Бесплатный фрагмент - Shakuntala

PERSONS REPRESENTED

* * * * *

DUSHYANTA, King of India.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA, the jester, friend, and companion of the King.

KANWA, chief of the hermits, foster-father of [S»] AKOONTALÁ.

[S»] ÁRNGARAVA,}} two Bráhmans, belonging to the hermitage of KANWA. [S»] ÁRADWATA,}

MITRÁVASU, brother-in-law of the King, and superintendent of the city police.

JÁNUKA and SÚCHAKA, two constables.

VÁTÁYANA, the chamberlain or attendant on the women’s apartments.

SOMARÁTA, the domestic priest.

KARABHAKA, a messenger of the queen-mother.

RAIVATIKA, the warder or doorkeeper.

MÁTALI, charioteer of Indra.

SARVA-DAMANA, afterwards BHARATA, a little boy, son of DUSHYANTA by [S»] AKOONTALÁ.

KA [S»] YAPA, a divine sage, progenitor of men and gods, son of MARÍCHI, and grandson of BRAHMÁ.

[S»] AKOONTALÁ, daughter of the sage VI [S»] WÁMITRA and the nymph MENAKÁ, foster-child of the hermit KANWA.

PRIYAMVADÁ and ANASÚYÁ, female attendants, companions of [S»] AKOONTALÁ.

GAUTAMÍ, a holy matron, Superior of the female inhabitants of the hermitage.

VASUMATÍ, the Queen of DUSHYANTA.

SÁNUMATÍ, a nymph, friend of [S»] AKOONTALÁ.

TARALIKÁ, personal attendant of the Queen.

CHATURIKÁ, personal attendant of the King.

VETRAVATÍ, female warder or doorkeeper.

PARABHRITIKÁ} and

MADHUKARIKÁ,} maidens in charge of the royal gardens.

SUVRATÁ, a nurse.

ADITI, wife of KA [S»] YAPA; granddaughter of BRAHMÁ through her father DAKSHA.

CHARIOTEER, FISHERMAN, OFFICERS, AND HERMITS.

[S»] AKOONTALÁ; OR, THE LOST RING

PROLOGUE.BENEDICTION.

Í [S»] a preserve you [1]! he who is revealed In these eight forms by man perceptible —

Water, of all creation’s works the first;

The Fire that bears on high the sacrifice

Presented with solemnity to heaven;

The Priest, the holy offerer of gifts;

The Sun and Moon, those two majestic orbs,

Eternal marshallers of day and night;

The subtle Ether, vehicle of sound,

Diffused throughout the boundless universe;

The Earth, by sages called «The place of birth

Of all material essences and things’;

And Air, which giveth life to all that breathe.

STAGE-MANAGER.

[After the recitation of the benediction.]

[Looking toward the living-room.]

Lady, when you have finished attiring yourself, come this way.

ACTRESS.

[Entering.]

Here I am, Sir; what are your commands?

STAGE-MANAGER.

We are here before the eyes of an audience of educated and discerning men; and have to represent in their presence a new drama composed by Kálidása, called» [S»] akoontalá; or, the Lost Ring.» Let the whole company exert themselves to do justice to their several parts.

ACTRESS.

You, Sir, have so judiciously managed the cast of the characters, that nothing will be defective in the acting.

STAGE-MANAGER.

Lady, I will tell you the exact state of the case,

No skill in acting can I deem complete, Till from the wise the actor gain applause; Know that the heart e’en of the truly skilful, Shrinks from too boastful confidence in self.

ACTRESS. [Modestly.]

You judge correctly And now, what are your commands?

STAGE-MANAGER.

What can you do better than engage the attention of the audience by some captivating melody?

ACTRESS.

Which among the seasons shall I select as the subject of my song?

STAGE-MANAGER.

You surely ought to give the preference to the present Summer season [5] that has but recently commenced, a season so rich in enjoyment. For now

Unceasing are the charms of halcyon days, When the cool bath exhilarates the frame; When sylvan gales are laden with the scent Of fragrant Pátalas [6]; when soothing sleep Creeps softly on beneath the deepening shade; And when, at last, the dulcet calm of eve Entrancing steals o’er every yielding sense.

ACTRESS.

I will:—

[Sings.]

Fond maids, the chosen of their hearts to please, Entwine their ears with sweet [S»] irísha flowers [7], Whose fragrant lips attract the kiss of bees That softly murmur through the summer hours.

STAGE-MANAGER.

Charmingly sung! The audience are motionless as statues, their souls riveted by the enchanting strain. What subject shall we select for representation, that we may ensure a continuance of their favour?

ACTRESS.

Why not the same, Sir, announced by you at first? Let the drama called»[S»] akoontalá; or, the Lost Ring,» be the subject of our dramatic performance.

STAGE-MANAGER.

Rightly reminded! For the moment I had forgotten it.

Your song’s transporting melody decoyed My thoughts, and rapt with ecstasy my soul; As now the bounding antelope allures The King Dushyanta [8] on the chase intent.

[Exeunt.

ACT I

SCENE-A Forest.

Enter King DUSHYANTA, armed with a bow and arrow, in a chariot, chasing an antelope, attended by his CHARIOTEER.

CHARIOTEER.

[Looking at the deer, and then at the KING.

Great Prince,

When on the antelope I bend my gaze, And on your Majesty, whose mighty bow Has its string firmly braced; before my eyes The god that wields the trident [9] seems revealed. Chasing the deer that flies from him in vain.

KING.

Charioteer, this fleet antelope has drawn us far from my attendants. See! there he runs:

Aye and anon his graceful neck he bends To cast a glance at the pursuing car; And dreading now the swift-descending shaft, Contracts into itself his slender frame; About his path, in scattered fragments strewn, The half-chewed grass falls from his panting mouth; See! in his airy bounds he seems to fly, And leaves no trace upon th’ elastic turf.

[With astonishment.]

How now! swift as is our pursuit, I scarce can see him.

CHARIOTEER.

Sire, the ground here is full of hollows; I have therefore drawn in the reins and checked the speed of the chariot. Hence the deer has somewhat gained upon us. Now that we are passing over level ground, we shall have no difficulty in overtaking him.

KING.

Loosen the reins, then.

CHARIOTEER.

The King is obeyed.

[Drives the chariot at full speed.]

Great Prince, see I see!

Responsive to the slackened rein, the steeds, Chafing with eager rivalry, career With emulative fleetness o’er the plain; Their necks outstretched, their waving plumes, that late Fluttered above their brows, are motionless [10]; Their sprightly ears, but now erect, bent low; Themselves unsullied by the circling dust, That vainly follows on their rapid course.

KING. [Joyously.

In good sooth, the horses seem as if they would outstrip the steeds of Indra and the Sun [11].

That which but now showed to my view minute Quickly assumes dimension; that which seemed A moment since disjoined in diverse parts, Looks suddenly like one compacted whole; That which is really crooked in its shape In the far distance left, grows regular; Wondrous the chariot’s speed, that in a breath, Makes the near distant and the distant near.

Now, Charioteer, see me kill the deer.

[Takes aim.

A VOICE BEHIND THE SCENES.

Hold, O King! this deer belongs to our hermitage. Kill it not! kill it not!

CHARIOTEER. [Listening and looking.

Great King, some hermits have stationed themselves so as to screen the antelope at the very moment of its coming within range of your arrow.

KING. [Hastily.

Then stop the horses.

CHARIOTEER.

I obey.

[Stops the chariot.

Enter a HERMIT, and two others with him.]

HERMIT. [Raising his hand.

This deer, O King, belongs to our hermitage. Kill it not! kill it not!

Now heaven forbid this barbed shaft descend Upon the fragile body of a fawn, Like fire upon a heap of tender flowers! Can thy steel bolts no meeter quarry find Than the warm life-blood of a harmless deer? Restore, great Prince, thy weapon to its quiver. More it becomes thy arms to shield the weak, Than to bring anguish on the innocent.

KING.

«Tis done.

[Replaces the arrow in its quiver.

HERMIT.

Worthy is this action of a Prince, the light of Puru’s race [12].

Well does this act befit a Prince like thee, Right worthy is it of thine ancestry. Thy guerdon be a son of peerless worth, Whose wide dominion shall embrace the earth.

BOTH THE OTHER HERMITS. [Raising their hands.

May heaven indeed grant thee a son, a sovereign of the earth from sea to sea!

KING.

[Bowing.

I accept with gratitude a Bráhman’s benediction.

HERMIT.

We came hither, mighty Prince, to collect sacrificial wood. Here on the banks of the Máliní you may perceive the hermitage of the great sage Kanwa [13]. If other duties require not your presence, deign to enter and accept our hospitality.

When you behold our penitential rites Performed without impediment by saints Rich only in devotion, then with pride Will you reflect: — Such are the holy men Who call me Guardian; such the men for whom To wield the bow I bare my nervous arm, Scarred by the motion of the glancing string.

KING.

Is the Chief of your Society now at home?

HERMIT.

No; he has gone to Soma-tírtha [14] to propitiate Destiny, which threatens his daughter [S»] akoontalá with some calamity; but he has commissioned her in his absence to entertain all guests with hospitality.

KING.

Good! I will pay her a visit. She will make me acquainted with the mighty sage’s acts of penance and devotion.

HERMIT.

And we will depart on our errand.

[Exit with his companions.

KING.

Charioteer, urge on the horses. We will at least purify our souls by a sight of this hallowed retreat.

CHARIOTEER.

Your Majesty is obeyed.

[Drives the chariot with great velocity.

KING. [Looking all about him.

Charioteer, even without being told, I should have known that these were the precincts of a grove consecrated to penitential rites.

CHARIOTEER.

How so?

KING.

Do not you observe?

Beneath the trees, whose hollow trunks afford Secure retreat to many a nestling brood Of parrots, scattered grains of rice lie strewn. Lo! here and there are seen the polished slabs That serve to bruise the fruit of Ingudí [15]. The gentle roe-deer, taught to trust in man, Unstartled hear our voices. On the paths Appear the traces of bark-woven vests [16] Borne dripping from the limpid fount of waters.

And mark!

Laved are the roots of trees by deep canals [17], Whose glassy waters tremble in the breeze; The sprouting verdure of the leaves is dimmed By dusky wreaths of upward curling smoke From burnt oblations; and on new-mown lawns Around our car graze leisurely the fawns.

CHARIOTEER.

I observe it all.

KING. [Advancing a little further.

The inhabitants of this sacred retreat must not be disturbed. Stay the chariot, that I may alight.

CHARIOTEER.

The reins are held in. Your Majesty may descend.

KING. [Alighting.

Charioteer, groves devoted to penance must be entered in humble attire. Take these ornaments.

[Delivers his ornaments and bow to CHARIOTEER.]

Charioteer, see that the horses are watered, and attend to them until I return from visiting the inhabitants of the hermitage.

CHARIOTEER.

I Will.

[Exit.

KING. [Walking and looking about.

Here is the entrance to the hermitage. I will now go in.

[Entering and feeling a throbbing sensation in his arm.

Serenest peace is in this calm retreat, By passion’s breath unruffled; what portends My throbbing arm [18]? Why should it whisper here Of happy love? Yet everywhere around us Stand the closed portals of events unknown.

A VOICE BEHIND THE SCENES.

This way, my dear companions; this way.

KING. [Listening.

Hark! I hear voices to the right of yonder grove of trees. I will walk in that direction.

[Walking and looking about.]

Ah! here are the maidens of the hermitage coming this way to water the shrubs, carrying water-pots proportioned to their strength.

[Gazing at them.]

How graceful they look!

In palaces such charms are rarely ours; The woodland plants outshine the garden flowers.

I will conceal myself in this shade and watch them.

[Stands gazing at them.

Enter [S»] AKOONTALÁ, with her two female companions, employed in the manner described.

[S»] AKOONTALÁ

This way, my dear companions; this way.

ANASÚYÁ.

Dear [S»] akoontalá, one would think that father Kanwa had more affection for the shrubs of the hermitage even than for you, seeing he assigns to you, who are yourself as delicate as the fresh-blown jasmine, the task of filling with water the trenches which encircle their roots.

[S»] AKOONTALÁ.

Dear Anasúyá, although I am charged by my good father with this duty, yet I cannot regard it as a task. I really feel a sisterly love for these plants.

[Continues watering the shrubs.

KING.

Can this be the daughter of Kanwa? The saintly man, though descended from the great Kasyapa, must be very deficient in judgment to habituate such a maiden to the life of a recluse.

The sage who would this form of artless grace Inure to penance, thoughtlessly attempts To cleave in twain the hard acacia’s stem [19] With the soft edge of a blue lotus-leaf.

Well! concealed behind this tree, I will watch her without raising her suspicions.

[Conceals himself.

[S»] AKOONTALÁ.

Good Anasúyá, Priyamvadá has drawn this bark-dress too tightly about my chest. I pray thee, loosen it a little.

ANASÚYÁ.

I will. [Loosens it.

PRIYAMVADÁ. [Smiling.

Why do you lay the blame on me? Blame rather your own blooming youthfulness which imparts fulness to your bosom.

KING.

A most just observation!

This youthful form, whose bosom’s swelling charms By the bark’s knotted tissue are concealed, Like some fair bud close folded in its sheath, Gives not to view the blooming of its beauty.

But what am I saying? In real truth this bark-dress, though ill-suited to her figure, sets it off like an ornament.

The lotus [20] with the [S»] aivala [21] entwined Is not a whit less brilliant; dusky spots Heighten the lustre of the cold-rayed moon; This lovely maiden in her dress of bark Seems all the lovelier. E’en the meanest garb Gives to true beauty fresh attractiveness.

[S»] AKOONTALÁ. [Looking before her.

Yon Ke [S»] ara-tree [22] beckons to me with its young shoots, which, as the breeze waves them to and fro, appear like slender fingers. I will go and attend to it.

[Walks towards it.

PRIYAMVADÁ.

Dear [S»] akoontalá, prithee, rest in that attitude one moment.

[S»] AKOONTALÁ.

Why so?

PRIYAMVADÁ

The Ke [S»] ara-tree, whilst your graceful form bends about its stem, appears as if it were wedded to some lovely twining creeper.

[S»] AKOONTALÁ.

Ah! saucy girl, you are most appropriately named Priyamvadá
(«Speaker of flattering things’).

KING.

What Priyamvadá says, though complimentary, is nevertheless true. Verily,

Her ruddy lip vies with the opening bud; Her graceful arms are as the twining stalks; And her whole form is radiant with the glow Of youthful beauty, as the tree with bloom.

ANASÚYÁ.

See, dear [S»] akoontalá, here is the young jasmine, which you named ’the Moonlight of the Grove,» the self-elected wife of the mango-tree. Have you forgotten it?

[S»] AKOONTALÁ.

Rather will I forget myself.

[Approaching the plant and looking at it.]

How delightful is the season when the jasmine-creeper and the mango-tree seem thus to unite in mutual embraces! The fresh blossoms of the jasmine resemble the bloom of a young bride, and the newly-formed shoots of the mango appear to make it her natural protector.

[Continues gazing at it.

PRIYAMVADÁ.

Do you know, my Anasúyá, why [S»] akoontalá gazes so intently at the jasmine?

ANASÚYÁ.

No, indeed, I cannot imagine. I pray thee tell me.

PRIYAMVADÁ.

She is wishing that as the jasmine is united to a suitable tree, so, in like manner, she may obtain a husband worthy of her.

[S»] AKOONTALÁ.

Speak for yourself, girl; this is the thought in your own mind.

[Continues watering the flowers.

KING.

Would that my union with her were permissible [23]! and yet I hardly dare hope that the maiden is sprung from a caste different from that of the Head of the hermitage. But away with doubt:

That she is free to wed a warrior-king My heart attests. For, in conflicting doubts, The secret promptings of the good man’s soul Are an unerring index of the truth.

However, come what may, I will ascertain the fact.

[S»] AKOONTALÁ. [In a flurry.

Ah! a bee, disturbed by the sprinkling of the water, has left the young jasmine, and is trying to settle on my face.

[Attempts to drive it away.

KING. [Gazing at her ardently.

Beautiful! there is something charming even in her repulse.

Where’er the bee his eager onset plies, Now here, now there, she darts her kindling eyes; What love hath yet to teach, fear teaches now, The furtive glances and the frowning brow.

[In a tone of envy.

Ah, happy bee! how boldly dost thou try To steal the lustre from her sparkling eye; And in thy circling movements hover near, To murmur tender secrets in her ear; Or, as she coyly waves her hand, to sip Voluptuous nectar from her lower lip! While rising doubts my heart’s fond hopes destroy, Thou dost the fulness of her charms enjoy.

[S»] AKOONTALÁ.

This impertinent bee will not rest quiet. I must move elsewhere.

[Moving a few steps off, and casting a glance around.]

How now! he is following me here. Help! my dear friends, help! deliver me from the attacks of this troublesome insect.

PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ.

How can we deliver you? Call Dushyanta to your aid. The sacred groves are under the King’s special protection.

KING.

An excellent opportunity for me to show myself. Fear not—

[Checks himself when the words are half-uttered; Aside.]

But stay, if I introduce myself in this manner, they will know me to be the King. Be it so, I will accost them, nevertheless.

[S»] AKOONTALÁ.

[Moving a step or two further off.

What! it still persists in following me.

KING. [Advancing hastily.

When mighty Puru’s offspring sways the earth, And o’er the wayward holds his threatening rod, Who dares molest the gentle maids that keep Their holy vigils here in Kanwa’s grove?

[All look at the KING, and all are embarrassed.

ANASÚYÁ.

Kind Sir, no outrage has been committed; only our dear friend here was teased by the attacks of a troublesome bee.

[Points to [S»] AKOONTALÁ.

KING. [Turning to [S»] AKOONTALÁ.

I trust all is well with your devotional rites [24]?

[[S»] AKOONTALÁ stands confused and silent.]

ANASÚYÁ.

All is well indeed, now that we are honoured by the reception of a distinguished guest. Dear [S»] akoontalá, go, bring from the hermitage an offering of flowers, rice, and fruit. This water that we have brought with us will serve to bathe our guest’s feet [25].

KING.

The rites of hospitality are already performed; your truly kind words are the best offering I can receive.

PRIYAMVADÁ.

At least be good enough, gentle Sir, to sit down awhile, and rest yourself on this seat shaded by the leaves of the Sapta-parna tree [26].

KING.

You, too, must all be fatigued by your employment.

ANASÚYÁ.

Dear [S»] akoontalá, there is no impropriety in our sitting by the side of our guest; come, let us sit down here.

[All sit down together.

[S»] AKOONTALÁ. [Aside.

How is it that the sight of this made me sensible of emotions inconsistent with religious vows?

KING. [Gazing at them all By turns.

How charmingly your friendship is in keeping with the equality of your ages and appearance!

PRIYAMVADÁ. [Aside to ANASÚYÁ.

Who can this person be, whose lively yet dignified manner, and polite conversation, bespeak him a man of high rank?

ANASÚYÁ.

I, too, my dear, am very curious to know. I will ask him myself.

[Aloud]

Your kind words, noble Sir, fill me with confidence, and prompt me to inquire of what regal family our noble guest is the ornament? what country is now mourning his absence? and what induced a person so delicately nurtured to expose himself to the fatigue of visiting this grove of penance?

[S»] AKOONTALÁ. [Aside.

Be not troubled, O my heart, Anasúyá is giving utterance to thy thoughts.

KING. [Aside.

How now shall I reply? shall I make myself known, or shall I still disguise my real rank? I have it; I will answer her thus. [Aloud.] I am the person charged by his Majesty, the descendant of Puru, with the administration of justice and religion; and am come to this sacred grove to satisfy myself that the rites of the hermits are free from obstruction.

ANASÚYÁ.

The hermits, then, and all the members of our religious society, have now a guardian.

[[S»] AKOONTALÁ gazes bashfully at the KING.

PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ.

[Perceiving the state of her feelings, and of the KING’S. Aside to [S»] AKOONTALÁ.

Dear [S»] akoontalá, if father Kanwa were but at home to-day—

[S»] AKOONTALÁ. [Angrily.

What if he were?

PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ.

He would honour this our distinguished guest with an offering of the most precious of his possessions.

[S»] AKOONTALÁ.

Go to! you have some silly idea in your minds, I will not listen to such remarks.

KING.

May I be allowed, in my turn, to ask you maidens a few particulars respecting your friend?

PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ.

Your request, Sir, is an honour.

KING.

The sage Kanwa lives in the constant practice of austerities. How, then, can this friend of yours be called his daughter?

ANASÚYÁ.

I will explain to you. Sir. You have heard of an illustrious sage of regal caste, Vi [s’] wámitra, whose family name is Kau [S»] ika [27].

KING.

I have.

ANASÚYÁ.

Know that he is the real father of our friend. The venerable Kanwa is only her reputed father. He it was who brought her up, when she was deserted by her mother.

KING.

«Deserted by her mother!» My curiosity is excited; pray let me hear the story from the beginning.

ANASÚYÁ.

You shall hear it, Sir. Some time since, this sage of regal caste, while performing a most severe penance on the banks of the river Godávarí, excited the jealousy and alarm of the gods; insomuch that they despatched a lovely nymph named Menaká to interrupt his devotions.

KING.

The inferior gods, I am aware, are jealous [28] of the power which the practice of excessive devotion confers on mortals.

ANASÚYÁ.

Well, then, it happened that Vi [s’] wámitra, gazing on the bewitching beauty of that nymph at a season when, spring being in its glory—

[Stops short, and appears confused.

KING.

The rest may be easily divined. [S»] akoontalá, then, is the offspring of the nymph.

ANASÚYÁ.

Just so.

KING.

It is quite intelligible.

How would a mortal to such charms give birth? The lightning’s radiance flashes not from earth.

[[S»] AKOONTALÁ remains modestly seated with downcast eyes. Aside.]

And so my desire has really scope for its indulgence. Yet I am still distracted by doubts, remembering the pleasantry of her female companions respecting her wish for a husband.

PRIYAMVADÁ.

[_Looking with a smile at [S»] AKOONTALÁ, and then turning towards the KING.]

You seem desirous, Sir, of asking something further.

[[S»] AKOONTALÁ makes a chiding gesture with her finger.

KING.

You conjecture truly. I am so eager to hear the particulars of your friend’s history, that I have still another question to ask.

PRIYAMVADÁ.

Scruple not to do so. Persons who lead the life of hermits may be questioned unreservedly.

KING.

I wish to ascertain one point respecting your friend.

Will she be bound by solitary vows Opposed to love, till her espousals only? Or ever dwell with these her cherished fawns, Whose eyes, in lustre vying with her own, Return her gaze of sisterly affection?

PRIYAMVADÁ.

Hitherto, Sir, she has been engaged in the practice of religious duties, and has lived in subjection to her foster-father; but it is now his fixed intention to give her away in marriage to a husband worthy of her.

KING. [Aside.

His intention may be easily carried into effect.

Be hopeful, O my heart, thy harrowing doubts Are past and gone; that which thou didst believe To be as unapproachable as fire, Is found a glittering gem that may be touched.

[S»] AKOONTALÁ. [Pretending anger.

Anasúyá, I shall leave you.

ANASÚYÁ.

Why so?

[S»] AKOONTALÁ.

That I may go and report this impertinent Priyamvadá to the venerable matron, Gautamí.

ANASÚYÁ.

Surely, dear friend, it would not be right to leave a distinguished guest before he has received the rites of hospitality, and quit his presence in this wilful manner.

[[S»] AKOONTALÁ, without answering a word, moves away.

KING.

[Making a movement to arrest her departure, but checking himself. Aside.

Ah! a lover’s feelings betray themselves by his gestures.

When I would fain have stayed the maid, a sense

Of due decorum checked my bold design;

Though I have stirred not, yet my mien betrays

My eagerness to follow on her steps.

PRIYAMVADÁ.

[Holding [S»] AKOONTALÁ back.

Dear [S»] akoontalá, it does not become you to go away in this manner.

[S»] AKOONTALÁ. [Frowning.

Why not, pray?

PRIYAMVADÁ.

You are under a promise to water two more shrubs for me. When you have paid your debt, you shall go, and not before.

[Forces her to turn back.

KING.

Spare her this trouble, gentle maiden. The exertion of watering the shrubs has already fatigued her.

The water-jar has overtasked the strength

Of her slim arms; her shoulders droop, her hands

Are ruddy with the glow of quickened pulses;

E’en now her agitated breath imparts

Unwonted tremor to her heaving breast;

The pearly drops that mar the recent bloom

Of the [S»] irísha pendent in her ear,

Gather in clustering circles on her cheek;

Loosed is the fillet of her hair; her hand

Restrains the locks that struggle to be free.

Suffer me, then, thus to discharge the debt for you.

[Offers a ring to PRIYAMVADÁ. Both the maidens, reading the name DUSHYANTA on the seal, look at each other with surprise.

KING.

Nay, think not that I am King Dushyanta. I am only the King’s officer, and this is the ring which I have received from him as my credentials.

PRIYAMVADÁ.

The greater the reason you ought not to part with the ring from your finger. I am content to release her from her obligation at your simple request.

[With a smile.]

Now, [S»] akoontalá, my love, you are at liberty to retire, thanks to the intercession of this noble stranger, or rather of this mighty prince.

[S»] AKOONTALÁ. [Aside.

My movements are no longer under my own control.

[Aloud.

Pray, what authority have you over me, either to send me away or keep me back?

KING. [Gazing at [S»] AKOONTALÁ. Aside.

Would I could ascertain whether she is affected towards me as I am towards her! At any rate, my hopes are free to indulge themselves. Because,

Although she mingles not her words with mine, Yet doth her listening ear drink in my speech; Although her eye shrinks from my ardent gaze, No form but mine attracts its timid glances.

A VOICE BEHIND THE SCENES.

O hermits, be ready to protect the animals belonging to our hermitage. King Dushyanta, amusing himself with hunting, is near at hand.

Lo! by the feet of prancing horses raised, Thick clouds of moving dust, like glittering swarms Of locusts, in the glow of eventide, Fall on the branches of our sacred trees Where hang the dripping vests of woven bark, Bleached by the waters of the cleansing fountain.

And see!

Scared by the royal chariot in its course, With headlong haste an elephant invades The hallowed precincts of our sacred grove; Himself the terror of the startled deer, And an embodied hindrance to our rites. The hedge of creepers clinging to his feet, Feeble obstruction to his mad career, Is dragged behind him in a tangled chain; And with terrific shock one tusk he drives Into the riven body of a tree, Sweeping before him all impediments.

KING. [Aside.

Out upon it! my retinue are looking for me, and are disturbing this holy retreat. Well! there is no help for it; I must go and meet them.

PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ.

Noble Sir, we are terrified by the accidental disturbance caused by the wild elephant. Permit us to return to the cottage.

KING. [Hastily.

Go, gentle maidens. It shall be our care that no injury happen to the hermitage.

[All rise up.

PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ.

After such poor hospitality, we are ashamed to request the honour of a second visit from you.

KING.

Say not so. The mere sight of you, sweet maidens, has been to me the best entertainment.

[S»] AKOONTALÁ.

Anasúyá, a pointed blade of Ku [s’] a-grass [30] has pricked my foot; and my bark-mantle is caught in the branch of a Kuruvaka-bush [31]. Be so good as to wait for me until I have disentangled it.

[Exit with her two companions, after making pretexts for delay, that she may steal glances at the KING.

KING.

I have no longer any desire to return to the city. I will therefore rejoin my attendants, and make them encamp somewhere in the vicinity of this sacred grove. In good truth, [S»] akoontalá has taken such possession of my thoughts, that I cannot turn myself in any other direction.

My limbs drawn onward leave my heart behind, Like silken pennon borne against the wind.

* * * * *

ACT II

SCENE. — _A plain on the skirts of the forest

Enter the Jester_ MÁ [T.] HAVYA, in a melancholy mood.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA. [Sighing.

Heigh-ho! what an unlucky fellow I am! worn to a shadow by my royal friend’s sporting propensities. «Here’s a deer!» «There goes a boar!» «Yonder’s a tiger!» This is the only burden of our talk, while in the heat of the meridian sun we toil on from jungle to jungle, wandering about in the paths of the woods, where the trees afford us no shelter. Are we thirsty? We have nothing to drink but the dirty water of some mountain stream mixed with dry leaves, which give it a most pungent flavour. Are we hungry? We have nothing to eat but roast game, which we must swallow down at odd times, as best we can. Even at night there is no peace to be had. Sleeping is out of the question, with joints all strained by dancing attendance upon my sporting friend; or if I do happen to doze, I am awakened at the very earliest dawn by the horrible din of a lot of rascally beaters and huntsmen, who must needs surround the wood before sunrise, and deafen me with their clatter. Nor are these my only troubles. Here’s a fresh grievance, like a new boil rising upon an old one! Yesterday, while we were lagging behind, my royal friend entered yonder hermitage after a deer; and there, as ill-luck would have it, caught sight of a beautiful girl, called [S»] akoontalá, the hermit’s daughter. From that moment, not another thought about returning to the city! and all last night not a wink of sleep did he get for thinking of the damsel. What is to be done? At any rate I will be on the watch for him as soon as he has finished his toilet.

[Walking and looking about.]

Oh! here he comes, attended by the Yavana women [34], with bows in their hands, wearing garlands of wild flowers. What shall I do? I have it. I will pretend to stand in the easiest attitude for resting my bruised and crippled limbs.

[Stands leaning on a staff.

Enter King DUSHYANTA, followed by a retinue, in the manner described.

KING.

True, by no easy conquest may I win her, Yet are my hopes encouraged by her mien, Love is not yet triumphant; but, methinks, The hearts of both are ripe for his delights.

[Smiling.

Ah! thus does the lover delude himself; judging of the state of his loved one’s feelings by his own desires. But yet,

The stolen glance with half-averted eye,

The hesitating gait, the quick rebuke

Addressed to her companion, who would fain

Have stayed her counterfeit departure; these

Are signs not unpropitious to my suit.

So eagerly the lover feeds his hopes,

Claiming each trivial gesture for his own.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

[Still in the same attitude.

Ah, friends, my hands cannot move to greet you with the usual salutation. I can only just command my lips to wish your Majesty victory.

KING.

Why, what has paralysed your limbs?

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

You might as well ask me how my eye comes to water after you have poked your finger into it.

KING.

I don’t understand you; speak more intelligibly.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

Ah, my dear friend, is yonder upright reed transformed into a crooked plant by its own act, or by the force of the current?

KING.

The current of the river causes it, I suppose.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

Ay; just as you are the cause of my crippled limbs.

KING.

How so?

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

Here are you living the life of a wild man of the woods in a savage unfrequented region, while your State-affairs are left to shift for themselves; and as for poor me, I am no longer master of my own limbs, but have to follow you about day after day in your chases after wild animals, till my bones are all crippled and out of joint. Do, my dear friend, let me have one day’s rest.

KING. [Aside.

This fellow little knows, while he talks in this manner, that my mind is wholly engrossed by recollections of the hermit’s daughter, and quite as disinclined to the chase as his own.

No longer can I bend my well-braced bow Against the timid deer; nor e’er again With well-aimed arrows can I think to harm These her beloved associates, who enjoy The privilege of her companionship; Teaching her tender glances in return.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA. [Looking in the King’s face.

I may as well speak to the winds, for any attention you pay to my requests. I suppose you have something on your mind, and are talking it over to yourself.

KING. [Smiling.

I was only thinking that I ought not to disregard a friend’s request.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

Then may the King live for ever!

[Moves off.

KING.

Stay a moment, my dear friend. I have something else to say to you.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

Say on, then.

KING.

When you have rested, you must assist me in another business which will give you no fatigue.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

In eating something nice, I hope.

KING.

You shall know at some future time.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

No time better than the present.

KING.

What ho, there!

WARDER. [Entering.

What are your Majesty’s commands?

KING.

O Raivatika, bid the General of the forces attend.

WARDER.

I will, Sire.

[Exit and re-enters with the GENERAL.]

Come forward, General; his Majesty is looking towards you, and has some order to give you.

GENERAL. [Looking at the KING.

Though hunting is known to produce ill effects, my royal master has derived only benefit from it. For

Like the majestic elephant that roams O’er mountain wilds, so does the King display A stalwart frame, instinct with vigorous life. His brawny arms and manly chest are scored By frequent passage of the sounding string; Unharmed he bears the midday sun; no toil His mighty spirit daunts; his sturdy limbs, Stripped of redundant flesh, relinquish nought Of their robust proportions, but appear In muscle, nerve, and sinewy fibre cased.

[Approaching the KING.

Victory to the King! We have tracked the wild beasts to their lairs in the forest. Why delay, when everything is ready?

KING.

My friend Má [T.] Havya here has been disparaging the chase, till he has taken away all my relish for it.

GENERAL. [Aside to MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

Persevere in your opposition, my good fellow; I will sound the
King’s real feelings, and humour him accordingly.

[Aloud.

The blockhead talks nonsense, and your Majesty in your own person furnishes the best proof of it. Observe, Sire, the advantage and pleasure the hunter derives from the chase.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA. [Angrily.

Away! tempter, away! The King has recovered his senses, and is himself again. As for you, you may, if you choose, wander about from forest to forest, till some old bear seizes you by the nose, and makes a mouthful of you.

KING.

My good General, as we are just now in the neighbourhood of a consecrated grove, your panegyric upon hunting is somewhat ill-timed, and I cannot assent to all you have said. For the present,

All undisturbed the buffaloes shall sport In yonder pool, and with their ponderous horns Scatter its tranquil waters, while the deer, Couched here and there in groups beneath the shade Of spreading branches, ruminate in peace. And all securely shall the herd of boars Feed on the marshy sedge; and thou, my bow, With slackened string, enjoy a long repose.

GENERAL.

So please your Majesty, it shall be as you desire.

KING.

Recall, then, the beaters who were sent in advance to surround the forest. My troops must not be allowed to disturb this sacred retreat, and irritate its pious inhabitants.

Know that within the calm and cold recluse Lurks unperceived a germ of smothered flame, All-potent to destroy; a latent fire That rashly kindled bursts with fury forth; As in the disc of crystal [35] that remains Cool to the touch, until the solar ray Falls on its polished surface, and excites The burning heat that lies within concealed.

GENERAL.

Your Majesty’s commands shall be obeyed.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

Off with you, you son of a slave! Your nonsense won’t go down here, my fine fellow.

[Exit GENERAL.

KING. [Looking at his attendants.

Here, women, take my hunting-dress; and you, Raivatika, keep guard carefully outside.

ATTENDANTS.

We will, Sire.

[Exeunt.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

Now that you have got rid of these plagues, who have been buzzing about us like so many flies, sit down, do, on that stone slab, with the shade of the tree as your canopy, and I will seat myself by you quite comfortably.

KING.

Go you, and sit down first.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

Come along, then.

[Both walk on a little way, and seat themselves.

KING.

Má [T.] Havya, it may be said of you that you have never beheld anything worth seeing; for your eyes have not yet looked upon the loveliest object in creation.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

How can you say so, when I see your Majesty before me at this moment?

KING.

It is very natural that every one should consider his own friend perfect; but I was alluding to [S»] akoontalá, the brightest ornament of these hallowed groves.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA. [Aside.

I understand well enough, but I am not going to humour him.

[Aloud.

If, as you intimate, she is a hermit’s daughter, you cannot lawfully ask her in marriage. You may as well then dismiss her from your mind, for any good the mere sight of her can do.

KING.

Think you that a descendant of the mighty Puru could fix his affections on an unlawful object?

Though, as men say, the offspring of the sage,

The maiden to a nymph celestial owes

Her being, and by her mother left on earth,

Was found and nurtured by the holy man

As his own daughter, in this hermitage.

So, when dissevered from its parent stalk,

Some falling blossom of the jasmine, wafted

Upon the sturdy sun-flower, is preserved

By its support from premature decay.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA. [Smiling.

This passion of yours for a rustic maiden, when you have so many gems of women at home in your palace, seems to me very like the fancy of a man who is tired of sweet dates, and longs for sour tamarinds as a variety.

KING.

You have not seen her, or you would not talk in this fashion.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

I can quite understand it must require something surpassingly attractive to excite the admiration of such a great man as you.

KING.

I will describe her, my dear friend, in a few words,

Man’s all-wise Maker, wishing to create

A faultless form, whose matchless symmetry

Should far transcend Creation’s choicest works,

Did call together by his mighty will,

And garner up in his eternal mind,

A bright assemblage of all lovely things;

And then, as in a picture, fashion them Into one perfect and ideal form — Such the divine, the wondrous prototype,

Whence her fair shape was moulded into being.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

If that’s the case, she must indeed throw all other beauties into the shade.

KING.

To my mind she really does.

This peerless maid is like a fragrant flower,

Whose perfumed breath has never been diffused;

A tender bud, that no profaning hand

Has dared to sever from its parent stalk;

A gem of priceless water, just released

Pure and unblemished from its glittering bed.

Or may the maiden haply be compared

To sweetest honey, that no mortal lip

Has sipped; or, rather, to the mellowed fruit

Of virtuous actions in some former birth,

Now brought to full perfection? Lives the man

Whom bounteous heaven has destined to espouse her?

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

Make haste, then, to her aid; you have no time to lose, if you don’t wish this fruit of all the virtues to drop into the mouth of some greasy-headed rustic of devout habits.

KING.

The lady is not her own mistress, and her foster-father is not at home.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

Well, but tell me, did she look at all kindly upon you?

KING.

Maidens brought up in a hermitage are naturally shy and reserved; but for all that She did look towards me, though she quick withdrew Her stealthy glances when she met my gaze; She smiled upon me sweetly, but disguised With maiden grace the secret of her smiles. Coy love was half unveiled; then, sudden checked By modesty, left half to be divined.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

Why, of course, my dear friend, you never could seriously expect that at the very first sight she would fall over head ears in love with you, and without more ado come and sit in your lap.

KING.

When we parted from each other, she betrayed her liking for me by clearer indications, but still with the utmost modesty. Scarce had the fair one from my presence passed, When, suddenly, without apparent cause, She stopped; and, counterfeiting pain, exclaimed, «My foot is wounded by this prickly grass,» Then, glancing at me tenderly, she feigned Another charming pretext for delay, Pretending that a bush had caught her robe And turned as if to disentangle it.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA

I trust you have laid in a good stock of provisions, for I see you intend making this consecrated grove your game-preserve, and will be roaming here in quest of sport for some time to come.

KING.

You must know, my good fellow, that I have been recognised by some of the inmates of the hermitage. Now I want the assistance of your fertile invention, in devising some excuse for going there again.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

There is but one expedient that I can suggest. You are the King, are you not?

KING.

What then?

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

Say you have come for the sixth part of their grain [38], which they owe you for tribute.

KING.

No, no, foolish man; those hermits pay me a very different kind of tribute, which I value more than heaps of gold or jewels; observe,

The tribute which my other subjects bring Must moulder into dust, but holy men Present me with a portion of the fruits Of penitential services and prayers — A precious and imperishable gift.

A VOICE BEHIND THE SCENES.

We are fortunate; here is the object of our search.

KING. [Listening.

Surely those must be the voices of hermits, to judge by their deep tones.

WARDER. [Entering.

Victory to the King! two young hermits are in waiting outside, and solicit an audience of your Majesty.

KING.

Introduce them Immediately.

WARDER.

I will, my liege.

[Goes out, and re-enters with TWO YOUNG HERMITS.]

This way, Sirs, this way.

[Both the HERMITS _look at the KING.

FIRST HERMIT.

How majestic is his mien, and yet what confidence it inspires! But this might be expected in a king, whose character and habits have earned for him a title only one degree removed from that of a Sage [39].

In this secluded grove, whose sacred joys All may participate, he deigns to dwell Like one of us; and daily treasures up A store of purest merit for himself, By the protection of our holy rites. In his own person wondrously are joined Both majesty and saintlike holiness; And often chanted by inspired bards [40], His hallowed title of «Imperial Sage’ Ascends in joyous accents to the skies.

SECOND HERMIT.

Bear in mind, Gautama, that this is the great Dushyanta, the friend of Indra.

FIRST HERMIT.

What of that?

SECOND HERMIT.

Where is the wonder if his nervous arm, Puissant and massive as the iron bar That binds a castle-gateway, singly sways The sceptre of the universal earth, E’en to its dark-green boundary of waters? Or if the gods, beholden to his aid In their fierce warfare with the powers of hell [41], Should blend his name with Indra’s in their songs Of victory, and gratefully accord No lower meed of praise to his braced bow, Than to the thunders of the god of heaven?

BOTH THE HERMITS. [Approaching.

Victory to the King!

KING. [Rising from his seat.

Hail to you both!

BOTH THE HERMITS.

Heaven bless your Majesty!

[They offer fruits.

KING. [Respectfully receiving the offering.

Tell me, I pray you, the object of your visit.

BOTH THE HERMITS.

The inhabitants of the hermitage, having heard of your Majesty’s sojourn in our neighbourhood, make this humble petition:—

KING.

What are their commands?

BOTH THE HERMITS.

In the absence of our Superior, the great sage Kanwa, evil demons are disturbing our sacrificial rites. Deign, therefore, accompanied by your charioteer, to take up your abode in our hermitage for a few days.

KING.

I am honoured by your invitation.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA. [Aside.

Most opportune and convenient, certainly!

KING. [Smiling.

Ho, there, Raivatika! Tell the charioteer from me to bring round the chariot with my bow.

WARDER.

I will, Sire.

[Exit.

BOTH THE HERMITS. [Joyfully.

Well it becomes the King by acts of grace To emulate the virtues of his race. Such acts thy lofty destiny attest; Thy mission is to succour the distressed.

KING. [Bowing to the HERMITS.

Go first, reverend Sirs, I will follow you immediately.

BOTH THE HERMITS.

May victory attend you!

[Exeunt.

KING.

My dear Má [T.] Havya, are not you full of longing to see
[S»] akoontalá?

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

To tell you the truth, though I was just now brimful of desire to see her, I have not a drop left since this piece of news about the demons.

KING.

Never fear; you shall keep close to me for protection.

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

Well, you must be my guardian-angel, and act the part of a very
Vishnu to me.

WARDER. [Entering.

Sire, the chariot is ready, and only waits to conduct you to victory. But here is a messenger named Karabhaka, just arrived from your capital, with a message from the Queen, your mother.

KING. [Respectfully.

How say you? a messenger from the venerable Queen?

WARDER.

Even so.

KING.

Introduce him at once.

WARDER.

I will, Sire.

[Goes out and re-enters with KARABHAKA.]

Behold the King. Approach.

KARABHAKA.

Victory to the King! The Queen-mother bids me say that in four days from the present time she intends celebrating a solemn ceremony for the advancement and preservation of her son. She expects that your Majesty will honour her with your presence on that occasion.

KING.

This places me in a dilemma. Here, on the one hand, is the commission of these holy men to be executed; and, on the other, the command of my revered parent to be obeyed. Both duties are too sacred to be neglected. What is to be done?

MÁ [T.] HAVYA.

You will have to take up an intermediate position between the two, like King Tri [s’] anku, who was suspended between heaven and earth, because the sage Vi [s’] wámitra commanded him to mount up to heaven, and the gods ordered him down again.

KING.