gush, | |
Bright from their secret fountains, | |
And o’er the realms of Brahma rush. | 10 |
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Rock above rock they ride sublime, | |
And lose their summits in blue fields of day, | |
Fashioned first, when rolling Time, | |
Vast infant, in his golden cradle lay, | |
Bidding endless ages run | 15 |
And wreathe their giant heads in snows eternal | |
Gilt by each revolving sun; | |
Though neither morning beam, nor noontide glare, | |
In wintry sign or vernal, | |
Their adamantine strength impair; | 20 |
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Nor e’en the fiercest summer heat | |
Could thrill the palace, where their monarch reigned | |
On his frost-impearléd seat, | |
(Such height had unremitted virtue gained!) | |
Himalaya, to whom a lovely child, | 25 |
Sweet Parvatì, sage Mena bore, | |
Who now, in earliest bloom, saw heaven adore | |
Her charms, earth languish till she smiled.
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