What of that?
Where is the wonder if his nervous arm,Puissant and massive as the iron barThat binds a castle-gateway, singly swaysThe sceptre of the universal earth,E'en to its dark-green boundary of waters?Or if the gods, beholden to his aidIn their fierce warfare with the powers of hell [41],Should blend his name with Indra's in their songsOf victory, and gratefully accordNo lower meed of praise to his braced bow,Than to the thunders of the god of heaven?
BOTH THE HERMITS. [Approaching.
Victory to the King!
KING. [Rising from his seat.
Hail to you both!
Heaven bless your Majesty!
[They offer fruits.
KING. [Respectfully receiving the offering.
Tell me, I pray you, the object of your visit.
The inhabitants of the hermitage, having heard of your Majesty's sojourn in our neighbourhood, make this humble petition:—
What are their commands?
In the absence of our Superior, the great sage Kanwa, evil demons are disturbing our sacrificial rites [42]. Deign, therefore, accompanied by your charioteer, to take up your abode in our hermitage for a few days.
I am honoured by your invitation.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA. [Aside.
Most opportune and convenient, certainly!
KING. [Smiling.
Ho, there, Raivatika! Tell the charioteer from me to bring round the chariot with my bow.
I will, Sire.
[Exit.
BOTH THE HERMITS. [Joyfully.
Well it becomes the King by acts of graceTo emulate the virtues of his race.Such acts thy lofty destiny attest;Thy mission is to succour the distressed.
KING. [Bowing to theHERMITS.
Go first, reverend Sirs, I will follow you immediately.
May victory attend you!
[Exeunt.
My dear Má[T.]Havya, are not you full of longing to see[S']akoontalá?
To tell you the truth, though I was just now brimful of desire to see her, I have not a drop left since this piece of news about the demons.
Never fear; you shall keep close to me for protection.
Well, you must be my guardian-angel, and act the part of a veryVishnu [43] to me.
WARDER. [Entering.
Sire, the chariot is ready, and only waits to conduct you to victory. But here is a messenger named Karabhaka, just arrived from your capital, with a message from the Queen, your mother.
KING. [Respectfully.
How say you? a messenger from the venerable Queen?
Even so.
Introduce him at once.
I will, Sire.
[Goes out and re-enters withKARABHAKA.]
Behold the King. Approach.
Victory to the King! The Queen-mother bids me say that in four days from the present time she intends celebrating a solemn ceremony for the advancement and preservation of her son. She expects that your Majesty will honour her with your presence on that occasion.
This places me in a dilemma. Here, on the one hand, is the commission of these holy men to be executed; and, on the other, the command of my revered parent to be obeyed. Both duties are too sacred to be neglected. What is to be done?
You will have to take up an intermediate position between the two, like King Tri[s']anku [44], who was suspended between heaven and earth, because the sage Vi[s']wámitra commanded him to mount up to heaven, and the gods ordered him down again.
I am certainly very much perplexed. For here,
Two different duties are required of meIn widely distant places; how can IIn my own person satisfy them both?Thus is my mind distracted, and impelledIn opposite directions like a streamThat, driven back by rocks, still rushes on,Forming two currents in its eddying course.
[Reflecting.]
Friend Má[T.]Havya, as you were my playfellow in childhood, the Queen has already received you like a second son; go you, then, back to her, and tell her of my solemn engagement to assist these holy men. You can supply my place in the ceremony, and act the part of a son to the Queen.
With the greatest pleasure in the world; but don't suppose that I am really coward enough to have the slightest fear of those trumpery demons.
Oh! of course not; a great Bráhman like you could not possibly give way to such weakness.
You must let me travel in a manner suitable to the King's younger brother.
Yes, I shall send my retinue with you, that there may be no farther disturbance in this sacred forest.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA, [With a strut.
Already I feel quite like a young prince.
KING. [Aside.
This is a giddy fellow, and in all probability he will let out the truth about my present pursuit to the women of the palace. What is to be done? I must say something to deceive him.
[Aloud toMÁ[T.]HAVYA,taking him by the hand.]
Dear friend, I am going to the hermitage wholly and solely out of respect for its pious inhabitants, and not because I have really any liking for [S']akoontalá, the hermit's daughter. Observe:—
What suitable communion could there beBetween a monarch and a rustic girl?I did but feign an idle passion, friend,Take not in earnest what was said in jest.
Don't distress yourself; I quite understand.
[Exeunt.
* * * * *
Enter aYOUNG BRÁHMANcarrying bundles of ku[S']a-grass for the use of the sacrificing priest.
How wonderful is the power of King Dushyanta! No sooner did he enter our hermitage, than we were able to proceed with our sacrificial rites, unmolested by the evil demons.
No need to fix the arrow to the bow;The mighty monarch sounds the quivering string,And, by the thunder of his arms dismayed,Our demon foes are scattered to the wind.
I must now, therefore, make haste and deliver to the sacrificing priests these bundles of Ku[s']a-grass, to be strewn round the altar.
[Walking and looking about; then addressing some one off the stage.]
Why, Priyamvadá, for whose use are you carrying that ointment ofUsíra-root and those lotus-leaves with fibres attached to them?
[Listening for her answer.]
What Say you?—that [S']akoontalá is suffering from fever produced by exposure to the sun, and that this ointment is to cool her burning frame? Nurse her with care, then, Priyamvadá, for she is cherished by our reverend Superior as the very breath of his nostrils[46]. I, for my part, will contrive that soothing waters, hallowed in the sacrifice, he administered to her by the hands of Gautamí.
[Exit.
EnterKING DUSHYANTA,with the air of one in love.
KING. [Sighing thoughtfully.
The holy sage possesses magic powerIn virtue of his penance; she, his ward,Under the shadow of his tutelage,Rests in security, I know it well;Yet sooner shall the rushing cataractIn foaming eddies re-ascend the steep,Than my fond heart turn back from its pursuit.
God of love! God of the flowery shafts [47]! we lovers are cruelly deceived by thee, and by the Moon, however deserving of confidence you may both appear.
For not to us do these thine arrows seemPointed with tender flowerets; not to usDoth the pale Moon irradiate the earthWith beams of silver fraught with cooling dews;But on our fevered frames the moon-beams fallLike darts of fire, and every flower-tipt shaftOf Káma[47], as it probes our throbbing hearts,Seems to be barbed with hardest adamant.
Adorable god of love! hast thou no pity for me?
[In a tone of anguish.]
How can thy arrows be so sharp when they are pointed with flowers? Ah! I know the reason:
E'en now in thine unbodied essence lurksThe fire of [S']iva's anger[48], like the flameThat ever hidden in the secret depthsOf ocean, smoulders there unseen[49]. How elseCould'st thou, all immaterial as thou art,Inflame our hearts thus fiercely?—thou, whose formWas scorched to ashes by a sudden flashFrom the offended god's terrific eye.
Yet, methinks,
Welcome this anguish, welcome to my heartThese rankling wounds inflicted by the god,Who on his scutcheon bears the monster-fish[50]Slain by his prowess; welcome death itself,So that, commissioned by the lord of love,This fair one be my executioner.Adorable divinity! Can I by no reproaches excite your commiseration?Have I not daily offered at thy shrineInnumerable vows, the only foodOf thine ethereal essence? Are my prayersThus to be slighted? Is it meet that thouShould'st aim thy shafts at thy true votary's heart,Drawing thy bow-string even to thy ear?
[Pacing up and down in a melancholy manner.]
Now that the holy men have completed their rites, and have no more need of my services, how shall I dispel my melancholy?
[Sighing.]
I have but one resource. Oh for another sight of the Idol of my soul! I will seek her.
[Glancing at the sun.]
In all probability, as the sun's heat is now at its height, [S']akoontalá is passing her time under the shade of the bowers on the banks of the Máliní, attended by her maidens. I will go and look for her there.
[Walking and looking about.]
I suspect the fair one has but just passed by this avenue of young trees.
Here, as she tripped along, her fingers pluckedThe opening buds; these lacerated plants,Shorn of their fairest blossoms by her hand,Seem like dismembered trunks, whose recent woundsAre still unclosed; while from the bleeding socketOf many a severed stalk, the milky juiceStill slowly trickles, and betrays her path.
[Feeling a breeze.]
What a delicious breeze meets me in this spot!
Here may the zephyr, fragrant with the scentOf lotuses, and laden with the sprayCaught from the waters of the rippling stream,Fold in its close embrace my fevered limbs.
[Walking and looking about.]
She must be somewhere in the neighbourhood of this arbour of overhanging creepers enclosed by plantations of cane;
[Looking down.]
For at the entrance here I plainly seeA line of footsteps printed in the sand.Here are the fresh impressions of her feet;Their well-known outline faintly marked in front,More deeply towards the heel; betokeningThe graceful undulation of her gait[51].
I will peep through those branches.
[Walking and looking. With transport.]
Ah! now my eyes are gratified by an entrancing sight. Yonder is the beloved of my heart reclining on a rock strewn with flowers, and attended by her two friends. How fortunate! Concealed behind the leaves, I will listen to their conversation, without raising their suspicions.
[Stands concealed, and gazes at them.
[S']AKOONTALÁand her two attendants, holding fans in their hands, are discovered as described.
[Fanning her. In a tone of affection.
Dearest [S']akoontalá, is the breeze raised by these broad lotus-leaves refreshing to you?
Dear friends, why should you trouble yourselves to fan me?
[PRIYAMVADÁandANASÚYÁlook sorrowfully at one another.
[S']akoontalá seems indeed to be seriously ill.
[Thoughtfully.]
Can it be the intensity of the heat that has affected her? or does my heart suggest the true cause of her malady?
[Gazing at her passionately.]
Why should I doubt it?
The maiden's spotless bosom is o'erspreadWith cooling balsam; on her slender armHer only bracelet, twined with lotus-stalks,Hangs loose and withered; her recumbent formBetokens languor. Ne'er could noon-day sunInflict such fair disorder on a maid—No, love, and love alone, is here to blame.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Aside toANASÚYÁ.
I have observed, Anasúyá, that [S']akoontalá has been indisposed ever since her first interview with King Dushyanta. Depend upon it, her ailment is to be traced to that source.
The same suspicion, dear, has crossed my mind. But I will at once ask her and ascertain the truth.
[Aloud.]
Dear [S']akoontalá, I am about to put a question to you. Your indisposition is really very serious.
[S']AKOONTALÁ. [Half rising from her couch.
What were you going to ask?
We know very little about love-matters, dear [S']akoontalá; but for all that, I cannot help suspecting your present state to be something similar to that of the lovers we have heard about in romances. Tell us frankly what is the cause of your disorder. It is useless to apply a remedy, until the disease be understood.
Anasúyá bears me out in my suspicion.
[S']AKOONTALÁ. [Aside.
I am, indeed, deeply in love; but cannot rashly disclose my passion to these young girls.
What Anasúyá says, dear [S']akoontalá, is very just. Why give so little heed to your ailment? Every day you are becoming thinner; though I must confess your complexion is still as beautiful as ever.
Priyamvadá speaks most truly.
Sunk is her velvet cheek; her wasted bosomLoses its fulness; e'en her slender waistGrows more attenuate; her face is wan,Her shoulders droop;—as when the vernal blastsSear the young blossoms of the Mádhaví[52],Blighting their bloom; so mournful is the change.Yet in its sadness, fascinating still,Inflicted by the mighty lord of loveOn the fair figure of the hermit's daughter.
Dear friends, to no one would I rather reveal the nature of my malady than to you; but I should only be troubling you.
Nay, this is the very point about which we are so solicitous. Sorrow shared with affectionate friends is relieved of half its poignancy.
Pressed by the partners of her joys and griefs,Her much beloved companions, to revealThe cherished secret locked within her breast,She needs must utter it; although her looksEncourage me to hope, my bosom throbsAs anxiously I listen for her answer.
Know then, dear friends, that from the first moment the illustrious Prince who is the guardian of our sacred grove presented himself to my sight—
[Stops short, and appears confused.
Say on, dear [S']akoontalá, say on.
Ever since that happy moment, my heart's affections have been fixed upon him, and my energies of mind and body have all deserted me, as you see.
KING. [With rapture.
Her own lips have uttered the words I most longed to hear.
Love lit the flame, and Love himself allaysMy burning fever, as when gathering cloudsRise o'er the earth in summer's dazzling noon,And grateful showers dispel the morning heat.
You must consent, then, dear friends, to contrive some means by which I may find favour with the King, or you will have ere long to assist at my funeral.
Enough! These words remove all my doubts.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Aside toANASÚYÁ.
She is far gone in love, dear Anasúyá, and no time ought to be lost. Since she has fixed her affections on a monarch who is the ornament of Puru's line, we need not hesitate for a moment to express our approval.
I quite agree with you.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Aloud.
We wish you joy, dear [S']akoontalá. Your affections are fixed on an object in every respect worthy of you,. The noblest river will unite itself to the ocean, and the lovely Mádhaví-creeper clings naturally to the Mango, the only tree capable of supporting it.
Why need we wonder if the beautiful constellation Vi[s']ákhá pines to be united with the Moon[53]?
By what stratagem can we best secure to our friend the accomplishment of her heart's desire both speedily and secretly?
The latter point is all we have to think about. As to 'speedily,'I look upon the whole affair as already settled.
How so?
Did you not observe how the King betrayed his liking by the tender manner in which he gazed upon her, and how thin he has become the last few days, as if he had been lying awake thinking of her?
KING. [Looking at himself.
Quite true! I certainly am becoming thin from want of sleep:
As night by night in anxious thought I raiseThis wasted arm to rest my sleepless head,My jewelled bracelet, sullied by the tearsThat trickle from my eyes in scalding streams,Slips towards my elbow from my shrivelled wrist.Oft I replace the bauble, but in vain;So easily it spans the fleshless limbThat e'en the rough and corrugated skin,Scarred by the bow-string, will not check its fall[54].
An idea strikes me, Anasúyá. Let [S']akoontalá write a love-letter;I will conceal it in a flower, and contrive to drop it in theKing's path. He will surely mistake it for the remains of somesacred offering, and will, in all probability, pick it up.
A very ingenious device! It my entire approval; but what says[S']akoontalá?
I must consider before I can consent to it.
Could, you not, dear [S']akoontalá, think of some pretty composition in verse, containing a delicate declaration of your love?
Well, I will do my best; but my heart trembles when I think of the chances of a refusal.
KING. [With rapture.
Too timid maid, here stands the man from whomThou fearest a repulse; supremely blessedTo call thee all his own. Well might he doubtHis title to thy love; but how could'st thouBelieve thy beauty powerless to subdue him?
You undervalue your own merits, dear [S']akoontalá. What man in his senses would intercept with the skirt of his robe the bright rays of the autumnal moon, which alone can allay the fever of his body?
[S']AKOONTALÁ. [Smiling.
Then it seems I must do as I am bid.
[Sits down and appears to be thinking.
How charming she looks! My very eyes forget to wink, jealous of losing even for an instant a sight so enchanting.
How beautiful the movement of her brow,As through her mind love's tender fancies flow!And, as she weighs her thoughts, how sweet to traceThe ardent passion mantling in her face!
Dear girls, I have thought of a verse, but I have no writing-materials at hand.
Write the letters with your nail on this lotus-leaf, which is smooth as a parrot's breast.
[S']AKOONTALÁ. [After writing the verse.
Listen, dear friends, and tell me whether the ideas are appropriately expressed.
We are all attention.
[S']AKOONTALÁ. [Reads.
I know not the secret thy bosom conceals,Thy form is not near me to gladden my sight;But sad is the tale that my fever reveals,Of the love that consumes me by day and by night.
KING. [Advancing hastily towards her.
Nay, Love does but warm thee, fair maiden,—thy frameOnly droops like the bud in the glare of the noon;But me he consumes with a pitiless flame,As the beams of the day-star destroy the pale moon.
[Looking at him joyfully and rising to salute him.
Welcome, the desire of our hearts, that so speedily presents itself!
[[S']AKOONTALÁmakes an effort to rise.
Nay, trouble not thyself, dear maiden.
Move not to do me homage; let thy limbsStill softly rest upon their flowery couch;And gather fragrance from the lotus-stalks,Bruised by the fevered contact of thy frame.
Deign, gentle Sir, to seat yourself on the rock on which our friend is reposing.
[TheKINGsits down. [S']AKOONTALÁis confused.
Any one may see at a glance that you are deeply attached to each other. But the affection I have for my friend prompts me to say something of which you hardly require to be informed.
Do not hesitate to speak out, my good girl. If you omit to say what is in your mind, you may be sorry for it afterwards.
Is it not your special office as a King to remove the suffering of your subjects who are in trouble?
Such is my duty, most assuredly.
Know, then, that our dear friend has been brought to her present state of suffering entirely through love for you. Her life is in your hands; take pity on her and restore her to health.
Excellent maiden, our attachment is mutual. It is I who am the most honoured by it.
[S']AKOONTALÁ. [Looking at PRIYAMVADÁ.
What do you mean by detaining the King, who must be anxious to return to his royal consorts after so long a separation?
Sweet maiden, banish from thy mind the thoughtThat I could love another. Thou dost reignSupreme, without a rival, in my heart,And I am thine alone; disown me not,Else must I die a second deadlier death,Killed by thy words, as erst by Káma's[47] shafts.
Kind Sir, we have heard it said that kings have many favourite consorts. You must not, then, by your behaviour towards our dear friend, give her relations cause to sorrow for her.
Listen, gentle maiden, while in a few words I quiet your anxiety.
Though many beauteous forms my palace grace,Henceforth two things alone will I esteemThe glory of my royal dynasty—My sea-girt realm, and this most lovely maid.
We are satisfied by your assurances.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Glancing on one side.
See, Anasúyá, there is our favourite little fawn running about in great distress, and turning its eyes in every direction as if looking for its mother; come, let us help the little thing to find her. [Both move away.
Dear friends, dear friends, leave me not alone and unprotected.Why need you both go?
Unprotected! when the Protector of the world is at your side.
[Exeunt.
What! have they both really left me?
Distress not thyself, sweet maiden. Thy adorer is at hand to wait upon thee.
Oh let me tend thee, fair one, in the placeOf thy dear friends; and with broad lotus fansRaise cooling breezes to refresh thy frame;Or shall I rather, with caressing touch,Allay the fever of thy limbs, and sootheThy aching feet, beauteous as blushing lilies?
Nay, touch me not. I will not incur the censure of those whom I am bound to respect.
[Rises and attempts to go.
Fair one, the heat of noon has not yet subsided, and thy body is still feeble.
How canst thou quit thy fragrant couch of flowers,And from thy throbbing bosom cast asideIts covering of lotus-leaves, to braveWith weak and fainting limbs the noon-day heat?
[Forces her to turn back.
Infringe not the rules of decorum, mighty descendant of Puru. Remember, though I love you, I have no power to dispose of myself.
Why this fear of offending your relations, timid maid? When your venerable foster-father hears of it, he will not find fault with you. He knows that the law permits us to be united without consulting him.
In Indra's heaven, so at least 'tis said,No nuptial rites prevail[55], nor is the brideLed to the altar by her future lord;But all in secret does the bridegroom plightHis troth, and each unto the other vowMutual allegiance. Such espousals, too,Are authorised on earth, and many daughtersOf royal saints thus wedded to their lordsHave still received their father's benison.
Leave me, leave me; I must take counsel with my female friends.
I will leave thee when—
When?
When I have gently stolen from thy lipsTheir yet untasted nectar, to allayThe raging of my thirst, e'en as the beeSips the fresh honey from the opening bud.
[Attempts to raise her face. [S']AKOONTALÁ tries to prevent him_.
The loving birds, doomed by fate to nightly separation[56], must bid farewell to each other, for evening is at hand.
[S']AKOONTALÁ. [In confusion.
Great Prince, I hear the voice of the matron Gautamí. She is coming this way to inquire after my health. Hasten and conceal yourself behind the branches.
I will. [Conceals himself.
EnterGAUTAMÍwith a vase in her hand, preceded by two attendants.
This way, most venerable Gautamí.
GAUTAMÍ. [Approaching[S']AKOONTALÁ.
My child, is the fever of thy limbs allayed?
Venerable mother, there is certainly a change for the better.
Let me sprinkle you with this holy water, and all your ailments will depart.
[Sprinkling[S']AKOONTALÁ on the head_.]
The day is closing, my child; come, let us go to the cottage.
[They all move away.
[S']AKOONTALÁ. [Aside.
Oh my heart! thou didst fear to taste of happiness when it was within thy reach. Now that the object of thy desires is torn from thee, how bitter will be thy remorse, how distracting thine anguish!
[Moving on a few steps and stopping. Aloud.]
Farewell! bower of creepers, sweet soother of my sufferings, farewell! may I soon again be happy under thy shade.
[Exit reluctantly with the others.
[Returning to his former seat in the arbour. Sighing.
Alas! how many are the obstacles to the accomplishment of our wishes!
Albeit she did coyly turn awayHer glowing cheek, and with her fingers guardHer pouting lips, that murmured a denialIn faltering accents, she did yield herselfA sweet reluctant captive to my will.As eagerly I raised her lovely face;But ere with gentle force I stole the kiss,Too envious Fate did mar my daring purpose.
Whither now shall I betake myself? I will tarry for a brief space in this bower of creepers, so endeared to me by the presence of my beloved [S']akoontalá.
[Looking round.
Here printed on the flowery couch I seeThe fair impression of her slender limbs;Here is the sweet confession of her love,Traced with her nail upon the lotus-leaf;And yonder are the withered lily-stalksThat graced her wrist. While all around I viewThings that recall her image, can I quitThis bower, e'en though its living be fled?
Great King,
Scarce is our evening sacrifice begun,When evil demons, lurid as the cloudsThat gather round the dying orb of day,Cluster in hideous troops, obscene and dread,About our altars, casting far and nearTerrific shadows, while the sacred fireSheds a pale lustre o'er their ghostly shapes.
I come to the rescue, I come.
[Exit.
* * * * *
EnterPRIYAMVADÁ and ANASÚYÁ in the act of gathering flowers_.
Although, dear Priyamvadá, it rejoices my heart to think that [S']akoontalá has been happily united to a husband in every respect worthy of her, by the form of marriage prevalent among Indra's celestial musicians, nevertheless, I cannot help feeling somewhat uneasy in my mind.
How so?
You know that the pious King was gratefully dismissed by the hermits on the successful termination of their sacrificial rites. He has now returned to his capital, leaving [S']akoontalá under our care; and it may be doubted whether, in the society of his royal consorts, he will not forget all that has taken place in this hermitage of ours.
On that score be at ease. Persons of his noble nature are not so destitute of all honourable feeling. I confess, however, that there is one point about which I am rather anxious. What, think you, will Father Kanwa say when he hears what has occurred?
In my opinion, he will approve the marriage.
What makes you think so?
From the first, it was always his fixed purpose to bestow the maiden on a husband worthy of her; and since heaven has given her such a husband, his wishes have been realized without any trouble to himself.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Looking at the flower-basket.
We have gathered flowers enough for the sacred offering, dearAnasúyá.
Well, then, let us now gather more, that we may have wherewith to propitiate the guardian-deity of our dear [S']akoontalá.
By all means.
[They continue gathering.
Ho there! See you not that I am here!
That must be the voice of a guest announcing his arrival.
Surely, [S']akoontalá is not absent from the cottage.
[Aside.]
Her heart at least is absent, I fear.
Come along, come along; we have gathered flowers enough.
[They move away.
Woe to thee, maiden, for daring to slight a guest like me!
Shall I stand here unwelcomed—even I,A very mine of penitential merit,Worthy of all respect? Shalt thou, rash maid,Thus set at nought the ever sacred tiesOf hospitality? and fix thy thoughtsUpon the cherished object of thy love,While I am present? Thus I curse thee, then—He, even he of whom thou thinkest, heShall think no more of thee; nor in his heartRetain thine image. Vainly shalt thou striveTo waken his remembrance of the past;He shall disown thee, even as the sot,Roused from his midnight drunkenness, deniesThe words he uttered in his revellings.
Alas! alas! I fear a terrible misfortune has occurred. [S']akoontalá, from absence of mind, must have offended some guest whom she was bound to treat with respect.
[Looking behind the scenes.]
Ah! yes; I see; and no less a person than the great sage Durvásas[57], who is known to be most irascible. He it is that has just cursed her, and is now retiring with hasty strides, trembling with passion, and looking as if nothing could turn him. His wrath is like a consuming fire.
Go quickly, dear Priyamvadá, throw yourself at his feet, and persuade him to come back, while I prepare a propitiatory offering[59] for him, with water and refreshments.
I will.
[Exit.
[Advancing hastily a few steps and stumbling.
Alas! alas! this comes of being in a hurry. My foot has slipped, and my basket of flowers has fallen from my hand.
[Stays to gather them up.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Re-entering
Well, dear Anasúyá, I have done my best; but what living being could succeed in pacifying such a cross-grained, ill-tempered old fellow? However, I managed to mollify him a little.
ANASÚYÁ [Smiling.
Even a little was much for him. Say on.
When he refused to turn back, I implored his forgiveness in these words: 'Most venerable sage, pardon, I beseech you, this first offence of a young and inexperienced girl, who was ignorant of the respect due to your saintly character and exalted rank.'
And what did he reply?
'My word must not be falsified; but, at the sight of the ring of recognition the spell shall cease.' So saying, he disappeared.
Oh! then we may breathe again; for, now I think of it, the King himself, at his departure, fastened on [S']akoontalá's finger, as a token of remembrance, a ring on which his own name was engraved. She has, therefore, a remedy for her misfortune at her own command.
Come, dear Anasúyá, let us proceed with our religious duties.
[They walk round.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Looking off the stage.
See, Anasúyá, there sits our dear friend, motionless as a statue, resting her face on her left hand, her whole mind absorbed in thinking of her absent husband. She can pay no attention to herself, much less to a stranger.
Priyamvadá, let this affair never pass our lips. We must spare our dear friend's feelings. Her constitution is too delicate to bear much emotion.
I agree with you. Who would think of watering a tender jasmine with hot water?
Enter one of_ Kanwa's Pupilsjust arisen from his couch at the dawn of day.
My master, the venerable Kanwa, who is but lately returned from his pilgrimage, has ordered me to ascertain how the time goes. I have therefore come into the open air to see if it be still dark.
[Walking and looking about.]
Oh! the dawn has already broken.
Lo! in one quarter of the sky, the Moon,Lord of the herbs and night-expanding flowers,Sinks towards his bed behind the western hills;While in the east, preceded by the Dawn,His blushing charioteer[59], the glorious SunBegins his course, and far into the gloomCasts the first radiance of his orient beams.Hail! co-eternal orbs, that rise to set,And set to rise again; symbols divineOf man's reverses, life's vicissitudes.
And now,
While the round Moon withdraws his looming discBeneath the western sky, the full-blown flowerOf the night-loving lotus[60] sheds her leaveIn sorrow for his loss, bequeathing noughtBut the sweet memory of her lovelinessTo my bereaved sight; e'en as the brideDisconsolately mourns her absent lord,And yields her heart a prey to anxious grief.
ANASÚYÁ. [Entering abruptly.
Little as I know of the ways of the world, I cannot help thinking that King Dushyanta is treating [S']akoontalá very improperly.
Well, I must let my revered preceptor know that it is time to offer the burnt oblation.
[Exit.
I am broad awake, but what shall I do? I have no energy to go about my usual occupations. My hands and feet seem to have lost their power. Well, Love has gained his object; and Love only is to blame for having induced our dear friend, in the innocence of her heart, to confide in such a perfidious man. Possibly, however, the imprecation of Durvásas may he already taking effect. Indeed, I cannot otherwise account for the King's strange conduct, in allowing so long a time to elapse without even a letter; and that, too, after so many promises and protestations. I cannot think what to do unless we send him the ring which was to be the token of recognition. But which of these austere hermits could we ask to be the bearer of it? Then, again, Father Kanwa has just returned from his pilgrimage; and how am I to inform him of [S']akoontalá's marriage to King Dushyanta, and her expectation of becoming soon a mother? I never could bring myself to tell him, even if I felt that [S']akoontalá had been in fault, which she certainly has not. What is to be done?
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Entering; joyfully.
Quick! quick! Anasúyá! come and assist in the joyful preparations for [S']akoontalá's departure to her husband's palace.
My dear girl, what can you mean?
Listen, now, and I will tell you all about it. I went just now to[S']akoontalá, to inquire whether she had slept comfortably—
Well, well; go on.
She was sitting with her face bowed down to the very ground with shame, when Father Kanwa entered, and, embracing her, of his own accord offered her his congratulations. 'I give thee joy, my child,' he said, 'we have had an auspicious omen. The priest who offered the oblation dropped it into the very centre of the sacred fire [81], though thick smoke obstructed his vision. Henceforth thou wilt cease to be an object of compassion. This very day I purpose sending thee, under the charge of certain trusty hermits, to the King's palace; and shall deliver thee into the hands of thy husband, as I would commit knowledge to the keeping of a wise and faithful student.'
Who, then, informed the holy father of what passed in his absence?
As he was entering the sanctuary of the consecrated fire, an invisible being chanted a verse in celestial strains.
ANASÚYÁ. [With astonishment.
Indeed! pray repeat it.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Repeating the verse.
Glows in thy daughter King Dushyanta's glory,As in the sacred tree the mystic fire [62];Let worlds rejoice to hear the welcome story,And may the son immortalize the sire.
ANASÚYÁ. [EmbracingPRIYAMVADÁ.
Oh, my dear Priyamvadá, what delightful news! I am pleased beyond measure; yet when I think that we are to lose our dear [S']akoontalá this very day, a feeling of melancholy mingles with my joy.
We shall find means of consoling ourselves after her departure.Let the dear creature only be made happy at any cost.
Yes, yes, Priyamvadá, it shall be so; and now to prepare the bridal array. I have always looked forward to this occasion, and some time since, I deposited a beautiful garland of Ke[S']ara flowers in a cocoa-nut box, and suspended it on a bough of yonder mango-tree. Be good enough to stretch out your hand and take it down, while I compound unguents and perfumes with this consecrated paste and these blades of sacred grass.
Very well.
[ExitANASÚYÁ. PRIYAMVADÁtakes down the flowers.
Gautamí, bid [S']árngarava and the others hold themselves in readiness to escort [S']akoontalá.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Listening.
Quick, quick, Anasúyá! They are calling the hermits who are to go with [S']akoontalá to Hastinápur[83].
ANASÚYÁ. [Re-entering with the perfumed unguents in her hand.
Come along then, Priyamvadá; I am ready to go with you.
[They walk away.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Looking.
See! there sits [S']akoontalá, her locks arranged even at this early hour of the morning. The holy women of the hermitage are congratulating her, and invoking blessings on her head, while they present her with wedding-gifts and offerings of consecrated wild-rice. Let us join them.
[They approach.
[S']AKOONTALÁis seen seated, with women surrounding her, occupied in the manner described.
FIRST WOMAN. [To[S']AKOONTALÁ.
My child, may'st thou receive the title of 'Chief-queen,' and may thy husband delight to honour thee above all others!
My child, may'st thou be the mother of a hero!
My child, may'st thou be highly honoured by thy lord!
[Exeunt all the women, exceptingGAUTAMÍ, after blessing_ [S']AKOONTALÁ.
PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ. [Approaching.
Dear [S']akoontalá, we are come to assist you at your toilet, and may a blessing attend it!
Welcome, dear friends, welcome. Sit down here.
[Taking the baskets containing the bridal decorations, and sitting down.
Now, then, dearest, prepare to let us dress you. We must first rub your limbs with these perfumed unguents.
I ought indeed to be grateful for your kind offices, now that I am so soon to be deprived of them. Dear, dear friends, perhaps I shall never be dressed by you again.
[Bursts into tears.
Weep not, dearest; tears are out of season on such a happy occasion.
[They wipe away her tears and begin to dress her.
Alas! these simple flowers and rude ornaments, which our hermitage offers in abundance, do not set off your beauty as it deserves.
Enter TWO YOUNG HERMITS, bearing costly presents.
Here are ornaments suitable for a queen.
[The women look at them in astonishment.
Why, Nárada, my son, whence came these?
You owe them to the devotion of Father Kanwa.
Did he create them by the power of his own mind?
Certainly not; but you shall hear. The venerable sage ordered us to collect flowers for [S']akoontalá from the forest-trees; and we went to the wood for that purpose, when
Straightway depending from a neighbouring treeAppeared a robe of linen tissue, pureAnd spotless as a moonbeam—mystic pledgeOf bridal happiness; another treeDistilled a roseate dye wherewith to stainThe lady's feet [135]; and other branches nearGlistened with rare and costly ornaments.While, 'mid the leaves, the hands of forest-nymphs,Vying in beauty with the opening buds,Presented us with sylvan offerings.
PRIYAMVADÁ. [Looking at[S']AKOONTALÁ.
The wood-nymphs have done you honour, indeed. This favour doubtless signifies that you are soon to be received as a happy wife into your husband's house, and are from this time forward to become the partner of his royal fortunes.
[[S']AKOONTALÁappears abashed.
Come, Gautama; Father Kanwa has finished his ablutions. Let us go and inform him of the favour we have received from the deities who preside over our trees.
By all means.
[Exeunt.
Alas! what are we to do? We are unused to such splendid decorations, and are at a loss how to arrange them. Our knowledge of painting must be our guide. We will dispose the ornaments as we have seen them in pictures.
Whatever pleases you, dear girls, will please me. I have perfect confidence In your taste.
[They commence dressing her.
EnterKANWA,having just finished his ablutions.
This day my loved one leaves me, and my heartIs heavy with its grief; the streams of sorrow,Choked at the source, repress my faltering voice,I have no words to speak; mine eyes are dimmedBy the dark shadows of the thoughts that riseWithin my soul. If such the force of griefIn an old hermit parted from his nursling,What anguish must the stricken parent feel—Bereft for ever of an only daughter.
[Advances towards[S']AKOONTALÁ
Now, dearest [S']akoontalá, we have finished decorating you. You have only to put on the two linen mantles.
[[S']AKOONTALÁrises and puts them on.
Daughter, see, here comes thy foster-father; he is eager to fold thee in his arms; his eyes swim with tears of joy. Hasten to do him reverence.
[S']AKOONTALÁ [Reverently.
My father, I salute you.
My daughter,
May'st thou be highly honoured by thy lord,E'en as Yayáti [S']armishthá adored[64]!And, as she bore him Puru, so may'st thouBring forth a son to whom the world shall bow!
Most venerable father, she accepts your benediction as if she already possessed the boon it confers.
Now come this way, my child, and walk reverently round these sacrificial fires.
[They all walk round.
[Repeats a prayer in the metre of the Rig-veda.
Holy flames, that gleam aroundEvery altar's hallowed ground;Holy flames, whose frequent foodIs the consecrated wood,And for whose encircling bed,Sacred Ku[s']a-grass is spread [65];Holy flames, that waft to heavenSweet oblations daily given,Mortal guilt to purge away,Hear, oh hear me, when I pray—Purify my child this day!
Now then, my daughter, set out on thy journey.
[Looking on one side.]
Where are thy attendants. [S']árngarava and the others?
YOUNG HERMIT. [Entering.
Here we are, most venerable father.
Lead the way for thy sister.
Come, [S']akoontalá, let us proceed.
[All move away.
Hear me, ye trees that surround our hermitage![S']akoontalá ne'er moistened in the streamHer own parched lips, till she had fondly pouredIts purest water on your thirsty roots;And oft, when she would fain have decked her hairWith your thick-clustering blossoms, in her loveShe robbed you not e'en of a single flower.Her highest joy was ever to beholdThe early glory of your opening buds;Oh, then, dismiss her with a kind farewell.This very day she quits her father's home,To seek the palace of her wedded lord.
[The note of a Koïl[66] is heard.
Hark! heard'st thou not the answer of the trees,Our sylvan sisters, warbled in the noteOf the melodious Koïl[66]? they dismissTheir dear [S']akoontalá with loving wishes.
Fare thee well, journey pleasantly on amid streamsWhere the lotuses bloom, and the sun's glowing beamsNever pierce the deep shade of the wide-spreading trees,While gently around thee shall sport the cool breeze;Then light be thy footsteps and easy thy tread,Beneath thee shall carpets of lilies be spread;Journey on to thy lord, let thy spirit be gay,For the smiles of all Nature shall gladden thy way.