Source page 41

Some jealous woman of Mithila may cast an evil spell upon him; therefore, companion, quickly place a warding mark against the evil eye. His proud horse pirouettes and prances; its saddle and ornaments are studded with jewels. The handsome rider fondles it and draws the reins; it is as though bands of lightning danced upon a divine raincloud. Three lines adorn his broad forehead, as though declaring that none like him exists in all the three worlds. His brows are bows, friend, and his eyes are keen arrows; the deer of the mind comes of itself and is slain. Round curls sway upon his rounded cheeks, as though whispering, “Whose heart shall we steal this instant?” Drunk upon his smile, the innocent nose-ring sways; his priceless voice makes every limb thrill. The carefree, enraptured groom bends near and offers counsel: “Come, come, take refuge in him if you desire your welfare.” Serving Janaka's good, he extends his lotus hand. Dwelling and dwelling in our eyes, the dark one has become their very color. Blessed, blessed is my Kishori, for whose sake the bridegroom has come of his own accord and become a guest of Mithila. Age after age, friends, may bride and bridegroom live! Mod sings blessings; flowers rain from the sky.