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'Dreadful chief of all this waste, Thou art the sovereign of the beasts, and I Am daughter of Vidarbha's King; my name, The Princess Damayanti; know thou me, Wife of Nishadha's Lord—of Nala—styled "Subduer of his Foes"? Him seek I here— Abandoned, sorrow-stricken, miserable. Comfort me, mighty beast, if so thou canst, Saying thou hast seen Nala; but if this Thou canst not do, then, ah, thou savage lord, Terrible friend, devour me, setting me Free from all woes!' The tiger answereth not; He turns, and quits me in my tears, to stalk Down where the river glitters through the reeds, Seeking its seaward way. Then will I pray Unto yon sacred mount of clustered crags, Broad-shouldered, shining, lifting high to heaven Its diverse-colored peaks, where the mind climbs Its hid heart rich with silver veins, and gold, And stored with many a precious gem unseen. Clear towers it o'er the forest, broad and bright Like a green banner; and the sides of it House many a living thing—lions and boars, Tigers and elephants, and bears and deer. Softly around me from its feathered flocks The songs ring, perched upon the kinsuk trees, The asokas, vakuls, and punnâga boughs, Or hidden in the karnikara leaves, And tendrils of the dhava or the fig; Full of great glens it soars, where waters leap And bright birds lave. This king of hills I sue For tidings of my lord. O Mountain Lord, Far-seen and celebrated hill! that cleav'st The blue of the sky, refuge of living things, Most noble eminence, I worship thee; Thee I salute, who am a monarch's child, The daughter and the consort of a prince, The high-born Damayanti, unto whom Bhima, Vidarbha's chief—that puissant lord— Was sire, renowned o'er earth. Protector he Of the four castes, performer of the rites Called Rajasuya and the Aśwamedha— A bounteous giver, first of rulers, known For his large shining eyes; holy and just, Fast to his word, unenvious, sweet of speech, Gentle and valiant, dutiful and pure; The guardian of Vidarbha, of his foes The slayer. Know me, O Majestic Mount! For that King's daughter, bending low to thee. In Nishadha lived the father of my lord, The Maharaja Virasena named, Wealthy and great; whose son, of regal blood, High-fortuned, powerful, and noble-souled, Ruleth by right the realm paternal: he Is Nala, terror of all enemies; Dark Nala, praised-in-song; Nala the just, The pure; deep-seen in scriptures, sweet of speech, Drinker of Soma-juice, and worshipper Of Agni; sacrificing, giving gifts; First in the wars, a perfect, princely lord. His wife am I, Great Mountain! and come here Fortuneless, husbandless, and spiritless, Everywhere seeking him, my best of men. O Mount, whose doubled ridge stamps on the sky Yon line, by fivescore splendid pinnacles Indented! tell me, in this gloomy wood Hast thou seen Nala? Nala, wise and bold, Like a tusked elephant for might; long armed, Indomitable, gallant, glorious, true; Nala, Nishadha's chief—hast thou seen him? O Mountain, why consolest thou me not, Answering one word to sorrowful, distressed, Lonely, lost Damayanti?" Then she cried:— "But answer for thyself, Hero and Lord! If thou art in the forest, show thyself! Alas! when shall I hear that voice, as low, As tender as the murmur of the rain When great clouds gather; sweet as Amrit-drink? Thy voice, once more, my Nala, calling to me Full softly, 'Damayanti!'—dearest Prince, That would be music soothing to these ears As sound of sacred Veda; that would stay My pains and comfort me, and bring me peace." Thereafter, turning from the mount, she went Northwards, and journeying on three nights and days Came to a green incomparable grove By holy men inhabited; a haunt Placid as Paradise, whose indwellers Like to Vaśistha, Bhrigu, Atri, were— Those ancient saints. Restraining sense they lived, Heedful in meats, subduing passion, pure, Breathing within; their food water and herbs; Ascetics; very holy; seeking still The heavenward road; clad in the bark of trees And skins—all gauds of earth being put by. This hermitage, peopled by gentle ones, Glad Damayanti spied, circled with herds Of wild things grazing fearless, and with troops Of monkey-folk o'erheard; and when she saw, Her heart was lightened, for its quietness. So drew she nigh—that lovely wanderer— Bright-browed, long-tressed, large-hipped, full-bosomed, fair, With pearly teeth and honeyed mouth, in gait Right queenly still, having those long black eyes— The wife of Virasena's son, the gem Of all dear women, glory of her time; Sad Damayanti entered their abode, Those holy men saluting reverently, With modest body bowed. Thus stood she there And all the saints spake gently, "
Swâgatam— Welcome!" and gave the greetings which are meet; And afterwards, "Repose thyself," they said; "What wouldst thou have of us?" Then, with soft words The slender-waisted spake: "Of all these here, So worshipful in sacrifice and rite— 'Mid gentle beasts and birds—in tasks and toils And blameless duties—is it well?" And they Answered: "We thank you, noble lady, well. Tell us, most beauteous one, thy name, and say What thou desirest. Seeing thee so fair, So worthy, yet so sorrowful, our minds Are lost in wonder. Weep not. Comfort take. Art thou the goddess of the wood? Art thou The Mountain-Yakshi, or, belike, some sprite Which lives under the river? Tell us true, Gentle and faultless form!" Whereat reply Thus made she to the Rishis: "None of these Am I, good saints. No goddess of the wood, Nor yet a mountain nor a river sprite; A woman ye behold, most only ones, Whose moving story I will tell you true. The Raja of Vidarbha is my sire, Bhima his name, and—Best of Twice-born!—know My husband is Nishadha's Chief, the famed, The wise and valiant and victorious Prince, The high and lordly Nala; of the gods A steadfast worshipper; of Bráhmanas The friend; his people's shield; honored and strong, Truth-speaking, skilled in arms, sagacious, just; Terrible to his foes, fortunate, lord Of many conquered towns; a godlike man, Princeliest of princes—Nala—one that hath A countenance like the full moon's for light, And eyes of lotus. This true offerer Of sacrifices, this close votary Of Vedas and Vedângas, in the war Deadly to enemies, like sun and moon For splendor—by some certain evil ones Being defied to dice, my virtuous Prince Was, by their wicked acts, of realm despoiled— Wealth, jewels, all. I am his woful wife, The Princess Damayanti. Seeking him Through thickets have I roamed, over rough hills, By crag and river and the reedy lake, By marsh and waterfall and jungle-bush, In quest of him—my lord, my warrior, My hero—and still roam, uncomforted. Worshipful brethren! say if he hath come— Nishadha's Chief, my Nala, hitherward Unto your pleasant homes—he, for whose sake I wander in the dismal pathless wood With bears and tigers haunted—terrible! Ah! if I find him not, ere there be passed Many more nights and days, peace will I win; For death shall set my mournful spirit free. What cause have I to live, lacking my Prince? Why should I longer breathe, whose heart is dead With sorrow for my lord?" To Bhima's child, So in the wood bewailing, made reply Those holy, truthful men: "Beautiful One! The future is for thee; fair will it fall! Our eyes, by long devotions opened, see— Even now—thy lord; thou shalt behold him soon, Nishadha's chief, the famous Nala, strong In battle, loving justice. Yea, this Prince Thou wilt regain, Bhima's sad daughter! freed From troubles, purged of sin; and witness him— With all his gems and glories—governing Nishadha once again, invincible, Joy of his friends and terror of his foes. Yea, Noblest, thou shalt have thy love anew In days to come." So speaking, from the sight Of Damayanti, at that instant, passed Hermits, with hermitage and holy fires, Evanishing. In wonderment she stood, Gazing bewildered. Then the Princess cried:— "Was it in dream I saw them? Whence befell This unto me? Where are the brethren gone, The ring of huts, the pleasant stream that ran With birds upon its crystal banks, the grove Delightful, with its fruits and flowers?" Long while Pondered and wondered Damayanti there, Her bright smile fled, pale, strengthless, sorrowful; Then to another region of the wood, With sighs, and eyes welling great tears, she passed, Lamenting; till a beauteous tree she spied— The Asoka, best of trees. Fair rose it there Beside the forest, glowing with the flame Of golden and crimson blossoms, and its boughs Full of sweet-singing birds. "
Ahovat—Look!" She cried: "Ah, lovely tree, that wavest here Thy crown of countless, shining, clustering blooms As thou wert woodland king—Asoka tree, Tree called 'the sorrow-ender,' heart's-ease tree! Be what thy name saith—end my sorrow now, Saying, ah, bright Asoka! thou hast seen My Prince, my dauntless Nala; seen that lord Whom Damayanti loves and his foes fear; Seen great Nishadha's Chief, so dear to me, His tender princely skin in rended cloth Scantily clad. Hath he passed wandering Under thy branches, grievously forlorn? Answer, Asoka! 'Sorrow-ender,' speak! That I go sorrowless, O heart's-ease, be Truly heart-easing—ease my heart of pain." Thus, wild with grief, she spake unto the tree, Round and round walking, as to reverence it; And then, unanswered, the sweet lady sped Through wastes more dreadful, passing many a Many still-gliding rillets, many a peak Tree-clad, with beasts and birds of wondrous kind, In dark ravines, and caves, and lonely glooms. These things saw Damayanti, Bhima's child, Seeking her lord. At last, on the long road, She, whose soft smile was once so beautiful,
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