Vilas

VILAS

CHERRY! dearest Cherry!
Higher lift thy branches,
Under which the Vilas
Dance their magic roundels.
Them before Radisha
Dew from flowers, lashes,
Leadeth on two Vilas,
To the third he sayeth--
"Be thou mine, O Vila!
Thou shalt, with my mother,
In the cool shade seat thee;
Soft silk deftly spinning
From the golden distaff." [a]

[a] We have made this translation from a German version in the Wiener Jahrbucher, vol. xxx. which is evidently more faithful than Bowring's.