LITMIR.BIZ

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       Bewitched by Kali; and, cast after cast,

       The passion of the dice kept hold on him,

       Until not one of all his faithfullest

       Could stay the madman's hand and gamester's heart

       Of who was named "Subduer of his Foes."

       The townsmen gathered with the ministers:

       Into that palace gate they thronged (my King!)

       To see their lord, if so they might abate

       This sickness of his soul. The charioteer,

       Forth standing from their midst, low worshipping,

       Spake thus to Damayanti: "Great Princess,

       Before thy door all the grieved city sits.

       Say to our lord for us, 'Thy folk are here;

       They mourn that evil fortunes hold their liege,

       Who was so high and just,'" Then she, deject,

       Passed in, and to Nishadha's ruler said,

       Her soft voice broken, and her bright eyes dimmed:—

       "Raja, the people of thy town are here;

       Before our gates they gather, citizens

       And counsellors, desiring speech with thee;

       In lealty they come. Wilt thou be pleased

       We open to them? Wilt thou?" So she asked

       Again and yet again; but not one word

       To that sad lady with the lovely brows

       Did Nala answer, wholly swallowed up

       Of Kali and the gaming; so that those—

       The citizens and counsellors—cried out,

       "Our lord is changed! He is not Nala now!"

       And home returned, ashamed and sorrowful;

       Whilst ceaselessly endured that foolish play

       Moon after moon—the Prince the loser still.

       Then Damayanti, seeing so estranged

       Her lord, the praised in song, the chief of men,

       Watching, all self-possessed, his fantasy,

       And how the gaming held him; sad, and 'feared,

       The heavy fortunes pondering of her Prince;

       Hating the fault, but to the offender kind;

       And fearing Nala should be stripped of all,

       This thing devised: Vrihatsenâ she called—

       Her foster-nurse and faithful ministrant—

       True, skilful at all service, soft of speech,

       Kind-hearted; and she said, "Vrihatsenâ,

       Go call the ministers to council now,

       As though 'twere Nala bade; and make them count

       What store is gone of treasure, what abides."

       So went Vrihatsenâ, and summoned those;

       And when they knew all things, as from the Prince,

       "Truly we, too, shall perish!" cried they then;

       And all to Nala went, and all the town,

       A second time assembling, thronged his gates:—

       Which Bhima's daughter told; but not one word

       Answered the Prince. And when she saw her lord

       Put by her plea, utterly slighting it,

       Back to her chamber, full of shame, she goes,

       And there still hears the dice are falling ill;

       Still hears of Nala daily losing more;

       So that again unto her nurse she spake:—

       "Send to Varshneya, good Vrihatsenâ;

       Say to the charioteer—in Nala's name—

       'A great thing is to do. Come thou!'" And this—

       So soon as Damayanti uttered it—

       Vrihatsenâ, by faithful servants, told

       Unto the son of Vrishni, who, being come

       In fitting time and place, heard the sweet Queen

       In mournful music speak these wistful words:—

       "Thou knowest how thy Raja trusted thee;

       Now he hath fall'n on evil; succor him!

       The more that Pushkara conquers in the play,

       The wilder rage of gaming takes thy lord—

       The more for Pushkara the dice light well,

       More contrary they happen to the Prince:

       Nor heeds he, as were meet, kindred or friends;

       Nay, of myself he putteth by the prayer

       Unanswered, being bewitched; for well I deem

       This is not noble-minded Nala's sin,

       But some ill spell possesseth him to shut

       His ears to me. Thou, therefore, charioteer!

       Our refuge be; do what I shall command;

       My heart is dark with fear. Yea, it may fall

       Our lord will perish. Wherefore, harnessing

       His chosen steeds, which fly as swift as thought.

       Take these our children in the chariot

       And drive to Kundina, delivering there

       Unto my kin the little ones, and car,

       And horses. Afterwards abide thou there,

       Or otherwhere depart."

       Varshneya heard

       The words of Damayanti, and forthwith

       In Nala's council-hall recounted them,

       The chief men being present; who, thus met,

       And long debating, gave him leave to go.

       So with that royal pair to Bhima's town

       Drove he, and at Vidarbha rendered up,

       Together with the swift steeds and the car,

       That sweet maid Indrasena, and the Prince

       Indrasen, and made reverence to the King,

       Saddened for sake of Nala. Afterwards

       Taking his leave, unto Ayodhyâ

       Varshneya went, exceeding sorrowful,

       And with King Rituparna (O my Prince!)

       Took service as a charioteer.

       These gone—

       The praised-of-poets, Nala, still played on,

       Till Pushkara his kingdom's wealth had won,

       And whatso was to lose beside. Thereat

       With scornful laugh mocked he that beggared Prince,

       Saying, "One other throw; once more!—Yet sooth,

       What canst thou stake? Nothing is left for thee

       Save Damayanti; all the rest is mine.

       Play we for Damayanti, if thou wilt."

       But hearing this from Pushkara, the Prince

       So in his heart by grief and shame was torn,

       No word he uttered—only glared in wrath

       Upon his mocker, upon Pushkara.

       Then, his rich robes and jewels stripping off,

       Uncovered, with one cloth, 'mid waiting friends

       Sorrowful passed he forth,

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