A cow, of whom the gods disputed the possession, is also worshipped by
them; she was obtained by one of them through a stratagem very like that
employed by Jupiter with Europa.
They pay homage also to peculiar divinities, such as the goddess of
pleasure, and the god of war.
The former was fabled, like Venus, to have arisen from the sea when
agitated by the gods.
The poetry of the East frequently alludes to fairies of great and {276}
exquisite beauty, who people the air, the earth, the rivers, and the woods,
and are placed by them among the inferior divinities.
[Illustration]
Camdeo, the god of love, takes the same standing in the East, as Cupid in
the mythology of which we have already treated; though the Indian
description of his person and his arms, his family, attendants and
attributes, has new and peculiar characteristics.
[Illustration]
He is represented as a beautiful youth, sometimes conversing with his
mother and consort, in the midst of his gardens and temples. His bow of
sugar-cane or flowers, with a string of bees, and his five {277} arrows,
each pointed with an Indian blossom of a heating quality, are allegories
equally new and beautiful.
This deity is adored in India, under a great number of names, Camdeo,
however, being the one by which he is best known, and under which he is
most worshipped.
"What potent god from Agra's orient bowers,
Floats through the lucid air while living flowers,
With sunny twine the vocal arbours wreathe,
And gales enamoured, heavenly fragrance breathe?
Hail power unknown! for at thy beck
Vales and groves their bosoms deck,
And every laughing blossom dresses
With gems of dew, his musky tresses.
I feel, I feel thy genial flame divine,
And hallow thee and kiss thy shrine.
"'Knowest thou not me?' celestial sounds I hear!
'Knowest thou not me? Ah! spare a mortal ear!
Behold--' my swimming eyes entranced I raise,
But oh! they sink before the excessive blaze.
Yes, son of Maya, yes, I know
Thy bloomy shafts and cany bow,
Cheeks with youthful glory beaming,
Locks in braids ethereal streaming,
Thy scaly standards, thy mysterious arms,
And all thy pains, and all thy charms.
'O thou for ages born, yet ever young,
For ages may thy Brahmins' lay be sung!
And when thy glory spreads his emerald wings
To waft thee high above the tower of kings,
Whilst o'er thy throne the moon's pale light
Pours her soft radiance through the night,
And to each floating cloud discovers,
The haunts of blessed or joyless lovers,
Thy mildest influence to thy bard impart,
To warm, but not consume his heart."