Mādhava, prithee, visit yonder babe

Dūtika:
Mādhava, prithee, visit yonder babe:
To-day or to-morrow she is like to die,
Such burning love she bears!

Refreshing water, lotus-leaves upon her bed,
Or ointment of sandal-paste,
Each and all are flames of fire;
The moon with tenfold heat annoys.

Devoid of might, she leans upon the earth to rise,
All night she wends and wakes,
And starting suddenly, she murmurs 'Shiva, Shiva!'
Her fire has filled the earth.

I know not if there be a remedy.
Says Vidyāpati the poet:
Nought but the fated tenth-day plight remains,--
Be well-advised forthwith.