The Project Gutenberg eBook ofMalayan Literature: Comprising Romantic Tales, Epic Poetry and Royal ChroniclesThis ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.Title: Malayan Literature: Comprising Romantic Tales, Epic Poetry and Royal ChroniclesTranslator: Chauncey C. StarkweatherRelease date: December 1, 2004 [eBook #7095]Most recently updated: December 30, 2020Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Eric Eldred, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MALAYAN LITERATURE: COMPRISING ROMANTIC TALES, EPIC POETRY AND ROYAL CHRONICLES ***
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online atwww.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this eBook.
Title: Malayan Literature: Comprising Romantic Tales, Epic Poetry and Royal ChroniclesTranslator: Chauncey C. StarkweatherRelease date: December 1, 2004 [eBook #7095]Most recently updated: December 30, 2020Language: EnglishCredits: Produced by Eric Eldred, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
Title: Malayan Literature: Comprising Romantic Tales, Epic Poetry and Royal Chronicles
Translator: Chauncey C. Starkweather
Translator: Chauncey C. Starkweather
Release date: December 1, 2004 [eBook #7095]Most recently updated: December 30, 2020
Language: English
Credits: Produced by Eric Eldred, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MALAYAN LITERATURE: COMPRISING ROMANTIC TALES, EPIC POETRY AND ROYAL CHRONICLES ***
Produced by Eric Eldred, Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
Comprising
Romantic Tales, Epic Poetry
And
Royal Chronicles
Translated Into English For The First Time
With A Special Introduction By
Easily the most charming poem of Malayan Literature is the Epic of Bidasari. It has all the absorbing fascination of a fairy tale. We are led into the dreamy atmosphere of haunted palace and beauteous plaisance: we glide in the picturesque imaginings of the oriental poet from the charm of all that is languorously seductive in nature into the shadowy realms of the supernatural. At one moment the sturdy bowman or lithe and agile lancer is before us in hurrying column, and at another we are told of mystic sentinels from another world, of Djinns and demons and spirit-princes. All seems shadowy, vague, mysterious, entrancing.
In this tale there is a wealth of imagery, a luxury of picturesqueness, together with that straightforward simplicity so alluring in the story- teller. Not only is our attention so captivated that we seem under a spell, but our sympathy is invoked and retained. We actually wince before the cruel blows of the wicked queen. And the hot tears of Bidasari move us to living pity. In the poetic justice that punishes the queen and rewards the heroine we take a childish delight. In other words, the oriental poet is simple, sensuous, passionate, thus achieving Milton's ideal of poetic excellence. We hope that no philosopher, philologist, or ethnologist will persist in demonstrating the sun-myth or any other allegory from this beautiful poem. It is a story, a charming tale, to while away an idle hour, and nothing more. All lovers of the simple, the beautiful, the picturesque should say to such learned peepers and botanizers, "Hands off!" Let no learned theories rule here. Leave this beautiful tale for artists and lovers of the story pure and simple. Seek no more moral here than you would in a rose or a lily or a graceful palm. Light, love, color, beauty, sympathy, engaging fascination—these may be found alike by philosopher and winsome youth. The story is no more immoral than a drop of dew or a lotus bloom; and, as to interest, in the land of the improviser and the story-teller one is obliged to be interesting. For there the audience is either spellbound, or quickly fades away and leaves the poet to realize that he must attempt better things.
We think that these folk-stories have, indeed, a common origin, but that it is in the human heart. We do not look for a Sigurd or Siegfried on every page. Imagine a nation springing from an ignorant couple on a sea-girt isle, in a few generations they would have evolved their Sleeping Beauty and their Prince Charming, their enchanted castles, and their Djinns and fairies. These are as indigenous to the human heart as the cradle-song or the battle-cry. We do not find ourselves siding with those who would trace everything to a first exemplar. Children have played, and men have loved, and poets have sung from the beginning, and we need not run to Asia for the source of everything. Universal human nature has a certain spontaneity.
The translator has tried to reproduce the faithfulness and, in some measure, to indicate the graceful phrases of the original poem. The author of Bidasari is unknown, and the date of the poem is a matter of the utmost uncertainty. Some have attributed to it a Javanese origin, but upon very slight evidence. The best authorities place its scene in the country of Palembang, and its time after the arrival of the Europeans in the Indian archipelago, but suggest that the legend must be much older than the poem.
The "Makota Radja-Radja" is one of the most remarkable books of oriental literature. According to M. Aristide Marre, who translated it into French, its date is 1603. Its author was Bokhari, and he lived at Djohore. It contains extracts from more than fifty Arab and Persian authors. It treats of the duties of man to God, to himself and to society, and of the obligations of sovereigns, subjects, ministers, and officers. Examples are taken from the lives of kings in Asia. The author has not the worst opinion of his work, saying distinctly that it is a complete guide to happiness in this world and the next. He is particularly copious in his warnings to copyists and translators, cautioning them against the slightest negligence or inaccuracy, and promising them for faithfulness a passport to the glories of heaven. This shows that the author at least took the work seriously. That there is not a trace of humor in the book would doubtless recommend it to the dignified and lethargic orientals for whom it was written. Bokhari seemed to consider himself prophet, priest, and poet-laureate in one. The work has a high position in the Malayan Peninsula, where it is read by young and old. The "Crown of Kings" is written in the court language of Djohore. The author was a Mohammedan mendicant monk. He called the book the Crown of Kings because "every king who read and followed its precepts would be a perfect king, and thus only would his crown sit well on his head, and the book itself will be for him a true crown."
La Fontaine and Lamartine loved stories. The schoolmates of the latter called the latter "story-lover." They would have loved the story of the Princess Djouher Manikam, which is written in a simple and natural style and is celebrated in the East, or, as the Malays say, in the "country between windward and leeward."
From the "Sedjaret Malayou," worthless as it is as history, one may obtain side lights upon oriental life. Manners are portrayed in vivid colors, so that one may come to have a very accurate knowledge of them. Customs are depicted from which one may learn of the formality and regard for precedents which is a perspicuous trait of oriental character. The rigid etiquette of court and home may be remarked. From the view of morals here described, one may appreciate how far we have progressed in ethical culture from that prevailing in former times among the children of these winterless lands.
The readers of this series are to be congratulated in that they are here placed in possession of a unique and invaluable source of information concerning the life and literature of the far-away people of the Indian archipelago. To these pages an added interest accrues from the fact that the Philippines are now protected by our flag.
The name Malay signifies a wanderer. As a people they are passionate, vain, susceptible, and endowed with a reckless bravery and contempt of death. The Malays have considerable originality in versification. The pantoum is particularly theirs—a form arising from their habits of improvisation and competitive versifying. They have also the epic orsjair, generally a pure romance, with much naive simplicity and natural feeling. And finally, they have the popular song, enigma, and fable.
And so we leave the reader to his pleasant journey to the lands of Djinns and Mantris and spells and mystic talismans. He will be entertained by the chrestomathy of Bokhari; he will be entranced by the story of the winsome and dainty Bidasari.
Song I
Song II
Song III
Song IV
Song V
Song VI
Metrical Translation by Chauncey C. Starkweather, A.B., LL.B.
Hear now the song I sing about a kingOf Kembajat. A fakir has completedThe story, that a poem he may make.There was a king, a sultan, and he wasHandsome and wise and perfect in all ways,Proud scion of a race of mighty kings.He filled the land with merchants bringing wealthAnd travellers. And from that day's report,He was a prince most valorous and strong,Who never vexing obstacles had met.But ever is the morrow all unknown.After the Sultan, all accomplished man,Had married been a year, or little more,He saw that very soon he'd have an heir.At this his heart rejoiced, and he was gladAs though a mine of diamonds were his.Some days the joy continued without clouds.But soon there came the moment when the princeKnew sorrow's blighting force, and had to yieldHis country's capital. A savage bird,Garouda called, a very frightful bird,Soared in the air, and ravaged all the land.It flew with wings and talons wide outstretched,With cries to terrify the stoutest heart.All people, great and small, were seized with dread,And all the country feared and was oppressed,And people ran now this way and now that.The folk approached the King. He heard the noiseAs of a fray, and, angry, asked the guard,"Whence comes this noise?" As soon as this he saidOne of his body-guard replied with awe,"Illustrious lord, most merciful of kings,A fell garouda follows us about."The King's face paled when these dread words be heard.The officers arose and beat their breasts.The sorrow of the King was greater stillBecause the Queen was ill. He took her handAnd started without food or anything.He trusted all to God, who watches o'erThe safety of the world. The suff'ring QueenSpoke not a word and walked along in tears.They went by farcampongsand dreary fieldsBeneath a burning sun which overwhelmedTheir strength. And so the lovely Queen's fair faceFrom palest yellow grew quite black. The princeApproached the desert with his body tornBy thorns and brambles. All his care and griefWere doubled when he saw his lovely wifeWho scarce could drag herself along and whomHe had to lead. Most desolate was he,Turning his mind on the good Queen's sad lot.Upon the way he gave up all to her.Two months they journeyed and one day they cameUnto acampongof a merchant, whereThey looked for rest because the Queen was weak.The path was rugged and the way was hard.The prince made halt before the palisades,For God had made him stop and rest awhile.The Sultan said: "What is thiscamponghere?I fain would enter, but I do not dare."The good Queen wept and said: "O my beloved,What shall I say? I am so tired and weakI cannot journey more." The King was quiteBeside himself and fainted where he sat.But on they journeyed to the riverside,Stopping at every step.
And when the KingHad gained the bank he saw a little boatWith roof of bent bamboos andkadjangscreen.Then to the Queen, "Rest here, my precious one."The silver moon was at the full, but veiledWith clouds, like to a maid who hides her faceAnd glances toward her lover timidly.Then there was born a daughter, like a flower,More beautiful than statue of pure gold,Just like the tulips that the princess plucked.The mother's heart was broken at the thoughtThat she must leave the babe, the child belovedThey both adored, such beauty it presaged.The King with tears exclaimed, "How can we takeThe infant with us o'er this stony roadBeset with thorns, and burned with dreadful heat?Pearl of my palace," said he to the Queen,"Weep not so bitterly about the child.An offering let us make of her to God.God grant she may be found by loving heartsWho'll care for her and raise her in their home."As soon as they had quite determined thereTo leave the infant princess, their great griefNo limit knew. But ere they went awayThe King took up the infant in his armsAnd rocked her on his knees until she slept."Sleep on, heart's love, my soul, my little one,Weep not for thy dear mother's lot. She fainWould take thee with her, but the way is hard.Sleep on, dear child, the apple of my eye,The image of thy sire. Stay here, fear not.For unto God we trust thee, Lord of all.Sleep on, my child, chief jewel of my crown,And let thy father go. To look at theeDoth pierce my heart as by a poniard's blow.Ah, sweet my child, dear, tender little one,Thy father loves yet leaves thee. Happy be,And may no harm come nigh thee. Fare thee well."The little princess slept, lulled by his voice.He put her from his knees and placed her onA finely woven cloth of Ind, and covered herWith satin webbed with gold. With flowing tearsThe mother wrapped her in a tissue fineAdorned with jewels like to sculptured flowers.She seized the child and weeping murmured low:"O dearest child, my pretty little girl!I leave thee to the Master of the world.Live happily, although thy mother goesAnd leaves thee here. Ah, sad thy mother's lot!Thy father forces her to quit thee now.She would prefer with thee to stay, but, no!Thy father bids her go. And that is whyThy mother's fond heart breaks, she loves thee so,And yet must leave thee. Oh, how can I live?"The mother fainted, and the grieving KingWas fain to kill himself, so was he moved.He took the Queen's head on his knees. And soonBy God's decree and ever-sheltering graceShe to her senses came and stood erect.Again she wept on looking at the child."If I should never see thee more, sweet soul,Oh, may thy mother share thy fate! Her lifeIs bound to thine. The light is gone from outThy mother's eyes. Hope dies within her heartBecause she fears to see thee nevermore.Oh, may some charitable heart, my child,Discover thee!" The prince essayed to dryHer tears. "Now come away, my dearest love.Soon day will dawn." The prince in grief set out,But ever turned and wanted to go back.They walked along together, man and wifeAll solitary, with no friends at hand,Care-worn and troubled, and the moon shone bright.
I sing in this song of a merchant greatAnd of his wealth. His goods and treasures wereBeyond all count, his happiness withoutAlloy. In Indrapura town there wasNo equal to his fortune. He possessedA thousand slaves, both old and young, who cameFrom Java and from other lands. His rankWas higher than Pangawa's. Wives he hadIn goodly numbers. But he lacked one thingThat weighed upon his heart—he had no child.Now, by the will of God, the merchant greatCame very early from the palace gates,And sought the river-bank, attended byHis favorite wife. Lila Djouhara wasThe merchant's name. He heard a feeble voiceAs of an infant crying, like the shrillTones of a flute, and from a boat it seemedTo come. Then toward the wondrous boat he wentAnd saw an infant with a pretty face.His heart was overjoyed as if he hadA mine of diamonds found. The spouses said:"Whose child is this? It surely must belongTo one of highest rank. Some cause he hadTo leave her here." The merchant's heart was gladTo see the bright eyes of the little one.He raised her in his arms and took her home.Four waiting-maids and nurses two he gaveThe pretty child. The palace rooms were allAdorned anew, with rugs and curtains soft,And tapestries of orange hue were hung.The princess rested on a couch inlaid with gold,A splendid couch, with lanterns softly brightAnd tapers burning with a gentle ray.The merchant and his wife with all their heartsAdored the child, as if it were their own.She looked like Mindoudari, and receivedThe name of Bidasari. Then they tookA little fish and changing vital spiritsThey put it in a golden box, then placedThe box within a casket rich and rare.The merchant made a garden, with all sortsOf vases filled with flowers, and bowers of greenAnd trellised vines. A little pond made gladThe eyes, with the precious stones and topaz setAlternately, in fashion of the landOf Pellanggam, a charm for all. The sandWas purest gold, with alabaster fineAll mixed with red pearls and with sapphires blue.And in the water deep and clear they keptThe casket. Since they had the infant found,Sweet Bidasari, all the house was filledWith joy. The merchant and his wife did naughtBut feast and clap their hands and dance. They watchedThe infant night and day. They gave to herGarments of gold, with necklaces and gems,With rings and girdles, and quaint boxes, too,Of perfume rare, and crescent pins and flowersOf gold to nestle in the hair, and shoesEmbroidered in the fashion of Sourat.By day and night the merchant guarded her.So while sweet Bidasari grew, her lovely faceIncreased in beauty. Her soft skin was whiteAnd yellow, and she was most beautiful.Her ear-rings and her bracelets made her lookLike some rare gem imprisoned in a glass.Her beauty had no equal, and her faceWas like a nymph's celestial. She had gownsAs many as she wished, as many asA princess fair of Java. There was notA second Bidasari in the land.
I'll tell about Djouhan Mengindra now,Sultan of Indrapura. Very wideHis kingdom was, with ministers of stateAnd officers, and regiments of pickedYoung warriors, the bulwark of the throne.This most illustrious prince had only beenTwo years the husband of fair Lila Sari,A princess lovable and kind. The KingWas deemed most handsome. And there was withinAll Indrapura none to equal him.His education was what it should be,His conversation very affable.He loved the princess Lila Sari well.He gave her everything, and she in turnWas good to him, but yet she was so vain."There is no one so beautiful as I,"She said. They were united like untoThe soul and body. And the good King thoughtThere could not be another like his wife.One day they were together, and the QueenBegan to sing: "Oh, come, my well-beloved,And listen to my words. Thou tellst me oftThou lovest me. But I know not thy heart.If some misfortune were to overwhelmWouldst thou be true to me?" He smiled and said:"No harm can touch thee, dear. But should it come,Whenever thou art 'whelmed I'll perish too."With joy the princess said: "My noble prince,If there were found a woman whose flower faceWere fairer than all others in the world,Say, wouldst thou wed her?" And the King replied:"My friend, my fairest, who is like to thee?My soul, my princess, of a noble race,Thou'rt sweet and wise and good and beautiful.Thou'rt welded to my heart. No thought of mineIs separate from thee."
The princess smiled;Her face was all transfigured with her joy.But suddenly the thought came to her mind,"Who knows there is none more fair than I?"And then she cried: "Now hear me, O my love!Were there a woman with an angel-face,Wouldst them make her thy wife? If she appearedUnto thine eyes more beautiful than I,Then would thy heart not burn for her?"
The princeBut smiled, and answered not. She also smiled,But said, "Since thou dost hesitate, I knowThat thou wouldst surely wed her." Then the princeMade answer: "O my heart, gold of my soul,If she in form and birth were like to theeI'd join her with thy destiny." Now whenThe princess heard these words she paled and shook.With eyes cast down, she left her royal spouse.But quick he seized her. With a smile he said:"Gold, ruby, dearest friend, I pray thee now,Oh, be not vexed with me. Light of my eyes,Keep not within thy heart a bitternessBecause I answered thus unto thy words."He took her in his arms and kissed her lipsAnd wooed her. And her face again grew sweetThe while she heard. And yet her woman's heartWas grieved and saddened. And she sat apart,And swift these thoughts came to her anxious mind:"I'll seek to-morrow through this kingdom wide,Lest there should be within the land a maidMore fair than I. To death I shall condemnHer straight, lest rival she may be to me.For if my lord should marry her, he'd loveHer more than me. He'd love the younger one,And constantly my tortured heart would bleed."They angered her, these thoughts, as if her heartWere filled with gall. "Now may I be accursedIf I go not unto the end in love."Her heart was not assuaged; she sighed alone.Upon the morrow morn the King went out,And with him many officers and men.Meanwhile the Princess Lila Sari sentA summons to a jeweller of skill,And at the same time called her fourdyangs,Who came and sat. Dang Wilapat bowed lowAnd said, "Our greetings to thee, princess great."The Queen replied: "Go forth,dyangs, at onceAnd find me gold and dust of gold, and takeIt all unto a goldsmith. Let him makeFor me a fan, all decked with beauteous gems,With rubies red and pearls; and after thatA girdle virginal. Count not the price.I want it all as quickly as may be."And so they hastened, took the gold, and wentOutside the city, through the wholecampongOf goldsmiths, seeking there the best to makeThe fan and girdle. And the hammered goldSoon shone with many amethysts and gems.It was a marvel to behold those rareAnd quaintly fashioned ornaments, to deckA sultaness. Of priceless worth they were.Four days, and all was ready for the Queen.But she had never eaten all this timeBecause of grief. She thought the fan more fineThan Java princess ever yet possessed.She called the fourdyangsand said to them:"A secret mission have I now for ye.Go up and down among the officersAnd show this fan for sale, but never nameThe price. Seek ever if there be a faceMore beautiful than mine; and should ye findA face more fair, come tell it straight to me.If ye obey my will I'll make ye allInspectresses within the royal home."Then forth the women went upon the quest.And first among their friends they went with wordsOf mystery and hints of wondrous thingsThey had for sale. And so these servants boreThe story to their masters, "ThedyangsHave something wonderful to sell." And soonThe daughters of the houses rich beganTo clamor for a sight of this great prize.Then thedyangs,went to the houses all.The young girls said, "Oh, tell us now the price."Dyang Wiravan quickly answered, thenDyang Podagah: "Tis a princely thing;I'll go and ask the price and tell it thee."And so they spoke, and so they looked aboutTo find a face more beautiful and rareThan their own Queen's, and wearied in the search."Where can we further look?" they said, and thenBethought them of the strangers and the priests.But in that quarter no one dared to touchThe precious things, but thought it passing strangeThe Queen should wish to sell. To thecampongOf merchants next they went. A double lineOf ramparts guarded it. "Here is more stirAnd gayety," they said, "with sport and song,Than elsewhere have we found." And so they soughtThe richest merchants. "We have something rare,"They said, "made by an artist Javanese."When Bidasari's servants saw these folkThey said: "Bring these things to our house and weWill show them to our master. He will buy."Then thedyangswith smiles replied: "They areNot ours, but our good Queen's. And only weMay show them, lest a stone be lost, perchance,And we be punished." Bidasari's maidsWere glad and said, "Wait but a moment hereUntil we find what Bidasari wills."They found her with her maids, and told the tale.Then Bidasari bade them bring to herThe stranger folk, and said, "If I be pleasedI'll buy." Dang Ratna Watie went and toldThe women that young Bidasari wishedTo see their wares. The fourdyangscame inTogether. Joy their faces all suffused,But they seemed timid, modest, full of fear.Then Bidasari's women said to them:"Come, O young women, all are loyal here.Enter, our sisters and our friends."
Now whenThe Queen'sdyangshad looked about them thereThey all were dazzled, Bidasari's faceSo beautiful appeared. How beat their hearts!As they upon her lovely features gazed,Each murmured to herself, "She is more fairThan our great Queen."
Then Bidasari wishedTo buy the fan, and sent a maid to askHer parents for the gold. The merchant said,"Go see what thing it is, and weigh the goldFor her." The mother feared a trap or trick."Oh, do not buy the fan, my child," she said;"I'll buy a finer one for thee. Send thisAway." But when her father saw her tearsOf disappointment, "It is thine," he said."What is the price? I'd buy it though it costThy weight in gold, my darling. Tell me now,Dyangs." Tjendra Melinee answered him,"Are two timbangs too much?" "I'm very poor,"He said; "but I will buy it for the child."The gold was weighed. The fourdyangsstraightwayDeparted, hurried to the Queen and said:"At last we have discovered, O our Queen,What thou hast sought. 'Tis in a nearcampongOf merchants very rich and great. Oh, thereWe found a princess fairer than the day;More like an angel than a mortal maid.No woman in this land compares with her.Her name is Bidasari. And the KingWould surely marry her if once they met,For soon she will be ready for a spouse;Her innocence is charming. Like a cloudThe merchant and his wife keep watchful guard.Her hair is curly, like a flower full blown.Her brow is like the moon but one day old.She's like a ring in Peylou made. She wouldOutshine thy beauty, shouldst thou bring her here."The princess heard and quickly said: "I feelMy hatred rise. Oh, may I never seeHer face! To hear ye speak of her inflamesMy heart with anger. Say, why do ye thinkThat she's more fair than I?" Then made replyThe women: "Bidasari's eyes are soft.Her smile is sweet, her skin is tinted likeThe greentjempakka, and her graceful formResembles some famed statue nobly made.Her cheeks are like the bill of flying bird.We loved to look upon her neck. Her noseIs like a jasmine bud. Her pretty faceIs like the yellow of an egg. Her thoughtsAre pure as crystal. And she wears her hairIn such a charming way. Her lips are likeA little polished box. The flowers she wearsBut make her look the prettier. Her teethAre like a bright pomegranate. Ah, the heartDoth open when one looketh on her face.She's like a princess of the Mount Lidang.Her features are like those of Nilagendi,Her heels are like the eggs of hens, and makeHer seem a princess of Siam. Her fingersMore tapering are than quills of porcupine.And solid is the nail of her left hand.No noble's girl is Bidasari's peer."Now when the princess heard them sing her praiseHer soul was wounded as if by a thorn.Her dark eyes flashed. "Ah, speak no more of her,"She said, "nor speak abroad what ye have seen.But bring me Bidasari. I would seeIf what ye say be true."
"Then we must takeHer presents first, and strive to gain by themHer friendship, and attain our end at last."They went to see her every day, and boreRich gifts.
The merchant and his wife remarkedThe visits of the Queen'sdyangs, and howThey loved their daughter. That is why they gaveThem all that they desired. But thedyangsAmong themselves kept saying: "How can weTake her away? We love her so, and deepWithin our hearts we pity her. And nowHer parents have such trust in us, and loadUs down with gifts. But when, alas, at homeThe princess questions us, what shall we say?For she's a powerful Queen. Yet if we makeUnhappy this dear girl of these good folk,Shall we not sin? And still the princess isSo violent and harsh! Her jealousyWould know no limit should the King but hearOf this affair."
Dang Djoudah answering spoke:"We all can go to her and quiet her.A word suffices oft. She is our Queen,But to the King belongeth power supreme.If Bidasari should disdain the throneWe shall renounce our functions at the court,For what the Queen desires is most unjust.And if we prove unfaithful we shall beO'erwhelmed with maledictions." Thus they spokeAnd went back to the busy-livedcampongOf merchants. Here they thought to go and findDjouhara, and obtain what they desired.A messenger went after them and said:"To Dang Bidouri: Come at once; my friendThe princess summons you." Then thedyangsWent to the Queen and found her with the KingAt dinner. With malicious wink of eyeShe made them understand they must not talkBefore the prince. When he had dined he tookSomesirifrom the betel-box, himselfAnointed with a perfume sweet, and wentTo teach the young folk how to ride and shootThe arrow straight, and played at many games.Meanwhile the princess Lila Sari calledBefore her thedyangsand questioned them:"Why have ye come so late?" Bidouri bowedAnd said: "'Twas very hard to bring her hereTo thee. The merchant and his wife do notA moment leave her, for they love her so.Her tiring-women ever are about.Thou shouldst demand her of her parents, ifThou dost desire to see her. Treat her likeThy child, for she is still so very young!From Bidasari's father thou wilt gainAll that thou canst desire, he is so rich,If thou wilt only love his daughter dear.And dost thou give command to bring her here?Let us go all alone and summon herFor Bidasari'll freely follow us."They tried to calm the anger of the Queen.She bowed her head in silence, but her soulWas very heavy, and hypocrisyWith hate and envy vied within her heart."They love the child, thesedyangs," to herselfShe said, "and I shall have no easy task.I shall attract her here by trickery,But she shall never my companion be.With Bidasari once within my powerMy heart will be no longer on the rack.Go now,dyangs," she said, "and seek for meThe merchant and his wife and hither bringYoung Bidasari, whom I'll elevateUnto the rank of princess, for I haveNo child. Mazendra take with ye. And whenYoung Bidasari shall arrive, concealHer for a day or two. And gently speakUnto the merchant and his wife, and sayConcessions will be granted to the priestsAnd strangers in their quarter, should she come.Console Lila Djouhara thus, and pledgeThat he may come to see his child whene'erHis heart impelleth him." An escort wentWith them, and thedyangsbowed low beforeThe merchant and his wife, and greeted, too,Fair Bidasari. But the merchant said:"Why come ye here in so great numbers?" ThenThey straight replied: "Our most beloved QueenHath sent us here with greetings unto thee,The master of the house. If thou'lt permit,We've come to seek fair Bidasari here."They beat their breasts, the merchant and his wife."Our darling, only child! It will be hardFor her to be the servant of a prince;For she hath had her way so long! Her traitsAre not yet formed. Go back,dyangs, and prayThe Queen to pardon us. Say how we grieve."But thedyangsrepeated all the words
Said by the Queen, and so their fears were calmed.They hoped Queen Lila Sari would love wellFair Bidasari. Then the merchant said:"I will obey, and let my darling go,So that she may become unto the QueenA servant, and perchance a daughter loved.Now shall she go with ye. Only I begThe Queen to let her come back home to usAt three days' end. She is not used to stayWith strangers. Never hath she left us forA single day." Then Dang Bidouri said:"We'll do our best before the Queen; and whyShould she not grant to Bidasari this?"They bathed fair Bidasari with sweet scents,And then arranged her in rich raiment new.A finesijrashshe wore with broidered flowersOf Pekan, and a satin robe all fringedWith gold. She bore a plaque of beaten goldBound to a necklace, chiselled, gem-bedecked;Her over-tunic was of yellow silkWith tiny serpents on the buttons 'graved.Three bracelets wore the maid, and rarest rings,And ear-rings like a wheel in motion wrought.Chaste links of gold set forth her beauty rare,A fair flow'r in a vase, whose perfume sweetWafts scented breaths as far as one may see.They kissed her then with tears and held her close
Upon their breasts. "Be humble to the Queen,"They said, "remember that thou art beforeThe King, and near the throne. Ask leave to comeTo see us when thou dost desire. Speak sweetlyWith low and gentle voice."
Thus they enjoined.And then the merchant said, "Dyangs, if yeLove Bidasari, see ye vex her not."They dried their tears and said: "Be without fear.Intrust thy daughter to our mistress dear.""My child," he said, "I'll come to see thee oft.Thou wilt be better there, my love, than here."But Bidasari wept and cried: "Oh, come,Dear mother, with me! Wilt thou not, alas?"But the fond parents were astounded thenTo learn the mother was not asked to come.She stayed with tears, the while the father went.As far as to the city's gates. With tearsHe said: "Farewell, O apple of my eyeI leave thee here. Fear not, my dearest child."Then Bidasari wept. Her heart was wrung.She went. The merchant followed with his eyes.She entered by a hidden door.DyangsAndmandarsflocked to see her, but she hungHer head and kept her eyes downcast.
The sunAnnounced the evening, and the King was stillSurrounded by his officers. 'Twas thenFair Bidasari to the palace came,And stood before the Queen. All thedyangsSat on the floor, with servants of the house.Like thepengawasBidasari bowed,'Mid thedyangs, in presence of the Queen.They gave her all the merchant's gifts, as signOf homage. All astonished was the QueenAt Bidasari's beauty. She appearedAlmost divine. Bidouri spoke and said,"Thou seest Bidasari, O our Queen,Lila Djouhari's daughter." At these wordsThe Queen was stupefied, and thought: "In truth'Tis as they said. She is more lovely thanThe fairest work of art." Bidouri toldAll that the merchant and his wife had said.The Queen inclined her head and silence kept,But wicked thoughts were surging in her brain.A combat raged within her heart. She fearedThe King might see the maiden. "Send away,"She said, "the nurses and the women all."Fair Bidasari wept when they retired.The princess called her to her side and said:
"Thou must not weep so, Bidasari. TheyWill all return. When thou dost wish to go,They will go with thee. Now depart,dyangs.Ye need not care for Bidasari more.I will procure her dames of companyAnd servants. You may come from time to time."So they arose, and, with prostrations, went.The Queen conducted Bidasari thenInto a room and left her all alone,And all afraid.
When evening shadows fell,The great King bade the Queen to sup with him.He sat beside her, smiled and gayly talked,As he had been young Bedouwandas, onHis horse, with sword at belt. "My royal spouse,How thou dost love me! for thou wouldst not supWithout me, though thou needest food and drink."Now when the King had eaten, he retiredUnto his sleeping-chamber.
Still aloneAnd weeping much, fair Bidasari stayed,In darkness with no one to speak to her.She thought on her dear parents. "O my God!Why dost Thou leave me here?" The solitudeFilled her with terror, and she wept untilThe middle of the night, and thought of home.Out spake the King: "Now what is that I hear?What voice is that so sorrowful and sweet?""It is an infant crying," said the Queen."In all the darkness it has lost its way."Her heart was burning, and she sent a wordTo Bidasari that she must not weep,And held her peace and waited till the dawn.But Bidasari wept the whole night longAnd cried for home. When thedyangsall ranTo comfort her, they found the door was locked,And none could enter. Bidasari thought,"What wrong have I committed, that the QueenShould be so vexed with me?" When day appeared,To the pavilion went the King. The QueenThrew wide the door of Bidasari's roomAnd entered all alone.
Then BidasariThe Queen's hand kissed, and begged that she would letHer homeward fare. "O gracious Queen," she said,"Take pity on me; let me go away.I'll come to thee again."
The wicked QueenStruck her, and said, "Thou ne'er shalt see againThy home." The gentle Bidasari droopedHer head and wept afresh, shaking with fear."Forgive the evil I have done, my Queen,For I am but a child, and do not knowHow I have sinned against thee," falling atHer feet she said. The Queen in anger struckHer once again. "I know full well," she said,"All thy designs and projects. What! Am ITo rest in peace and see thy beauty grow,And thee become my rival with the King?"Then Bidasari knew 'twas jealousyThat caused the fury of the Queen. Her fearIncreased, she trembled and bewailed her fate.The livelong day she was insulted, struck,And of her food deprived.
Before the KingReturned, the Queen departed from the roomOf Bidasari. The poor child had lostHer former color. Black her face had grownFrom blows, as if she had been burnt. Her eyesShe could not open. Such her sufferings wereShe could not walk. Then unto God she cried:"O Lord, creator of the land and sea,I do not know my fault, and yet the QueenTreats me as guilty of a heinous crime.I suffer hell on earth. Why must I live?Oh, let me die now, in the faith, dear Lord.My soul is troubled and my face is blackWith sorrow. Let me die before the dawn.My parents do not help me. They have leftMe here alone to suffer. In the falseDyangsI trusted, as to sisters dear.Their lips are smiling, but their hearts are base.Their mouths are sweet as honey, but their heartsAre full of evil. Oh, what can I say?It is the will of God."
Such was the griefOf Bidasari, and her tears fell fast.Now when the King went forth again, the QueenBegan anew her persecutions harsh.With many blows and angry words, she said:"Why dost thou groan so loudly? Dost thou seekBy crying to attract the King, to seeThy beauty? 'Tis thy hope, I know full well,His younger wife to be. And thou art proudOf all thy beauty." Bidasari wasAstounded, and replied with many tears:"May I accursed be if ever ISuch plottings knew. Thou art a mighty Queen.If I have sinned against thee, let me dieAt once. For life is useless to the heartsThat suffer. Hast thou brought me here to beat?How thou hast made me weep! O Queen, art thouWithout compassion?"
All possessed with rageThe Queen replied: "I do not pity thee.I hate thee, when I see thee. Open notThy mouth again." The wicked Queen then seizedThe lovely tresses of the beauteous maid,And took a piece of wood with which to strike;But Bidasari wept and swooned away.The King's voice sounded through the corridor,As he returned. The Queen then hastened forthAnd left amandarthere to close and guardFair Bidasari's room, that nothing shouldBe seen. Then asked the King of her, "Whom hastThou beaten now?" The hypocrite replied,"It was a child that disobeyed my will.""Are there not others for that discipline?Is it for thee to strike?" HissirithenHe took, and kissed the Queen with fondest love.All thedyangsfair Bidasari's plightObserved, and kindly pity filled their breasts."How cruel is the conduct of the Queen!"They said. "She made us bring her to her sideBut to maltreat the child the livelong day.It seems as if she wished to slay her quite."Then secretly they went, with some to watch,And sprinkled Bidasari's brow. To lifeShe came, and opened those dear wistful eyes."My friends," she said, "I pray ye, let me goBack home again unto my father's house.""Oh, trust in God, my child," said one in tears."My lot is written from eternity.Oh, pray the princess great to take my life,"The poor child cried; "I can no longer stand;My bones are feeble. Oh, she has no heart!"But thedyangs, for fear the Queen might see,All fled.
Meanwhile the merchant and his wifeWept all the day, and sighed for their dear child,Sweet Bidasari. Nor did gentle sleepCaress their eyes at night. Each day they sentRich presents of all kinds, and half of themWere for the child. But naught the wicked QueenTo Bidasari gave. So five days passedAnd then Dyang Menzara forth they sent.The merchant said: "Oh, tell the mighty QueenThat I must Bidasari see. I'll bringHer back in three days' time." The goodDyangwent to the queen and bowing low:"The merchant fain would see his child," she said.At this the features of the Queen grew hard."Did they not give their child to me? Now scarceA day has passed, and they must see her face.Is it thine own wish or the merchant's? IHave said the girl could go where'er she would.Can I not have her taken back myself?"Then thedyangbowed, beat her breast, and went,Sad that she could not Bidasari see,And quaking at the anger of the Queen.Of thedyang, fair Bidasari heardThe voice, and felt her heart break that she couldNot speak to her and send a message home.
Upon the morrow, when the King had goneAmong his ministers and men of state,The Queen again to Bidasari's roomRepaired, to beat her more. As soon as sheBeheld the Queen, poor Bidasari prayedTo her, "O sovereign lady great, permitThat I may go unto my father's house."The princess shook with rage, her face on fire."If thou but sayest a word, I'll slay thee here."To whom could Bidasari turn? She bentBefore the will of God, and in a sweetVoice said: "O Lord, my God, have pity nowUpon me, for the cruel world has none.Grant now the Queen's desire and let me die,For she reproacheth me, though naught I've done.My parents have forgotten me, nor sendA word." The angry princess struck againHer piteous face, and as she swooned awayA napkin took to twist into a cordAnd strangle her. She summoned to her aidDang Ratna Wali. "Help me pluck this weed;I wish to kill her." But the woman fled,As base as cruel. Bidasari's ghostArose before her. Yet the child came backTo consciousness, and thought amid her tears:"I'll tell the story of the golden fishUnto the Queen, that she may know it all;For I can but a little while endureThese pains." She spoke then to the Queen and said:"O Queen, thou dost desire that I shall die.Seek out a little casket that doth lieAll hidden in the fish-pond at our house.Within it is a fish. Have it brought hereAnd I will tell thee what it signifies."The princess called Dyang Sendari: "GoAnd bring here thedyangs, with no delayFrom out the merchant's house." When they arrived:"Go, now,dyangs, for Bidasari saithThere is a little casket in the pondWhere she is wont to bathe. Go bring it me,In silence, letting no one see ye come."Then thedyangsreplied: "Oh, hear our prayerFor Bidasari. How her parents grieve!Oh, pardon, princess, let her go with us."The Queen with smiles responded: "The young girlIs very happy here, and full of joy.Her parents must not grieve, for in two daysIf Bidasari doth desire to goI'll send her freely. She is vexed that yeCome here so often." Thedyangsbowed low,And smiled, and called enticingly: "Come forth,O charming child, pure soul; it is not rightTo treat us so, for we have come to seeThy lovely face, and in its beauty bask."Sweet Bidasari heard, and could not speak,But answered with her tears. The cruel QueenSaid to them: "Speak no more. But if ye bringThe little casket, ye will fill the heartOf Bidasari with great joy." Forth faredThen thedyangs, and found the casket small,And brought it to the palace of the Queen.Again to Bidasari called the goodDyangs: "Oh, come, dear heart, and take it fromOur hands yourself." "She sleeps," the princess said."Come back to-morrow." So they bowed and went.The princess hastened with the casket richTo Bidasari's room, and opened itBefore her eyes. Within it was a boxOf agate, beautiful to see, and filledWith water wherein swam a little fishOf form most ravishing. The princess stoodAmazed to see with eyes of fire a fishThat swam. Then was she glad, and spoke with joyTo Bidasari: "Say what signifiesThe fish to thee? What shall I do with it?"Then Bidasari bowed and said: "My soulIs in that fish. At dawn must thou removeIt from the water, and at night replace.
"Leave it not here and there, but hang it fromThy neck. If this thou dost, I soon shall die.My words are true. Neglect no single dayTo do as I have said, and in three daysThou'lt see me dead."
The Queen felt in her heartA joy unspeakable. She took the fishAnd wore it on a ribbon round her neck.Unto the Queen then Bidasari spoke,"Oh, give my body to my parents dearWhen I am dead." Again the young maid swooned.The Queen believed her dead, and ceased to beatHer more. But she yet lived, though seeming dead.The joyful Queen a white cloth over herThen spread, and called aloud to thedyangs,"Take Bidasari to her father's house."They groaned and trembled when they saw that sheWas dead, and said with many tears: "Alas!O dearest one, O gold all virginal!What shall we say when we thy parents see?They'll beat their breasts and die of grief. They gaveThee to the King because they trusted us."But the proud Queen, her face all red with hate:"Why stay ye? Take the wretched girl away."They saw the Queen's great rage, and bore the maidUpon their shoulders forth, and carried herUnto her father's house at dead of night.Fear seized the merchant. "Say what bring ye here?Tell me,dyangs." They placed her on the ground.The merchant and his wife, beside themselves,With tears embraced her form. "I trusted inThe Queen, and so I sent my child to her.O daughter dear, so young, so pure, so sweet,What hast thou done that could the Queen displease,That she should send thee home like this to me?How could the Queen treat Bidasari so?For seven days she imprisoned her and sentHer home in death. Ah, noble child! alas!Thy father's heart will break, no more to hearThy voice. Speak to thy father, O my child,My pearl, my gem of women, purest gold,Branch of my heart; canst thou not quiet me?O Bidasari, why art thou so still?Arise, my pretty child, arise and playWith all thy maids. Here is thy mother, comeTo greet thee. Bid her welcome. Why art thouSo motionless? Hast thou no pity, dear,To see thy father overwhelmed with woe?My heart is bursting with despair becauseThou'rt lost to me."
Long time the merchant thusLamented. "What have I to live for now?Since thou art dead, thy father too shall die.It is his lot both night and day to sighFor thee. My God, I cannot understandWhy this dear child should thus a victim be!'Tis thedyangswho have this evil wrought."Then, through the wholecampong, the merchants allMade lamentations, rolling on the ground,With noise of thunder, and their hearts on fire.They sought to speak and could not. Then beganAgain the merchant, and unto his friendsTold his misfortune, asking back his child.
The Queen'sdyangsshed tears, and gently said:"Speak not so loudly. Thou dost know that weAre but poor servants, and we tremble lestThe Queen should hear. If any one of usHad done this wrong, we'd tell it to the King.Fate only is at fault. Oh, be not wrothWith us. Our will was good. We had no endExcept to see thy lovely daughter greatAnd powerful. Naught the King hath known of this.It was the Queen's mad jealousy and hate."
The merchant and his wife accepted these,Thedyangs'words. "It is as they declare.The Queen was jealous and embittered thusAgainst our Bidasari. To your homeReturn,dyangs. I fear me that the QueenMay learn of your delay and punish ye."They bowed and went, with hearts of burning grief.
The merchant and his wife then lifted upPoor Bidasari. They were all but deadWith sorrow. On his knees the father tookThe body wrapped in crimson silk. He feltA warmth. Then he remembered that withinThe water was her vital spirit still,And, placing her upon a mat, sent DangPoulam, the casket from the pond to bring.But 'twas not there. Then all the household searched,But found it not. The merchant beat his breast."Branch of my heart," he said, "we all had thoughtThou wouldst become a princess. I have lostMy reason. I hoped now to summon backThy spirit vital, but the casket's lost.My hope is gone. It may be thedyangsHave stolen it. They're faithful to the Queen.We may not trust in them. They're filled with hateAnd trickery." Unconscious all the timeLay Bidasari; but at midnight's hourShe for the first time moved. They torches broughtAnd there behind Egyptian curtains, rightAnd left, ignited them, with many lamps'Soft flames. The servants watched and waited there.The father, always at his daughter's side,With fixed glance looked for life to come once moreBack to his darling one. She moved again.With opening eyes she saw and recognizedHer own soft couch, her parents, and her maids.She tried but could not speak. Her hot tears fell,She slowly turned and looked with fondest loveUpon her parents.
When the merchant sawThat Bidasari's spirit had returned,He took her on his knees and gave her rice.She could not walk because such pain she felt.She thought upon the Queen and wept afresh.They dried her tears, and placed within her mouthWhat food she liked. The merchant tenderlySaid, "Bidasari, dear, what has thou wroughtTo cause the Queen against thee thus to act?"Young Bidasari, with a flood of tears, replied:"No wrong at all I wrought the cruel Queen.All suddenly her insults she began,And beatings." They were stupefied to hearSuch tales. "Light of my eyes," the father said,"We do not doubt thine innocence. Her deedsWere those of madness. For her haughty birthI care no whit. Wisdom and virtue bindTrue hearts alone. As friends we ne'er must nameThose falsedyangs. Not plants medicinal,But poison foul, are they. These days are bad.Injustice reigns. Believe me, friends, it isA sign the last great day shall soon appear.Those falsedyangsare but a race of slaves,Insensible to all that's good. The hourThe princess knoweth Bidasari lives,We all shall die, the princess is so wroth.Illustrious Queen they call her—but her wordsAre hard and cruel. May the curse of GodO'erwhelm her and annihilate! From thee,O God, she shall receive the punishmentDeserved. She who pursueth thus a soulShall know remorse and pain. So God hath willed.So God hath willed. Who doth another harmShall suffer in his turn. It shall be doneTo him as he hath done to others. So,My child, my crown, have no more fear at all.Intrust thyself to God. The cruel QueenShall yet be treated as she treated thee."The merchant thus lamented till the nightWas half departed, shedding sapphire tears.The innocent young girl, like marble there,Slept till the evening twilight came. Toward dawnShe swooned anew.
The merchant and his wifeWere much disturbed to see at night she cameTo life, but when the daylight shone againThey lost her, and her spirit fled away.This so distressed the merchant's heart, a loneRetreat he sought to find. The parents cried:"O dearest child, there's treason in the air.Hatred and anger the companions areOf lamentations and of curses dire.Foul lies for gold are uttered. Men disdainThe promises of God, the faith they owe.Oh, pardon, God! I ne'er thought thedyangsWould thus conspire. But since they are so badAnd treated Bidasari thus, we'll goAnd in the desert find a resting-place.And may it be a refuge for us all,Hidden and unapproachable."
His goodsHe gathered then, and all his servants paid,And built a home far in the desert land,A spot agreeable. A cabin thereHe raised, with ramparts hemmed about, and strongSasaks, and seven rows of palisades.They placed there many vases full of flowers,And every sort of tree for fruit and shade,And cool pavilions. This plaisance so fairThey called Pengtipourlara. It was likeThe garden of Batara Indra. AllAbout, the merchant set pomegranate-treesAnd vines of grape. No other garden wasSo beautiful. 'Twas like the garden fairOf great Batara Brahma, filled with fruits.When all was ready, forth they went, toward night,And took young Bidasari, and much food.They fared two days and came unto the spot,A garden in the desert. Softest rugsFrom China there were spread and of bright hueThe decorations were, in every tint.The house was hung with tapestries, and ceiledTo represent the heavens flecked with clouds.And all about were lanterns hung and lamps.Soft curtains and a couch completed thisEnchanted resting-place. Always the lightWas uniform, and brilliant as the day.'Twas like a palace of a mighty king,Magnificent and grand beyond compare.There was a table on a damp rug set,With drinks for Bidasari, and with bowlsOf gold, and vases ofsouasa, filledWith water. All of this beside the couchWas placed, with yellowsiri, and with purePinang, all odorous, to please the child.And all was covered with a silken web.Young Bidasari bracelets wore, and rings,And ear-rings diamond studded. Garments fourAll gem-bedecked upon a cushion lay,For Bidasari's wear. When night had comeYoung Bidasari waked. Her parents dearThen bathed her, and her tender body rubbedWith musk and aloes. Then she straight was cladIn garments of her choosing. Her dear faceWas beautiful, almost divine. She hadRegained the loveliness she erst possessed.The merchant was astonished, seeing her.He told her then that they would leave her there,"Branch of my heart and apple of my eye,My dearest child, be not disturbed at this.I do not mean to work thee any harm,Nor to disown thee, but to rescue theeFrom death." But as she listened to these wordsYoung Bidasari wept. She thought uponHer fate. Into her father's arms she threwHerself, and cried: "Why wilt thou leave me here,O father dearest, in this desert lone?I'll have no one to call in case of need.I fear to stay alone. No one there'll beTo talk to me. I only count those hoursAs happy when I have my parents near."The merchant heard fair Bidasari's wordsAnd wept with his dear wife. With bitter griefTheir hearts were shattered. Counsels wise they gaveTo Bidasari. "Dearest daughter mine,"The father said, "gem of my head, my crown,Branch of my heart, light of my eyes, oh, hearThy father's words, and be thou not afraid.We brought thee hither, to this fair retreat,Far from the town, for, if the Queen should knowThou liv'st at night, the falsedyangswould come,And who against the princess can contend?They'd take thee back, and thus exonerateThemselves. I'd let myself be chopped in bitsBefore thou shouldst unto the Queen return.Thy father cannot leave companions here,But after three days he will come to thee.Thy parents both will soon come back again."Then Bidasari thought: "My parent's wordsAre truth, and if the Queen should find I liveShe would abuse me as before. Give meOne maid-companion here to be with me,"She asked. "My child, trust not," he said, "in slaves,Nor servants, for they only follow pay."Then Bidasari silence kept, and they,The father all distraught and mother fond,Wept bitterly at thought of leaving her.Fair Bidasari bade them eat, beforeThey started. But because of heavy heartsThey but a morsel tasted. At the dawnYoung Bidasari swooned again. They madeAll ready to return to town. With tearsThe father said: "O apple of my eye,Pearl of all women, branch of my own heart,Pure gold, thy parents leave thee with distress.No more they'll have a daughter in the house.But, dear, take courage, we shall soon come back."They left here with a talking bird to cheerHer loneliness, close shutting all the gatesOf all the seven ramparts. Through a woodBushy and thick they took a narrow path,In sorrow, but with confidence in God."O sovereign God, protect our child," they said.When they had fared unto their house, they prayedAnd gave much alms.
When evening shadows cameYoung Bidasari waked, and found herselfAlone, and was afraid. With bitter tearsHer eyes were filled. What could she say? She gaveHerself to God. Alas, our destinyIs like a rock. Twas hers to be alone.It is in no man's power to turn asideOr change whatever is by fate decreed.All desolate sat Bidasari. SleepWooed not her eyes. Now when he heard the cryOf "Peladou," the owl lamented loud.Upon her parents coming, loaded downWith dainties for the child, she for a whileHer woe forgot, and ate and drank with joy.The little bird with which she talked upheldHer courage with its soothing voice. So ranThe days away. Upon pretext he gaveOf hunting deer, the merchant daily came.
Hear now a song about the King Djouhan.The wise and powerful prince e'er followed freeHis fancy, and the Princess Lila SariWas very happy in her vanity.Since she had killed (for so she thought) the maid,Young Bidasari, tainted was her joy."The King will never take a second wife,"She mused, "since Bidasari is now dead."The King loved Princess Lila Sari well.He gratified her every wish, and gaveHer all she asked, so fond was he of her.Whene'er the princess was annoyed, the King,With kisses and soft words would quiet her,And sing to her sweet songs till she becameHerself again. "Poor, little, pretty wife,"He'd say, and laugh her fretful mood away.One night as he lay sleeping on his bed,A dream tormented him. "What may it mean?"He thought. "Ah, well, to-morrow morn I'll seekAn explanation." At the dawn he satUpon a rug Egyptian, breaking fast,And with him was the princess. When she hadThe dainties tasted, thedyangsarrivedWith leaves of perfume. Then the King went forthInto the garden. All the officersWere there assembled. When they saw the KingThey all were silent. To amantrispokeThe King: "My uncle, come and sit thee here.I fain would question thee." The King had scarceThese words pronounced, when, bowing very low,Themantriin respectful tones replied,"My greetings to thee, O most mercifulOf kings." He sat him near the throne. "I dreamedLast night," the King continued, "that the moonIn her full glory fell to earth. What meansThis vision?" Then themantriwith a smileReplied: "It means that thou shalt find a mate,A dear companion, like in birth to thee,Wise and accomplished, well brought up and good,The one most lovable in all the land."The King's eyes took new fire at this. He saidWith smiles: "I gave the Queen my promise trueThat never I would take a second wifeUntil a fairer I could find than she.And still she is so lovely in my eyes,Her equal cannot anywhere be found.You'd take her for a flow'r. Yet when ariseHer storms of anger, long it takes to calmHer mind, so waspish is her character.The thought of this doth sadden me. Should oneNot satisfy her heart's desire, she fliesInto a passion and attempts to killHerself. But 'tis my destiny—'tis writ.The Queen is like a gem with glint as brightAs lightning's flash. No one can ever be,I tell thee now, so beautiful to me."Themantrismiled. "What thou dost say is just,O King, but still if thou shouldst someone findMore beautiful, thou yet couldst keep thy word.The beauty of the Queen may fade away.The princess thou shalt wed, O King, hath fourHigh qualities. She must, to be thy queen,Be nobly born, and rich, and fair, and good."The prince replied: "O uncle mine, thy wordsAre true. Full many princesses there live,But hard it is to find these qualities.The Queen is good and wise and lovable.I do not wish another wife to wed,And wound the Queen with whom three years I've livedIn love and harmony. Yet if I sawA quite celestial maid, perhaps I mightForget, and marry her, and give the QueenA gay companion." "O accomplished prince,Thou sayest truly. Stay long years with herThy Queen, thy first beloved, for she hath all—Great beauty and intelligence." They bowedAs forth from them the King went palaceward.He sat beside the Queen, and kissed her cheeks,And said: "Thy features shine with loveliness,Like to a jewel in a glass. When IMust leave thy side, I have no other wishBut to return. Like Mount Maha MirouThou art." The princess said: "Wherefore art thouSo spirited to-day? Thou'rt like a boy.""Branch of my heart, my dearest love," he said,"Vex not thyself. Thou know'st the adage old:First one is taken with a pretty face,Then wisdom comes and prudence, and, with these,One loves his wife until the day of death.If thus thou dost deport thyself, my dear,My heart between two wives shall never beDivided; thou alone shalt own it all."The Queen was charmed to hear his loving words.At night the Queen slept, but King remainedAwake, and watched the moon, and called to mindHis dream. As dawn approached he slept, and seemedTo hear an owl's shrill voice, like Pedalou's.When it was fully day, the royal pairTogether broke their fast. The King went forthAnd orders gave, in two days to prepareA mighty hunt, to chase the dappled deer,With men and dogs and all apparel fit.Then back into the palace went the King,And told the Queen, who straightway gave commandsFor food to be made ready. At midnightBehind Egyptian curtains went to restThe King and Queen, but slept not. Still the dreamWas ever in his thoughts and worried him.At dawn he said farewell unto the Queen.She was all radiant, and smiling, said:"Bring me a fawn. I'll tell the servants allTo take good care of it, so it may growQuite tame." "What we can do, my dear, we shall,So all of thy desires may come to pass."And so the King took leave, with kisses fond,And, mounted on a hunter brown, set forth,With velvet saddle decked with fringe of pearls.Lances and shields and arrows and blow-gunsThey bore. The wood they entered, and the beastsAll fled before their steps at dawn's first ray.And when the sun was up, they loosed the houndsWith savage cries. Toward noon an animalIn flight they saw, and would have followed it,But then up spake the King and said, "We areSo hot and weary, let us linger hereFor rest." One-half the company astrayHad gone, each striving to be first of all.The King, attended by a faithful three,Reclined upon the ground, and sent them forthFor water. So themantriswent to findA river or a pond, and faring farTo Bidasari's plaisance came at last.They stopped astounded, then approached the place.When they were near the lovely garden close,They said: "There was no garden here before.To whom does this belong? Perchance it isA spirit's bower. No human voice is heardBut just the cry of 'minahs' and 'bajans.'Whom shall we call, lest spectres should appear?"They wandered round the ramparts, and a gateDiscovered, shut with heavy iron bar,And vainly tried to open it. Then oneOf them went back, and found the King, and said:"Hail, sovereign lord, we have no water found,But acamponghere in the desert lone,As splendid as a sultan's, with all sortsOf trees and flow'rs, and not a mortal there.'Tis girt about with double ramparts strong.No name is seen, and all the gates are shut,So that we could not enter."