human
Can you write a poem for me in the style of Henry W. Shoemaker?
assistant
Sure, here's a poem in the style of Henry W. Shoemaker:
  bards.
A brief account of the manner in which I became engaged in these
I ventured to communicate to the Members of the University who
attended my lectures, my discoveries, as it were, in the unknown
region of Indian poetry, and to introduce translations of such
original; and I cannot too strongly express my gratitude for the
The versification, or rather the metrical system, which I have
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u u u u | u - - - | u u u u | u - u u
Lived of yore, a raja, Nala,--Virasena's mighty son,
Over, over all exalted--in his splendour like the sun:
Holy, deep-read in the Vedas--in Nishadha lord of earth;
Loving dice, of truth unblemished--chieftain of a mighty host.
The admired of noble women--generous, with each sense subdued.
Guardian of the state; of archers--best, a present Manu he.
So there dwelt in high Vidarbha--Bhima, terrible in strength,
To his court there came a Brahmin,--Damana the seer was named.
Him the child-desiring Bhima--in all duties skilled, received,
Feasted with his royal consort--in his hospitable hall.
Richly gifted with all virtues--mighty, fearful in their might.
And a hundred virgin handmaids--as around great Indra's queen.
In her court shone Bhima's daughter--decked with every ornament,
Like the long-eyed queen of beauty--without rival, without peer.
Never mid the gods immortal--never mid the Yaksha race,
Nor 'mong men was maid so lovely--ever heard of, ever seen,
As the soul-disturbing maiden--that disturbed the souls of gods.
Nala too, 'mong kings the tiger--peerless among earthly men,
Like Kandarpa in his beauty--like that bright-embodied God.
All around Vidarbha's princess--praised they Nala in their joy.
Ever praised they Damayanti--round Nishadha's noble king.
Hearing so each others virtues--all unseen they 'gan to love.
Thus of each, O son of Kunti,--the deep silent passion grew.
Nala, in his heart impatient--longer that deep love to bear,
To the grove, in secret, wandered--by the palace' inmost court.
So in Damayanti's presence--will I praise Nishadha's king,
Never after shall the maiden--think of mortal man but thee."
To Vidharba's stately city:--there by Damayanti's feet,
But the swan that through the forest--gentle Damayanti chased,
Suddenly, in human language--spake to Damayanti thus.--
"Damayanti, in Nishadha--Nala dwells, the noble king--
Like the Aswinas in beauty,--peerless among men is he.
O incomparable princess--to this hero wert thou wed,
Noble birth and perfect beauty--not unworthy fruit had borne.
Gods, Gandharvas, men, the Serpents,--and the Rakshasas we've
seen,
All we've seen--of noble Nala--never have we seen the peer.
Pearl art thou among all women--Nala is the pride of men.
If the peerless wed the peerless--blessed must the union be."
When the bird thus strangely speaking--gentle Damayanti heard,
Home then flew he to Nishadha--and to Nala told it all.
Damayanti, ever after--she the swan's sweet speech had heard--
With herself she dwelt no longer--all herself with Nala dwelt.
Lost in thought she sate dejected--pale her melancholy cheek,
Damayanti sate and yielded--all her soul to sighs of grief.
Upward gazing, meditative--with a wild distracted look,
Told how pined his gentle daughter--for the sovereign of men.
This from Damayanti's maidens--when the royal Bhima heard,
Damayanti's Swayembara--soon as heard the kings of men,
All obeyed king Bhima's summons--all to Bhima's court drew near;
All the lofty-minded rajas--Bhima with the arm of strength,
Moving in their might ascended--up from earth to Indra's world.
Great in holiness and wisdom--Narada and Parvata
Honoured entered they the palace--of the monarch of the gods.
Them salutes the cloud-compeller--of their everlasting weal,
NARADA _spake_.
Well it fares with us, Immortal--in our weal the world partakes--
He that Bali slew and Vritra--asked of Narada again--
Theirs this everlasting kingdom--even as Kamadhuk is mine.
O thou mighty giant slayer!--one and all approach to woo."
All exclaimed in sudden rapture--thither we likewise will go;
Set he forth, with soul all sanguine--full of Damayanti's love.
Saw the gods, king Nala standing--on the surface of the earth;
Standing in transcendent beauty--equal to the god of love.
Nala made his solemn promise,--"all your bidding will I do;"
Then with folded hands adoring--humbly of their will enquired.
"Who are ye? to whom must Nala--as your welcome herald go?
What is my commanded service?--tell me, mighty gods, the truth."
Spake the sovereign of Nishadha--Indra answered thus and said:--
"Know us, the Immortals, hither--come for Damayanti's love.
Indra I, and yon is Agni,--and the king of waters there--
Slayer he of mortal bodies,--Yama, too, is here, O king!
Thou, O Nala, of our coming,--must to Damayanti tell:
One of these celestial beings,--choose, O maiden, for thy lord."
Nala, thus addressed by Indra--with his folded hands replied:
"Thus with one accord commanding--on this mission send not me.
How can man, himself enamoured--for another plead his cause?
Spare me then, ye gods, in mercy--this unwelcome service, spare."
THE GODS _spake_.
By the gods adjured so sternly--thus rejoined Nishadha's king--
"Strictly guarded is yon palace--how may I find entrance there?"
"Thou shalt enter;" thus did Indra--to the unwilling king reply.
In the bower of Damayanti--as they spake, king Nala stood.
There he saw Vidarbha's maiden--girt with all her virgin bands;
In her glowing beauty shining--all excelling in her form;
Every limb in smooth proportion--slender waist and lovely eyes;
Yet to keep his truth, his duty--all his passion he suppressed.
Yet, not venturing to accost him,--in their secret souls adored.
"Oh the beauty! oh the splendour!--oh the mighty hero's strength!
Damayanti, in her wonder--to the hero Nala spake:--
Watchful are our chamber wardens--stern the mandate of the king."
"Know, O loveliest, I am Nala--here the messenger of gods,
Gods desirous to possess thee;--one of these, the lord of heaven
Indra, Agni, Varun, Yama,--choose thou, princess, for thy lord.
Thou hast heard me, noble princess--even as thou wilt, decide."
I myself, and whatsoever--in the world I have, is thine
In full trust is thine--O grant me--in thy turn thy love, O king!
But if thou mine homage scornest--scornest me, all honoured king,
Every bright celestial glory--wedded to the gods, enjoy.
He, who all the world compressing--with devouring might consumes,
Yet thee only, thee, my husband--may I choose, Be this my vow!"
Answered he the trembling maiden--as with folded hands she stood,
Plighted by a sacred promise--to the everlasting gods;
Thus engaged to plead for others--for myself I may not plead.
This my duty; yet hereafter--come I on my own behalf,
Uttered brokenly and slowly--thus to royal Nala spake:--
"Yet I see a way of refuge--'tis a blameless way, O king;
Whence no sin to thee, O raja,--may by any chance arise.
Thou, O noblest of all mortals--and the gods by Indra led,
Come and enter in together--where the Swayembara meets;
Then will I, before the presence--of the guardians of the world,
Back again returned, where waited--eager, the expecting gods.
"Was she seen of thee, O monarch--Damayanti with soft smile?
NALA _spake_.
To the bower of Damayanti--on your solemn mission sent,
Entered I the lofty portal--by the aged warders watched;
Mortal eye might not behold me--there as swift I entered in;
And they all in mute amazement--gazed upon me as I stood.
Came the day of happy omen--moonday meet, and moment apt;
Bhima to the Swayembara--summoned all the lords of earth.
One and all, upon the instant--rose th' enamoured lords of earth,
As with serpents, Bhogavati--the wide hall was full of kings;
As the mountain caves with tigers--with the tiger-warriors full.
Damayanti in her beauty--entered on that stately scene,
With her dazzling light entrancing--every eye and every soul.
Whichsoe'er the form she gazed on--him her Nala, him she thought.
Pondering thus Vidarbha's maiden--in the anguish of her heart--
As on earth they stand before me--not of one may I discern."
Long she pondered in her silence--and again, again she thought.
To the gods, her only refuge--turned she at this trying hour.
With her voice and with her spirit--she her humble homage paid.
As my vow, so pledged to Nala--holily must be maintained,
By this truth I here adjure ye--oh, ye gods, my lord reveal.
Each the form divine assume ye--earth's protectors, mighty lords;
As they heard sad Damayanti--uttering thus her piteous prayer,
As she prayed, the gods obedient--stood with attributes revealed:
Then alas! alas! burst wildly,--from that conclave of the kings,
Then to royal Damayanti--Virasena's kingly son,
To that slender waisted damsel--spake he comfort in his joy;
While this spirit fills this body--maiden with the smile serene!
Thine am I, so long thine only--this the solemn truth I vow."
Thus he gladdened Damayanti--with the assurance of his faith;
And the happy pair devoutly--worshipped then the present gods.
Firm and noble, Sachi's husband--Indra to king Nala gave.
Agni gave his own bright presence--whensoe'er the monarch called.
Varun gave obedient water--to be present at his call;
With the gentle Damayanti--as they came, in joy returned.
Thus the kings of earth departed;--Bhima in his joy and pride,
Solemnized the stately bridals--of the maiden and the king.
Having gained the pearl of women--the majestic lord of earth
Ruled the subjects of his kingdom--with a just and equal sway.
Of the horse the famous offering--like Nahucha's mighty son,
Every sacrifice performed he--with rich gifts to holy men.
And full oft in flowering gardens--and delicious shady groves,
Like a god, the royal Nala--took with Damayanti joy.
So begat from Damayanti--Nala, of heroic soul,
Indrasena one fair daughter--Indrasen one beauteous son.
Thus in sacrifice and pleasance--took his joy the king of men,
Kali as he saw, did Indra--did the giant-killer say,
"Here, with Dwapara attended--whither, Kali, dost thou go?"
Kali spake, "the Swayembara--we of Damayanti seek;
Her I go to make my consort--into her mine heart hath passed."
"Closed and ended is that bridal,"--Indra answered with a smile,
"Nala she hath chosen for husband--in the presence of us all."
Thus addressed by Indra, Kali--in the transport of his wrath,
All the heavenly gods saluting,--thus his malediction spake,
Kali hardly thus had spoken--than the heaven-born gods replied:
"With our full and liberal sanction--Damayanti chose her lord.
Who to Nala, with all virtue--rich endowed, would not incline?
He that rightly knows each duty--he who ever rightly acts,
He who reads the whole four Vedas--the Puranas too the fifth,
In his palace with pure offerings--ever are the gods adored,
Gentle to all living creatures--true in word and strict in vow;
On himself recoil his curses--only fatal to himself.
Nala, gifted with such virtues--he, O Kali, who would curse--
Soon as they had parted, Kali--thus to Dwapara began:
"I my wrath can curb no longer--I henceforth in Nala dwell;
Bound by that malignant treaty--Kali with his dark ally,
Haunted they the stately palace--where Nishadha's monarch ruled;
Watching still the fatal instant--in Nishadha long they dwelt.
Prayed at eve, with feet unwashen--Kali seized the fatal hour.
Into Nala straight he entered--and possessed his inmost soul.
Pushkara in haste he summoned--come with Nala play at dice,
Ever in the gainful hazard--by my subtle aid thou'lt win,
Even the kingdom of Nishadha--even from Nala all his realm.
Pushkara by Kali summoned--to his brother Nala came,
In the dice of dice embodied--Dwapara stood silent by.
Pushkara the hero-slayer--to king Nala standing near:
"Play we with the dice, my brother,"--thus again, again he said.
Long the lofty-minded raja--that bold challenge might not brook,
He with love of gaming maddened,--of his faithful friends not one
Came the citizens assembling--with the counsellors of state,
"All the city, noble princess--stands assembled at the gate,
Say thou to Nishadha's monarch--'All his subjects here are met;
"Raja, lo! the assembled city--at the gate their king to see:
With the counsellors of wisdom--by their loyal duty led.
Deign thou, monarch, to admit them,"--thus again, again she said.
Then those counsellors of wisdom--and those loyal citizens,
Many a weary month it lasted--and still lost the king of men.
Damayanti then beholding--Punyasloka, king of men,
Undistracted, him distracted--with the maddening love of play.
In her dread and in her sorrow--thus did Bhima's daughter speak;
Nala, 'reft of all his treasures--when the noble woman saw,
Thus addressed she Vrihatsena,--her old faithful slave and nurse,
"Vrihatsena, go, the council--as at Nala's call convene,
When the dice she heard for ever--adverse to the king of men,
And of all bereft, her Nala--to the nurse again she spake:
"Go again, my Vrihatsena,--in the name of Nala, go,
To the charioteer, Varshneya,--great the deed must now be done."
Vrihatsena on the instant--Damayanti's words she heard,
Caused the charioteer be summoned--by her messengers of trust.
Bhima's daughter to Varshneya--winning with her gentle voice,
As by Pushkara is worsted--ever more and more the king,
More and more the fatal frenzy--maddens in his heart for play.
As to Pushkara obedient--ever fall the lucky dice,
Thus those dice to royal Nala--still with adverse fortune fall.
Nor the voice of friend or kindred--as beseems him, will he hear;
Of the lofty-minded Nala--well I know 'tis not the sin,
I am not o'er calm in spirit--haply he may perish thus.
He, the chief of Nala's council--thus in full divan addressed,
There he rendered up the horses--with the chariot there he left.
That young maiden Indrasena--Indrasen, that noble boy.
To king Bhima paid his homage--sad, for Nala's fall distressed,
Thence departing, to Ayodhya--took the charioteer his way.
In his grief to Rituparna--that illustrious king, he came,
As his charioteer, the service--entered of the lord of earth.
Scarce Varshneya had departed--still the king of men played on,
Till to Pushkara his kingdom--all that he possessed, was lost.
Nala then, despoiled of kingdom--smiling Pushkara bespake:
"Throw we yet another hazard--Nala, where is now thy stake?
There remains but Damayanti--all thou hast beside, is mine.
Throw we now for Damayanti--come, once more the hazard try."
Thus as Pushkara addressed him--Punyasloka's inmost heart
By his grief was rent asunder--not a single word he spake.
And on Pushkara, king Nala--in his silent anguish gazed.
All his ornaments of splendour--from his person stripped he off,
"Whosoe'er befriendeth Nala--shall to instant death be doomed."
Thus, as Pushkara gave order--in the terror of his power,
Might the citizens no longer--hospitably serve the king.
In the agony of famine--Nala, after many days,
These to-day my welcome banquet--and my treasure these will be.
And the birds above him hovering--thus in human accents spake,
When the dice he saw departing--and himself without his robe,
Mournfully did Punyasloka--thus to Damayanti speak:
"They, O blameless, by whose anger--from my kingdom I am driven,
Life-sustaining food unable--in my misery to find--
In the dark extreme of misery--sad and frantic as I am,
Hear me, princess, hear and profit--by thy husband's best advice.
Passing by Avanti's city--and the height of Rishavàn;
Vindhya here, the mighty mountain--and Payoshni's seaward stream;
More than once to Bhima's daughter--anxious pointing out the way.
"My afflicted heart is breaking--and my sinking members fail,
When, O king, thy desperate counsel--once I think of, once again.
When thou sad and famine-stricken--thinkest of thy former bliss,
In the wild wood, oh, my husband,--I thy weariness will soothe.
Like a wife, in every sorrow--this the wise physicians own,
Healing herb is none or balsam--Nala, 'tis the truth I speak."
NALA _spake_.
Slender-waisted Damayanti--true, indeed, is all thou'st said;
Like a wife no friendly medicine--to afflicted man is given.
DAMAYANTI _spake_.
If indeed, oh mighty monarch--thou wilt ne'er abandon me,
Wherefore then towards Vidarbha--dost thou point me out the way.
Well, I know thee, noble Nala--to desert me far too true,
Thus my sorrow still enhancing--oh, thou like the immortal gods;
If this be thy better counsel--'to her kindred let her go,'
Be it so, and both together--to Vidarbha set we forth.
Thee Vidarbha's king will honour--honour'd in his turn by thee;
Held in high respect and happy--in our mansion thou shall dwell.
NALA _spake_.
"Mighty is thy father's kingdom--once was mine as mighty too;
Never will I there seek refuge--in my base extremity.
There I once appeared in glory--to the exalting of thy pride;
Shall I now appear in misery--to the increasing of thy shame?"
Nala thus to Damayanti--spake again, and yet again,
Comforting the noble lady--scant in half a garment clad.
Sank the lovely Damayanti--by his side with sleep opprest,
She thus plunged in sudden misery--she the tender, the devout.
But while on the cold earth slumbered--Damayanti, all distraught
Nala in his mind by sorrow--might no longer calmly sleep;
For the losing of his kingdom--the desertion of his friends,
And his weary forest wanderings--painful on his thought arose;
"If I do it, what may follow?--what if I refuse to do?
Were my instant death the better--or to abandon her I love.
But to me too deep devoted--suffers she distress and shame;
Reft of me she home may wander--to her royal father's house;
Faithful wandering ever with me--certain sorrow will she bear,
But if separated from me--chance of solace may be hers."
Long within his heart he pondered--and again, again weighed o'er.
From her virtue none dare harm her--in the lonely forest way,
Her the fortunate, the noble--my devoted wedded wife.
Thus his mind on Damayanti--dwelt in its perverted thought,
Wrought by Kali's evil influence--to desert his lovely wife.
Of himself without a garment--and of her with only one.
Pondering this within his spirit--round the cabin Nala went;
In that narrow cabin's circuit--Nala wandered here and there,
Till he found without a scabbard--shining, a well-tempered sword.
In her sleep Vidarbha's princess--with bewildered mind he fled.
Yet, his cruel heart relenting--to the cabin turns he back;
On the slumbering Damayanti--gazing, sadly wept the king;
"Thou, that sun nor wind hath ever--roughly visited, my love!
On the hard earth in a cabin--sleepest with thy guardian gone.
Thus attired in half a garment--she that aye so sweetly smiled,
Like to one distracted, beauteous--how at length will she awake?
And departing, still departing--he returned again, again;
Dragged away by that bad demon--ever by his love drawn back.
Nala, thus his heart divided--into two conflicting parts,
Like a swing goes backward, forward--from the cabin, to and fro.
Torn away at length by Kali--flies afar the frantic king,
Leaving there his wife in slumber--making miserable moans.
Reft of sense, possessed by Kali--thinking still on her he left,
Passed he in the lonely forest--leaving his deserted wife.
Scarcely had king Nala parted--Damayanti now refreshed,
Wakened up, the slender-waisted--timorous in the desert wood.
Oh, I'm lost! undone for ever--helpless in the wild wood left;
Faithful once to every duty--wert thou not, and true in word.
Art thou faithful to thy promise--to desert me thus in sleep.
Could'st thou then depart, forsaking--thy devoted, constant wife;
Hence one moment, thus deserted--one brief moment do I live.--
For myself I will not sorrow--nor for aught to me befalls.
Thou art all alone, my husband,--I will only mourn for thee.
Then, in all her depth of anguish--with her trouble as on fire,
So consumed with inward misery--ever sighing more and more,
May he far surpass in suffering--all that Nala suffers now,
May the evil one, to evil--who the blameless Nala drives,
Smitten by a curse as fatal--live a dark unblessed life."
Thus her absent lord lamenting--that high-minded raja's queen,
Every-where her lord went seeking--in the satyr-haunted wood.
Like a maniac, Bhima's daughter--wandered wailing here and there;
Her beyond all measure wailing--like the osprey screaming shrill,
Suddenly king Bhima's daughter--as she wandered near his lair,
Seized a huge gigantic serpent--in his raging famine fierce.
"O my guardian, thus unguarded--in this savage forest seized,
Seized by this terrific serpent--wherefore art not thou at hand?
Then a huntsman as he wandered--in the forest jungle thick,
As he heard her thus bewailing--in his utmost haste drew near.
In the grasp when he beheld her--of that long-eyed serpent fell,
Instant did the nimble huntsman--rapidly as he came on,
Pierce that unresisting serpent--with a sharp and mortal shaft:
Damayanti, by the huntsman--thus in soothing tone addressed,
All the story of her misery-told him, as it all befell;
In the transport of her anger--her indignant soul took fire.
Scarce that single word was uttered--suddenly that hunter bold
Down upon the earth fell lifeless--like a lightning blasted tree.
Slain that savage wild-beast hunter--onward went the lotus-eyed,
Pregnant with rich mines of metal--many a mountain it enclosed,
Many a shady resonant arbour--many a deep and wondrous glen;
Now alone, Vidarbha's daughter--wandering, her lost Nala sought.
Thou the holy Aswamedha--thou each sacrificial rite,
Hast performed, to me, me only--in thy holy faith thou'st failed.
Of each heaven-descended volume--one and simple is the truth.
Am not I the loved so dearly--purely, sinlessly beloved;
In this dark and awful forest--wherefore dost thou not reply?
None but I, thou'st said, for ever--none but I to thee am dear!
Why repliest thou not--her only thou desir'st--she only thee.
Meagre, miserable, pallid--tainted with the dust and mire,
Scantly clad in half a garment--lone, with no protector near;
Mighty king, a lonely wanderer--in this vast and trackless wood,
Damayanti, I address thee--wherefore answerest not my voice?
Nobly born, and nobly minded--beautiful in every limb,
Do I not e'en now behold thee--in this mountain, first of men,
In this lion-haunted forest--in this tiger-howling wood,
Lying down or seated, standing--or in majesty and might
Moving, do I not behold thee--the enhancer of my woe?
Who shall I address, afflicted--wasted by my grief away;
'Hast thou haply seen my Nala--in the solitary wood?'
'Him thou seek'st with eyes of lotus--Nala, sovereign of men--
Of the beasts art thou the monarch--all this forest thy domain,
For the daughter of Vidarbha--Damayanti, know thou me,
Consort of Nishadha's sovereign--Nala, slayer of his foes--
Seeking here my exile husband--lonely, wretched, sorrow-driven,
Thou, O king of beasts, console me--if my Nala thou hast seen;
Or, O lord of all the forest--Nala if thou canst not show,
Best of savage beasts, devour me--from my misery set me free.
Hearing thus my lamentation-now does that fell king of beasts
Go towards the crystal river--flowing downward to the sea.'--
To this mountain then the holy--crowned with many a lofty peak,
In its soul-exalting splendour--rising, many-hued, to heaven;
Full within of precious metal--rich with many a glowing gem,
Rising o'er the spreading forest--like a banner broad and high,
I salute thee, lowly bowing--I, the daughter of a king;
Of a king the royal consort--of a king's son I the bride.
Of Vidarbha the great sovereign--mighty hero is my sire.
He the offerer, best of monarchs--known by his commanding eye,
Pious, and of life unblemished--true in word, of generous speech,
Of Vidarbha the protector--conqueror of a host of foes;
Know me of that king the daughter--lowly thus approaching thee.
In Nishadha, mighty Mountain! dwelt the father of my lord.
High the name he won, the illustrious--Virasena was he called.
Of this king the son, the hero--prosperous and truly brave,
He who rules his father's kingdom--by hereditary right,
Slayer of his foes, dark Nala--Punyasloka is he called;
Holy, Veda read, and eloquent--soma quaffing, fire adoring,
Sacrificer, liberal giver--warrior, in all points a king,--
Like the elephant in courage--wise, impetuous, with long arms,
Valiant, and of truth unquestioned--my heroic, glorious lord;
Hast thou seen Nishadha's sovereign--mighty Nala hast thou seen?
Hero, mighty, strong in duty--true of promise, lord of earth,
If thou art within the forest--show thee in thy proper form.
When so eloquently deep-toned--like the sound of some dark cloud,
Damayanti then set forward--toward the region of the north.
To the ancient famous hermits--equal was that sacred crew;
Self-denying, strict in diet--temperate, and undefiled;
Water-drinking, air inhaling--and the leaves their simple food;
Mortified, for ever blessed--seeking the right way to heaven;
Lovely browed, and lovely tressed--lovely bosom'd, lovely lipp'd,
Pearl of women, ever blessed-Damayanti the devout,
She those holy men saluting--stood with modest form half bent.
In amaze we stand and wonder--cheer thee up, and mourn no more.
Of the wood art thou the goddess--or the mountain goddess thou;
Or the goddess of the river?--Blessed Spirit, speak the truth.
Nor the sylvan goddess am I,"--to the Wise she thus replied;
"Neither of the mountain, Brahmins--nor the river nymph am I.
Know me but a mortal being--O, ye rich in holiness!
Of that noble king the daughter--twice-born Sages, know ye me.
And the monarch of Nishadha--Nala named, the great in fame;
Of Nishadha's race the guardian--great in glory, great in might,
True in word, and skilled in duty--and the slayer of his foes.
Pious, heaven-devoted, prosperous--conqueror of hostile towns;
Nala named, the best of sovereigns--splendid as the king of gods.
Slayer of his foes in battle--glorious as the sun and moon.
He to some most evil minded--unrespected, wicked men,
After many a challenge, studious--he of virtue and of truth,
Damayanti, so they name me--yearning for my husband's sight.
Mighty in the use of weapons--wander desolate and sad.
Tell me, to this pleasant sojourn--sacred to these holy men,
Hath he come, the royal Nala?--hath Nishadha's monarch come?
If I see not noble Nala--ere few days, few nights are o'er,
I to happiness will join me--from this mortal frame set free.
Reft of him, my princely husband--what have I to do with life--
How endure existence longer--for my husband thus distressed."
To the lady thus complaining--lonely in the savage wood,
Through devotion now we see him--and thou too wilt see him soon;
That good monarch of Nishadha--Nala, slayer of his foes;
To his foemen causing terror--to his friends allaying grief,
Thou, oh noble, shalt thy husband--see, that king of noble race."
Damayanti, fair-limbed princess--wife of Virasena's son;
"Have I only seen a vision--what hath been this wondrous chance?
Long within her heart she pondered--Damayanti with sweet smile,
For her lord, to grief abandoned--miserable, pale of hue;
To another region passed she--there with voice by weeping choked,
Best of trees, the Asoca blooming--in the forest she approached,
With its leafy garlands radiant--as the joyous mountain king.
O thou tree with pleasant aspect--from my sorrow set me free.
Vitasoca, hast thou seen him--hast the fearless raja seen,
Nala, of his foes the slayer--Damayanti's lord beloved?
Hast thou seen Nishadha's monarch--hast thou seen mine only love,
Hast thou seen th' afflicted hero--wandering in the forest lone.
That I may depart ungrieving--fair Asoca, answer me.
Truly be thou named Asoca--as the extinguisher of grief."
Thus in her o'erpowering anguish--moved she round the Asoca tree.
Many a tree she stood and gazed on--many a river passed she o'er;
Lo, a caravan of merchants--elephants, and steeds, and cars,
And beyond, a pleasant river--with its waters cool and clear.
Maniac-like in form and feature--and in half a garment clad,
Thin and pallid, travel-tainted--matted all her locks with dust.
As they all beheld her standing--some in terror fled away;
Art thou sylvan nymph or genius--or celestial nymph divine?
Every-way regard our welfare--and protect us, undespised:
So our caravan in safety--may pursue its onward way,
So ordain it, O illustrious!--that good fortune wait on all."
Thus addressed by that assemblage--Damayanti, kingly-born,
Of another king the consort--seeking for my royal lord;
Know, Vidarbha's king, my father--and Nishadha's king, my lord,
Nala, is his name, the glorious--him, th' unconquered do I seek;
Of the caravan the captain--thus the lovely-limbed addressed,
Him that bears the name of Nala--nowhere have these eyes beheld.
Elephants, and pards, and tigers--lynxes, buffaloes, and bears,
See I in this trackless forest--uninhabited by men;
Save thyself, of human feature--nought, or human form, I've seen.
To the merchants then she answered--to the leader of the host,
"Tell me whither do ye travel!--whither bound your caravan?"
_The_ CAPTAIN _of the caravan spake._
"To the realm of Chedi's sovereign--truth-discerning Subahu,
Soon this caravan will enter--travelling in search of gain."
This, the lovely princess hearing--from the captain of the band,
With the caravan set forward--seeking still her royal lord.
At the close of day arriving--there encamped they for the night.
Many saw their camels dying--mingled with the men on foot,
And in frantic tumult rushing--wildly struck each other down;
Many miserably shrieking--cast them down upon the earth,
Lay that caravan so wealthy--scattered all abroad or slain.
Pressing in her breath with terror--slowly rose she on her feet.
And Vaisravana the holy--of the Yakshas lord and king,
"Who is that ill-omened woman--that with maniac-staring eyes,
Witch or sorceress she, or dæmon--fatal cause of all our fears,
But no sooner Damayanti--their appalling words had heard,
In her shame and in her terror--to the forest shade she fled.
And that guilt imputed dreading--thus her fate began to wail:
"Woe is me, still o'er me hovers--the terrific wrath of fate;
No good fortune e'er attends me--of what guilt is this the doom?
Not a sin can I remember--not the least to living man.
To this infinite misfortune--hence by penal justice doomed?
Lost my husband, lost my kingdom--from my kindred separate;
Separate from noble Nala--from my children far away,
Widowed of my rightful guardian--in the serpent-haunted wood."
Of that caravan at morning--then the sad surviving few,
By the elephants they perish--this is through my luckless fate;
A still lengthening life of sorrow--I henceforth must sadly lead.
Therefore am not I too trampled--by this herd of furious beasts.
Every deed of living mortal--by over-ruling fate is done.
Yet no sin have I committed--in my blameless infancy,
To deserve this dire disaster--or in word, or deed, or thought.
For the choosing of my husband--are the guardians of the world,
Angry are the gods, rejected--for the noble Nala's sake?
The deserted Damayanti--with these sad and bitter words;
'Twas the king of Chedi's city--truth-discerning Subahu.
Scantly clad in half a garment--entered she that stately town;
Gazing on her as she entered--to the monarch's royal seat;
From that palace lofty terrace--her the mother of the king
Yet in form so bright, irradiate--is our palace where she moves.
She those crowding men dispersing--quickly to the palace top
Made her mount--and in amazement--her the mother-queen addressed:
Men thou fear'st not, unattended--in celestial beauty safe."
Hearing thus her gentle language--Bhima's daughter made reply,
"Know me like thyself a mortal--a distressed, devoted wife;
Of illustrious race an handmaid--making where I will mine home;
On the roots and wild-fruits feeding--lonely, at the fall of eve.
And I still the hero followed--like his shadow on the way.
Him, arrayed in but one garment,--like a madman wandering wild,
To console my noble husband--I too entered the deep wood;
He within that dreary forest--for some cause, to me unknown,
Wild with hunger, reft of reason--that one single robe he lost.
I with but one robe, him naked--frantic, and with mind diseased,
Seeking him, my outcast husband--night and day am I consumed:
Him I see not, ever shining--like the lotus cup, beloved;
Sad herself, sad Bhima's daughter--did the mother queen address:
"Dwell with me, then, noble Lady--deep the joy in thee I feel,
And the servants of my household--shall thy royal husband seek;
Haply hither he may wander--as he roams about the world:
Dwelling here in peace and honour--thou thy husband wilt rejoin."
"On these terms, O nurse of heroes!--I with thee may make abode:
That I eat not broken victuals--wash not feet with menial hand:
Be my terms by thee accepted--gladly will I sojourn here,
But on other terms no sojourn--will this heart resolved admit."
Then to her with joyful spirit--spake the mother of the king:
In these words address her daughter--young Sunanda was her name:
"See this handmaid, my Sunanda--gifted with a form divine;
She in age thy lovely compeer--be she to thee as a friend;
Taking with her Damayanti--circled with her virgin peers.
Damayanti when deserting--royal Nala fled, ere long
Blazing in the forest jungle--he a mighty fire beheld;
Thence as of a living being--from the midst a voice he heard:
"Hasten, Nala!" oft and loudly--"Punyasloka, haste," it cried.
"Fear thou not," king Nala answered--plunging in the ruddy flame;
Narada, the famous hermit--I deceived, the holy sage;
He in righteous indignation--smote me with this awful curse:
Stay thou there as one unmoving--till king Nala passing by,
As he bit him, on the instant--all his kingly form was changed.
There he stood, and gazed in wonder--Nala, on his altered form.
In his proper shape the serpent--saw the sovereign of men.
Then Karkotaka the serpent--thus to Nala comfort spake:
All his body steeped in poison--till he free thee from thy woe,
Shall he dwell within thee prison'd--in the ecstacy of pain.
Fear not thou the tusked wild boar--foeman fear not thou, O king,
In the battle, chief of Rajas--victory is ever thine.
Go thou forth, thyself thus naming--Vahuca, the charioteer,
To the royal Rituparna--in the dice all-skilful he;
To Ayodhya's pleasant city--sovereign of Nishadha! go;
Thou the skill in dice possessing--soon wilt rise again to bliss;
In this garment clad resum'st thou--instantly thy proper form."
Saying thus, of vests celestial--gave he to the king a pair.
And king Nala, thus instructed--gifted with these magic robes,
Instantly the king of serpents--vanished from his sight away.
Vanished thus the King of Serpents--set Nishadha's raja forth,
Rituparna's royal city--on the tenth day entered he.
Straight before the royal presence--"Vahuca am I," he said,
"In the skill of taming horses--on the earth is not my peer;
Whatsoe'er the art, whatever--be most difficult to do,
I will strive to execute it--take me to thy service, king."
RITUPARNA _spake_.
"Vahuca, I bid thee welcome--all this service shalt thou do,
On my horses' rapid motion--deeply is my mind engaged.
Ever shalt thou have for comrades--Varshneya and Jivala:
With these two pursue thy pleasure--Vahuca, abide with me."
Thus addressed, did Nala, honoured--by king Rituparna long,
With Varshneya in that city--and with Jivala abide:
There abode he, sadly thinking--of Vidarbha's daughter still.
In the evening, every evening--uttered he this single verse;
Thus the raja, ever speaking--Jivala one night addressed;
"Who is she, for whom thou grievest?--Vahuca, I fain would hear."
Once belonged a peerless lady--most infirm of word was he;
From some cause from her dissevered--went that frantic man away,
In his foolish soul thus parted--wanders he, by sorrow racked;
Him that noble lady following--in the forest lone and dread,
Lives, of that bad man forsaken--hard it is to say, she lives!
Lone, and young, the ways unknowing--undeserving of such fate,
By her lord she roams forsaken--hapless, by that luckless lord."
Thus remembering Damayanti--did Nishadha's king unknown,
Long within that dwelling sojourn--in the palace of the king.
Nala thus bereft of kingdom--with his wife to slavery sunk,
And, achieved this weighty business--found Nishadha's royal lord,
If nor hither Damayanti--nor king Nala may be brought,
Then a Brahmin, named Sudeva--came to pleasant Chedi-pur;
There within the kingly palace--he Vidarbha's daughter saw,
Standing with the fair Sunanda--on a royal holiday.
With her beauty once so peerless--worthy now of little praise,
SUDEVA _spake_.
"Even as once I wont to see her--such is yonder woman's form,
I my work have done, beholding--like the goddess world-adored,
Like the moonlight in its fulness--the desire of all the world.
From Vidarbha's pleasant waters--her by cruel fate plucked up,
Like a lotus flower uprooted--with the mire and dirt around:
Like the pallid night, when Rahu--swallows up the darkened moon:
For her husband wan with sorrow--like a gentle stream dried up;
Widowed now of all love's pleasures--of her noble kin despoiled,
Wretched, bearing life, her husband--in her hope again to see.
To the unadorned, a husband--is the chiefest ornament;
Of her husband if forsaken--she in splendour is not bright.
Difficult must be the trial--does king Nala, reft of her,
Still retain his wretched body--nor with sorrow pine away?
Her with her dark flowing tresses--with her long and lotus eyes,
Worthy of all joy, thus joyless--as I see, my soul is wrung.
Her recovering shall king Nala--to his happiness return,
King, albeit despoiled of kingdom--he his realm shall reassume;
In their age and virtues equal--equal in their noble race,
He alone of her is worthy--worthy she alone of him.
Me beseems it of that peerless--of that brave and prudent king,
To console the loyal consort--pining for her husband's sight.
Her will I address with comfort--with her moonlike glowing face.
Her with woe once unacquainted--woful now and lost in thought."
"I am named Sudeva, lady--I, thy brother's chosen friend,
By king Bhima's royal mandate--hither come in search of thee.
Well thy sire, thy royal mother--well thy noble brethren fare,
And well fare those little infants--well and happy are they both.
Many a question asked in order--and of every friend beloved.
And the daughter of Vidarbha--freely wept, so sudden thus
On Sudeva, best of Brahmins--gazing, on her brother's friend.
Her beheld the young Sunanda--weeping, wasted with distress,
As she thus her secret converse--with the wise Sudeva held.
Thus she spake unto her mother--"Lo, how fast our handmaid weeps,
All the truth of Damayanti--sitting at his ease, declared.
"In Vidarbha the just monarch--Bhima, in his glory dwells.
Of that king is she the daughter--Damayanti is her name;
And the raja of Nishadha--Nala, Virasena's son,
Of that king is she the consort--Punyasloka named, the Wise.
For the sake of Damayanti--wander we about the earth;
Till I found yon noble woman--in the palace of your son.
Like to her of mortal women--is there none, her beauty's peer;
In the midst, between her eyebrows--from her birth a lovely mole,
To Sudeva as she listened--uttering thus his strange discourse:
All the dust that mole concealing--young Sunanda washed away.
By the obscuring dust unclouded--shining out that mole appeared;
On the brow of Damayanti--like the unclouded moon in heaven.
Gazing on that mole, Sunanda--and the mother of the king,
Wept as fondly they embraced her--and an instant silent stood.
Then her tears awhile suppressing--thus the royal mother spake:
Are the daughters, king Sudaman--he that in Dasarna reigns;
She was wedded to king Bhima--and to Viravahu I.
In my fathers home, Dasarna--once I saw thee, newly born.
As to me thy father's lineage--is akin, so mine to thee;
Whatsoe'er my power commandeth--Damayanti, all is thine."
To the queen did Damayanti--in the gladness of her heart,
Having bowed in courteous homage--to her mother's sister, speak:
"While unknown I might continue--gladly dwelt I here with thee;
Every want supplied on th' instant--guarded by thy gentle care.
Orphaned of their sire, in sorrow--orphaned, ah, how long of me!
If thou yet wilt grant a favour--o'er all other favours dear,
To Vidarbha would I journey--quick the palanquin command."
"Be it so," her mother's sister--joyful, instant made reply.
Guarded by a mighty army--with th' approval of her son,
Sent the queen, that happy lady--in a palanquin, by men
So the queenly Damayanti--all in noblest guise performed.
And her royal sire Sudeva--with the thousand kine made glad,
Joyous to behold his daughter,--with a village and much wealth.
Thus addressed by Damayanti--very sorrowful the queen
Clouded all her face with weeping--not a word in answer spake.
But the princess, thus afflicted--when the female train beheld,
"'Damayanti, Lo thy daughter--for her husband sits and mourns.'
Sent around to every region--"Be your care the king to find."
Then those Brahmins at the mandate--of Vidarbha's royal lord,
First drew near to Damayanti--"Lo, now set we forth," they said.
Even as thou commandedst, sits she--sadly waiting thy return.
Grant thy pity, noble hero--answer to her earnest prayer.
Be this also said, to move him--to compassionate my state,
Why hast thou forgot that maxim--thou in every duty skilled.
Thou wert ever called the generous--thou the gentle and the wise.
Prince of men, O grant thy pity--grant it, lord of men, to me;
Mark him well, lest he be Nala--who he is, and where he dwells.
That again ye may approach him--do ye this without delay.
Whether he be of the wealthy--whether of the poor he be;
Be he covetous of riches--learn ye all he would desire."
Long the time that passed, a Brahmin--wise Parnada was his name,
Home returning to the city--thus to Bhima's daughter spake:
"Damayanti! royal Nala--as I sought Nishadha's king,
Came I to Ayodhya's city--the Bhangasuri's abode.
Thus as spake I, answered nothing--Rituparna, king of men;
Nor of all that full assemblage--more than once addressed by me.
By the king dismissed, when sate I--in a solitary place,
One of Rituparna's household--Vahuca, his name, drew near,
Charioteer of that great raja--with short arms and all deformed,
In the breastplate of their virtue--noble women live unharmed.
By the wretched, by the senseless--by the lost to every joy,
She by such a lord forsaken--yet to anger will not yield.
Secretly went Damayanti--and her mother thus addressed:
"Let not what I speak to Bhima--O my mother, be made known--
In thy presence to Sudeva--best of Brahmins, I would speak.
Let not this my secret counsel--to king Bhima be disclosed;
With the same good fortune swiftly--may Sudeva part from hence,
Home to bring the royal Nala--mother, to Ayodhya's town."
Resting from his toil, Parnada--of the Brahmin race the best,
Did the daughter of Vidarbha--honour, and with wealth reward.
"Brahmin! home if come my Nala--richer guerdon will I give;
Thus addressed, his grateful homage--and his benedictions paid,
Having thus achieved his mission--home the wise Parnada went.
Then accosting good Sudeva--Damayanti thus began,
Speak thou thus to Rituparna--Come, as of thine own accord.
Once again her Swayembara--does king Bhima's daughter hold;
Damayanti, thither hasten--all the kings and sons of kings;
Closely now the time is reckoned--when to-morrow's dawn appears;
Whether lives or is not living--royal Nala, no one knows."
Hearing thus Sudeva's language--Rituparna, king of men
With a gentle voice and blandly--thus to Vahuca began.
"Where the princess Damayanti--doth her Swayembara hold
In one day to far Vidarbha--Vahuca, I fain would go."
In these words the unknown Nala--by his royal lord addressed
Is't a stratagem thus subtly--for my sake devised and plann'd?
To desire this deed unholy--is that holy princess driven
Wrong'd by me, her basest husband--miserable, mind-estranged!
Fickle is the heart of woman--grievous too is my offence!
Hence she thus might act ignobly--in her exile, reft of friends,
Soul-disturbed by her great sorrow--in the excess of her despair.
Thus within his mind revolving--Vahuca, his wretched mind,
With his folded hands addressed he--Rituparna, king of men:
"I thy mandate will accomplish--I will go, O king of men,
In a single day, O raja--to Vidarbha's royal town."
Vahuca of all the coursers--did a close inspection make
Entering in the royal stable--by Bhangasuri's command.
Ever urged by Rituparna--Vahuca, in horses skilled,
wind.
As he gazed upon those coursers--spoke the king, almost in wrath:
VAHUCA _spake_.
These the horses to Vidharba--that will bear us, doubt not thou;
RITUPARNA _spake_.
"In the knowledge thou of horses--Vahuca, hast matchless skill;
Then those four excelling horses--nobly bred--of courage high,
In their harness to the chariot--did the skilful Nala yoke.--
To the chariot yoked, as mounted--in his eager haste the king
All at once in th' air sprung upward--as the driver to unseat.
Then, as he beheld those horses--bearing him as fleet as wind,
Did the monarch of Ayodhya--in his silent wonder sit.
When the rattling of the chariot--when the guiding of the reins,
When of Vahuca the science--saw he, thus Varshneya thought:
"Is it Matali, the chariot--of the king of heaven that drives?
Lo, in Vahuca each virtue--of that godlike charioteer!
Is it Salihotra skilful--in the race, the strength of steeds,
That hath ta'en a human body--thus all-glorious to behold?
Is't, or can it be, king Nala--conqueror of his foemen's realms?
Is the lord of men before us?"--thus within himself he thought.
"If the skill possessed by Nala--Vahuca possesseth too,
Lo, of Vahuca the knowledge--and of Nala equal seems;
And of Vahuca and Nala--thus alike the age should be.
If 'tis not the noble Nala--it is one of equal skill.
His deformity of body--that my judgment still confounds;
Yet that proof alone is wanting--what shall then my judgment be?
Thus the charioteer Varshneya--sate debating in his mind;
Much, and much again he pondered--in the silence of his thought.
But the royal Rituparna--Vahuca's surpassing skill,
With the charioteer Varshneya--sate admiring, and rejoiced.
In the guiding of the coursers--his attentive hand he watched,
Wondered at his skill, consummate--in consummate joy himself.
Over rivers, over mountains--through the forests, over lakes,
Fleetly passed they, rapid gliding--like a bird along the air.
As the chariot swiftly travelled--lo, Bhangasuri the king
Saw his upper garment fallen--from the lofty chariot seat;
Though in urgent haste, no sooner--he his fallen mantle saw,
Than the king exclaimed to Nala--"Pause, and let us take it up:
Check, an instant, mighty-minded!--check thy fiery-footed steeds,
Ten miles, lo, it lies behind us--turn we not, to gain it, back."
Bowed with fruit, within the forest--saw a tall Vibhitak tree:
Gazing on that tree, the raja--spake to Vahuca in haste,
"Now, O charioteer, in numbers, thou shalt see my passing skill.
On yon tree are leaves how many?--Vahuca, how many fruit?
Say, how many are there fallen?--one above a hundred, there.
One leaf is there 'bove a hundred--and one fruit, O Vahuca!
"What thou speakest, to mine eyesight--all invisible appears;
Whether it may be, or may not--this not done, I cannot know.
I will number, thou beholding--all its fruits, O king of men,
But an instant let Varshneya--hold the bridles of the steeds."
To the charioteer the raja--answered, "Time is none to stay."
Vahuca replied, all eager--his own purpose to fulfil,
"Either stay thou here an instant--or go onward in thy speed,
With the charioteer Varshneya--go, for straight the road before."
"Charioteer! on earth thine equal--Vahuca, there may not be;
By thy guidance, skilled in horses!--to Vidarbha I would go:
I in thee have placed reliance--interrupt not then our course:
Willingly will I obey thee--Vahuca, in what thou ask'st,
If this day we reach Vidarbha--ere the sun hath sunk in night."
Vahuca replied, "No sooner--have I numbered yonder fruit,
To Vidarbha will I hasten--grant me then my prayer, O king."
Then the raja, all reluctant--"Stay then, and begin to count;
Of one branch one part, O blameless--from the tall Vibhitak tree,
Then, his soul possess'd with wonder--to the raja thus he said;
"Having counted, an thou sawest--even so many fruits there are,
Marvellous thy power, O monarch--by mine eyes beheld and proved,
Of that wonder-working science--fain the secret would I hear."
Then the raja spake in answer--eager to pursue his way,
"I of dice possess the science--and in numbers thus am skilled."
Vahuca replied; "That science--if to me thou wilt impart,
In return, O king, receive thou--my surpassing skill in steeds."
Then the raja Rituparna--by his pressing need induced,
Eager for that skill in horses--"Be it so," thus 'gan to say;
"Well, O Vahuca, thou speakest--thou my skill in dice receive,
And of steeds thy wondrous knowledge--be to me a meet return."
Rituparna, all his science--saying this, to Nala gave.
Soon as he in dice grew skilful--Kali from his body passed:
He Karkotaka's foul poison--vomiting from out his mouth,
Went from forth his body Kali--tortured by that fiery curse.
Nala, wasted by that conflict--came not instant to himself,
But, released from that dread venom--Kali his own form resumed:
And Nishadha's monarch, Nala--fain would curse him in his ire.
Him addressed the fearful Kali--trembling, and with folded hands;
When by thee she was deserted--since that time, O king of men,
I have dwelt in thee in anguish--in the ecstacy of pain.
By the King of Serpents' poison--I have burned by night, by day;
To thy mercy now for refuge--flee I, hear my speech, O king:
And the fearful Kali entered--in the cloven Vibhitak tree:
To no eyes but those of Nala--visible, had Kali spoken.
Then the monarch of Nishadha--from his inward fever freed,
When away had vanished Kali--when the fruits he had numbered all,
Proudly mounting on the chariot--onward urged the rapid steeds.
All his soul elate with transport--Nala swifter, swifter drove;
With his face towards Vidarbha--rode the raja in his pride:
And when forward Nala journeyed--Kali to his home returned.
So released from all his sufferings--Nala went, the king of men,
Dispossessed by Kali, wanting--only now his proper form.
With the evening in Vidarbha--men at watch, as they drew near,
Mighty Rituparna's coming--to king Bhima did proclaim.
Then that king, by Bhima's mandate--entered in Kundina's walls,
All the region round him echoing--with the thunders of his car.
But the echoing of that chariot--when king Nala's horses heard,
As a cloud that hoarsely thunders--at the coming of the rains.
Elephants and peacocks hearing--the fleet chariot rattling on,
DAMAYANTI _spake_.
"How the rolling of yon chariot--filling, as it seems, th' earth,
If this day I see not Nala--with his glowing moonlike face,
I the gentle pressure feel not--without doubt I shall not live.
In his might like the strong lion--like the raging elephant,
Not an idle word remember--in his noble converse free.
Lofty, patient, like a hero--liberal beyond all kings,
Nought ignoble, as the eunuch--even in private, may he do.
As I think upon his virtues--as I think by day, by night,
All my heart is rent with anguish--widowed of in own beloved."
Thus lamenting, she ascended--as with frenzied mind possessed,
To the palace roof's high terrace--to behold the king of men.
In the middle court high seated--in the car, the lord of earth,
Rituparna with Varshneya--and with Vahuca she saw,
When Varshneya from that chariot--and when Vahuca came down,
To the noble monarch Bhima--he drew near, for strength renowned.
Him received with highest honour--Bhima, for without due cause,
Deemed not he, the mighty raja--with such urgent speed had come.
When nor king within the palace--nor king's son he could behold,
Nor of Swayembara heard he--nor assembled Brahmins saw.
Thus within his mind deep pondering--spoke of Kosala the lord.
"Hither, O majestic Bhima--to salute thee am I come."
But king Bhima smiled in secret--as he thought within his mind,
"What the cause of this far journey--of a hundred Yojanas.
Passing through so many cities--for this cause he set not forth;
For this cause of little moment--to our court he hath not come:
What the real cause, hereafter--haply I may chance to know."
After royal entertainment--then the king his guest dismissed:
There retired king Rituparna--with Varshneya in his suite.
Vahuca, meantime, the chariot--to the chariot-house had led,
And the charioteer Varshneya--and the seeming Vahuca,
Hath the charioteer Varshneya--Nala's noble science learned?
Therefore did the rolling chariot--seem as of Nishadha's king?"
Thus when Damayanti pondered--in the silence of her soul,
Sent she then her beauteous handmaid--to that king her messenger.
DAMAYANTI _spake_.
"Go, Kesinia, go, enquire thou--who is yonder charioteer,
On the chariot seat reposing--all deformed, with arms so short?
Much and sorely do I doubt me--whether Nala it may be,
As my bosom's rapture augurs--as the gladness of my heart.
Then to Vahuca departing--went that zealous messenger,
On the palace' loftiest terrace--Damayanti sate and gazed.
KESINIA _spake_.
"Happy omen mark thy coming--I salute thee, king of men:
Of the princess Damayanti--hear, O lord of men, the speech:
'From what region came ye hither--with what purpose are ye come?'
VAHUCA _spake_.
"Soon a second Swayembara, heard the king of Kosala,
Damayanti holds: to-morrow--will it be, the Brahmin said:
KESINIA _spake_.
VAHUCA _spake_.
"'Tis the far-renowned Varshneya--Punyasloka's charioteer:
He, when Nala fled an exile--to Bhangasuri retired.
Skilful I in taming horses--and a famous charioteer.
Rituparna's chosen driver--dresser of his food am I."
KESINIA _spake_.
"Knows the charioteer Varshneya--whither royal Nala went?
Of his fortune hath he told thee--Vahuca, what hath he said?"
VAHUCA _spake_.
"He of the unhappy Nala--safe the children borne away,
Wheresoe'er he would, departed--of king Nala knows he nought:
Nothing of Nishadha's raja--fair one! living man doth know.
Of himself to living mortal--Nala will no sign betray."
KESINIA _spake_.
"He that to Ayodhya's city--went, the holy Brahmin first,
Of his faithful wife these sayings--uttered once and once again;
Even as thou commanded'st, sits she--sadly waiting thy return,
Grant thy pity, noble hero--answer to her earnest prayer.'
Of king Nala, by the handmaid--fair Kesinia thus addressed,
"Even in the extreme of misery--noble women still preserve
By the wretched, by the senseless--by the lost to every joy,
She by such a lord forsaken--to resentment will not yield.
Against him, by hunger wasted--of his robe by birds despoiled,
All that Vahuca had spoken--all th' emotion he betrayed.
Hearing this, fair Damayanti--all abandoned to her grief.
Thinking still that he was Nala--to Kesinia spake again.
"Go, Kesinia, go, examine--Vahuca, and all his acts,
Silent take thy stand beside him--and observe whate'er he does;
Nor, Kesinia, be there given him--fire his labours to assist:
Neither be there given him water--in thy haste, at his demand:
All, when thou hast well observed him--every act to me repeat,
Every act that more than mortal--seems in Vahuca, relate."
Thus addressed by Damayanti--straight Kesinia went again,
Of the tamer of the horses--every act observed, came back;
Every act as she had seen it--she to Damayanti told:
Every more than mortal wonder--that in Vahuca appeared.
KESINIA _spake_.
"Very holy is he, never--mortal man, in all my life,
Have I seen, or have I heard of--Damayanti, like to him.
He drew near the lowly entrance--bowed not down his stately head;
For the use of Rituparna--much and various viands came;
Sent, as meet, by royal Bhima--and abundant animal food.
Of the withered grass a handful--held it upward to the sun:
On the instant, brightly blazing--shone the all-consuming fire.
Much I marvelled at the wonder--and in mute amazement stood;
Lo, a second greater marvel--sudden burst upon my sight!
And another greater wonder--lady, did I there behold:
He the flowers which he had taken--gently moulded in his hands,
DAMAYANTI _spake_.
Damayanti when these wonders--of the king of men she heard,
With a gentle voice and weeping--to Kesinia spake again:
"Go, again, Kesinia, secret--and by Vahuca unseen,
Of those viands bring a portion--by his skilful hand prepared:"
She to Vahuca approaching--unperceived stole soft away
Of the well-cooked meat a morsel--warm she bore it in her haste,
And to Damayanti gave it--fair Kesinia, undelayed.
Of the food prepared by Nala--well the flavour did she know;
Tasting it she shrieked in transport--"Nala is yon charioteer."
Trying then a new emotion--of her mouth ablution made:
She her pair of infant children--with Kesinia sent to him.
Soon as he young Indrasena--and her little brother saw,
From his hold released the children--to Kesinia speaking thus:
"Oh! so like mine own twin children--was yon lovely infant pair,
Seeing them thus unexpected--have I broken out in tears:
If so oft thou comest hither--men some evil will suspect,
Seeing the profound emotion--of that wisest king of men,
Passing back in haste, Kesinia--told to Damayanti all:
Then again did Damayanti--mission to Kesinia give,
To approach her royal mother--in her haste her lord to see.
"Vahuca we've watched most closely--Nala we suspect him still;
Only from his form we doubt him--this myself would fain behold.
Cause him enter here, my mother--to my wishes condescend;
Known or unknown to my father--let it be decided now."
By that handmaid thus accosted--then the queen to Bhima told
All his daughter's secret counsel--and the raja gave assent.
Sudden as he gazed upon her--upon Damayanti gazed,
With an agonizing sorrow--was the noble lady seized.
Clad, then, in a scarlet mantle--hair dishevelled, mire-defiled,
Unto Vahuca this language--Damayanti thus addressed:
"Vahuca beheld'st thou ever--an upright and noble man,
Who departed and abandoned--in the wood, his sleeping wife?
To the lord of earth, from folly--what offence can I have given?
That he fled, within the forest--leaving me, by sleep oppressed?
Openly, the gods rejected--was he chosen by me, my lord:
"Gaming that I lost my kingdom--'twas not mine own guilty deed,
It was Kali wrought within me--hence it was I fled from thee;
Ever burning, fiercer, hotter--as when fire is heaped on fire.
He, by my religious patience--my devotion, now subdued,
Lo! the end of all our sorrows--beautiful! is now at hand.
I, the evil one departed, hither have made haste to come;
For thy sake, O round-limbed! only;--other business have I none.
'Now the daughter of king Bhima--will a second husband choose,
'Free from every tie, as wills she--as her fancy may beseem,'
Hearing this, came hither speeding--king Bhangasuri in haste."
Damayanti, when from Nala--heard she this his grievous charge,
With her folded hands, and trembling--thus to Nala made reply:
"Do not me, O noble-minded--of such shameless guilt suspect,
Thou, when I the gods rejected--Nala, wert my chosen lord.
Only thee to find, the Brahmins--went to the ten regions forth,
Thee in Kosala, the palace--of king Rituparna saw.
Since, beside thyself, no mortal--in the world, within the day,
Could drive on the fleetest coursers--for a hundred Yojanas.
To attest this truth, O monarch!--thus I touch thy sacred feet;
Even in heart have I committed--never evil thought 'gainst thee.
This my sacred truth attest they--or this day abandon me."
Thus adjured, a solemn witness--spake the wind from out the air;
"She hath done or thought no evil--Nala, 'tis the truth we speak:
For beside thyself no mortal--might a hundred Yojanas drive.
Even as thus the wind was speaking--flowers fell showering all
around:
And the gods sweet music sounded--on the zephyr floating light.
As on this surpassing wonder--royal Nala stood and gazed,
Of the blameless Damayanti--melted all his jealous doubts.
Then by dust all undefiled--he the heavenly vest put on,
Thought upon the King of Serpents--and his proper form resumed.
In his own proud form her husband--Bhima's royal daughter saw,
Loud she shrieked, the undespised--and embraced the king of men.
Bhima's daughter, too, king Nala--shining glorious as of old,
In her calm and gentle sorrow--softly sighed the long-eyed queen:
All the tale of Damayanti--and of Nala all the tale,
To king Bhima in her transport--told Vidarbha's mother-queen.
Then replied that mighty monarch--"Nala, his ablutions done,
Thus rejoined to Damayanti--I to-morrow will behold."
They the livelong night together--slow related, each to each,
With glad hearts, Vidarbha's princess--and the kingly Nala dwelt.
Like as the glad earth to water--opens its half-budding fruits,
When that night was passed and over--Nala, that high-gifted king,
Humbly Nala paid his homage--to the father of his queen,
Reverently did Damayanti--pay her homage to her sire.
Him received the royal Bhima--as his son, with highest joy,
Honoured, as became him, nobly:--then consoled that monarch wise
Damayanti, to king Nala--reconciled, the faithful wife.
Royal Nala, all these honours--as his homage meet, received;
And in fitting terms, devotion--to his royal sire declared.
Mighty then, through all the city--ran the wakening sound of joy;
Rituparna heard of Nala--in the form of Vahuca,
Now re-wed, to Damayanti--and the king of men rejoiced.
To the king, before his presence--Nala courteous made excuse.
In his turn Ayodhya's monarch--in like courteous language spake.
He, received thus hospitably--wondering to Nishadha's king,
"Bliss be with thee, reunited--to thy queen:" 'twas thus he said.
I might wish undone, thy pardon--grant me, I beseech thee, king."
NALA _spake_.
Thou of old, my friend, my kinsman--wert, O sovereign of men,
From this time henceforth thy friendship--be my glory and my joy.
As in mine own royal palace--dwelt I ever, king, in thine.
My surpassing skill in horses--all is thine that I possess;
That on thee bestow I gladly--if, O king, it seem thee good."
Nala thus to Rituparna--gave his subtle skill in steeds,
Gladly he received the present--with each regulation meet.
Gifted with that precious knowledge--then Bhangasuri the king,
Home returned to his own city--with another charioteer.
Rituparna thus departed--Nala, then the king of men,
In the city of Kundina--sojourned for no length of time.
There a month when he had sojourned--of king Bhima taking leave,
Guarded but by few attendants--to Nishadha took his way.
With a single splendid chariot--and with elephants sixteen,
And with fifty armed horsemen--and six hundred men on foot;
Then the son of Virasena--to king Pushkara drew near;
Set I now upon the hazard--Pushkara, thy kingdom thou:
In the game once more contend we--'tis my settled purpose this,
Brother, at a single hazard--play we boldly for our lives.
From another he who treasures--he who mighty realm hath won,
'Tis esteemed a bounden duty--to play back the counter game.
An hereditary kingdom--may by any means be sought,
Be re-won by any venture--this the maxim of the wise.
Of two courses set before thee--Pushkara, the option make,
Or in play to stand the hazard--or in battle stretch the bow."
"Oh what joy! abundant treasures--thou hast won, again to play;
Oh what joy! of Damayanti--now the hard-won prize is mine:
Oh what joy! again thou livest--with thy consort, mighty armed!
When this day the round-limbed princess--Damayanti, undespised,
With his sword th' indignant Nala--fain had severed off his head.
In a single throw by Nala--was the perilous venture gained;
Pushkara, in play thus conquered--with a smile the king rejoined:
Not thyself achieved the conquest--that subdued me heretofore!
Live thou henceforth at thy pleasure--freely I thy life bestow,
And of thine estate and substance--give I thee thy fitting share.
And mine unabated friendship--never shall from thee depart.
Pushkara, thus finding comfort--answered to Nishadha's lord,
Answered he to Punyasloka--bowing low with folded hands:
"Everlasting be thy glory! may'st thou live ten thousand years!
That my life to me thou grantest--and a city for mine home!"
Hospitably entertained--there a month when he had dwelt,
Joyful to his own proud city--Pushkara, with all his kin,
With a well-appointed army--of attendant slaves an host,
Shining like the sun departed,--in his full meridian orb.
As he entered, to his subjects--Nala spake the words of peace.
From the city, from the country--all, with hair erect with joy,
Setting forth to do thee homage--as to Indra all the gods."
Then at peace the tranquil city--the first festal gladness o'er,
With a mighty host escorted--Damayanti brought he home.
Damayanti rich in treasures--in her father's blessings rich,
Glad dismissed the mighty-minded--Bhima, fearful in his strength.
Nala lived, as lives the sovereign--of the gods in Nandana.
Re-ascended thus to glory--he, among the kings of earth,
Ruled his realm in Jambudwipa--thus re-won, with highest fame;
And all holy rites performed he--with devout munificence.
This extract from the Ramayana has been edited by M. Chezy,
with a free translation into French prose by M. Bournouf, a
literal version into Latin, and a grammatical commentary and
notes by the editor.
Through the arts of one of his wives Kaikéyí, to whom he had
made an incautious vow to grant her demand, Dasaratha is
obliged to send his victorious son Rama into banishment at
the very moment of his marriage with the beautiful Sita. Rama
is accompanied in his exile by Lakshmana. The following
episode describes the misery and distress of the father,
deprived of his favourite son.
Scarce Rama to the wilderness--had with his younger brother gone,
As when on subtle poison hid--an unsuspecting child hath fed;
Or elephant, the stream to drink,--intent my savage game to slay,
By this, thy fatal shaft, this one--three miserable victims fall,
With troubled mind I stood, cast down--t' inevitable endless woe.
Most holy ones, unknowingly--a deed of awful guilt I've done.
With bow in hand I took my way--along Sarayu's pleasant brink,
The savage buffalo to slay--or elephant come down to drink.
One last embrace, and then, beloved--upon thy lonely journey go!
To us the blind, the destitute--with helpless hunger perishing?
My parents, weep no more for me--yon warrior monarch slew me not,
A curse I lay upon thy heart--whose fearful pain I know too well.
The shepherd of his people old--at midnight on his bed of death,
The hostility of the kindred races of Pandu and Kuru forms
one of the great circles of Indian fable. It fills great part
of the immense poem, the Mahabharata. At this period the five
sons of Pandu and their mother Kunti have been driven into
the wilderness from the court of their uncle Dritarashtra at
Nâgapur. The brothers, during their residence in the forest,
have an encounter with a terrible giant, Hidimba, the
prototype of the Cyclops of Homer, and of the whole race of
giants of northern origin, who, after amusing our ancestors,
children of larger growth, descended to our nurseries, from
whence they are now well-nigh exploded. After this adventure
the brothers take up their residence in the city of Ekachara,
where they are hospitably received in the house of a Brahmin.
The neighbourhood of this city is haunted by another terrible
giant, Baka, whose cannibal appetite has been glutted by a
succession of meaner victims. It is now come to the Brahmin's
turn to furnish the fatal banquet; they overhear the
following complaint of their host, whose family, consisting
of himself, his wife, a grown up daughter, and a son a little
child, must surrender one to become the horrible repast of
the monster. In turn, the father, the mother, in what may be
fairly called three singularly pathetic Indian elegies,
enforce each their claim to the privilege of suffering for
the rest.
Alas for life, so vain, so weary--in this changing world below,
Ever-teeming root of sorrow--still dependent, full of woe!
Oh to find a place of refuge--in this dire extremity,
For my wife, my son, my daughter--and myself what hope may be?
Thee I chose, and thee I honoured--as enjoins the holy book.
Can to thy death surrender--mine own true, my faithful wife?
Yet my son can I abandon--in his early bloom of life,
Of myself begot, the virgin--could I ever her forsake?
If myself I offer, sorrow--in the next world my lot must be,
Hardly then could live my children--and my wife bereft of me.
One of these so dear to offer--to the wise, were sin, were shame,
_The_ BRAHMIN'S WIFE _speaks_.
As of lowly caste, my husband--yield not thus thy soul to woe,
This is not a time for wailing--who the Vedas knows must know:
Fate inevitable orders--all must yield to death in turn,
Hence the doom, th' irrevocable--it beseems not thee to mourn.
Tis the wife's most holy duty--law on earth without repeal,
That her life she offer freely--when demands her husband's weal.
And e'en now, a deed so noble--hath its meed of pride and bliss,
In the next world life eternal--and unending fame in this.
'Tis a high, yet certain duty--that my life I thus resign,
'Tis thy right, as thy advantage--both the willing deed enjoin--
How these little ones from ruin--how my hapless self to save:
Thus by all the rude and reckless--with profane desires pursued,
Scorning me in their wild passion--will unworthy suitors pour.
And if I refuse to give her--mindful of thy virtuous course,
In the power of the unworthy--the sweet daughter that I bore;
As the fish when water fails them--both would miserably perish.
Thus of all the three is ruin--the inevitable lot,
Desolate of thee, their guardian--wherefore, Oh, forsake us not!
The dark way before her husband--'tis a wife's first bliss to go,
I for thee forsook my kindred--and forsake my life for thee.
More than offering 'tis, than penance--liberal gift or sacrifice,
For thy bliss, for thy well-doing--thine and all thy race's weal.
Let me then discharge the duty--and preserve thyself by me,
Of the man the death is certain--of the woman yet in doubt,
Wherefore, noblest, on the instant--as the victim send me out.
I have lived with many blessings--I have well fulfilled my part,
I've borne children, I am aged--in my soul I've all revolved,
And to her wilt do thy duty--gentle as to me, and kind.
Many wives if he espouses--man incurs nor sin nor blame,
For a wife to wed another--'tis inexpiable shame.
This well weighed within thy spirit--and the sin thyself to die,
Save thyself, thy race, thy children--be the single victim I.
Of these two the troubled language--in the chamber as she heard,
_The_ DAUGHTER _spake_.
Why to sorrow thus abandoned?--weep not thus, as all forlorn,
Hear ye now my speech, my parents--and your sorrows may be borne.
Ever here the son by offering--or hereafter doth atone,
Either way is he th' atoner--hence the wise have named him son.
Daughters too, the great forefathers--of a noble race desire,
In a little time we perish--who may dare to question how?
But if first depart to heaven--he that after me was born,
I shall die, unused to sorrow--yet to deepest sorrow left.
But thyself, my sire! my mother--and my gentle brother save,
Shall I quickly be, my father!--reft of thy paternal care!
But my father, thus preserving--thus preserving all that's thine,
As they heard her lamentation--in their troubled anguish deep,
Wept the father, wept the mother--'gan the daughter too to weep.
Then the little son beheld them--and their doleful moan he heard;
First to one, and then to th' other--smiling went he to and fro.
Then a blade of spear-grass lifting--thus in bolder glee he said,
The following extract from the Mahábhárata was published by
Bopp, with a German translation, (the promised Latin version
has not yet reached this country,) with four other extracts
from the same poem. It is inserted here not on account of its
poetical merit, but on account of the interest of the
subject. It is the genuine, and probably the earliest,
version of the Indian tradition of the Flood. The author has
made the following observations on this subject in the
Quarterly Review, which he ventures here to transcribe.
Nothing has thrown so much discredit on oriental studies,
particularly on the valuable Asiatic Researches, as the fixed
determination to find the whole of the Mosaic history in the
remoter regions of the East. It was not to be expected that,
when the new world of oriental literature was suddenly
disclosed, the first attempts to explore would be always
guided by cool and dispassionate criticism. Even Sir W. Jones
was led away, at times, by the ardour of his imagination; and
the gorgeous palaces of the Mahabadian dynasty, which were
built on the authority of the Desatir and the Dabistan, and
thrown upward into an age anterior even to the earliest
Indian civilisation, have melted away, and 'left not a wreck
behind,' before the cooler and more profound investigations
of Mr. Erskine. Sir W. Jones was succeeded by Wilford, a
man of most excursive imagination, bred in the school of
Bryant, who, even if he had himself been more deeply versed
in the ancient language, would have been an unsafe guide. But
Wilford, it is well known, unfortunately betrayed to the
crafty and mercenary pundits whom he employed, the objects
which he hoped to find; and these unscrupulous interpreters,
unwilling to disappoint their employer, had little difficulty
in discovering, or forging, or interpolating, whatever might
suit his purpose. The honest candour with which Wilford, a
man of the strictest integrity, made the open and humiliating
confession of the deceptions which had been practised upon
him, ought for ever to preserve his memory from disrespect.
The fictions to which he had given currency, only retained,
and still we are ashamed to say retain, their ground in
histories of the Bible and works of a certain school of
theology, from which no criticism can exorcise an error once
established: still, however, with sensible men, a kind of
suspicion was thrown over the study itself; and the cool and
sagacious researches of men, probably better acquainted with
their own language than some of the Brahmins themselves, were
implicated in the fate of the fantastic and, though
profoundly learned, ever injudicious reveries of Wilford.
Now, however, that we may depend on the genuineness of our
documents, it is curious to examine the Indian version or
versions of the universal tradition of the Deluge; for,
besides this extract from the Mahábhárata, Sir W. Jones had
extracted from the Bhagavata Purana another, and, in some
respects, very different legend. Both of these versions are
strongly impregnated with the mythological extravagance of
India; but the Purana, one of the Talmudic books of Indian
tradition, as M. Bopp observes, is evidently of a much later
date than the ruder and simpler fable of the old Epic. It
belongs to a less ancient school of poetry, and a less
ancient system of religion. While it is much more exuberant
in its fiction, it nevertheless betrays a sort of
apprehension lest it shall shock the less easy faith of a
more incredulous reader; it is manifestly from the religious
school of the follower of Vishnu, and, indeed, seems to have
some reference to one of the philosophic systems. Yet the
outline of the story is the same. In the Máhábharatic
version, Manu, like Noah, stands alone in an age of universal
depravity. His virtues, however, are of the Indian cast--the
most severe and excruciating penance by which he extorts, as
it were, the favour of the deity.
Vivaswata's son, a raja--and a sage of mighty fame,
King of men, the first great fathers--in his glory equalled he,
In his might and kingly power--Manu, and in earthly bliss,
And in wonder-working penance--sire and grandsire far surpassed.
To the penitent with tresses--streaming loose, and wet, and long,
"Blessed! lo, the least of fishes--of the mighty fish in dread,
Over us impends for ever--our inevitable fate.
Ere I sink, if thou wilt free me--from th' extremity of dread,
Meet return can I compensate--when the holy deed is done."
Speaking thus the fish when heard he--full of pity all his heart,
Brought the son of Vivaswata--to the river shore the fish,
Cast it in a crystal vessel--like the moonshine clear and bright.
Cleaved to him the heart of Manu--as to a beloved son.
Spake again the fish to Manu--as he saw him, thus he spake:
"O all prosperous! O all gentle!--bring me to another place."
Then the fish from out the vessel--blessed Manu took again;
And with gentle speed he bare him,--Manu, to a spacious lake.
There the conqueror of cities,--mighty Manu, cast him in.
"Bring me now, O blest and holy!--to the Ganga, ocean's bride,
Let me dwell in her wide waters--yet, O loved one, as thou wilt,
Be it so; whate'er thy bidding,--murmur would beseem me ill,
Thus addressed, the happy Manu--took again the fish, and bore
To the sacred stream of Ganga--and himself he cast him in.
"Mightiest! I can dwell no longer--here in Ganga's narrow stream;
Manu's self from Ganga's water--took again that wondrous fish,
And he brought him to the ocean,--with his own hand cast him in.
Brought by Manu to the ocean--very large that fish appeared,
But not yet of form unmeasured,--spread delicious odours round.
But that fish by kingly Manu--cast into the ocean wide,
In these words again bespake him--and he smiled as thus he spake:
In a little time, O blessed!--all this firm and seated earth,
All that moves upon its surface--shall a deluge sweep away.
Near it comes, of all creation--the ablution day is near;
Therefore what I now forewarn thee--may thy highest weal secure.
Build thyself a ship, O Manu--strong, with cables well prepared,
And thyself, with the seven Sages--mighty Manu enter in.
From thy ship keep watch, O hermit--watch for me, as I draw near;
Doubt thou not, O lofty minded!--of my warning speech the truth."
King of men, the born of Manu!--Manu saw the sea-borne fish,
In his form foreshewn, the horned--like a mountain huge and high.
In his bark along the ocean--boldly went the king of men:
Like a trembling, drunken woman--reeled that ship, O king of men.
All around a waste of water--water all, and air and sky.
In the whole world of creation--princely son of Bharata!
None was seen but those seven Sages--Manu only, and the fish.
At the fish's mandate quickly--to the peak of Himavan
To the sage, the god of mercy--thus with fixed look bespake:
"I am lord of all creation--Brahma, higher than all height;
I in fishlike form have saved thee--Manu, in the perilous hour;
By an all-surpassing penance--this great work must be achieved.
Through my mercy, thy creation--to confusion ne'er shall run,"
Spake the fish, and on the instant--to the invisible he passed.
Vivaswata's son, all eager--the creation to begin,
Stood amid his work confounded:--mighty penance wrought he then.
So fulfilled that rigorous penance--instant Manu 'gan create--
Instant every living creature--Raja! he began to form.
Such the old, the famous legend--named the story of the Fish,
Which to thee I have related--this for all our sins atones.
He that hears it, Manu's legend,--in the full possession he,
certain guilt; but having wholly subdued them, he thence attains
MARSHMAN'S translation, sect. vi. p. 64.]
accented this word not quite correctly Nĭshādhă, in order to
And then again the soul, in this state of unbroken quietude,
etymology, Man, Mensch, properly means "the knowing," the Being
Bhima-parâkrama. There is a play upon the words, Bhima meaning
terrible.]
translated by deliver (or preserve, WILSON, in voce) is a common
ending of many words, without the peculiar signification of
The Indian poetry is full of instances of this strong desire for
Sachi, soft as morning light,
Daughter of ocean and primeval night,
Who fed with moonbeams dropping silent dew,
though, according to Bopp, it means _in fine compositi, Optimus,
God of each lovely sight, each lovely sound.
Soul-kindling, world-inflaming, star y-crowned,
Eternal Cama! or doth Smara bright,
translators are altogether mistaken; they have been misled by the
asserts, to mean a mythic bird, closely resembling the swan, or
considerable gifts. Mr. Wilson, in his Meghaduta, has given me a
beautiful forms and complexion, usually seen in Hindu sculptures
attendant on the deities.
Celestial genii tow'rd their king advance
(So called by men) in heaven Gandharvas named,
For matchless music famed.
Soon when the bands in lucid rows assemble,
Flutes breathe, and citherns tremble.
SIR W. JONES, Ode to Indra.--See Ramayana, l. 125.]
_heart-sleeper_, (i. e. love, reposing or dwelling in the heart).
future husband. The Swayembara is not among the eight kinds of
marriageable; but after that term let her choose for herself a
Olympus. His city is called Amaravati; his palace Vaijayanti; his
Hail, mountain of delight,
Palace of glory, bless'd by glory's king.
With prospering shade embower me, whilst I sing
Thy wonders yet unreached by mortal flight.
Sky-piercing mountain! in thy bowers of love,
No tears are seen, save where medicinal stalks
Weep drops balsamic o'er the silvered walks.
No plaints are heard, save where the restless dove
Of coy repulse, and mild reluctance talks.
Mantled in woven gold, with gems inchas'd,
With emerald hillocks graced,
From whose fresh laps, in young fantastic mazes,
Soft crystal bounds and blazes,
Bathing the lithe convolvulus that winds
desirous of defeating each other, exert their utmost strength in
new-killed in battle now-a-days, that I see none arriving in my
heaven, Swerga?"]
Hail, Dyapeter, dismay to Bala's pride,
Or speaks Purander best thy martial fame,
Or Sacra, mystic name.--SIR W. JONES, Hymn to Indra.
Bala and Vritra were the "giants" slain by Indra.]
matrimony so earnestly. WILSON.]
self-destruction. See Hindu Theatre, ii. 237 and 299.]
Yama: he is called the Dharma raja, king of justice. WILFORD in
Asiatic Researches. Compare SOUTHEY's description in the Curse of
founded; and his interview with Sawitri in BOPP's collection of
Extracts from the Mahábhárata.]
When through the waves of war thy charger sprang,
Each rock rebellowed, and each forest rang,
attributes of Varuna, has been lost--that in this line 'varanam,
seligendum' should be written instead of 'Varunam.' The Calcutta
edition has the same reading, however, and the change is not
necessary: if any alteration be made it should probably be in the
reason he must avoid reading on those lunar days."]
"The roof is supported by a great number of pillars: with the
serpents.]
devotion of the silent spirit, the purely mental worship, is the
holiest and most acceptable service to the gods. Compare WILKINS,
Indra, the giant-killer; Sachi, his spouse.]
pleasures of the chase, gambling, etc.]
Behold the city, whose immortal fame,
Glows in Avanti's or Visala's name.     line 193.
Aryaverta, the land of virtue, or India. It is named also in the
Payoshni, a river that flows from the Vindhya, mentioned in the
Brahmanda Purana. Asiatic Researches, viii. 341.]
For the Aswinas see former note.
'capripedes satyri' in Greece, I have thought the satyr not so
Brahmin's curse described.]
performance of the sacrifice: such are the births of him who is
thoughts, were enwrapt, enabled them to see things future.]
--_lo, a herd of elephants,
Oozing moisture from their temples_--
Where the wild elephant delights to shed
The juice exuding fragrant from his head
WILSON's Cloud-Messenger, p. 127, and note.]
being. This necessary corollary from the doctrine of the
parents, that he was born blind." JOHN, ix. 2.]
That snatched my love from the uplifted sword,
Like the pale moon from Rahu's ravenous jaws.
WILSON'S Malati and Madhava, p. 62.
To death, like the full moon to Rahu's jaws
personified as one of the daughters of Daksha, and wives of the
moon.--Sanscrit Dict. in voce. Comp. Vikrama and Urvasi, p. 57.]
Dasarna's fields await the coming shower.
See likewise Mr. Wilson's note, p. 37.]
incessant wind kindles the fire in the grove of bamboos, so their
fidelity. "A virtuous wife ascends to heaven, though she have no
Ah Malati, how can I bear to contemplate
The young Tamala, bowed beneath the weight
Of the light rain; the quivering drops that dance
Before the cooling gale; the joyful cry
That echoes round, as pleased the pea-fowl hail
The bow of heaven propitious to their loves.--p. 108.
Or can the peacock's animated hail
The bird with lucid eyes, to lure thee fail.--l. 147.
In another passage,
Pleased on each terrace, dancing with delight,
The friendly peacock hails thy grateful flight.--l. 215.]
Then from the agitated deep upsprung
The legion of Apsarasas, so named
That to the watery element they owed
Their being. Myriads were they born, and all
In vesture heavenly clad, and heavenly gems;
Yet more divine their native semblance, rich
With all the gifts of grace and youth and beauty.
A train innumerous followed, yet thus fair
Nor god nor demon sought their widowed love;
Thus Rághava they still remain, their charms
The common treasure of the host of heaven.
--WILSON's Translation, Preface to the Drama of Vikrama and
papilionaceous; and its fruit, entirely without use in domestic
economy, compared particularly with the Amra, may well be called
progress of the cloud, welcomed as it passes along by the joy of
Literally: Whom Brahma has placed with me in trust for a future
translation.]
barrenness of their minds to study the sacred Vedas.]
Sixty thousand leagues in length, all unweary, full of wrath,
recommence their impious and destructive work.
'And downward dug they many a rood, and downward till they
saw aghast, Where the earth-bearing elephant stood, ev'n like
a mountain tall and vast. 'Tis he whose head aloft sustains
the broad earth's forest-clothed round, With all its vast and
spreading plains, and many a stately city crown'd. If
underneath the o'erbearing load bows down his weary head,
'tis then The mighty earthquakes are abroad, and shaking down
the abodes of men. Around earth's pillar moved they slowly,
and thus in humble accents blest Him the lofty and the holy,
that bears the region of the East. And southward dug they
many a rood, until before their shuddering sight, The next
earth-bearing elephant stood, huge Mahapadmas' mountain
height. Upon his head earth's southern bound, all full of
wonder, saw they rest. Slow and awe-struck paced they round,
and him, earth's southern pillar, blest. Westward then their
work they urge, king Sagara's six myriad race, Unto the vast
earth's western verge, and there in his appointed place The
next earth-bearing elephant stood, huge Saumanasa's mountain
crest; Around they paced in humble mood, and in like
courteous phrase addrest, And still their weary toil endure,
and onward dig until they see Last earth-bearing Himapandure,
glorying in his majesty.'
His prayers are irresistible; but Brahma forewarns him, that the
'High on the top of Himavān the mighty Mashawara stood;
And "Descend," he gave the word to the heaven-meandering water--
Full of wrath, the mandate heard Himavān's majestic daughter.
To a giant's stature soaring and intolerable speed,
Siva, in his turn enraged, resists her fury.
'Down on Sankara's holy head, down the holy fell, and there
Amid the entangling meshes spread, of his loose and flowing hair.
'Up the raja at the sign upon his glittering chariot leaps,
Instant Ganga the divine follows his majestic steps, From the
high heaven burst she forth first on Siva's lofty crown,
Headlong then and prone to earth thundering rushed the
cataract down. Swarms of bright-hued fish came dashing;
turtles, dolphins in their mirth, Fallen or falling,
glancing, flashing, to the many gleaming earth. And all the
host of heaven came down, spirits and genii, in amaze, And
each forsook his heavenly throne, upon that glorious scene to
gaze. On cars, like high tower'd cities, seen, with elephants
and coursers, rode, Or on soft swinging palanquin, lay
wondering each observant god. As met in bright divan each
coruscating æther glow'd, as with a hundred suns ablaze. And
with the fish and dolphins gleaming, and scaly crocodiles and
snakes, Glanc'd the air, as when fast streaming the blue
lightning shoots and breaks: And in ten thousand sparkles
bright went flashing up the cloudy spray, The snowy flocking
swans less white, within its glittering mists at play. And
headlong now poured down the flood, and now in silver
circlets wound, Then lakelike spread all bright and broad,
then gently, gently flowed around, Then 'neath the cavern'd
earth descending, then spouted up the boiling tide, Then
stream with stream harmonious blending, swell bubbling up or
smooth subside. By that heaven-welling water's breast, the
genii and the sages stood, Its sanctifying dews they blest,
and plung'd within the lustral flood. Whoe'er beneath the
curse of heaven from that immaculate world had fled, To th'
impure earth in exile driven, to that all-holy baptism sped;
And purified from every sin, to the bright spirit's bliss
restor'd, Th' etherial sphere they entered in, and through
th' empyreal mansions soar'd. The world in solemn jubilee
behold these heavenly waves draw near, From sin and dark
pollution free, bathed in the blameless waters clear. Swift
king Bhagiratha drave upon his lofty glittering car, And
swift with her obeisant wave bright Ganga followed him afar.'
Alacananda and takes the name of the Ganges.]