In this serenade, a lover wakes from dreaming of his beloved and feels an unseen force guide him through the quiet night to her window. The world around him is hushed and dim: wandering breezes fade, the scent of champak flowers vanishes, and the nightingale’s song dies. Everything dissolves, mirroring the way the speaker’s own strength is draining away. He calls out to her, desperate to be lifted from the grass, to feel her kisses on his pale lips and eyelids. The plea becomes more urgent as he admits his heart is pounding cold and fast, and he begs her to press it to her own—even if that final contact will make it break. The mood is intensely intimate and almost feverish, wavering between dreamy tenderness and a kind of blissful, aching surrender.
The Indian Serenade — Summary
I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright: I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Hath led me--who knows how? To thy chamber window, Sweet!
The wandering airs they faint On the dark, the silent stream-- The Champak odours fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream; The nightingale's complaint, It dies upon her heart;-- As I must on thine, Oh, beloved as thou art!
Oh lift me from the grass! I die! I faint! I fail! Let thy love in kisses rain On my lips and eyelids pale. My cheek is cold and white, alas! My heart beats loud and fast;-- Oh! press it to thine own again, Where it will break at last.