Maha-bharata - Anonymous

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from distant regions sacrificing wealth and gold,

       Stainless monarchs versed in sastra, pious-hearted, mighty-souled,

      Handsome youths and noble princes from each near and distant land,

       Car-borne chieftains bold and skilful, brave of heart and stout of hand!

      And to win the peerless princess they will scatter presents rare,

       Food and milch-kine, wealth and jewels, gold and gifts and garments fair,

      Noble gifts we take as Brahmans, bless the rite with gladsome heart,

       Share the feast so rich and bounteous, then with joyful minds depart.

      Actors, mimes, and tuneful minstrels fair Panchala's court will throng,

       Famed reciters of puranas, dancers skilled and wrestlers strong,

      Come with us, the wedding witness, share the banquet rich and rare,

       Pleased with gifts and noble presents to your distant home repair.

      Dowered ye are with princely beauty, like the radiant gods above,

       Even on you the partial princess may surrender heart and love!

      And this youth so tall and stalwart, mighty-arméd, strong and bold,

       He may win in feats of valour, and acquire much wealth and gold!”

      “Be it so,” Yudhishthir answered, “to Panchala we repair,

       View the wedding of the princess and the royal bounty share.”

      Thus the righteous sons of Pandu with the Brahmans took their way,

       Where in South Panchala's kingdom mighty Drupad held his sway.

      Now the sinless saintly rishi, deathless bard of deathless lay, Herald of the holy Vedas, Vyasa stood before their way!

      And the princes bowed unto him and received his blessings kind,

       By his mandate to Panchala went with pleased and joyful mind!

      Jungle woods and silver waters round their sylvan pathway lay,

       Halting at each wayside station marched the princes day by day,

      Stainless and intent on sastra, fair in speech and pure in heart, Travelling slow they reached Panchala, saw its spacious town and mart,

      Saw the fort, bazaar and city, saw the spire and shining dome,

       In a potter's distant cottage made their humble unknown home,

      And disguised as pious Brahmans sons of Pandu begged their food,

       People knew not Kuru's princes in that dwelling poor and rude.

      II

      The Wedding Assembly

      To the helméd son of Pandu, Arjun pride of Kuru's race,

       Drupad longed to give his daughter peerless in her maiden grace,

      And of massive wood unbending, Drupad made a stubborn bow,

       Saving Arjun prince or chieftain might not bend the weapon low,

      And he made a whirling discus, hung it 'neath the open sky,

       And beyond the whirling discus placed a target far and high,

      “Whose strings this bow,” said Drupad, “hits the target in his pride

       Through the high and circling discus, wins Panchala's princely bride!”

      And they spake the monarch's mandate in the kingdoms near and far,

       And from every town and country princes came and chiefs of war,

      Came the pure and saintly rishis for to bless the holy rite, Came the Kurus with brave Karna in their pride and matchless might,

      Brahmans came from distant regions with their sacred learning blest,

       Drupad with a royal welcome greeted every honoured guest.

      Now the festal day approacheth! Gathering men with ocean's voice,

       Filled the wide and circling stages to behold the maiden's choice,

      Royal guests and princely suitors came in pomp of wealth and pride,

       Car-borne chiefs and mailéd warriors came to win the beauteous bride!

      North-east of the festive city they enclosed a level ground,

       Many a dome and stately palace cunning builders built around,

      And by moat and wall surrounded, pierced by gate and archéd door,

       By a canopy of splendour was the red field covered o'er!

      Now the festive trumpets sounded and the censer fragrance lent,

       Sprinkled chandan spread its coolness, wreaths were hung of sweetest scent,

      All around were swan-white mansions, lofty domes and turrets high,

       Like the peaks of white Kailasa cleaving through the azure sky!

      Sparkling gems the chambers lighted, golden nets the windows laced,

       Spacious stairs so wide and lofty were with beauteous carpets graced,

      Rich festoons and graceful garlands gently waved like streamers gay,

       And the swan-like silver mansions glinted in the light of day,

      Gates below were thronged with people, far above the chambers lay,

       With their lofty gilded turrets like the peaks of Himalay!

      In these halls in pride and splendour dwelt each rich and royal guest,

       Fired by mutual emulation, and in costly jewels drest,

      Decked and perfumed sat these rulers, mighty-arméd, rich in fame,

       Lion-monarchs, noble-destined, chiefs of pure and spotless name,

      Pious to the mighty Brahma, and their subjects' hope and stay,

       Loved of all for noble actions, kind and virtuous in their sway.

      Now the festal day approacheth! like the heaving of the main,

       Surge the ranks of gathered nations o'er the wide and spacious plain,

      Pandu's sons in guise of Brahmans mix with Brahmans versed in lore,

       Mark proud Drupad's wealth and splendour, gazing, wondering evermore,

      Dancers charm the gathered people, singers sing and actors play,

       Fifteen days of festive splendour greet the concourse rich and gay.

      III

      The Bride

      Sound the drum and voice the sankha! Brightly dawns the bridal day, Fresh from morning's pure ablutions comes the bride in garments gay!

      And her golden bridal garland carries on her graceful arm,

       Softly, sweetly, steps Draupadi, queen of every winning charm!

      Then a Brahman versed in mantra, ancient priest of lunar race, Lights the Fire, with pious offerings seeks its blessings and its grace,

      Whispered words of benediction saints and holy men repeat,

       Conch and trumpet's voice is silent, hushed the lofty war-drum's beat,

      And there reigns a solemn silence, and in stately pomp and pride,

       Drupad's son leads forth his sister, fair Panchala's beauteous bride!

      In his loud and lofty accents like the distant thunder's sound,

       Drupad's son his father's wishes thus proclaims to all around:

      “Mark

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