ஶ்ரீ ஶங்கராஷ்டகம் ௨

Eight verses by Yogananda Tirtha in which almost every word is a vocative. Nothing is described and nothing is narrated; Shiva is simply called, name after name, four and five to a line — Vamadeva, lord of Kashi, lord of beasts, destroyer of the bonds of beasts, Vishvanatha, seed of becoming; then sky-haired, lord of the worlds, bearer of the trident, half of whose body is the mountain's daughter; then lord of Kali, lord of the hosts, clothed in the elephant's hide, the death of Death. Every verse ends on the same line and it is the only thing in the hymn that is not a name: from the thicket of the sorrow of the world, lord of all, rescue me. The accumulation is the argument — the more titles he is given, the less excuse there is for leaving the petitioner where he is.