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.

Best he thought it Damayanti--to desert, that wretched king.

From her virtue none dare harm her[69]--in the lonely forest way, Her the fortunate, the n.o.ble--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.

As he thought, approached he near her--to divide that single robe.

"How shall I divide the garment--by my loved one unperceived?"

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.

Then when half that only garment--he had severed, and put on, 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?

How will't fare with Bhima's daughter--lone, abandoned by her lord, Wandering in the savage forest--where wild beasts and serpents dwell.

May the suns and winds of heaven--may the genii of the woods,[70]

n.o.blest, may they all protect thee--thine own virtue thy best guard."

To his wife of peerless beauty--on the earth, 'twas thus he spoke.

Then of sense bereft by Kali--Nala hastily set forth; 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, Pa.s.sed he in the lonely forest--leaving his deserted wife.

BOOK XI.

Scarcely had king Nala parted--Damayanti now refreshed, Wakened up, the slender-waisted--timorous in the desert wood.

When she did not see her husband--overpowered with grief and pain, Loud she shriek'd in her first anguish--"Where art thou, Nishadha's king?

Mighty king! my soul-protector--O, my lord! desert'st thou me.

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; Her in sooth that never wronged thee--wronged indeed, but not by her.

Keep'st thou thus thy solemn promise--oh, unfaithful lord of men, There, when all the G.o.ds were present--plighted to thy wedded wife?

Death is but decreed to mortals--at its own appointed time, Hence one moment, thus deserted[71]--one brief moment do I live.-- But thou'st had thy sport--enough then--now desist, O king of men, Mock not thou a trembling woman--show thee to me, O my lord!

Yes, I see thee, there I see thee--hidden as thou think'st from sight, In the rushes why conceal thee?--answer me, why speak'st thou not.

Wherefore now ungentle stay'st thou--like to one forsworn, aloof?

Wherefore wilt thou not approach me--to console me in my woe?

For myself I will not sorrow--nor for aught to me befalls.

Thou art all alone, my husband,--I will only mourn for thee.

How will't fare with thee, my Nala--thirsting, famished, faint with toil.

Nor beholding me await thee--underneath the trees at eve."

Then, in all her depth of anguish--with her trouble as on fire, Hither, thither, went she weeping--all around she went and wailed.

Now springs up the desolate princess--now falls down in prostrate grief; Now she pines in silent sorrow--now she shrieks and wails aloud.

So consumed with inward misery--ever sighing more and more, Spake at length king Bhima's daughter--spake the still devoted wife: "He, by whose dire imprecation--Nala this dread suffering bears, May he far surpa.s.s 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.[72]

Like a maniac, Bhima's daughter--wandered wailing here and there; And "alas! alas! my husband"--every-where her cry was heard.

Her beyond all measure wailing--like the osprey screaming shrill, Miserably still deploring--still renewing her lament.

Suddenly king Bhima's daughter--as she wandered near his lair, Seized a huge gigantic serpent--in his raging famine fierce.

In the grasp of that fierce serpent--round about with terror girt, Not herself she pities only--pities she Nishadha's king.

"O my guardian, thus unguarded--in this savage forest seized, Seized by this terrific serpent--wherefore art not thou at hand?

How will't be, when thou rememberest--once again thy faithful wife, From this dreadful curse delivered--mind, and sense, and wealth returned?

When thou'rt weary, when thou'rt hungry--when thou'rt fainting with fatigue, Who will soothe, O blameless Nala--all thy weariness, thy woe."

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: In her sight he slew that serpent--skill'd in slaughter of the chase.

Her released he from her peril--washed he then with water pure, And with sylvan food refreshed her--and with soothing words address'd: "Who art thou that roam'st the forest--with the eyes of the gazelle; How to this extreme of misery--n.o.ble lady, hast thou fallen?"

Damayanti, by the huntsman--thus in soothing tone addressed, All the story of her misery-told him, as it all befell; Her, scant-clothed in half a garment--with soft swelling limbs and breast, Form of youthful faultless beauty--and her fair and moonlike face, And her eyes with brows dark arching--and her softly-melting speech, Saw long time that wild beast hunter--kindled all his heart with love.

Then with winning voice that huntsman--bland beginning his discourse, Fain with amorous speech would soothe her--she his dark intent perceived.

Damayanti, chaste and faithful,--soon as she his meaning knew, In the transport of her anger--her indignant soul took fire.

In his wicked thought the dastard--her yet powerless to subdue, On the unsubdued stood gazing--as like some bright flame she shone.

Damayanti, in her sorrow--of her realm, her lord bereft, On the instant she found language--uttered loud her curse of wrath,[73]-- "As my pure and constant spirit--swerves not from Nishadha's lord, Instant so may this base hunter--lifeless fall upon the earth."

Scarce that single word was uttered--suddenly that hunter bold Down upon the earth fell lifeless--like a lightning blasted tree.

BOOK XII.

Slain that savage wild-beast hunter--onward went the lotus-eyed, Through the dread, and desert forest--ringing with the cricket's song; Full of lions, pards, and tigers--stags, and buffalos, and bears, Where all kinds of birds were flocking--and wild men and robbers dwelt.

Trees of every form and stature[74]--every foliage, every name; Pregnant with rich mines of metal--many a mountain it enclosed, Many a shady resonant arbour--many a deep and wondrous glen; Many a lake, and pool, and river--birds and beasts of every shape.

She, in forms terrific round her--serpents, elves, and giants saw:[75]

Pools, and tanks of lucid water--and the s.h.a.ggy tops of hills, Flowing streams and headlong torrents--saw, and wondered at the sight.

And the princess of Vidarbha--gazed where in their countless herds, Buffalos and bears were feeding--boars, and serpents of the wood.

Safe in virtue, bright in beauty--glorious and of high resolve, Now alone, Vidarbha's daughter--wandering, her lost Nala sought.

Yet no fear king Bhima's daughter--for herself might deign to feel, Travelling the dreary forest--only for her lord distressed; Him she mourned, that n.o.ble princess--him in bitterest anguish wailed, Every limb with sorrow trembling--stood she on a beetling rock; "Monarch, with broad chest capacious--monarch with the sinewy arm, Me in this dread forest leaving--whither hast thou fled away?

Thou the holy Aswamedha--thou each sacrificial rite, Hast performed, to me, me only--in thy holy faith thou'st failed.

That which thou, O best of husbands--in mine hearing hast declared, Thy most solemn vow remember--call to mind thy plighted faith.

Of the swift-winged swans the language--uttered, monarch, by thy side, That thyself, before my presence--didst renew, bethink thee well.

Thou the Vedas, thou the Angas--with the Upangas oft hast read, Of each heaven-descended volume--one and simple is the truth.

Therefore, of thy foes the slayer!--reverence thou the sacred truth Of thy solemn plighted promise--in my presence sworn so oft.

Am not I the loved so dearly--purely, sinlessly beloved; In this dark and awful forest--wherefore dost thou not reply?

Here with monstrous jaws wide yawning--with his fierce and horrid form, Gapes the forest king to slay me--and thou art not here to save.

None but I, thou'st said, for ever--none but I to thee am dear!

Make this oft-repeated language--make this oft-sworn promise true.

To thy queen bereft of reason--to thy weeping wife beloved, 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; Like a large-eyed hind that wanders--separate from the wonted herd, Thou regard'st me not, thus weeping--oh thou tamer of thy foes.

Mighty king, a lonely wanderer--in this vast and trackless wood, Damayanti, I address thee--wherefore answerest not my voice?

n.o.bly born, and n.o.bly 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?'

Who this day will show the monarch--wandering in the forest depth, Beautiful and royal-minded--conqueror of an host of foes!

'Him thou seek'st with eyes of lotus--Nala, sovereign of men-- Lo, he's here!' whose voice of music--may I hear thus sweetly speak?

Lo, with fourfold tusks before me--and with wide and gaping jaws, Stands the forest king, the tiger--I approach him without fear.

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, Ranged by elephants and lions--tigers, bears, and boars, and stags; And of many birds the voices--sweetly sound o'er all its cliffs; All the trees of richest foliage[76]--all the trees of stateliest height, All the flowers and golden fruitage--on its crested summits wave, Down its peaks in many a streamlet--dip the water-birds their wings: This, the monarch of all mountains--ask I of the king of men; 'O, all-honoured Prince of Mountains, with thy heaven-ward soaring peaks, Refuge of the lost, most n.o.ble--thee, O Mountain, I salute; 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.

Named the lord of earth, king Bhima--of each caste the guardian he; Of the holy Aswamedha--of the regal sacrifice,[77]