diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:49:23 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 04:49:23 -0700 |
| commit | 8f55c10cf5ba2130e8fd6bbcf534d0e2d218fd16 (patch) | |
| tree | ccb969c996a332ec95aa54aa536fd26643148fab /old | |
Diffstat (limited to 'old')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/16659-8.txt | 11292 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/16659.txt | 11292 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/16659.zip | bin | 0 -> 163761 bytes |
3 files changed, 22584 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/old/16659-8.txt b/old/16659-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..504a85f --- /dev/null +++ b/old/16659-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11292 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Translations of Shakuntala and Other Works, by Kåalidåasa + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Translations of Shakuntala and Other Works + +Author: Kåalidåasa + +Translator: Arthur W. Ryder + +Release Date: September 5, 2005 [EBook #16659] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRANSLATIONS OF SHAKUNTALA *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Jayam Subramanian and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + + + + EVERYMAN'S LIBRARY + EDITED BY ERNEST RHYS + + + + + + POETRY AND THE DRAMA + + + + + + KALIDASA + TRANSLATIONS OF SHAKUNTALA & OTHER WORKS + + + BY ARTHUR W. RYDER + + + + + THIS IS NO. 629 OF _EVERYMAN'S + LIBRARY_. THE PUBLISHERS WILL + BE PLEASED TO SEND FREELY TO ALL + APPLICANTS A LIST OF THE PUBLISHED + AND PROJECTED VOLUMES ARRANGED + UNDER THE FOLLOWING SECTIONS: + + + + + + + TRAVEL · SCIENCE · FICTION + THEOLOGY & PHILOSOPHY + HISTORY · CLASSICAL + FOR YOUNG PEOPLE + ESSAYS · ORATORY + POETRY & DRAMA + BIOGRAPHY + REFERENCE + ROMANCE + + + THE ORDINARY EDITION IS BOUND + IN CLOTH WITH GILT DESIGN AND + COLOURED TOP. THERE IS ALSO A + LIBRARY EDITION IN REINFORCED CLOTH + + LONDON: J.M. DENT & SONS LTD. + NEW YORK: E.P. DUTTON & CO. + + + + [Illustration: + KALIDASA + TRANSLATIONS + _of_ SHAKUNTALA + AND OTHER + WORKS, BY + ARTHUR. W. + RYDER. + UNIVERSITY + _of_ CALIFORNIA + + LONDON & TORONTO + PUBLISHED BY J.M. DENT + &. SONS LTD & IN NEW YORK + BY E.P. DUTTON &. CO] + + + [Illustration: #Poets are the trumpets which sing to battle + poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world# Shelley] + + + FIRST ISSUE OF THIS EDITION 1912 + REPRINTED 1920, 1928 + + PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +KALIDASA--HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS + + +I + +Kalidasa probably lived in the fifth century of the Christian era. +This date, approximate as it is, must yet be given with considerable +hesitation, and is by no means certain. No truly biographical data are +preserved about the author, who nevertheless enjoyed a great +popularity during his life, and whom the Hindus have ever regarded as +the greatest of Sanskrit poets. We are thus confronted with one of the +remarkable problems of literary history. For our ignorance is not due +to neglect of Kalidasa's writings on the part of his countrymen, but +to their strange blindness in regard to the interest and importance of +historic fact. No European nation can compare with India in critical +devotion to its own literature. During a period to be reckoned not by +centuries but by millenniums, there has been in India an unbroken line +of savants unselfishly dedicated to the perpetuation and exegesis of +the native masterpieces. Editions, recensions, commentaries abound; +poets have sought the exact phrase of appreciation for their +predecessors: yet when we seek to reconstruct the life of their +greatest poet, we have no materials except certain tantalising +legends, and such data as we can gather from the writings of a man who +hardly mentions himself. + +One of these legends deserves to be recounted for its intrinsic +interest, although it contains, so far as we can see, no grain of +historic truth, and although it places Kalidasa in Benares, five +hundred miles distant from the only city in which we certainly know +that he spent a part of his life. According to this account, Kalidasa +was a Brahman's child. At the age of six months he was left an orphan +and was adopted by an ox-driver. He grew to manhood without formal +education, yet with remarkable beauty and grace of manner. Now it +happened that the Princess of Benares was a blue-stocking, who +rejected one suitor after another, among them her father's counsellor, +because they failed to reach her standard as scholars and poets. The +rejected counsellor planned a cruel revenge. He took the handsome +ox-driver from the street, gave him the garments of a savant and a +retinue of learned doctors, then introduced him to the princess, after +warning him that he was under no circumstances to open his lips. The +princess was struck with his beauty and smitten to the depths of her +pedantic soul by his obstinate silence, which seemed to her, as indeed +it was, an evidence of profound wisdom. She desired to marry Kalidasa, +and together they went to the temple. But no sooner was the ceremony +performed than Kalidasa perceived an image of a bull. His early +training was too much for him; the secret came out, and the bride was +furious. But she relented in response to Kalidasa's entreaties, and +advised him to pray for learning and poetry to the goddess Kali. The +prayer was granted; education and poetical power descended +miraculously to dwell with the young ox-driver, who in gratitude +assumed the name Kalidasa, servant of Kali. Feeling that he owed this +happy change in his very nature to his princess, he swore that he +would ever treat her as his teacher, with profound respect but without +familiarity. This was more than the lady had bargained for; her anger +burst forth anew, and she cursed Kalidasa to meet his death at the +hands of a woman. At a later date, the story continues, this curse was +fulfilled. A certain king had written a half-stanza of verse, and had +offered a large reward to any poet who could worthily complete it. +Kalidasa completed the stanza without difficulty; but a woman whom he +loved discovered his lines, and greedy of the reward herself, killed +him. + +Another legend represents Kalidasa as engaging in a pilgrimage to a +shrine of Vishnu in Southern India, in company with two other famous +writers, Bhavabhuti and Dandin. Yet another pictures Bhavabhuti as a +contemporary of Kalidasa, and jealous of the less austere poet's +reputation. These stories must be untrue, for it is certain that the +three authors were not contemporary, yet they show a true instinct in +the belief that genius seeks genius, and is rarely isolated. + +This instinctive belief has been at work with the stories which +connect Kalidasa with King Vikramaditya and the literary figures of +his court. It has doubtless enlarged, perhaps partly falsified the +facts; yet we cannot doubt that there is truth in this tradition, late +though it be, and impossible though it may ever be to separate the +actual from the fanciful. Here then we are on firmer ground. + +King Vikramaditya ruled in the city of Ujjain, in West-central India. +He was mighty both in war and in peace, winning especial glory by a +decisive victory over the barbarians who pressed into India through +the northern passes. Though it has not proved possible to identify +this monarch with any of the known rulers, there can be no doubt that +he existed and had the character attributed to him. The name +Vikramaditya--Sun of Valour--is probably not a proper name, but a +title like Pharaoh or Tsar. No doubt Kalidasa intended to pay a +tribute to his patron, the Sun of Valour, in the very title of his +play, _Urvashi won by Valour_. + +King Vikramaditya was a great patron of learning and of poetry. Ujjain +during his reign was the most brilliant capital in the world, nor has +it to this day lost all the lustre shed upon it by that splendid +court. Among the eminent men gathered there, nine were particularly +distinguished, and these nine are known as the "nine gems." Some of +the nine gems were poets, others represented science--astronomy, +medicine, lexicography. It is quite true that the details of this late +tradition concerning the nine gems are open to suspicion, yet the +central fact is not doubtful: that there was at this time and place a +great quickening of the human mind, an artistic impulse creating works +that cannot perish. Ujjain in the days of Vikramaditya stands worthily +beside Athens, Rome, Florence, and London in their great centuries. +Here is the substantial fact behind Max Müller's often ridiculed +theory of the renaissance of Sanskrit literature. It is quite false to +suppose, as some appear to do, that this theory has been invalidated +by the discovery of certain literary products which antedate +Kalidasa. It might even be said that those rare and happy centuries +that see a man as great as Homer or Vergil or Kalidasa or Shakespeare +partake in that one man of a renaissance. + +It is interesting to observe that the centuries of intellectual +darkness in Europe have sometimes coincided with centuries of light in +India. The Vedas were composed for the most part before Homer; +Kalidasa and his contemporaries lived while Rome was tottering under +barbarian assault. + +To the scanty and uncertain data of late traditions may be added some +information about Kalidasa's life gathered from his own writings. He +mentions his own name only in the prologues to his three plays, and +here with a modesty that is charming indeed, yet tantalising. One +wishes for a portion of the communicativeness that characterises some +of the Indian poets. He speaks in the first person only once, in the +verses introductory to his epic poem _The Dynasty of Raghu_[1]. +Here also we feel his modesty, and here once more we are balked of +details as to his life. + +We know from Kalidasa's writings that he spent at least a part of his +life in the city of Ujjain. He refers to Ujjain more than once, and in +a manner hardly possible to one who did not know and love the city. +Especially in his poem _The Cloud-Messenger_ does he dwell upon the +city's charms, and even bids the cloud make a détour in his long +journey lest he should miss making its acquaintance.[2] + +We learn further that Kalidasa travelled widely in India. The fourth +canto of _The Dynasty of Raghu_ describes a tour about the whole of +India and even into regions which are beyond the borders of a narrowly +measured India. It is hard to believe that Kalidasa had not himself +made such a "grand tour"; so much of truth there may be in the +tradition which sends him on a pilgrimage to Southern India. The +thirteenth canto of the same epic and _The Cloud-Messenger_ also +describe long journeys over India, for the most part through regions +far from Ujjain. It is the mountains which impress him most deeply. +His works are full of the Himalayas. Apart from his earliest drama +and the slight poem called _The Seasons_, there is not one of them +which is not fairly redolent of mountains. One, _The Birth of the +War-god_, might be said to be all mountains. Nor was it only Himalayan +grandeur and sublimity which attracted him; for, as a Hindu critic has +acutely observed, he is the only Sanskrit poet who has described a +certain flower that grows in Kashmir. The sea interested him less. To +him, as to most Hindus, the ocean was a beautiful, terrible barrier, +not a highway to adventure. The "sea-belted earth" of which Kalidasa +speaks means to him the mainland of India. + +Another conclusion that may be certainly drawn from Kalidasa's writing +is this, that he was a man of sound and rather extensive education. He +was not indeed a prodigy of learning, like Bhavabhuti in his own +country or Milton in England, yet no man could write as he did without +hard and intelligent study. To begin with, he had a minutely accurate +knowledge of the Sanskrit language, at a time when Sanskrit was to +some extent an artificial tongue. Somewhat too much stress is often +laid upon this point, as if the writers of the classical period in +India were composing in a foreign language. Every writer, especially +every poet, composing in any language, writes in what may be called a +strange idiom; that is, he does not write as he talks. Yet it is true +that the gap between written language and vernacular was wider in +Kalidasa's day than it has often been. The Hindus themselves regard +twelve years' study as requisite for the mastery of the "chief of all +sciences, the science of grammar." That Kalidasa had mastered this +science his works bear abundant witness. + +He likewise mastered the works on rhetoric and dramatic +theory--subjects which Hindu savants have treated with great, if +sometimes hair-splitting, ingenuity. The profound and subtle systems +of philosophy were also possessed by Kalidasa, and he had some +knowledge of astronomy and law. + +But it was not only in written books that Kalidasa was deeply read. +Rarely has a man walked our earth who observed the phenomena of living +nature as accurately as he, though his accuracy was of course that of +the poet, not that of the scientist. Much is lost to us who grow up +among other animals and plants; yet we can appreciate his "bee-black +hair," his ashoka-tree that "sheds his blossoms in a rain of tears," +his river wearing a sombre veil of mist: + + Although her reeds seem hands that clutch the dress + To hide her charms; + +his picture of the day-blooming water-lily at sunset: + + The water-lily closes, but + With wonderful reluctancy; + As if it troubled her to shut + Her door of welcome to the bee. + +The religion of any great poet is always a matter of interest, +especially the religion of a Hindu poet; for the Hindus have ever been +a deeply and creatively religious people. So far as we can judge, +Kalidasa moved among the jarring sects with sympathy for all, +fanaticism for none. The dedicatory prayers that introduce his dramas +are addressed to Shiva. This is hardly more than a convention, for +Shiva is the patron of literature. If one of his epics, _The Birth of +the War-god_, is distinctively Shivaistic, the other, _The Dynasty of +Raghu_, is no less Vishnuite in tendency. If the hymn to Vishnu in +_The Dynasty of Raghu_ is an expression of Vedantic monism, the hymn +to Brahma in _The Birth of the War-god_ gives equally clear expression +to the rival dualism of the Sankhya system. Nor are the Yoga doctrine +and Buddhism left without sympathetic mention. We are therefore +justified in concluding that Kalidasa was, in matters of religion, +what William James would call "healthy-minded," emphatically not a +"sick soul." + +There are certain other impressions of Kalidasa's life and personality +which gradually become convictions in the mind of one who reads and +re-reads his poetry, though they are less easily susceptible of exact +proof. One feels certain that he was physically handsome, and the +handsome Hindu is a wonderfully fine type of manhood. One knows that +he possessed a fascination for women, as they in turn fascinated him. +One knows that children loved him. One becomes convinced that he never +suffered any morbid, soul-shaking experience such as besetting +religious doubt brings with it, or the pangs of despised love; that +on the contrary he moved among men and women with a serene and godlike +tread, neither self-indulgent nor ascetic, with mind and senses ever +alert to every form of beauty. We know that his poetry was popular +while he lived, and we cannot doubt that his personality was equally +attractive, though it is probable that no contemporary knew the full +measure of his greatness. For his nature was one of singular balance, +equally at home in a splendid court and on a lonely mountain, with men +of high and of low degree. Such men are never fully appreciated during +life. They continue to grow after they are dead. + + +II + +Kalidasa left seven works which have come down to us: three dramas, +two epics, one elegiac poem, and one descriptive poem. Many other +works, including even an astronomical treatise, have been attributed +to him; they are certainly not his. Perhaps there was more than one +author who bore the name Kalidasa; perhaps certain later writers were +more concerned for their work than for personal fame. On the other +hand, there is no reason to doubt that the seven recognised works are +in truth from Kalidasa's hand. The only one concerning which there is +reasonable room for suspicion is the short poem descriptive of the +seasons, and this is fortunately the least important of the seven. Nor +is there evidence to show that any considerable poem has been lost, +unless it be true that the concluding cantos of one of the epics have +perished. We are thus in a fortunate position in reading Kalidasa: we +have substantially all that he wrote, and run no risk of ascribing to +him any considerable work from another hand. + +Of these seven works, four are poetry throughout; the three dramas, +like all Sanskrit dramas, are written in prose, with a generous +mingling of lyric and descriptive stanzas. The poetry, even in the +epics, is stanzaic; no part of it can fairly be compared to English +blank verse. Classical Sanskrit verse, so far as structure is +concerned, has much in common with familiar Greek and Latin forms: +it makes no systematic use of rhyme; it depends for its rhythm not +upon accent, but upon quantity. The natural medium of translation into +English seems to me to be the rhymed stanza;[3] in the present work +the rhymed stanza has been used, with a consistency perhaps too rigid, +wherever the original is in verse. + +Kalidasa's three dramas bear the names: _Malavika and Agnimitra, +Urvashi_, and _Shakuntala_. The two epics are _The Dynasty of Raghu_ +and _The Birth of the War-god_. The elegiac poem is called _The +Cloud-Messenger_, and the descriptive poem is entitled _The Seasons_. +It may be well to state briefly the more salient features of the +Sanskrit _genres_ to which these works belong. + +The drama proved in India, as in other countries, a congenial form to +many of the most eminent poets. The Indian drama has a marked +individuality, but stands nearer to the modern European theatre than +to that of ancient Greece; for the plays, with a very few exceptions, +have no religious significance, and deal with love between man and +woman. Although tragic elements may be present, a tragic ending is +forbidden. Indeed, nothing regarded as disagreeable, such as fighting +or even kissing, is permitted on the stage; here Europe may perhaps +learn a lesson in taste. Stage properties were few and simple, while +particular care was lavished on the music. The female parts were +played by women. The plays very rarely have long monologues, even the +inevitable prologue being divided between two speakers, but a Hindu +audience was tolerant of lyrical digression. + +It may be said, though the statement needs qualification in both +directions, that the Indian dramas have less action and less +individuality in the characters, but more poetical charm than the +dramas of modern Europe. + +On the whole, Kalidasa was remarkably faithful to the ingenious but +somewhat over-elaborate conventions of Indian dramaturgy. His first +play, the _Malavika and Agnimitra_, is entirely conventional in plot. +The _Shakuntala_ is transfigured by the character of the heroine. The +_Urvashi_, in spite of detail beauty, marks a distinct decline. + +_The Dynasty of Raghu_ and _The Birth of the War-god_ belong to a +species of composition which it is not easy to name accurately. The +Hindu name _kavya_ has been rendered by artificial epic, _épopée +savante, Kunstgedicht_. It is best perhaps to use the term epic, and +to qualify the term by explanation. + +The _kavyas_ differ widely from the _Mahabharata_ and the _Ramayana_, +epics which resemble the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ less in outward form +than in their character as truly national poems. The _kavya_ is a +narrative poem written in a sophisticated age by a learned poet, who +possesses all the resources of an elaborate rhetoric and metric. The +subject is drawn from time-honoured mythology. The poem is divided +into cantos, written not in blank verse but in stanzas. Several +stanza-forms are commonly employed in the same poem, though not in the +same canto, except that the concluding verses of a canto are not +infrequently written in a metre of more compass than the remainder. + +I have called _The Cloud-Messenger_ an elegiac poem, though it would +not perhaps meet the test of a rigid definition. The Hindus class it +with _The Dynasty of Raghu_ and _The Birth of the War-god_ as a +_kavya_, but this classification simply evidences their embarrassment. +In fact, Kalidasa created in _The Cloud-Messenger_ a new _genre_. No +further explanation is needed here, as the entire poem is translated +below. + +The short descriptive poem called _The Seasons_ has abundant analogues +in other literatures, and requires no comment. + +It is not possible to fix the chronology of Kalidasa's writings, yet +we are not wholly in the dark. _Malavika and Agnimitra_ was certainly +his first drama, almost certainly his first work. It is a reasonable +conjecture, though nothing more, that Urvashi was written late, when +the poet's powers were waning. The introductory stanzas of _The +Dynasty of Raghu_ suggest that this epic was written before _The Birth +of the War-god_, though the inference is far from certain. Again, it +is reasonable to assume that the great works on which Kalidasa's fame +chiefly rests--_Shakuntala_, _The Cloud-Messenger_, _The Dynasty of +Raghu_, the first eight cantos of _The Birth of the War-god_--were +composed when he was in the prime of manhood. But as to the succession +of these four works we can do little but guess. + +Kalidasa's glory depends primarily upon the quality of his work, yet +would be much diminished if he had failed in bulk and variety. In +India, more than would be the case in Europe, the extent of his +writing is an indication of originality and power; for the poets of +the classical period underwent an education that encouraged an +exaggerated fastidiousness, and they wrote for a public meticulously +critical. Thus the great Bhavabhuti spent his life in constructing +three dramas; mighty spirit though he was, he yet suffers from the +very scrupulosity of his labour. In this matter, as in others, +Kalidasa preserves his intellectual balance and his spiritual +initiative: what greatness of soul is required for this, every one +knows who has ever had the misfortune to differ in opinion from an +intellectual clique. + + +III + +Le nom de Kâlidâsa domine la poésie indienne et la résume brillamment. +Le drame, l'épopée savante, l'élégie attestent aujourd'hui encore la +puissance et la souplesse de ce magnifique génie; seul entre les +disciples de Sarasvatî [the goddess of eloquence], il a eu le bonheur +de produire un chef-d'oeuvre vraiment classique, où l'Inde s'admire et +où l'humanité se reconnaît. Les applaudissements qui saluèrent la +naissance de Çakuntalâ à Ujjayinî ont après de longs siècles éclaté +d'un bout du monde à l'autre, quand William Jones l'eut révélée à +l'Occident. Kâlidâsa a marqué sa place dans cette pléiade étincelante +où chaque nom résume une période de l'esprit humain. La série de ces +noms forme l'histoire, ou plutôt elle est l'histoire même.[4] + +It is hardly possible to say anything true about Kalidasa's +achievement which is not already contained in this appreciation. Yet +one loves to expand the praise, even though realising that the critic +is by his very nature a fool. Here there shall at any rate be none +of that cold-blooded criticism which imagines itself set above a +world-author to appraise and judge, but a generous tribute of +affectionate admiration. + +The best proof of a poet's greatness is the inability of men to live +without him; in other words, his power to win and hold through +centuries the love and admiration of his own people, especially when +that people has shown itself capable of high intellectual and +spiritual achievement. + +For something like fifteen hundred years, Kalidasa has been more +widely read in India than any other author who wrote in Sanskrit. +There have also been many attempts to express in words the secret of +his abiding power: such attempts can never be wholly successful, yet +they are not without considerable interest. Thus Bana, a celebrated +novelist of the seventh century, has the following lines in some +stanzas of poetical criticism which he prefixes to a historical +romance: + + Where find a soul that does not thrill + In Kalidasa's verse to meet + The smooth, inevitable lines + Like blossom-clusters, honey-sweet? + +A later writer, speaking of Kalidasa and another poet, is more laconic +in this alliterative line: _Bhaso hasah, Kalidaso vilasah_--Bhasa is +mirth, Kalidasa is grace. + +These two critics see Kalidasa's grace, his sweetness, his delicate +taste, without doing justice to the massive quality without which his +poetry could not have survived. + +Though Kalidasa has not been as widely appreciated in Europe as he +deserves, he is the only Sanskrit poet who can properly be said to +have been appreciated at all. Here he must struggle with the truly +Himalayan barrier of language. Since there will never be many +Europeans, even among the cultivated, who will find it possible to +study the intricate Sanskrit language, there remains only one means of +presentation. None knows the cruel inadequacy of poetical translation +like the translator. He understands better than others can, the +significance of the position which Kalidasa has won in Europe. When +Sir William Jones first translated the _Shakuntala_ in 1789, his work +was enthusiastically received in Europe, and most warmly, as was +fitting, by the greatest living poet of Europe. Since that day, as +is testified by new translations and by reprints of the old, there +have been many thousands who have read at least one of Kalidasa's +works; other thousands have seen it on the stage in Europe and +America. + +How explain a reputation that maintains itself indefinitely and that +conquers a new continent after a lapse of thirteen hundred years? None +can explain it, yet certain contributory causes can be named. + +No other poet in any land has sung of happy love between man and woman +as Kalidasa sang. Every one of his works is a love-poem, however much +more it may be. Yet the theme is so infinitely varied that the reader +never wearies. If one were to doubt from a study of European +literature, comparing the ancient classics with modern works, whether +romantic love be the expression of a natural instinct, be not rather a +morbid survival of decaying chivalry, he has only to turn to India's +independently growing literature to find the question settled. +Kalidasa's love-poetry rings as true in our ears as it did in his +countrymen's ears fifteen hundred years ago. + +It is of love eventually happy, though often struggling for a time +against external obstacles, that Kalidasa writes. There is nowhere in +his works a trace of that not quite healthy feeling that sometimes +assumes the name "modern love." If it were not so, his poetry could +hardly have survived; for happy love, blessed with children, is surely +the more fundamental thing. In his drama _Urvashi_ he is ready to +change and greatly injure a tragic story, given him by long tradition, +in order that a loving pair may not be permanently separated. One +apparent exception there is--the story of Rama and Sita in _The +Dynasty of Raghu_. In this case it must be remembered that Rama is an +incarnation of Vishnu, and the story of a mighty god incarnate is not +to be lightly tampered with. + +It is perhaps an inevitable consequence of Kalidasa's subject that his +women appeal more strongly to a modern reader than his men. The man is +the more variable phenomenon, and though manly virtues are the same in +all countries and centuries, the emphasis has been variously laid. But +the true woman seems timeless, universal. I know of no poet, unless it +be Shakespeare, who has given the world a group of heroines so +individual yet so universal; heroines as true, as tender, as brave as +are Indumati, Sita, Parvati, the Yaksha's bride, and Shakuntala. + +Kalidasa could not understand women without understanding children. It +would be difficult to find anywhere lovelier pictures of childhood +than those in which our poet presents the little Bharata, Ayus, Raghu, +Kumara. It is a fact worth noticing that Kalidasa's children are all +boys. Beautiful as his women are, he never does more than glance at a +little girl. + +Another pervading note of Kalidasa's writing is his love of external +nature. No doubt it is easier for a Hindu, with his almost instinctive +belief in reincarnation, to feel that all life, from plant to god, is +truly one; yet none, even among the Hindus, has expressed this feeling +with such convincing beauty as has Kalidasa. It is hardly true to say +that he personifies rivers and mountains and trees; to him they have a +conscious individuality as truly and as certainly as animals or men or +gods. Fully to appreciate Kalidasa's poetry one must have spent some +weeks at least among wild mountains and forests untouched by man; +there the conviction grows that trees and flowers are indeed +individuals, fully conscious of a personal life and happy in that +life. The return to urban surroundings makes the vision fade; yet the +memory remains, like a great love or a glimpse of mystic insight, as +an intuitive conviction of a higher truth. + +Kalidasa's knowledge of nature is not only sympathetic, it is also +minutely accurate. Not only are the snows and windy music of the +Himalayas, the mighty current of the sacred Ganges, his possession; +his too are smaller streams and trees and every littlest flower. It is +delightful to imagine a meeting between Kalidasa and Darwin. They +would have understood each other perfectly; for in each the same kind +of imagination worked with the same wealth of observed fact. + +I have already hinted at the wonderful balance in Kalidasa's +character, by virtue of which he found himself equally at home in a +palace and in a wilderness. I know not with whom to compare him in +this; even Shakespeare, for all his magical insight into natural +beauty, is primarily a poet of the human heart. That can hardly be +said of Kalidasa, nor can it be said that he is primarily a poet of +natural beauty. The two characters unite in him, it might almost be +said, chemically. The matter which I am clumsily endeavouring to make +plain is beautifully epitomised in _The Cloud-Messenger_. The former +half is a description of external nature, yet interwoven with human +feeling; the latter half is a picture of a human heart, yet the +picture is framed in natural beauty. So exquisitely is the thing done +that none can say which half is superior. Of those who read this +perfect poem in the original text, some are more moved by the one, +some by the other. Kalidasa understood in the fifth century what +Europe did not learn until the nineteenth, and even now comprehends +only imperfectly: that the world was not made for man, that man +reaches his full stature only as he realises the dignity and worth of +life that is not human. + +That Kalidasa seized this truth is a magnificent tribute to his +intellectual power, a quality quite as necessary to great poetry as +perfection of form. Poetical fluency is not rare; intellectual grasp +is not very uncommon: but the combination has not been found perhaps +more than a dozen times since the world began. Because he possessed +this harmonious combination, Kalidasa ranks not with Anacreon and +Horace and Shelley, but with Sophocles, Vergil, Milton. + +He would doubtless have been somewhat bewildered by Wordsworth's +gospel of nature. "The world is too much with us," we can fancy him +repeating. "How can the world, the beautiful human world, be too much +with us? How can sympathy with one form of life do other than vivify +our sympathy with other forms of life?" + +It remains to say what can be said in a foreign language of Kalidasa's +style. We have seen that he had a formal and systematic education; in +this respect he is rather to be compared with Milton and Tennyson than +with Shakespeare or Burns. He was completely master of his learning. +In an age and a country which reprobated carelessness but were +tolerant of pedantry, he held the scales with a wonderfully even hand, +never heedless and never indulging in the elaborate trifling with +Sanskrit diction which repels the reader from much of Indian +literature. It is true that some western critics have spoken of his +disfiguring conceits and puerile plays on words. One can only wonder +whether these critics have ever read Elizabethan literature; for +Kalidasa's style is far less obnoxious to such condemnation than +Shakespeare's. That he had a rich and glowing imagination, "excelling +in metaphor," as the Hindus themselves affirm, is indeed true; that he +may, both in youth and age, have written lines which would not have +passed his scrutiny in the vigour of manhood, it is not worth while to +deny: yet the total effect left by his poetry is one of extraordinary +sureness and delicacy of taste. This is scarcely a matter for +argument; a reader can do no more than state his own subjective +impression, though he is glad to find that impression confirmed by the +unanimous authority of fifty generations of Hindus, surely the most +competent judges on such a point. + +Analysis of Kalidasa's writings might easily be continued, but +analysis can never explain life. The only real criticism is +subjective. We know that Kalidasa is a very great poet, because the +world has not been able to leave him alone. + +ARTHUR W. RYDER. + + + + +SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY + + +On Kalidasa's life and writings may be consulted A.A. Macdonell's +_History of Sanskrit Literature_ (1900); the same author's article +"Kalidasa" in the eleventh edition of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ +(1910); and Sylvain Lévi's _Le Théâtre Indien_ (1890). + +The more important translations in English are the following: of the +_Shakuntala_, by Sir William Jones (1789) and Monier Williams (fifth +edition, 1887); of the _Urvashi_, by H.H. Wilson (in his _Select +Specimens of the Theatre of the Hindus_, third edition, 1871); of _The +Dynasty of Raghu_, by P. de Lacy Johnstone (1902); of _The Birth of +The War-god_ (cantos one to seven), by Ralph T.H. Griffith (second +edition, 1879); of _The Cloud-Messenger_, by H.H. Wilson (1813). + +There is an inexpensive reprint of Jones's _Shakuntala_ and Wilson's +_Cloud-Messenger_ in one volume in the Camelot Series. + + +KALIDASA + + An ancient heathen poet, loving more + God's creatures, and His women, and His flowers + Than we who boast of consecrated powers; + Still lavishing his unexhausted store + + Of love's deep, simple wisdom, healing o'er + The world's old sorrows, India's griefs and ours; + That healing love he found in palace towers, + On mountain, plain, and dark, sea-belted shore, + + In songs of holy Raghu's kingly line + Or sweet Shakuntala in pious grove, + In hearts that met where starry jasmines twine + + Or hearts that from long, lovelorn absence strove + Together. Still his words of wisdom shine: + All's well with man, when man and woman love. + + Willst du die Blüte des frühen, die + Früchte des späteren Jahres, + Willst du, was reizt und entzückt, + Willst du, was sättigt und nährt, + Willst du den Hummel, die erde mit + Einem Namen begreifen, + Nenn' ich, Sakuntala, dich, und + dann ist alles gesagt. + +GOETHE. + * * * * * + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: These verses are translated on pp. 123, 124.] + +[Footnote 2: The passage will be found on pp. 190-192.] + +[Footnote 3: This matter is more fully discussed in the introduction to my +translation of _The Little Clay Cart_ (1905).] + +[Footnote 4: Lévi, _Le Théâtre Indien_, p. 163.] + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + + +INTRODUCTION: KALIDASA--HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS + +SHAKUNTALA + +THE STORY OF SHAKUNTALA + +THE TWO MINOR DRAMAS-- + I. Malavika and Agnimitra + II. Urvashi + +THE DYNASTY OF RAGHU + +THE BIRTH OF THE WAR-GOD + +THE CLOUD-MESSENGER + +THE SEASONS + + * * * * * + + + + +SHAKUNTALA + +A PLAY IN SEVEN ACTS + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONÆ + + + KING DUSHYANTA. + + BHARATA, _nicknamed_ All-tamer, _his son_. + + MADHAVYA, _a clown, his companion_. + + His charioteer. + + RAIVATAKA, _a door-keeper_. + + BHADRASENA, _a general_. + + KARABHAKA, _a servant_. + + PARVATAYANA, _a chamberlain_. + + SOMARATA, _a chaplain_. + + KANVA, _hermit-father_. + + + SHARNGARAVA } + + SHARADVATA } _his pupils_. + + HARITA } + + + DURVASAS, _an irascible sage_. + + The chief of police. + + + SUCHAKA } + } _policemen_. + JANUKA } + + + A fisherman. + + SHAKUNTALA, _foster-child of Kanva_. + + + ANUSUVA } + } _her friends_. + PRIYAMVADA } + + + GAUTAMI, _hermit-mother_. + + KASHYAPA, _father of the gods_. + + ADITI, _mother of the gods_. + + MATALI, _charioteer of heaven's king_. + + GALAVA, _a pupil in heaven_. + + MISHRAKESHI, _a heavenly nymph_. + +_Stage-director and actress (in the prologue), hermits and +hermit-women, two court poets, palace attendants, invisible fairies_. + +The first four acts pass in Kanva's forest hermitage; acts five and +six in the king's palace; act seven on a heavenly mountain. The time +is perhaps seven years. + + + +SHAKUNTALA + +PROLOGUE + +BENEDICTION UPON THE AUDIENCE + + Eight forms has Shiva, lord of all and king: + And these are water, first created thing; + And fire, which speeds the sacrifice begun; + The priest; and time's dividers, moon and sun; + The all-embracing ether, path of sound; + The earth, wherein all seeds of life are found; + And air, the breath of life: may he draw near, + Revealed in these, and bless those gathered here. + +_The stage-director_. Enough of this! (_Turning toward the +dressing-room_.) Madam, if you are ready, pray come here. (_Enter an +actress_.) + +_Actress_. Here I am, sir. What am I to do? + +_Director_. Our audience is very discriminating, and we are to offer +them a new play, called _Shakuntala and the ring of recognition_, +written by the famous Kalidasa. Every member of the cast must be on +his mettle. + +_Actress_. Your arrangements are perfect. Nothing will go wrong. + +_Director_ (_smiling_). To tell the truth, madam, + + Until the wise are satisfied, + I cannot feel that skill is shown; + The best-trained mind requires support, + And does not trust itself alone. + +_Actress_. True. What shall we do first? + +_Director_. First, you must sing something to please the ears of the +audience. + +_Actress_. What season of the year shall I sing about? _Director_. +Why, sing about the pleasant summer which has just begun. For at this +time of year + + A mid-day plunge will temper heat; + The breeze is rich with forest flowers; + To slumber in the shade is sweet; + And charming are the twilight hours. + +_Actress_ (_sings_). + + The siris-blossoms fair, + With pollen laden, + Are plucked to deck her hair + By many a maiden, + But gently; flowers like these + Are kissed by eager bees. + +_Director_. Well done! The whole theatre is captivated by your song, +and sits as if painted. What play shall we give them to keep their +good-will? + +_Actress_. Why, you just told me we were to give a new play called +_Shakuntala and the ring_. + +_Director_. Thank you for reminding me. For the moment I had quite +forgotten. + + Your charming song had carried me away + As the deer enticed the hero of our play. + +(_Exeunt ambo_.) + + +ACT I + + +THE HUNT + +(_Enter, in a chariot, pursuing a deer_, KING DUSHYANTA, _bow and +arrow in hand; and a charioteer_.) + +_Charioteer_ (_Looking at the king and the deer_). Your Majesty, + + I see you hunt the spotted deer + With shafts to end his race, + As though God Shiva should appear + In his immortal chase. + +_King_. Charioteer, the deer has led us a long chase. And even now + + His neck in beauty bends + As backward looks he sends + At my pursuing car + That threatens death from far. + Fear shrinks to half the body small; + See how he fears the arrow's fall! + + The path he takes is strewed + With blades of grass half-chewed + From jaws wide with the stress + Of fevered weariness. + He leaps so often and so high, + He does not seem to run, but fly. + +(_In surprise_.) Pursue as I may, I can hardly keep him in sight. + +_Charioteer_. Your Majesty, I have been holding the horses back +because the ground was rough. This checked us and gave the deer a +lead. Now we are on level ground, and you will easily overtake him. + +_King_. Then let the reins hang loose. + +_Charioteer_. Yes, your Majesty. (_He counterfeits rapid motion_.) +Look, your Majesty! + + The lines hang loose; the steeds unreined + Dart forward with a will. + Their ears are pricked; their necks are strained; + Their plumes lie straight and still. + They leave the rising dust behind; + They seem to float upon the wind. + +_King_ (_joyfully_). See! The horses are gaining on the deer. + + As onward and onward the chariot flies, + The small flashes large to my dizzy eyes. + What is cleft in twain, seems to blur and mate; + What is crooked in nature, seems to be straight. + Things at my side in an instant appear + Distant, and things in the distance, near. + +_A voice behind the scenes_. O King, this deer belongs to the +hermitage, and must not be killed. + +_Charioteer_ (_listening and looking_). Your Majesty, here are two +hermits, come to save the deer at the moment when your arrow was about +to fall. + +_King_ (_hastily_). Stop the chariot. + +_Charioteer_. Yes, your Majesty. (_He does so. Enter a hermit with his +pupil_.) + +_Hermit_ (_lifting his hand_). O King, this deer belongs to the +hermitage. + + Why should his tender form expire, + As blossoms perish in the fire? + How could that gentle life endure + The deadly arrow, sharp and sure? + + Restore your arrow to the quiver; + To you were weapons lent + The broken-hearted to deliver, + Not strike the innocent. + +_King_ (_bowing low_). It is done. (_He does so_.) + +_Hermit_ (_joyfully_). A deed worthy of you, scion of Puru's race, and +shining example of kings. May you beget a son to rule earth and +heaven. + +_King_ (_bowing low_). I am thankful for a Brahman's blessing. + +_The two hermits_. O King, we are on our way to gather firewood. Here, +along the bank of the Malini, you may see the hermitage of Father +Kanva, over which Shakuntala presides, so to speak, as guardian deity. +Unless other deities prevent, pray enter here and receive a welcome. +Besides, + + Beholding pious hermit-rites + Preserved from fearful harm, + Perceive the profit of the scars + On your protecting arm. + +_King_. Is the hermit father there? + +_The two hermits_. No, he has left his daughter to welcome guests, and +has just gone to Somatirtha, to avert an evil fate that threatens her. + +_King_. Well, I will see her. She shall feel my devotion, and report +it to the sage. + +_The two hermits_. Then we will go on our way. (_Exit hermit with +pupil_.) + +_King_. Charioteer, drive on. A sight of the pious hermitage will +purify us. + +_Charioteer_. Yes, your Majesty. (_He counterfeits motion again_.) + +_King_ (_looking about_). One would know, without being told, that +this is the precinct of a pious grove. + +_Charioteer_. How so? _King_. Do you not see? Why, here + + Are rice-grains, dropped from bills of parrot chicks + Beneath the trees; and pounding-stones where sticks + A little almond-oil; and trustful deer + That do not run away as we draw near; + And river-paths that are besprinkled yet + From trickling hermit-garments, clean and wet. + +Besides, + + The roots of trees are washed by many a stream + That breezes ruffle; and the flowers' red gleam + Is dimmed by pious smoke; and fearless fawns + Move softly on the close-cropped forest lawns. + +_Charioteer_. It is all true. + +_King_ (_after a little_). We must not disturb the hermitage. Stop +here while I dismount. + +_Charioteer_. I am holding the reins. Dismount, your Majesty. + +_King_ (_dismounts and looks at himself_). One should wear modest +garments on entering a hermitage. Take these jewels and the bow. (_He +gives them to the charioteer_.) Before I return from my visit to the +hermits, have the horses' backs wet down. + +_Charioteer_. Yes, your Majesty. (_Exit_.) + +_King_ (_walking and looking about_). The hermitage! Well, I will +enter. (_As he does so, he feels a throbbing in his arm_.) + + A tranquil spot! Why should I thrill? + Love cannot enter there-- + Yet to inevitable things + Doors open everywhere. + +_A voice behind the scenes_. This way, girls! + +_King_ (_listening_). I think I hear some one to the right of the +grove. I must find out. (_He walks and looks about_.) Ah, here are +hermit-girls, with watering-pots just big enough for them to handle. +They are coming in this direction to water the young trees. They are +charming! + + The city maids, for all their pains, + Seem not so sweet and good; + Our garden blossoms yield to these + Flower-children of the wood. + +I will draw back into the shade and wait for them. (_He stands, gazing +toward them. Enter_ SHAKUNTALA, _as described, and her two friends_.) + +_First friend_. It seems to me, dear, that Father Kanva cares more for +the hermitage trees than he does for you. You are delicate as a +jasmine blossom, yet he tells you to fill the trenches about the +trees. + +_Shakuntala_. Oh, it isn't Father's bidding so much. I feel like a +real sister to them. (_She waters the trees_.) + +_Priyamvada_. Shakuntala, we have watered the trees that blossom in +the summer-time. Now let's sprinkle those whose flowering-time is +past. That will be a better deed, because we shall not be working for +a reward. + +_Shakuntala_. What a pretty idea! (_She does so_.) + +_King_ (_to himself_). And this is Kanva's daughter, Shakuntala. (_In +surprise_.) The good Father does wrong to make her wear the hermit's +dress of bark. + + The sage who yokes her artless charm + With pious pain and grief, + Would try to cut the toughest vine + With a soft, blue lotus-leaf. + + Well, I will step behind a tree and see how she acts with her +friends. (_He conceals himself_.) + +_Shakuntala_. Oh, Anusuya! Priyamvada has fastened this bark dress so +tight that it hurts. Please loosen it. (ANUSUYA _does so_.) + +_Priyamvada_ (_laughing_). You had better blame your own budding +charms for that. + +_King_. She is quite right. + + Beneath the barken dress + Upon the shoulder tied, + In maiden loveliness + Her young breast seems to hide, + + As when a flower amid + The leaves by autumn tossed-- + Pale, withered leaves--lies hid, + And half its grace is lost. + +Yet in truth the bark dress is not an enemy to her beauty. It serves +as an added ornament. For + + The meanest vesture glows + On beauty that enchants: + The lotus lovelier shows + Amid dull water-plants; + + The moon in added splendour + Shines for its spot of dark; + Yet more the maiden slender + Charms in her dress of bark. + +_Shakuntala_ (_looking ahead_). Oh, girls, that mango-tree is trying +to tell me something with his branches that move in the wind like +fingers. I must go and see him. (_She does so_.) + +_Priyamvada_. There, Shakuntala, stand right where you are a minute. + +_Shakuntala_. Why? + +_Priyamvada_. When I see you there, it looks as if a vine were +clinging to the mango-tree. + +_Shakuntala_. I see why they call you the flatterer. + +_King_. But the flattery is true. + + Her arms are tender shoots; her lips + Are blossoms red and warm; + Bewitching youth begins to flower + In beauty on her form. + +_Anusuya_. Oh, Shakuntala! Here is the jasmine-vine that you named +Light of the Grove. She has chosen the mango-tree as her husband. + +_Shakuntala_ (_approaches and looks at it, joyfully_). What a pretty +pair they make. The jasmine shows her youth in her fresh flowers, and +the mango-tree shows his strength in his ripening fruit. (_She stands +gazing at them_.) + +_Priyamvada_ (_smiling_). Anusuya, do you know why Shakuntala looks so +hard at the Light of the Grove? + +_Anusuya_. No. Why? + +_Priyamvada_. She is thinking how the Light of the Grove has found a +good tree, and hoping that she will meet a fine lover. + +_Shakuntala_. That's what you want for yourself. (_She tips her +watering-pot_.) + +_Anusuya_. Look, Shakuntala! Here is the spring-creeper that Father +Kanva tended with his own hands--just as he did you. You are +forgetting her. + +_Shakuntala_. I'd forget myself sooner. (_She goes to the creeper and +looks at it, joyfully_.) Wonderful! Wonderful! Priyamvada, I have +something pleasant to tell you. + +_Priyamvada_. What is it, dear? + +_Shakuntala_. It is out of season, but the spring-creeper is covered +with buds down to the very root. + +_The two friends_ (_running up_). Really? + +_Shakuntala_. Of course. Can't you see? + +_Priyamvada_ (_looking at it joyfully_). And I have something pleasant +to tell _you_. You are to be married soon. + +_Shakuntala_ (_snappishly_). You know that's just what you want for +yourself. + +_Priyamvada_. I'm not teasing. I really heard Father Kanva say that +this flowering vine was to be a symbol of your coming happiness. + +_Anusuya_. Priyamvada, that is why Shakuntala waters the +spring-creeper so lovingly. + +_Shakuntala_. She is my sister. Why shouldn't I give her water? (_She +tips her watering-pot_.) + +_King_. May I hope that she is the hermit's daughter by a mother of a +different caste? But it _must_ be so. + + Surely, she may become a warrior's bride; + Else, why these longings in an honest mind? + The motions of a blameless heart decide + Of right and wrong, when reason leaves us blind. + +Yet I will learn the whole truth. + +_Shakuntala_ (_excitedly_). Oh, oh! A bee has left the jasmine-vine +and is flying into my face. (_She shows herself annoyed by the bee_.) + +_King_ (_ardently_). + + As the bee about her flies, + Swiftly her bewitching eyes + Turn to watch his flight. + She is practising to-day + Coquetry and glances' play + Not from love, but fright. + +(_Jealously_.) + + Eager bee, you lightly skim + O'er the eyelid's trembling rim + Toward the cheek aquiver. + Gently buzzing round her cheek, + Whispering in her ear, you seek + Secrets to deliver. + + While her hands that way and this + Strike at you, you steal a kiss, + Love's all, honeymaker. + I know nothing but her name, + Not her caste, nor whence she came-- + You, my rival, take her. + +_Shakuntala_. Oh, girls! Save me from this dreadful bee! + +_The two friends_ (_smiling_). Who are we, that we should save you? +Call upon Dushyanta. For pious groves are in the protection of the +king. + +_King_. A good opportunity to present myself. Have no--(_He checks +himself. Aside_.) No, they would see that I am the king. I prefer to +appear as a guest. + +_Shakuntala_. He doesn't leave me alone! I am going to run away. +(_She takes a step and looks about_.) Oh, dear! Oh, dear! He is +following me. Please save me. + +_King_ (_hastening forward_). Ah! + + A king of Puru's mighty line + Chastises shameless churls; + What insolent is he who baits + These artless hermit-girls? + +(_The girls are a little flurried on seeing the king_.) + +_Anusuya_. It is nothing very dreadful, sir. But our friend +(_indicating_ SHAKUNTALA) was teased and frightened by a bee. + +_King_ (_to_ SHAKUNTALA). I hope these pious days are happy ones. + +(SHAKUNTALA's _eyes drop in embarrassment_.) + +_Anusuya_. Yes, now that we receive such a distinguished guest. + +_Priyamvada_. Welcome, sir. Go to the cottage, Shakuntala, and bring +fruit. This water will do to wash the feet. + +_King_. Your courteous words are enough to make me feel at home. + +_Anusuya_. Then, sir, pray sit down and rest on this shady bench. + +_King_. You, too, are surely wearied by your pious task. Pray be +seated a moment. + +_Priyamvada_ (_aside to_ SHAKUNTALA). My dear, we must be polite to +our guest. Shall we sit down? (_The three girls sit_.) + +_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). Oh, why do I have such feelings when I +see this man? They seem wrong in a hermitage. + +_King_ (_looking at the girls_). It is delightful to see your +friendship. For you are all young and beautiful. + +_Priyamvada_ (_aside to_ ANUSUYA). Who is he, dear? With his mystery, +and his dignity, and his courtesy? He acts like a king and a +gentleman. + +_Anusuya_. I am curious too. I am going to ask him. (_Aloud_.) Sir, +you are so very courteous that I make bold to ask you something. What +royal family do you adorn, sir? What country is grieving at your +absence? Why does a gentleman so delicately bred submit to the weary +journey into our pious grove? + +_Shakuntala_ (_aside_). Be brave, my heart. Anusuya speaks your very +thoughts. + +_King_ (_aside_). Shall I tell at once who I am, or conceal it? (_He +reflects_.) This will do. (_Aloud_.) I am a student of Scripture. +It is my duty to see justice done in the cities of the king. +And I have come to this hermitage on a tour of inspection. + +_Anusuya_. Then we of the hermitage have some one to take care of us. + +(SHAKUNTALA _shows embarrassment_.) + +_The two friends_ (_observing the demeanour of the pair. Aside to_ +SHAKUNTALA). Oh, Shakuntala! If only Father were here to-day. + +_Shakuntala_. What would he do? + +_The two friends_. He would make our distinguished guest happy, if it +took his most precious treasure. + +_Shakuntala_ (_feigning anger_). Go away! You mean something. I'll not +listen to you. + +_King_. I too would like to ask a question about your friend. + +_The two friends_. Sir, your request is a favour to us. + +_King_. Father Kanva lives a lifelong hermit. Yet you say that your +friend is his daughter. How can that be? + +_Anusuya_. Listen, sir. There is a majestic royal sage named +Kaushika---- + +_King_. Ah, yes. The famous Kaushika. + +_Anusuya_. Know, then, that he is the source of our friend's being. +But Father Kanva is her real father, because he took care of her when +she was abandoned. + +_King_. You waken my curiosity with the word "abandoned." May I hear +the whole story? + +_Anusuya_. Listen, sir. Many years ago, that royal sage was leading a +life of stern austerities, and the gods, becoming strangely jealous, +sent the nymph Menaka to disturb his devotions. + +_King_. Yes, the gods feel this jealousy toward the austerities of +others. And then-- + +_Anusuya_. Then in the lovely spring-time he saw her intoxicating +beauty--(_She stops in embarrassment_.) + +_King_. The rest is plain. Surely, she is the daughter of the nymph. + +_Anusuya_. Yes. + +_King_. It is as it should be. + + To beauty such as this + No woman could give birth; + The quivering lightning flash + Is not a child of earth. + +(SHAKUNTALA _hangs her head in confusion_.) _King_ (_to himself_). +Ah, my wishes become hopes. + +_Priyamvada_ (_looking with a smile at_ SHAKUNTALA). Sir, it seems as +if you had more to say. (SHAKUNTALA _threatens her friend with her +finger_.) + +_King_. You are right. Your pious life interests me, and I have +another question. + +_Priyamvada_. Do not hesitate. We hermit people stand ready to answer +all demands. + +_King_. My question is this: + + Does she, till marriage only, keep her vow + As hermit-maid, that shames the ways of love? + Or must her soft eyes ever see, as now, + Soft eyes of friendly deer in peaceful grove? + +_Priyamvada_. Sir, we are under bonds to lead a life of virtue. But it +is her father's wish to give her to a suitable lover. + +_King_ (_joyfully to himself_). + + O heart, your wish is won! + All doubt at last is done; + The thing you feared as fire, + Is the jewel of your desire. + +_Shakuntala_ (_pettishly_). Anusuya, I'm going. + +_Anusuya_. What for? + +_Shakuntala_. I am going to tell Mother Gautami that Priyamvada is +talking nonsense. (_She rises_.) + +_Anusuya_. My dear, we hermit people cannot neglect to entertain a +distinguished guest, and go wandering about. + +(SHAKUNTALA _starts to walk away without answering_.) + +_King_ (_aside_). She is going! (_He starts up as if to detain her, +then checks his desires_.) A thought is as vivid as an act, to a +lover. + + Though nurture, conquering nature, holds + Me back, it seems + As had I started and returned + In waking dreams. + +_Priyamvada_ (_approaching_ SHAKUNTALA). You dear, peevish girl! You +mustn't go. + +_Shakuntala_ (_turns with a frown_). Why not? + +_Priyamvada_. You owe me the watering of two trees. You can go when +you have paid your debt. (_She forces her to come back_.) + +_King_. It is plain that she is already wearied by watering the trees. +See! + + Her shoulders droop; her palms are reddened yet; + Quick breaths are struggling in her bosom fair; + The blossom o'er her ear hangs limply wet; + One hand restrains the loose, dishevelled hair. + +I therefore remit her debt. (_He gives the two friends a ring. They +take it, read the name engraved on it, and look at each other_.) + +_King_. Make no mistake. This is a present--from the king. + +_Priyamvada_. Then, sir, you ought not to part with it. Your word is +enough to remit the debt. + +_Anusuya_. Well, Shakuntala, you are set free by this kind +gentleman--or rather, by the king himself. Where are you going now? + +_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). I would never leave him if I could help +myself. + +_Priyamvada_. Why don't you go now? + +_Shakuntala_. I am not _your_ servant any longer. I will go when I +like. + +_King_ (_looking at_ SHAKUNTALA. _To himself_). Does she feel toward +me as I do toward her? At least, there is ground for hope. + + Although she does not speak to me, + She listens while I speak; + Her eyes turn not to see my face, + But nothing else they seek. + +_A voice behind the scenes_. Hermits! Hermits! Prepare to defend the +creatures in our pious grove. King Dushyanta is hunting in the +neighbourhood. + + The dust his horses' hoofs have raised, + Red as the evening sky, + Falls like a locust-swarm on boughs + Where hanging garments dry. + +_King_ (_aside_). Alas! My soldiers are disturbing the pious grove in +their search for me. _The voice behind the scenes_. Hermits! +Hermits! Here is an elephant who is terrifying old men, women, and +children. + + One tusk is splintered by a cruel blow + Against a blocking tree; his gait is slow, + For countless fettering vines impede and cling; + He puts the deer to flight; some evil thing + He seems, that comes our peaceful life to mar, + Fleeing in terror from the royal car. + +(_The girls listen and rise anxiously_.) + +_King_. I have offended sadly against the hermits. I must go back. + +_The two friends_. Your Honour, we are frightened by this alarm of the +elephant. Permit us to return to the cottage. + +_Anusuya_ (_to_ SHAKUNTALA). Shakuntala dear, Mother Gautami will be +anxious. We must hurry and find her. + +_Shakuntala_ (_feigning lameness_). Oh, oh! I can hardly walk. + +_King_. You must go very slowly. And I will take pains that the +hermitage is not disturbed. + +_The two friends_. Your honour, we feel as if we knew you very well. +Pray pardon our shortcomings as hostesses. May we ask you to seek +better entertainment from us another time? + +_King_. You are too modest. I feel honoured by the mere sight of you. + +_Shakuntala_. Anusuya, my foot is cut on a sharp blade of grass, and +my dress is caught on an amaranth twig. Wait for me while I loosen it. + +(_She casts a lingering glance at the king, and goes out with her two +friends_.) + +_King_ (_sighing_). They are gone. And I must go. The sight of +Shakuntala has made me dread the return to the city. I will make my +men camp at a distance from the pious grove. But I cannot turn my own +thoughts from Shakuntala. + + It is my body leaves my love, not I; + My body moves away, but not my mind; + For back to her my struggling fancies fly + Like silken banners borne against the wind. (_Exit_.) + + +ACT II + + +THE SECRET + +(_Enter the clown_.) + +_Clown_ (_sighing_). Damn! Damn! Damn! I'm tired of being friends with +this sporting king. "There's a deer!" he shouts, "There's a boar!" And +off he chases on a summer noon through woods where shade is few and +far between. We drink hot, stinking water from the mountain streams, +flavoured with leaves--nasty! At odd times we get a little tepid meat +to eat. And the horses and the elephants make such a noise that I +can't even be comfortable at night. Then the hunters and the +bird-chasers--damn 'em--wake me up bright and early. They do make an +ear-splitting rumpus when they start for the woods. But even that +isn't the whole misery. There's a new pimple growing on the old boil. +He left us behind and went hunting a deer. And there in a hermitage +they say he found--oh, dear! oh, dear! he found a hermit-girl named +Shakuntala. Since then he hasn't a thought of going back to town. I +lay awake all night, thinking about it. What can I do? Well, I'll see +my friend when he is dressed and beautified. (_He walks and looks +about_.) Hello! Here he comes, with his bow in his hand, and his girl +in his heart. He is wearing a wreath of wild flowers! I'll pretend to +be all knocked up. Perhaps I can get a rest that way. (_He stands, +leaning on his staff. Enter the king, as described_.) + +_King_ (_to himself_). + + Although my darling is not lightly won, + She seemed to love me, and my hopes are bright; + Though love be balked ere joy be well begun, + A common longing is itself delight. + +(_Smiling_.) Thus does a lover deceive himself. He judges his love's +feelings by his own desires. + + Her glance was loving--but 'twas not for me; + Her step was slow--'twas grace, not coquetry; + Her speech was short--to her detaining friend. + In things like these love reads a selfish end! + +_Clown_ (_standing as before_). Well, king, I can't move my hand. I +can only greet you with my voice. + +_King_ (_looking and smiling_). What makes you lame? + +_Clown_. Good! You hit a man in the eye, and then ask him why the +tears come. + +_King_. I do not understand you. Speak plainly. + +_Clown_. When a reed bends over like a hunchback, do you blame the +reed or the river-current? + +_King_. The river-current, of course. + +_Clown_. And you are to blame for my troubles. + +_King_. How so? + +_Clown_. It's a fine thing for you to neglect your royal duties and +such a sure job--to live in the woods! What's the good of talking? +Here I am, a Brahman, and my joints are all shaken up by this eternal +running after wild animals, so that I can't move. Please be good to +me. Let us have a rest for just one day. + +_King_ (_to himself_). He says this. And I too, when I remember +Kanva's daughter, have little desire for the chase. For + + The bow is strung, its arrow near; + And yet I cannot bend + That bow against the fawns who share + Soft glances with their friend. + +_Clown_ (_observing the king_). He means more than he says. I might as +well weep in the woods. + +_King_ (_smiling_). What more could I mean? I have been thinking that +I ought to take my friend's advice. + +_Clown_ (_cheerfully_). Long life to you, then. (_He unstiffens_.) + +_King_. Wait. Hear me out. + +_Clown_. Well, sir? + +_King_. When you are rested, you must be my companion in another +task--an easy one. + +_Clown_. Crushing a few sweetmeats? + +_King_. I will tell you presently. + +_Clown_. Pray command my leisure. + +_King_. Who stands without? (_Enter the door-keeper_.) + +_Door-keeper_. I await your Majesty's commands. + +_King_. Raivataka, summon the general. + +_Door-keeper_. Yes, your Majesty. (_He goes out, then returns with the +general_.) Follow me, sir. There is his Majesty, listening to our +conversation. Draw near, sir. + +_General_ (_observing the king, to himself_). Hunting is declared to +be a sin, yet it brings nothing but good to the king. See! + + He does not heed the cruel sting + Of his recoiling, twanging string; + The mid-day sun, the dripping sweat + Affect him not, nor make him fret; + His form, though sinewy and spare, + Is most symmetrically fair; + No mountain-elephant could be + More filled with vital strength than he. + +(_He approaches_.) Victory to your Majesty! The forest is full of +deer-tracks, and beasts of prey cannot be far off. What better +occupation could we have? + +_King_. Bhadrasena, my enthusiasm is broken. Madhavya has been +preaching against hunting. + +_General_ (_aside to the clown_). Stick to it, friend Madhavya. I will +humour the king a moment. (_Aloud_.) Your Majesty, he is a chattering +idiot. Your Majesty may judge by his own case whether hunting is an +evil. Consider: + + The hunter's form grows sinewy, strong, and light; + He learns, from beasts of prey, how wrath and fright + Affect the mind; his skill he loves to measure + With moving targets. 'Tis life's chiefest pleasure. + +_Clown_ (_angrily_). Get out! Get out with your strenuous life! The +king has come to his senses. But you, you son of a slave-wench, can go +chasing from forest to forest, till you fall into the jaws of some old +bear that is looking for a deer or a jackal. + +_King_. Bhadrasena, I cannot take your advice, because I am in the +vicinity of a hermitage. So for to-day + + The hornèd buffalo may shake + The turbid water of the lake; + Shade-seeking deer may chew the cud, + Boars trample swamp-grass in the mud; + The bow I bend in hunting, may + Enjoy a listless holiday. + +_General_. Yes, your Majesty. + +_King_. Send back the archers who have gone ahead. And forbid the +soldiers to vex the hermitage, or even to approach it. Remember: + + There lurks a hidden fire in each + Religious hermit-bower; + Cool sun-stones kindle if assailed + By any foreign power. + +_General_. Yes, your Majesty. + +_Clown_. Now will you get out with your strenuous life? (_Exit +general_.) + +_King_ (_to his attendants_). Lay aside your hunting dress. And you, +Raivataka, return to your post of duty. + +_Raivataka_. Yes, your Majesty. (_Exit_.) + +_Clown_. You have got rid of the vermin. Now be seated on this flat +stone, over which the trees spread their canopy of shade. I can't sit +down till you do. + +_King_. Lead the way. + +_Clown_. Follow me. (_They walk about and sit down_.) + +_King_. Friend Madhavya, you do not know what vision is. You have not +seen the fairest of all objects. + +_Clown_. I see you, right in front of me. + +_King_. Yes, every one thinks himself beautiful. But I was speaking of +Shakuntala, the ornament of the hermitage. + +_Clown_ (_to himself_). I mustn't add fuel to the flame. (_Aloud_.) +But you can't have her because she is a hermit-girl. What is the use +of seeing her? + +_King_. Fool! + + And is it selfish longing then, + That draws our souls on high + Through eyes that have forgot to wink, + As the new moon climbs the sky? + +Besides, Dushyanta's thoughts dwell on no forbidden object. + +_Clown_. Well, tell me about her. + +_King_. + + Sprung from a nymph of heaven + Wanton and gay, + Who spurned the blessing given, + Going her way; + + By the stern hermit taken + In her most need: + So fell the blossom shaken, + Flower on a weed. + +_Clown_ (_laughing_). You are like a man who gets tired of good dates +and longs for sour tamarind. All the pearls of the palace are yours, +and you want this girl! + +_King_. My friend, you have not seen her, or you could not talk so. + +_Clown_. She must be charming if she surprises _you_. + +_King_. Oh, my friend, she needs not many words. + + She is God's vision, of pure thought + Composed in His creative mind; + His reveries of beauty wrought + The peerless pearl of womankind. + So plays my fancy when I see + How great is God, how lovely she. + +_Clown_. How the women must hate her! + +_King_. This too is in my thought. + + She seems a flower whose fragrance none has tasted, + A gem uncut by workman's tool, + A branch no desecrating hands have wasted, + Fresh honey, beautifully cool. + + No man on earth deserves to taste her beauty, + Her blameless loveliness and worth, + Unless he has fulfilled man's perfect duty-- + And is there such a one on earth? + +_Clown_. Marry her quick, then, before the poor girl falls into the +hands of some oily-headed hermit. + +_King_. She is dependent on her father, and he is not here. + +_Clown_. But how does she feel toward you? _King_. My friend, +hermit-girls are by their very nature timid. And yet + + When I was near, she could not look at me; + She smiled--but not to me--and half denied it; + She would not show her love for modesty, + Yet did not try so very hard to hide it. + +_Clown_. Did you want her to climb into your lap the first time she +saw you? + +_King_. But when she went away with her friends, she almost showed +that she loved me. + + When she had hardly left my side, + "I cannot walk," the maiden cried, + And turned her face, and feigned to free + The dress not caught upon the tree. + +_Clown_. She has given you some memories to chew on. I suppose that is +why you are so in love with the pious grove. + +_King_. My friend, think of some pretext under which we may return to +the hermitage. + +_Clown_. What pretext do you need? Aren't you the king? + +_King_. What of that? + +_Clown_. Collect the taxes on the hermits' rice. + +_King_. Fool! It is a very different tax which these hermits pay--one +that outweighs heaps of gems. + + The wealth we take from common men, + Wastes while we cherish; + These share with us such holiness + As ne'er can perish. + +_Voices behind the scenes_. Ah, we have found him. + +_King_ (_Listening_). The voices are grave and tranquil. These must be +hermits. (_Enter the door-keeper_.) + +_Door-keeper_. Victory, O King. There are two hermit-youths at the +gate. + +_King_. Bid them enter at once. + +_Door-keeper_. Yes, your Majesty. (_He goes out, then returns with the +youths_.) Follow me. + +_First youth_ (_looking at the king_). A majestic presence, yet it +inspires confidence. Nor is this wonderful in a king who is half a +saint. For to him + + The splendid palace serves as hermitage; + His royal government, courageous, sage, + Adds daily to his merit; it is given + To him to win applause from choirs of heaven + Whose anthems to his glory rise and swell, + Proclaiming him a king, and saint as well. + +_Second youth_. My friend, is this Dushyanta, friend of Indra? + +_First youth_. It is. + +_Second youth_. + + Nor is it wonderful that one whose arm + Might bolt a city gate, should keep from harm + The whole broad earth dark-belted by the sea; + For when the gods in heaven with demons fight, + Dushyanta's bow and Indra's weapon bright + Are their reliance for the victory. + +_The two youths_ (_approaching_). Victory, O King! + +_King_ (_rising_). I salute you. + +_The two youths_. All hail! (_They offer fruit_.) + +_King_ (_receiving it and bowing low_). May I know the reason of your +coming? + +_The two youths_. The hermits have learned that you are here, and they +request---- + +_King_. They command rather. + +_The two youths_. The powers of evil disturb our pious life in the +absence of the hermit-father. We therefore ask that you will remain a +few nights with your charioteer to protect the hermitage. + +_King_. I shall be most happy to do so. + +_Clown_ (_to the king_). You rather seem to like being collared this +way. + +_King_. Raivataka, tell my charioteer to drive up, and to bring the +bow and arrows. + +_Raivataka_. Yes, your Majesty. (_Exit_) + +_The two youths_. + + Thou art a worthy scion of + The kings who ruled our nation + And found, defending those in need, + Their truest consecration. + +_King_. Pray go before. And I will follow straightway. + +_The two youths_. Victory, O King! (_Exeunt_.) + +_King_. Madhavya, have you no curiosity to see Shakuntala? + +_Clown_. I _did_ have an unending curiosity, but this talk about the +powers of evil has put an end to it. + +_King_. Do not fear. You will be with me. + +_Clown_. I'll stick close to your chariot-wheel. (_Enter the +door-keeper_.) + +_Door-keeper_. Your Majesty, the chariot is ready, and awaits your +departure to victory. But one Karabhaka has come from the city, a +messenger from the queen-mother. + +_King_ (_respectfully_). Sent by my mother? + +_Door-keeper_. Yes. + +_King_. Let him enter. + +_Door-keeper_ (_goes out and returns with_ KARABHAKA). Karabhaka, here +is his Majesty. You may draw near. + +_Karabhaka_ (_approaching and bowing low_). Victory to your Majesty. +The queen-mother sends her commands---- + +_King_. What are her commands? + +_Karabhaka_. She plans to end a fasting ceremony on the fourth day +from to-day. And on that occasion her dear son must not fail to wait +upon her. + +_King_. On the one side is my duty to the hermits, on the other my +mother's command. Neither may be disregarded. What is to be done? + +_Clown_ (_laughing_). Stay half-way between, like Trishanku. + +_King_. In truth, I am perplexed. + + Two inconsistent duties sever + My mind with cruel shock, + As when the current of a river + Is split upon a rock. + +(_He reflects_.) My friend, the queen-mother has always felt toward +you as toward a son. Do you return, tell her what duty keeps me here, +and yourself perform the offices of a son. + +_Clown_. You don't think I am afraid of the devils? + +_King_ (_smiling_). O mighty Brahman, who could suspect it? + +_Clown_. But I want to travel like a prince. + +_King_. I will send all the soldiers with you, for the pious grove +must not be disturbed. _Clown_ (_strutting_). Aha! Look at the +heir-apparent! + +_King_ (_to himself_). The fellow is a chatterbox. He might betray my +longing to the ladies of the palace. Good, then! (_He takes the clown +by the hand. Aloud_.) Friend Madhavya, my reverence for the hermits +draws me to the hermitage. Do not think that I am really in love with +the hermit-girl. Just think: + + A king, and a girl of the calm hermit-grove, + Bred with the fawns, and a stranger to love! + Then do not imagine a serious quest; + The light words I uttered were spoken in jest. + +_Clown_. Oh, I understand that well enough. (_Exeunt ambo_.) + + +ACT III + + +THE LOVE-MAKING + +(_Enter a pupil, with sacred grass for the sacrifice_.) + +_Pupil_ (_with meditative astonishment_). How great is the power of +King Dushyanta! Since his arrival our rites have been undisturbed. + + He does not need to bend the bow; + For every evil thing, + Awaiting not the arrow, flees + From the twanging of the string. + +Well, I will take this sacred grass to the priests, to strew the +altar. (_He walks and looks about, then speaks to some one not +visible_.) Priyamvada, for whom are you carrying this cuscus-salve and +the fibrous lotus-leaves? (_He listens_.) What do you say? That +Shakuntala has become seriously ill from the heat, and that these +things are to relieve her suffering? Give her the best of care, +Priyamvada. She is the very life of the hermit-father. And I will give +Gautami the holy water for her. (_Exit. Enter the lovelorn king_.) + +_King_ (_with a meditative sigh_). + + I know that stern religion's power + Keeps guardian watch my maiden o'er; + Yet all my heart flows straight to her + Like water to the valley-floor. + +Oh, mighty Love, thine arrows are made of flowers. How can they be so +sharp? (_He recalls something_.) Ah, I understand. + + Shiva's devouring wrath still burns in thee, + As burns the eternal fire beneath the sea; + Else how couldst thou, thyself long since consumed, + Kindle the fire that flames so ruthlessly? + +Indeed, the moon and thou inspire confidence, only to deceive the host +of lovers. + + Thy shafts are blossoms; coolness streams + From moon-rays: thus the poets sing; + But to the lovelorn, falsehood seems + To lurk in such imagining; + The moon darts fire from frosty beams; + Thy flowery arrows cut and sting. + +And yet + + If Love will trouble her + Whose great eyes madden me, + I greet him unafraid, + Though wounded ceaselessly. + +O mighty god, wilt thou not show me mercy after such reproaches? + + With tenderness unending + I cherished thee when small, + In vain--thy bow is bending; + On me thine arrows fall. + My care for thee to such a plight + Has brought me; and it serves me right. + +I have driven off the powers of evil, and the hermits have dismissed +me. Where shall I go now to rest from my weariness? (_He sighs_.) +There is no rest for me except in seeing her whom I love. (_He looks +up_.) She usually spends these hours of midday heat with her friends +on the vine-wreathed banks of the Malini. I will go there. (_He walks +and looks about_.) I believe the slender maiden has just passed +through this corridor of young trees. For + + The stems from which she gathered flowers + Are still unhealed; + The sap where twigs were broken off + Is uncongealed. + +(_He feels a breeze stirring_.) This is a pleasant spot, with the wind +among the trees. + + Limbs that love's fever seizes, + Their fervent welcome pay + To lotus-fragrant breezes + That bear the river-spray. + +(_He studies the ground_.) Ah, Shakuntala must be in this reedy bower. +For + + In white sand at the door + Fresh footprints appear, + The toe lightly outlined, + The heel deep and clear. + +I will hide among the branches, and see what happens. (_He does so. +Joyfully_.) Ah, my eyes have found their heaven. Here is the darling +of my thoughts, lying upon a flower-strewn bench of stone, and +attended by her two friends. I will hear what they say to each other. + +(_He stands gazing. Enter_ SHAKUNTALA _with her two friends_.) + +_The two friends_ (_fanning her_). Do you feel better, dear, when we +fan you with these lotus-leaves? + +_Shakuntala_ (_wearily_). Oh, are you fanning me, my dear girls? (_The +two friends look sorrowfully at each other_.) + +_King_. She is seriously ill. (_Doubtfully_.) Is it the heat, or is it +as I hope? (_Decidedly_.) It _must_ be so. + + With salve upon her breast, + With loosened lotus-chain, + My darling, sore oppressed, + Is lovely in her pain. + + Though love and summer heat + May work an equal woe, + No maiden seems so sweet + When summer lays her low. + +_Priyamvada_ (_aside to_ ANUSUYA). Anusuya, since she first saw the +good king, she has been greatly troubled. I do not believe her fever +has any other cause. + +_Anusuya_. I suspect you are right. I am going to ask her. My dear, I +must ask you something. You are in a high fever. + +_King_. It is too true. + + Her lotus-chains that were as white + As moonbeams shining in the night, + Betray the fever's awful pain, + And fading, show a darker stain. + +_Shakuntala_ (_half rising_.) Well, say whatever you like. +_Anusuya_. Shakuntala dear, you have not told us what is going on in +your mind. But I have heard old, romantic stories, and I can't help +thinking that you are in a state like that of a lady in love. Please +tell us what hurts you. We have to understand the disease before we +can even try to cure it. + +_King_. Anusuya expresses my own thoughts. + +_Shakuntala_. It hurts me terribly. I can't tell you all at once. + +_Priyamvada_. Anusuya is right, dear. Why do you hide your trouble? +You are wasting away every day. You are nothing but a beautiful +shadow. + +_King_. Priyamvada is right. See! + + Her cheeks grow thin; her breast and shoulders fail; + Her waist is weary and her face is pale: + She fades for love; oh, pitifully sweet! + As vine-leaves wither in the scorching heat. + +_Shakuntala_ (_sighing_). I could not tell any one else. But I shall +be a burden to you. + +_The two friends_. That is why we insist on knowing, dear. Grief must +be shared to be endured. + +_King_. + + To friends who share her joy and grief + She tells what sorrow laid her here; + She turned to look her love again + When first I saw her--yet I fear! + +_Shakuntala_. Ever since I saw the good king who protects the pious +grove--(_She stops and fidgets_.) + +_The two friends_. Go on, dear. + +_Shakuntala_. I love him, and it makes me feel like this. + +_The two friends_. Good, good! You have found a lover worthy of your +devotion. But of course, a great river always runs into the sea. + +_King_ (_joyfully_). I have heard what I longed to hear. + + 'Twas love that caused the burning pain; + 'Tis love that eases it again; + As when, upon a sultry day, + Rain breaks, and washes grief away. + +_Shakuntala_. Then, if you think best, make the good king take pity +upon me. If not, remember that I was. _King_. Her words end all +doubt. + +_Priyamvada_ (_aside to_ ANUSUYA). Anusuya, she is far gone in love +and cannot endure any delay. + +_Anusuya_. Priyamvada, can you think of any scheme by which we could +carry out her wishes quickly and secretly? + +_Priyamvada_. We must plan about the "secretly." The "quickly" is not +hard. + +_Anusuya_. How so? + +_Priyamvada_. Why, the good king shows his love for her in his tender +glances, and he has been wasting away, as if he were losing sleep. + +_King_. It is quite true. + + The hot tears, flowing down my cheek + All night on my supporting arm + And on its golden bracelet, seek + To stain the gems and do them harm. + + The bracelet slipping o'er the scars + Upon the wasted arm, that show + My deeds in hunting and in wars, + All night is moving to and fro. + +_Priyamvada_ (_reflecting_). Well, she must write him a love-letter. +And I will hide it in a bunch of flowers and see that it gets into the +king's hand as if it were a relic of the sacrifice. + +_Anusuya_. It is a pretty plan, dear, and it pleases me. What does +Shakuntala say? + +_Shakuntala_. I suppose I must obey orders. + +_Priyamvada_. Then compose a pretty little love-song, with a hint of +yourself in it. + +_Shakuntala_. I'll try. But my heart trembles, for fear he will +despise me. + +_King_. + + Here stands the eager lover, and you pale + For fear lest he disdain a love so kind: + The seeker may find fortune, or may fail; + But how could fortune, seeking, fail to find? + +And again: + + The ardent lover comes, and yet you fear + Lest he disdain love's tribute, were it brought, + The hope of which has led his footsteps here-- + Pearls need not seek, for they themselves are sought. + +_The two friends_. You are too modest about your own charms. Would +anybody put up a parasol to keep off the soothing autumn moonlight? + +_Shakuntala_ (_smiling_). I suppose I shall have to obey orders. (_She +meditates_.) + +_King_. It is only natural that I should forget to wink when I see my +darling. For + + One clinging eyebrow lifted, + As fitting words she seeks, + Her face reveals her passion + For me in glowing cheeks. + +_Shakuntala_. Well, I have thought out a little song. But I haven't +anything to write with. + +_Priyamvada_. Here is a lotus-leaf, glossy as a parrot's breast. You +can cut the letters in it with your nails. + +_Shakuntala_. Now listen, and tell me whether it makes sense. + +_The two friends_. Please. + +_Shakuntala_ (_reads_). + + I know not if I read your heart aright; + Why, pitiless, do you distress me so? + I only know that longing day and night + Tosses my restless body to and fro, + That yearns for you, the source of all its woe. + +_King_ (_advancing_). + + Though Love torments you, slender maid, + Yet he consumes me quite, + As daylight shuts night-blooming flowers + And slays the moon outright. + +_The two friends_ (_perceive the king and rise joyfully_). Welcome to +the wish that is fulfilled without delay. (SHAKUNTALA _tries to +rise_.) + +_King_. + + Do not try to rise, beautiful Shakuntala. + Your limbs from which the strength is fled, + That crush the blossoms of your bed + And bruise the lotus-leaves, may be + Pardoned a breach of courtesy. + + _Shakuntala_ (_sadly to herself_). Oh, my heart, you were so +impatient, and now you find no answer to make. + +_Anusuya_. Your Majesty, pray do this stone bench the honour of +sitting upon it. (SHAKUNTALA _edges away_.) + +_King_ (_seating himself_). Priyamvada, I trust your friend's illness +is not dangerous. + +_Priyamvada_ (_smiling_). A remedy is being applied and it will soon +be better. It is plain, sir, that you and she love each other. But I +love her too, and I must say something over again. + +_King_. Pray do not hesitate. It always causes pain in the end, to +leave unsaid what one longs to say. + +_Priyamvada_. Then listen, sir. + +_King_. I am all attention. + +_Priyamvada_. It is the king's duty to save hermit-folk from all +suffering. Is not that good Scripture? + +_King_. There is no text more urgent. + +_Priyamvada_. Well, our friend has been brought to this sad state by +her love for you. Will you not take pity on her and save her life? + +_King_. We cherish the same desire. I feel it a great honour. + +_Shakuntala_ (_with a jealous smile_). Oh, don't detain the good king. +He is separated from the court ladies, and he is anxious to go back to +them. + +_King_. + + Bewitching eyes that found my heart, + You surely see + It could no longer live apart, + Nor faithless be. + I bear Love's arrows as I can; + Wound not with doubt a wounded man. + +_Anusuya_. But, your Majesty, we hear that kings have many favourites. +You must act in such a way that our friend may not become a cause of +grief to her family. + +_King_. What more can I say? + + Though many queens divide my court, + But two support the throne; + Your friend will find a rival in + The sea-girt earth alone. + +_The two friends_. We are content. (SHAKUNTALA _betrays her joy_.) +_Priyamvada_ (_aside to_ ANUSUYA). Look, Anusuya! See how the dear +girl's life is coming back moment by moment--just like a peahen in +summer when the first rainy breezes come. + +_Shakuntala_. You must please ask the king's pardon for the rude +things we said when we were talking together. + +_The two friends_ (_smiling_). Anybody who says it was rude, may ask +his pardon. Nobody else feels guilty. + +_Shakuntala_. Your Majesty, pray forgive what we said when we did not +know that you were present. I am afraid that we say a great many +things behind a person's back. + +_King_ (_smiling_). + + Your fault is pardoned if I may + Relieve my weariness + By sitting on the flower-strewn couch + Your fevered members press. + +_Priyamvada_. But that will not be enough to satisfy him. + +_Shakuntala_ (_feigning anger_). Stop! You are a rude girl. You make +fun of me when I am in this condition. + +_Anusuya_ (_looking out of the arbour_). Priyamvada, there is a little +fawn, looking all about him. He has probably lost his mother and is +trying to find her. I am going to help him. + +_Priyamvada_. He is a frisky little fellow. You can't catch him alone. +I'll go with you. (_They start to go_.) + +_Shakuntala_. I will not let you go and leave me alone. + +_The two friends_ (_smiling_). You alone, when the king of the world +is with you! (_Exeunt_.) + +_Shakuntala_. Are my friends gone? + +_King_ (_looking about_). Do not be anxious, beautiful Shakuntala. +Have you not a humble servant here, to take the place of your friends? +Then tell me: + + Shall I employ the moistened lotus-leaf + To fan away your weariness and grief? + Or take your lily feet upon my knee + And rub them till you rest more easily? + +_Shakuntala_. I will not offend against those to whom I owe honour. +(_She rises weakly and starts to walk away_.) _King_ (_detaining +her_). The day is still hot, beautiful Shakuntala, and you are +feverish. + + Leave not the blossom-dotted couch + To wander in the midday heat, + With lotus-petals on your breast, + With fevered limbs and stumbling feet. + +(_He lays his hand upon her_.) + +_Shakuntala_. Oh, don't! Don't! For I am not mistress of myself. Yet +what can I do now? I had no one to help me but my friends. + +_King_. I am rebuked. + +_Shakuntala_. I was not thinking of your Majesty. I was accusing fate. + +_King_. Why accuse a fate that brings what you desire? + +_Shakuntala_. Why not accuse a fate that robs me of self-control and +tempts me with the virtues of another? + +_King_ (_to himself_). + + Though deeply longing, maids are coy + And bid their wooers wait; + Though eager for united joy + In love, they hesitate. + + Love cannot torture them, nor move + Their hearts to sudden mating; + Perhaps they even torture love + By their procrastinating. + +(SHAKUNTALA _moves away_.) + +_King_. Why should I not have my way? (_He approaches and seizes her +dress_.) + +_Shakuntala_. Oh, sir! Be a gentleman. There are hermits wandering +about. + +_King_. Do not fear your family, beautiful Shakuntala. Father Kanva +knows the holy law. He will not regret it. + + For many a hermit maiden who + By simple, voluntary rite + Dispensed with priest and witness, yet + Found favour in her father's sight. + +(_He looks about_.) Ah, I have come into the open air. (_He leaves_ +SHAKUNTALA _and retraces his steps_.) _Shakuntala_ (_takes a step, +then turns with an eager gesture_). + +O King, I cannot do as you would have me. You hardly know me after +this short talk. But oh, do not forget me. + +_King_. + + When evening comes, the shadow of the tree + Is cast far forward, yet does not depart; + Even so, belovèd, wheresoe'er you be, + The thought of you can never leave my heart. + +_Shakuntala_ (_takes a few steps. To herself_). Oh, oh! When I hear +him speak so, my feet will not move away. I will hide in this amaranth +hedge and see how long his love lasts. (_She hides and waits_.) + +_King_. Oh, my belovèd, my love for you is my whole life, yet you +leave me and go away without a thought. + + Your body, soft as siris-flowers, + Engages passion's utmost powers; + How comes it that your heart is hard + As stalks that siris-blossoms guard? + +_Shakuntala_. When I hear this, I have no power to go. + +_King_. What have I to do here, where she is not? (_He gazes on the +ground_.) Ah, I cannot go. + + The perfumed lotus-chain + That once was worn by her + Fetters and keeps my heart + A hopeless prisoner. (_He lifts it reverently_.) + +_Shakuntala_ (_looking at her arm_). Why, I was so weak and ill that +when the lotus-bracelet fell off, I did not even notice it. + +_King_ (_laying the lotus-bracelet on his heart_). Ah! + + Once, dear, on your sweet arm it lay, + And on my heart shall ever stay; + Though you disdain to give me joy, + I find it in a lifeless toy. + +_Shakuntala_. I cannot hold back after that. I will use the bracelet +as an excuse for my coming. (_She approaches_.) + +_King_ (_seeing her. Joyfully_). The queen of my life! As soon as I +complained, fate proved kind to me. + + No sooner did the thirsty bird + With parching throat complain, + Than forming clouds in heaven stirred + And sent the streaming rain. + +_Shakuntala_ (_standing before the king_). When I was going away, sir, +I remembered that this lotus-bracelet had fallen from my arm, and I +have come back for it. My heart seemed to tell me that you had taken +it. Please give it back, or you will betray me, and yourself too, to +the hermits. + +_King_. I will restore it on one condition. + +_Shakuntala_. What condition? + +_King_. That I may myself place it where it belongs. + +_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). What can I do? (_She approaches_.) + +_King_. Let us sit on this stone bench. (_They walk to the bench and +sit down_.) + +_King_ (_taking_ SHAKUNTALA'S _hand_). Ah! + + When Shiva's anger burned the tree + Of love in quenchless fire, + Did heavenly fate preserve a shoot + To deck my heart's desire? + +_Shakuntala_ (_feeling his touch_). Hasten, my dear, hasten. + +_King_ (_joyfully to himself_). Now I am content. She speaks as a wife +to her husband. (_Aloud_.) Beautiful Shakuntala, the clasp of the +bracelet is not very firm. May I fasten it in another way? + +_Shakuntala_ (_smiling_). If you like. + +_King_ (_artfully delaying before he fastens it_). See, my beautiful +girl! + + The lotus-chain is dazzling white + As is the slender moon at night. + Perhaps it was the moon on high + That joined her horns and left the sky, + Believing that your lovely arm + Would, more than heaven, enhance her charm. + +_Shakuntala_. I cannot see it. The pollen from the lotus over my ear +has blown into my eye. + +_King_ (_smiling_). Will you permit me to blow it away? + +_Shakuntala_. I should not like to be an object of pity. But why +should I not trust you? _King_. Do not have such thoughts. A new +servant does not transgress orders. + +_Shakuntala_. It is this exaggerated courtesy that frightens me. + +_King_ (_to himself_). I shall not break the bonds of this sweet +servitude. (_He starts to raise her face to his_. SHAKUNTALA _resists +a little, then is passive_.) + +_King_. Oh, my bewitching girl, have no fear of me. + +(SHAKUNTALA _darts a glance at him, then looks down. The king raises +her face. Aside_.) + + Her sweetly trembling lip + With virgin invitation + Provokes my soul to sip + Delighted fascination. + +_Shakuntala_. You seem slow, dear, in fulfilling your promise. + +_King_. The lotus over your ear is so near your eye, and so like it, +that I was confused. (_He gently blows her eye_.) + +_Shakuntala_. Thank you. I can see quite well now. But I am ashamed +not to make any return for your kindness. + +_King_. What more could I ask? + + It ought to be enough for me + To hover round your fragrant face; + Is not the lotus-haunting bee + Content with perfume and with grace? + +_Shakuntala_. But what does he do if he is not content? + +_King_. This! This! (_He draws her face to his_.) + +_A voice behind the scenes_. O sheldrake bride, bid your mate +farewell. The night is come. + +_Shakuntala_ (_listening excitedly_). Oh, my dear, this is Mother +Gautami, come to inquire about me. Please hide among the branches. + +(_The king conceals himself. Enter _GAUTAMI, _with a bowl in her +hand_.) + +_Gautami_. Here is the holy water, my child. (_She sees_ SHAKUNTALA +_and helps her to rise_.) So ill, and all alone here with the gods? + +_Shakuntala_. It was just a moment ago that Priyamvada and Anusuya +went down to the river. + +_Gautami_ (_sprinkling_ SHAKUNTALA _with the holy water_). May you +live long and happy, my child. Has the fever gone down? (_She touches +her_.) + +_Shakuntala_. There is a difference, mother. + +_Gautami_. The sun is setting. Come, let us go to the cottage. + +_Shakuntala_ (_weakly rising. To herself_). Oh, my heart, you delayed +when your desire came of itself. Now see what you have done. (_She +takes a step, then turns around. Aloud_.) O bower that took away my +pain, I bid you farewell until another blissful hour. (_Exeunt_ +SHAKUNTALA _and_ GAUTAMI.) + +_King_ (_advancing with a sigh_.) The path to happiness is strewn with +obstacles. + + Her face, adorned with soft eye-lashes, + Adorable with trembling flashes + Of half-denial, in memory lingers; + The sweet lips guarded by her fingers, + The head that drooped upon her shoulder-- + Why was I not a little bolder? + +Where shall I go now? Let me stay a moment in this bower where my +belovèd lay. (_He looks about_.) + + The flower-strewn bed whereon her body tossed; + The bracelet, fallen from her arm and lost; + The dear love-missive, in the lotus-leaf + Cut by her nails: assuage my absent grief + And occupy my eyes--I have no power, + Though she is gone, to leave the reedy bower. + +(_He reflects_.) Alas! I did wrong to delay when I had found my love. +So now + + If she will grant me but one other meeting, + I'll not delay; for happiness is fleeting; + So plans my foolish, self-defeated heart; + But when she comes, I play the coward's part. + +_A voice behind the scenes_. O King! + + The flames rise heavenward from the evening altar; + And round the sacrifices, blazing high, + Flesh-eating demons stalk, like red cloud-masses, + And cast colossal shadows on the sky. + +_King_ (_listens. Resolutely_). Have no fear, hermits. I am here. + +(_Exit_.) + + +ACT IV + + +SHAKUNTALA'S DEPARTURE + +SCENE I + +(_Enter the two friends, gathering flowers_.) + +_Anusuya_. Priyamvada, dear Shakuntala has been properly married by +the voluntary ceremony and she has a husband worthy of her. And yet I +am not quite satisfied. + +_Priyamvada_. Why not? + +_Anusuya_. The sacrifice is over and the good king was dismissed +to-day by the hermits. He has gone back to the city and there he is +surrounded by hundreds of court ladies. I wonder whether he will +remember poor Shakuntala or not. + +_Priyamvada_. You need not be anxious about that. Such handsome men +are sure to be good. But there is something else to think about. I +don't know what Father will have to say when he comes back from his +pilgrimage and hears about it. + +_Anusuya_. I believe that he will be pleased. + +_Priyamvada_. Why? + +_Anusuya_. Why not? You know he wanted to give his daughter to a lover +worthy of her. If fate brings this about of itself, why shouldn't +Father be happy? + +_Priyamvada_. I suppose you are right. (_She looks at her +flower-basket_.) My dear, we have gathered flowers enough for the +sacrifice. + +_Anusuya_. But we must make an offering to the gods that watch over +Shakuntala's marriage. We had better gather more. + +_Priyamvada_. Very well. (_They do so_.) + +_A voice behind the scenes_. Who will bid me welcome? + +_Anusuya_ (_listening_). My dear, it sounds like a guest announcing +himself. + +_Priyamvada_. Well, Shakuntala is near the cottage. (_Reflecting_.) +Ah, but to-day her heart is far away. Come, we must do with the +flowers we have. (_They start to walk away_.) + +_The voice_. + + Do you dare despise a guest like me? + Because your heart, by loving fancies blinded, + Has scorned a guest in pious life grown old, + Your lover shall forget you though reminded, + Or think of you as of a story told. + +(_The two girls listen and show dejection_.) + +_Priyamvada_. Oh, dear! The very thing has happened. The dear, +absent-minded girl has offended some worthy man. + +_Anusuya_ (_looking ahead_). My dear, this is no ordinary somebody. It +is the great sage Durvasas, the irascible. See how he strides away! + +_Priyamvada_. Nothing burns like fire. Run, fall at his feet, bring +him back, while I am getting water to wash his feet. + +_Anusuya_. I will. (_Exit_.) + +_Priyamvada_ (_stumbling_). There! I stumbled in my excitement, and +the flower-basket fell out of my hand. (_She collects the scattered +flowers_. ANUSUYA _returns_.) + +_Anusuya_. My dear, he is anger incarnate. Who could appease him? But +I softened him a little. + +_Priyamvada_. Even that is a good deal for him. Tell me about it. + +_Anusuya_. When he would not turn back, I fell at his feet and prayed +to him. "Holy sir," I said, "remember her former devotion and pardon +this offence. Your daughter did not recognise your great and holy +power to-day." + +_Priyamvada_. And then---- + +_Anusuya_. Then he said: "My words must be fulfilled. But the curse +shall be lifted when her lover sees a gem which he has given her for a +token." And so he vanished. + +_Priyamvada_. We can breathe again. When the good king went away, he +put a ring, engraved with his own name, on Shakuntala's finger to +remember him by. That will save her. + +_Anusuya_. Come, we must finish the sacrifice for her. (_They walk +about_.) + +_Priyamvada_ (_gazing_). Just look, Anusuya! There is the dear girl, +with her cheek resting on her left hand. She looks like a painted +picture. She is thinking about him. How could she notice a guest when +she has forgotten herself? + +_Anusuya_. Priyamvada, we two must keep this thing to ourselves. We +must be careful of the dear girl. You know how delicate she is. + +_Priyamvada_. Would any one sprinkle a jasmine-vine with scalding +water? (_Exeunt ambo_.) + + +SCENE II.--_Early Morning_ + +(_Enter a pupil of_ KANVA, _just risen from sleep_.) + +_Pupil_. Father Kanva has returned from his pilgrimage, and has bidden +me find out what time it is. I will go into the open air and see how +much of the night remains. (_He walks and looks about_.) See! The dawn +is breaking. For already + + The moon behind the western mount is sinking; + The eastern sun is heralded by dawn; + From heaven's twin lights, their fall and glory linking, + Brave lessons of submission may be drawn. + +And again: + + Night-blooming lilies, when the moon is hidden, + Have naught but memories of beauty left. + Hard, hard to bear! Her lot whom heaven has bidden + To live alone, of love and lover reft. + +And again: + + On jujube-trees the blushing dewdrops falter; + The peacock wakes and leaves the cottage thatch; + A deer is rising near the hoof-marked altar, + And stretching, stands, the day's new life to catch. + +And yet again: + + The moon that topped the loftiest mountain ranges, + That slew the darkness in the midmost sky, + Is fallen from heaven, and all her glory changes: + So high to rise, so low at last to lie! + +_Anusuya_ (_entering hurriedly. To herself_). That is just what +happens to the innocent. Shakuntala has been treated shamefully by the +king. _Pupil_. I will tell Father Kanva that the hour of morning +sacrifice is come. (_Exit_.) + +_Anusuya_. The dawn is breaking. I am awake bright and early. But what +shall I do now that I am awake? My hands refuse to attend to the +ordinary morning tasks. Well, let love take its course. For the dear, +pure-minded girl trusted him--the traitor! Perhaps it is not the good +king's fault. It must be the curse of Durvasas. Otherwise, how could +the good king say such beautiful things, and then let all this time +pass without even sending a message? (_She reflects_.) Yes, we must +send him the ring he left as a token. But whom shall we ask to take +it? The hermits are unsympathetic because they have never suffered. It +seemed as if her friends were to blame and so, try as we might, we +could not tell Father Kanva that Shakuntala was married to Dushyanta +and was expecting a baby. Oh, what shall we do? (_Enter_ PRIYAMVADA.) + +_Priyamvada_. Hurry, Anusuya, hurry! We are getting Shakuntala ready +for her journey. + +_Anusuya_ (_astonished_). What do you mean, my dear? + +_Priyamuada_. Listen. I just went to Shakuntala, to ask if she had +slept well. + +_Anusuya_. And then---- + +_Priyamvada_. I found her hiding her face for shame, and Father Kanva +was embracing her and encouraging her. "My child," he said, "I bring +you joy. The offering fell straight in the sacred fire, and auspicious +smoke rose toward the sacrificer. My pains for you have proved like +instruction given to a good student; they have brought me no regret. +This very day I shall give you an escort of hermits and send you to +your husband." + +_Anusuya_. But, my dear, who told Father Kanva about it? + +_Priyamvada_. A voice from heaven that recited a verse when he had +entered the fire-sanctuary. + +_Anusuya_ (_astonished_). What did it say? + +_Priyamvada_. Listen. (_Speaking in good Sanskrit_.) + + Know, Brahman, that your child, + Like the fire-pregnant tree, + Bears kingly seed that shall be born + For earth's prosperity. + + _Anusuya_ (_hugging_ PRIYAMVADA). I am so glad, dear. But my joy is +half sorrow when I think that Shakuntala is going to be taken away +this very day. + +_Priyamvada_. We must hide our sorrow as best we can. The poor girl +must be made happy to-day. + +_Anusuya_. Well, here is a cocoa-nut casket, hanging on a branch of +the mango-tree. I put flower-pollen in it for this very purpose. It +keeps fresh, you know. Now you wrap it in a lotus-leaf, and I will get +yellow pigment and earth from a sacred spot and blades of panic grass +for the happy ceremony. (PRIYAMVADA _does so. Exit_ ANUSUYA.) + +_A voice behind the scenes_. Gautami, bid the worthy Sharngarava and +Sharadvata make ready to escort my daughter Shakuntala. + +_Priyamvada_ (_listening_). Hurry, Anusuya, hurry! They are calling +the hermits who are going to Hastinapura. (_Enter_ ANUSUYA, _with +materials for the ceremony_.) + +_Anusuya_. Come, dear, let us go. (_They walk about_.) + +_Priyamvada_ (_looking ahead_). There is Shakuntala. She took the +ceremonial bath at sunrise, and now the hermit-women are giving her +rice-cakes and wishing her happiness. Let's go to her. (_They do so. +Enter_ SHAKUNTALA _with attendants as described, and_ GAUTAMI.) + +_Shakuntala_. Holy women, I salute you. + +_Gautami_. My child, may you receive the happy title "queen," showing +that your husband honours you. + +_Hermit-women_. My dear, may you become the mother of a hero. (_Exeunt +all but_ GAUTAMI.) + +_The two friends_ (_approaching_). Did you have a good bath, dear? + +_Shakuntala_. Good morning, girls. Sit here. + +_The two friends_ (_seating themselves_). Now stand straight, while we +go through the happy ceremony. + +_Shakuntala_. It has happened often enough, but I ought to be very +grateful to-day. Shall I ever be adorned by my friends again? (_She +weeps_.) + +_The two friends_. You ought not to weep, dear, at this happy time. + +(_They wipe the tears away and adorn her_.) + +_Priyamvada_. You are so beautiful, you ought to have the finest gems. +It seems like an insult to give you these hermitage things. (_Enter_ +HARITA, _a hermit-youth with ornaments_.) _Harita_. Here are +ornaments for our lady. (_The women look at them in astonishment_.) + +_Gautami_. Harita, my son, whence come these things? + +_Harita_. From the holy power of Father Kanva. + +_Gautami_. A creation of his mind? + +_Harita_. Not quite. Listen. Father Kanva sent us to gather blossoms +from the trees for Shakuntala, and then + + One tree bore fruit, a silken marriage dress + That shamed the moon in its white loveliness; + Another gave us lac-dye for the feet; + From others, fairy hands extended, sweet + Like flowering twigs, as far as to the wrist, + And gave us gems, to adorn her as we list. + +_Priyamvada_ (_Looking at_ SHAKUNTALA). A bee may be born in a hole in +a tree, but she likes the honey of the lotus. + +_Gautami_. This gracious favour is a token of the queenly happiness +which you are to enjoy in your husband's palace. (SHAKUNTALA _shows +embarrassment_.) + +_Harita_. Father Kanva has gone to the bank of the Malini, to perform +his ablutions. I will tell him of the favour shown us by the trees. + +(_Exit_.) + +_Anusuya_. My dear, we poor girls never saw such ornaments. How shall +we adorn you? (_She stops to think, and to look at the ornaments_.) +But we have seen pictures. Perhaps we can arrange them right. + +_Shakuntala_. I know how clever you are. (_The two friends adorn her. +Enter_ KANVA, _returning after his ablutions_.) + +_Kanva_. + + Shakuntala must go to-day; + I miss her now at heart; + I dare not speak a loving word + Or choking tears will start. + + My eyes are dim with anxious thought; + Love strikes me to the life: + And yet I strove for pious peace-- + I have no child, no wife. + + What must a father feel, when come + The pangs of parting from his child at home? + +(_He walks about_.) _The two friends_. There, Shakuntala, we have +arranged your ornaments. Now put on this beautiful silk dress. + +(SHAKUNTALA _rises and does so_.) + +_Gautami_. My child, here is your father. The eyes with which he seems +to embrace you are overflowing with tears of joy. You must greet him +properly. (SHAKUNTALA _makes a shamefaced reverence_.) + +_Kanva_. My child, + + Like Sharmishtha, Yayati's wife, + Win favour measured by your worth; + And may you bear a kingly son + Like Puru, who shall rule the earth. + +_Gautami_. My child, this is not a prayer, but a benediction. + +_Kanva_. My daughter, walk from left to right about the fires in which +the offering has just been thrown. (_All walk about_.) + + The holy fires around the altar kindle, + And at their margins sacred grass is piled; + Beneath their sacrificial odours dwindle + Misfortunes. May the fires protect you, child! + +(SHAKUNTALA _walks about them from left to right_.) + +_Kanva_. Now you may start, my daughter. (_He glances about_.) Where +are Sharngarava and Sharadvata? (_Enter the two pupils_.) + +_The two pupils_. We are here, Father. + +_Kanva_. Sharngarava, my son, lead the way for your sister. + +_Sharngarava_. Follow me. (_They all walk about_.) + +_Kanva_. O trees of the pious grove, in which the fairies dwell, + + She would not drink till she had wet + Your roots, a sister's duty, + Nor pluck your flowers; she loves you yet + Far more than selfish beauty. + + 'Twas festival in her pure life + When budding blossoms showed; + And now she leaves you as a wife-- + Oh, speed her on her road! + + _Sharngarava_ (_listening to the song of koïl-birds_). Father, + + The trees are answering your prayer + In cooing cuckoo-song, + Bidding Shakuntala farewell, + Their sister for so long. + +_Invisible beings_, + + May lily-dotted lakes delight your eye; + May shade-trees bid the heat of noonday cease; + May soft winds blow the lotus-pollen nigh; + May all your path be pleasantness and peace. + +(_All listen in astonishment_.) + +_Gautami_. My child, the fairies of the pious grove bid you farewell. +For they love the household. Pay reverence to the holy ones. + +_Shakuntala_ (_does so. Aside to_ PRIYAMVADA). Priyamvada, I long to +see my husband, and yet my feet will hardly move. It is hard, hard to +leave the hermitage. + +_Priyamvada_. You are not the only one to feel sad at this farewell. +See how the whole grove feels at parting from you. + + The grass drops from the feeding doe; + The peahen stops her dance; + Pale, trembling leaves are falling slow, + The tears of clinging plants. + +_Shakuntala_ (_recalling something_). Father, I must say good-bye to +the spring-creeper, my sister among the vines. + +_Kanva_. I know your love for her. See! Here she is at your right +hand. + +_Shakuntala_ (_approaches the vine and embraces it_). Vine sister, +embrace me too with your arms, these branches. I shall be far away +from you after to-day. Father, you must care for her as you did for +me. + +_Kanva_. + + My child, you found the lover who + Had long been sought by me; + No longer need I watch for you; + I'll give the vine a lover true, + This handsome mango-tree. + +And now start on your journey. _Shakuntala_ (_going to the two +friends_). Dear girls, I leave her in your care too. + +_The two friends_. But who will care for poor us? (_They shed tears_.) + +_Kanva_. Anusuya! Priyamvada! Do not weep. It is you who should cheer +Shakuntala. (_All walk about_.) + +_Shakuntala_. Father, there is the pregnant doe, wandering about near +the cottage. When she becomes a happy mother, you must send some one +to bring me the good news. Do not forget. + +_Kanva_. I shall not forget, my child. + +_Shakuntala_ (_stumbling_) Oh, oh! Who is it that keeps pulling at my +dress, as if to hinder me? (_She turns round to see_.) + +_Kanva_. + + It is the fawn whose lip, when torn + By kusha-grass, you soothed with oil; + The fawn who gladly nibbled corn + Held in your hand; with loving toil + You have adopted him, and he + Would never leave you willingly. + +_Shakuntala_. My dear, why should you follow me when I am going away +from home? Your mother died when you were born and I brought you up. +Now I am leaving you, and Father Kanva will take care of you. Go back, +dear! Go back! (_She walks away, weeping_.) + +_Kanva_. Do not weep, my child. Be brave. Look at the path before you. + + Be brave, and check the rising tears + That dim your lovely eyes; + Your feet are stumbling on the path + That so uneven lies. + +_Sharngarava_. Holy Father, the Scripture declares that one should +accompany a departing loved one only to the first water. Pray give us +your commands on the bank of this pond, and then return. + +_Kanva_. Then let us rest in the shade of this fig-tree. (_All do +so_.) What commands would it be fitting for me to lay on King +Dushyanta? (_He reflects_.) + +_Anusuya_. My dear, there is not a living thing in the whole +hermitage that is not grieving to-day at saying good-bye to you. Look! + + The sheldrake does not heed his mate + Who calls behind the lotus-leaf; + He drops the lily from his bill + And turns on you a glance of grief. + +_Kanva_. Son Sharngarava, when you present Shakuntala to the king, +give him this message from me. + + Remembering my religious worth, + Your own high race, the love poured forth + By her, forgetful of her friends, + Pay her what honour custom lends + To all your wives. And what fate gives + Beyond, will please her relatives. + +_Sharngarava_. I will not forget your message, Father. + +_Kanva_ (_turning to_ SHAKUNTALA). My child, I must now give you my +counsel. Though I live in the forest, I have some knowledge of the +world. + +_Sharngarava_. True wisdom, Father, gives insight into everything. + +_Kanva_. My child, when you have entered your husband's home, + + Obey your elders; and be very kind + To rivals; never be perversely blind + And angry with your husband, even though he + Should prove less faithful than a man might be; + Be as courteous to servants as you may, + Not puffed with pride in this your happy day: + Thus does a maiden grow into a wife; + But self-willed women are the curse of life. + +But what does Gautami say? + +_Gautami_. This is advice sufficient for a bride. (_To_ SHAKUNTALA.) +You will not forget, my child. + +_Kanva_. Come, my daughter, embrace me and your friends. + +_Shakuntala_. Oh, Father! Must my friends turn back too? + +_Kanva_. My daughter, they too must some day be given in marriage. +Therefore they may not go to court. Gautami will go with you. + +_Shakuntala_ (_throwing her arms about her father_). I am torn from +my father's breast like a vine stripped from a sandal-tree on the +Malabar hills. How can I live in another soil? (_She weeps_.) + +_Kanva_. My daughter, why distress yourself so? + + A noble husband's honourable wife, + You are to spend a busy, useful life + In the world's eye; and soon, as eastern skies + Bring forth the sun, from you there shall arise + A child, a blessing and a comfort strong-- + You will not miss me, dearest daughter, long. + +_Shakuntala_ (_falling at his feet_). Farewell, Father. + +_Kanva_. My daughter, may all that come to you which I desire for you. + +_Shakuntala_ (_going to her two friends_). Come, girls! Embrace me, +both of you together. + +_The two friends_ (_do so_). Dear, if the good king should perhaps be +slow to recognise you, show him the ring with his own name engraved on +it. + +_Shakuntala_. Your doubts make my heart beat faster. + +_The two friends_. Do not be afraid, dear. Love is timid. + +_Sharngarava_ (_looking about_). Father, the sun is in mid-heaven. She +must hasten. + +_Shakuntala_ (_embracing_ KANVA _once more_). Father, when shall I see +the pious grove again? + +_Kanva_. My daughter, + + When you have shared for many years + The king's thoughts with the earth, + When to a son who knows no fears + You shall have given birth, + + When, trusted to the son you love, + Your royal labours cease, + Come with your husband to the grove + And end your days in peace. + +_Gautami_. My child, the hour of your departure is slipping by. Bid +your father turn back. No, she would never do that. Pray turn back, +sir. + +_Kanva_. Child, you interrupt my duties in the pious grove. + +_Shakuntala_. Yes, Father. You will be busy in the grove. You will not +miss me. But oh! I miss you. _Kanva_. How can you think me so +indifferent? (_He sighs_.) + + My lonely sorrow will not go, + For seeds you scattered here + Before the cottage door, will grow; + And I shall see them, dear. + +Go. And peace go with you. (_Exit_ SHAKUNTALA, _with_ GAUTAMI, +SHARNGARAVA, _and_ SHARADVATA.) + +_The two friends_ (_gazing long after her. Mournfully_). Oh, oh! +Shakuntala is lost among the trees. + +_Kanva_. Anusuya! Priyamvada! Your companion is gone. Choke down your +grief and follow me. (_They start to go back_.) + +_The two friends_. Father, the grove seems empty without Shakuntala. + +_Kanva_. So love interprets. (_He walks about, sunk in thought_.) Ah! +I have sent Shakuntala away, and now I am myself again. For + + A girl is held in trust, another's treasure; + To arms of love my child to-day is given; + And now I feel a calm and sacred pleasure; + I have restored the pledge that came from heaven. + +(_Exeunt omnes_.) + + +ACT V + + +SHAKUNTALA'S REJECTION + +(_Enter a chamberlain_.) + +_Chamberlain_ (_sighing_). Alas! To what a state am I reduced! + + I once assumed the staff of reed + For custom's sake alone, + As officer to guard at need. + The ladies round the throne. + But years have passed away and made + It serve, my tottering steps to aid. + +The king is within. I will tell him of the urgent business which +demands his attention. (_He takes a few steps_.) But what is the +business? (_He recalls it_.) Yes, I remember. Certain hermits, pupils +of Kanva, desire to see his Majesty. Strange, strange! + + The mind of age is like a lamp + Whose oil is running thin; + One moment it is shining bright, + Then darkness closes in. + +(_He walks and looks about_.) Here is his Majesty. + + He does not seek--until a father's care + Is shown his subjects--rest in solitude; + As a great elephant recks not of the sun + Until his herd is sheltered in the wood. + +In truth, I hesitate to announce the coming of Kanva's pupils to the +king. For he has this moment risen from the throne of justice. But +kings are never weary. For + + The sun unyokes his horses never; + Blows night and day the breeze; + Shesha upholds the world forever: + And kings are like to these. + +(_He walks about. Enter the king, the clown, and retinue according to +rank_.) _King_ (_betraying the cares of office_). Every one is happy +on attaining his desire--except a king. His difficulties increase with +his power. Thus: + + Security slays nothing but ambition; + With great possessions, troubles gather thick; + Pain grows, not lessens, with a king's position, + As when one's hand must hold the sunshade's stick. + +_Two court poets behind the scenes_. Victory to your Majesty. + +_First poet_. + + The world you daily guard and bless, + Not heeding pain or weariness; + Thus is your nature made. + A tree will brave the noonday, when + The sun is fierce, that weary men + May rest beneath its shade. + +_Second poet_. + + Vice bows before the royal rod; + Strife ceases at your kingly nod; + You are our strong defender. + Friends come to all whose wealth is sure, + But you, alike to rich and poor, + Are friend both strong and tender. + +_King_ (_listening_). Strange! I was wearied by the demands of my +office, but this renews my spirit. + +_Clown_. Does a bull forget that he is tired when you call him the +leader of the herd? + +_King_ (_smiling_). Well, let us sit down. (_They seat themselves, and +the retinue arranges itself. A lute is heard behind the scenes_.) + +_Clown_ (_listening_). My friend, listen to what is going on in the +music-room. Some one is playing a lute, and keeping good time. I +suppose Lady Hansavati is practising. + +_King_. Be quiet. I wish to listen. + +_Chamberlain_ (_looks at the king_). Ah, the king is occupied. I must +await his leisure. (_He stands aside_.) + +_A song behind the scenes_. + + You who kissed the mango-flower, + Honey-loving bee, + Gave her all your passion's power, + Ah, so tenderly! + + How can you be tempted so + By the lily, pet? + Fresher honey's sweet, I know; + But can you forget? + +_King_. What an entrancing song! + +_Clown_. But, man, don't you understand what the words mean? + +_King_ (_smiling_). I was once devoted to Queen Hansavati. And the +rebuke comes from her. Friend Madhavya, tell Queen Hansavati in my +name that the rebuke is a very pretty one. + +_Clown_. Yes, sir. (_He rises_.) But, man, you are using another +fellow's fingers to grab a bear's tail-feathers with. I have about as +much chance of salvation as a monk who hasn't forgotten his passions. + +_King_. Go. Soothe her like a gentleman. + +_Clown_. I suppose I must. (_Exit_.) + +_King_ (_to himself_). Why am I filled with wistfulness on hearing +such a song? I am not separated from one I love. And yet + + In face of sweet presentment + Or harmonies of sound, + Man e'er forgets contentment, + By wistful longings bound. + + There must be recollections + Of things not seen on earth, + Deep nature's predilections, + Loves earlier than birth. + +(_He shows the wistfulness that comes from unremembered things_.) + +_Chamberlain_ (_approaching_). Victory to your Majesty. Here are +hermits who dwell in the forest at the foot of the Himalayas. They +bring women with them, and they carry a message from Kanva. What is +your pleasure with regard to them? + +_King_ (_astonished_). Hermits? Accompanied by women? From Kanva? + +_Chamberlain_. Yes. + +_King_. Request my chaplain Somarata in my name to receive these +hermits in the manner prescribed by Scripture, and to conduct them +himself before me. I will await them in a place fit for their +reception. + +_Chamberlain_. Yes, your Majesty. (_Exit_.) + +_King_ (_rising_). Vetravati, conduct me to the fire-sanctuary. + +_Portress_. Follow me, your Majesty. (_She walks about_) Your Majesty, +here is the terrace of the fire-sanctuary. It is beautiful, for it has +just been swept, and near at hand is the cow that yields the milk of +sacrifice. Pray ascend it. + +_King_ (_ascends and stands leaning on the shoulder of an attendant_.) +Vetravati, with what purpose does Father Kanva send these hermits to +me? + + Do leaguèd powers of sin conspire + To balk religion's pure desire? + Has wrong been done to beasts that roam + Contented round the hermits' home? + Do plants no longer bud and flower, + To warn me of abuse of power? + These doubts and more assail my mind, + But leave me puzzled, lost, and blind. + +_Portress_. How could these things be in a hermitage that rests in the +fame of the king's arm? No, I imagine they have come to pay homage to +their king, and to congratulate him on his pious rule. + +(_Enter the chaplain and the chamberlain, conducting the two pupils +of_ KANVA, _with_ GAUTAMI _and_ SHAKUNTALA.) + +_Chamberlain_. Follow me, if you please. + +_Sharngarava_. Friend Sharadvata, + + The king is noble and to virtue true; + None dwelling here commit the deed of shame; + Yet we ascetics view the worldly crew + As in a house all lapped about with flame. + +_Sharadvata_. Sharngarava, your emotion on entering the city is quite +just. As for me, + + Free from the world and all its ways, + I see them spending worldly days + As clean men view men smeared with oil, + As pure men, those whom passions soil, + As waking men view men asleep, + As free men, those in bondage deep. +_Chaplain_. That is why men like you are great. + +_Shakuntala_ (_observing an evil omen_). Oh, why does my right eye +throb? + +_Gautami_. Heaven avert the omen, my child. May happiness wait upon +you. (_They walk about_.) + +_Chaplain_ (_indicating the king_). O hermits, here is he who protects +those of every station and of every age. He has already risen, and +awaits you. Behold him. + +_Sharngarava_. Yes, it is admirable, but not surprising. For + + Fruit-laden trees bend down to earth; + The water-pregnant clouds hang low; + Good men are not puffed up by power-- + The unselfish are by nature so. + +_Portress_. Your Majesty, the hermits seem to be happy. They give you +gracious looks. + +_King_ (_observing_ SHAKUNTALA). Ah! + + Who is she, shrouded in the veil + That dims her beauty's lustre, + Among the hermits like a flower + Round which the dead leaves cluster? + +_Portress_. Your Majesty, she is well worth looking at. + +_King_. Enough! I must not gaze upon another's wife. + +_Shakuntala_ (_laying her hand on her breast. Aside_). Oh, my heart, +why tremble so? Remember his constant love and be brave. + +_Chaplain_ (_advancing_). Hail, your Majesty. The hermits have been +received as Scripture enjoins. They have a message from their teacher. +May you be pleased to hear it. + +_King_ (_respectfully_). I am all attention. + +_The two pupils_ (_raising their right hands_). Victory, O King. + +_King_ (_bowing low_). I salute you all. + +_The two pupils_. All hail. + +_King_. Does your pious life proceed without disturbance? + +_The two pupils_. + + How could the pious duties fail + While you defend the right? + Or how could darkness' power prevail + O'er sunbeams shining bright? +_King_ (_to himself_). Indeed, my royal title is no empty one. +(_Aloud_.) Is holy Kanva in health? + +_Sharngarava_. O King, those who have religious power can command +health. He asks after your welfare and sends this message. + +_King_. What are his commands? + +_Sharngarava_. He says: "Since you have met this my daughter and have +married her, I give you my glad consent. For + + You are the best of worthy men, they say; + And she, I know, Good Works personified; + The Creator wrought for ever and a day, + In wedding such a virtuous groom and bride. + +She is with child. Take her and live with her in virtue." + +_Gautami_. Bless you, sir. I should like to say that no one invites me +to speak. + +_King_. Speak, mother. + +_Gautami_. + + Did she with father speak or mother? + Did you engage her friends in speech? + Your faith was plighted each to other; + Let each be faithful now to each. + +_Shakuntala_. What will my husband say? + +_King_ (_listening with anxious suspicion_). What is this insinuation? + +_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). Oh, oh! So haughty and so slanderous! + +_Sharngarava_. "What is this insinuation?" What is your question? +Surely you know the world's ways well enough. + + Because the world suspects a wife + Who does not share her husband's lot, + Her kinsmen wish her to abide + With him, although he love her not. + +_King_. You cannot mean that this young woman is my wife. + +_Shakuntala_ (_sadly to herself_). Oh, my heart, you feared it, and +now it has come. _Sharngarava_. O King, + + A king, and shrink when love is done, + Turn coward's back on truth, and flee! + +_King_. What means this dreadful accusation? + +_Sharngarava_ (_furiously_). + + O drunk with power! We might have known + That you were steeped in treachery. + +_King_. A stinging rebuke! + +_Gautami_ (_to_ SHAKUNTALA). Forget your shame, my child. I will +remove your veil. Then your husband will recognise you. (_She does +so_.) + +_King_ (_observing_ SHAKUNTALA. _To himself_). + + As my heart ponders whether I could ever + Have wed this woman that has come to me + In tortured loveliness, as I endeavour + To bring it back to mind, then like a bee + + That hovers round a jasmine flower at dawn, + While frosty dews of morning still o'erweave it, + And hesitates to sip ere they be gone, + I cannot taste the sweet, and cannot leave it. + +_Portress_ (_to herself_). What a virtuous king he is! Would any other +man hesitate when he saw such a pearl of a woman coming of her own +accord? + +_Sharngarava_. Have you nothing to say, O King? + +_King_. Hermit, I have taken thought. I cannot believe that this woman +is my wife. She is plainly with child. How can I take her, confessing +myself an adulterer? + +_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). Oh, oh, oh! He even casts doubt on our +marriage. The vine of my hope climbed high, but it is broken now. + +_Sharngarava_. Not so. + + You scorn the sage who rendered whole + His child befouled, and choked his grief, + Who freely gave you what you stole + And added honour to a thief! + +_Sharadvata_. Enough, Sharngarava. Shakuntala, we have said what we +were sent to say. You hear his words. Answer him. + +_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). He loved me so. He is so changed. Why +remind him? Ah, but I must clear my own character. Well, I will try. +(_Aloud_.) My dear husband--(_She stops_.) No, he doubts my right to +call him that. Your Majesty, it was pure love that opened my poor +heart to you in the hermitage. Then you were kind to me and gave me +your promise. Is it right for you to speak so now, and to reject me? + +_King_ (_stopping his ears_). Peace, peace! + + A stream that eats away the bank, + Grows foul, and undermines the tree. + So you would stain your honour, while + You plunge me into misery. + +_Shakuntala_. Very well. If you have acted so because you really fear +to touch another man's wife, I will remove your doubts with a token +you gave me. + +_King_. An excellent idea! + +_Shakuntala_ (_touching her finger_). Oh, oh! The ring is lost. (_She +looks sadly at_ GAUTAMI.) + +_Gautami_. My child, you worshipped the holy Ganges at the spot where +Indra descended. The ring must have fallen there. + +_King_. Ready wit, ready wit! + +_Shakuntala_. Fate is too strong for me there. I will tell you +something else. + +_King_. Let me hear what you have to say. + +_Shakuntala_. One day, in the bower of reeds, you were holding a +lotus-leaf cup full of water. + +_King_. I hear you. + +_Shakuntala_. At that moment the fawn came up, my adopted son. Then +you took pity on him and coaxed him. "Let him drink first," you said. +But he did not know you, and he would not come to drink water from +your hand. But he liked it afterwards, when I held the very same +water. Then you smiled and said: "It is true. Every one trusts his own +sort. You both belong to the forest." + +_King_. It is just such women, selfish, sweet, false, that entice +fools. _Gautami_. You have no right to say that. She grew up in the +pious grove. She does not know how to deceive. + +_King_. Old hermit woman, + + The female's untaught cunning may be seen + In beasts, far more in women selfish-wise; + The cuckoo's eggs are left to hatch and rear + By foster-parents, and away she flies. + +_Shakuntala_ (_angrily_). Wretch! You judge all this by your own false +heart. Would any other man do what you have done? To hide behind +virtue, like a yawning well covered over with grass! + +_King_ (_to himself_). But her anger is free from coquetry, because +she has lived in the forest. See! + + Her glance is straight; her eyes are flashing red; + Her speech is harsh, not drawlingly well-bred; + Her whole lip quivers, seems to shake with cold; + Her frown has straightened eyebrows arching bold. + +No, she saw that I was doubtful, and her anger was feigned. Thus + + When I refused but now + Hard-heartedly, to know + Of love or secret vow, + Her eyes grew red; and so, + Bending her arching brow, + She fiercely snapped Love's bow. + +(_Aloud_.) My good girl, Dushyanta's conduct is known to the whole +kingdom, but not this action. + +_Shakuntala_. Well, well. I had my way. I trusted a king, and put +myself in his hands. He had a honey face and a heart of stone. (_She +covers her face with her dress and weeps_.) + +_Sharngarava_. Thus does unbridled levity burn. + + Be slow to love, but yet more slow + With secret mate; + With those whose hearts we do not know, + Love turns to hate. + +_King_. Why do you trust this girl, and accuse me of an imaginary +crime? _Sharngarava_ (_disdainfully_). You have learned your wisdom +upside down. + + It would be monstrous to believe + A girl who never lies; + Trust those who study to deceive + And think it very wise. + +_King_. Aha, my candid friend! Suppose I were to admit that I am such +a man. What would happen if I deceived the girl? + +_Sharngarava_. Ruin. + +_King_. It is unthinkable that ruin should fall on Puru's line. + +_Sharngarava_. Why bandy words? We have fulfilled our Father's +bidding. We are ready to return. + + Leave her or take her, as you will; + She is your wife; + Husbands have power for good or ill + O'er woman's life. + +Gautami, lead the way. (_They start to go_.) + +_Shakuntala_. He has deceived me shamelessly. And will you leave me +too? (_She starts to follow_.) + +_Gautami_ (_turns around and sees her_). Sharngarava, my son, +Shakuntala is following us, lamenting piteously. What can the poor +child do with a husband base enough to reject her? + +_Sharngarava_ (_turns angrily_). You self-willed girl! Do you dare +show independence? (SHAKUNTALA _shrinks in fear_.) Listen. + + If you deserve such scorn and blame, + What will your father with your shame? + But if you know your vows are pure, + Obey your husband and endure. + +Remain. We must go. + +_King_. Hermit, why deceive this woman? Remember: + + Night-blossoms open to the moon, + Day-blossoms to the sun; + A man of honour ever strives + Another's wife to shun. +_Sharngarava_. O King, suppose you had forgotten your former actions +in the midst of distractions. Should you now desert your wife--you who +fear to fail in virtue? + +_King_. I ask _you_ which is the heavier sin: + + Not knowing whether I be mad + Or falsehood be in her, + Shall I desert a faithful wife + Or turn adulterer? + +_Chaplain_ (_considering_). Now if this were done---- + +_King_. Instruct me, my teacher. + +_Chaplain_. Let the woman remain in my house until her child is born. + +_King_. Why this? + +_Chaplain_. The chief astrologers have told you that your first child +was destined to be an emperor. If the son of the hermit's daughter is +born with the imperial birthmarks, then welcome her and introduce her +into the palace. Otherwise, she must return to her father. + +_King_. It is good advice, my teacher. + +_Chaplain_ (_rising_). Follow me, my daughter. + +_Shakuntala_. O mother earth, give me a grave! (_Exit weeping, with +the chaplain, the hermits, and_ GAUTAMI. _The king, his memory clouded +by the curse, ponders on_ SHAKUNTALA.) + +_Voices behind the scenes_. A miracle! A miracle! + +_King_ (_listening_). What does this mean? (_Enter the chaplain_.) + +_Chaplain_ (_in amazement_). Your Majesty, a wonderful thing has +happened. + +_King_. What? + +_Chaplain_. When Kanva's pupils had departed, + + She tossed her arms, bemoaned her plight, + Accused her crushing fate---- + +_King_. What then? + +_Chaplain_. + + Before our eyes a heavenly light + In woman's form, but shining bright, + Seized her and vanished straight. + +(_All betray astonishment_.) + +_King_. My teacher, we have already settled the matter. Why speculate +in vain? Let us seek repose. _Chaplain_. Victory to your Majesty. + +(_Exit_.) + +_King_. Vetravati, I am bewildered. Conduct me to my apartment. + +_Portress_. Follow me, your Majesty. + +_King_ (_walks about. To himself_). + + With a hermit-wife I had no part, + All memories evade me; + And yet my sad and stricken heart + Would more than half persuade me. + +(_Exeunt omnes_.) + + +ACT VI + + +SEPARATION FROM SHAKUNTALA + +SCENE I.--_In the street before the Palace_ + +(_Enter the chief of police, two policemen, and a man with his hands +bound behind his back_.) + +_The two policemen_ (_striking the man_). Now, pickpocket, tell us +where you found this ring. It is the king's ring, with letters +engraved on it, and it has a magnificent great gem. + +_Fisherman_ (_showing fright_). Be merciful, kind gentlemen. I am not +guilty of such a crime. + +_First policeman_. No, I suppose the king thought you were a pious +Brahman, and made you a present of it. + +_Fisherman_. Listen, please. I am a fisherman, and I live on the +Ganges, at the spot where Indra came down. + +_Second policeman_. You thief, we didn't ask for your address or your +social position. + +_Chief_. Let him tell a straight story, Suchaka. Don't interrupt. + +_The two policemen_. Yes, chief. Talk, man, talk. + +_Fisherman_. I support my family with things you catch fish +with--nets, you know, and hooks, and things. + +_Chief_ (_laughing_). You have a sweet trade. + +_Fisherman_. Don't say that, master. + + You can't give up a lowdown trade + That your ancestors began; + A butcher butchers things, and yet + He's the tenderest-hearted man. + +_Chief_. Go on. Go on. + +_Fisherman_. Well, one day I was cutting up a carp. In its maw I see +this ring with the magnificent great gem. And then I was just trying +to sell it here when you kind gentlemen grabbed me. That is the only +way I got it. Now kill me, or find fault with me. + +_Chief_ (_smelling the ring_). There is no doubt about it, Januka. +It has been in a fish's maw. It has the real perfume of raw meat. Now +we have to find out how he got it. We must go to the palace. + +_The two policemen_ (_to the fisherman_). Move on, you cutpurse, move +on. (_They walk about_.) + +_Chief_. Suchaka, wait here at the big gate until I come out of the +palace. And don't get careless. + +_The two policemen_. Go in, chief. I hope the king will be nice to +you. + +_Chief_. Good-bye. (_Exit_.) + +_Suchaka_. Januka, the chief is taking his time. + +_Januka_. You can't just drop in on a king. + +_Suchaka_. Januka, my fingers are itching (_indicating the fisherman_) +to kill this cutpurse. + +_Fisherman_. Don't kill a man without any reason, master. + +_Januka_ (_looking ahead_). There is the chief, with a written order +from the king. (_To the fisherman_.) Now you will see your family, or +else you will feed the crows and jackals. (_Enter the chief_.) + +_Chief_. Quick! Quick! (_He breaks off_.) + +_Fisherman_. Oh, oh! I'm a dead man. (_He shows dejection_.) + +_Chief_. Release him, you. Release the fishnet fellow. It is all +right, his getting the ring. Our king told me so himself. + +_Suchaka_. All right, chief. He is a dead man come back to life. (_He +releases the fisherman_.) + +_Fisherman_ (_bowing low to the chief_). Master, I owe you my life. + +(_He falls at his feet_.) + +_Chief_. Get up, get up! Here is a reward that the king was kind +enough to give you. It is worth as much as the ring. Take it. (_He +hands the fisherman a bracelet_.) + +_Fisherman_ (_joyfully taking it_). Much obliged. + +_Januka_. He _is_ much obliged to the king. Just as if he had been +taken from the stake and put on an elephant's back. + +_Suchaka_. Chief, the reward shows that the king thought a lot of the +ring. The gem must be worth something. + +_Chief_. No, it wasn't the fine gem that pleased the king. It was this +way. + +_The two policemen_. Well? + +_Chief_. I think, when the king saw it, he remembered somebody he +loves. You know how dignified he is usually. But as soon as he saw it, +he broke down for a moment. + +_Suchaka_. You have done the king a good turn, chief. + +_Januka_. All for the sake of this fish-killer, it seems to me. (_He +looks enviously at the fisherman_.) + +_Fisherman_. Take half of it, masters, to pay for something to drink. + +_Januka_. Fisherman, you are the biggest and best friend I've got. The +first thing we want, is all the brandy we can hold. Let's go where +they keep it. (_Exeunt omnes_.) + + +SCENE II.--_In the Palace Gardens_ + +(_Enter_ MISHRAKESHI, _flying through the air_.) + +_Mishrakeshi_. I have taken my turn in waiting upon the nymphs. And +now I will see what this good king is doing. Shakuntala is like a +second self to me, because she is the daughter of Menaka. And it was +she who asked me to do this. (_She looks about_.) It is the day of the +spring festival. But I see no preparations for a celebration at court. +I might learn the reason by my power of divination. But I must do as +my friend asked me. Good! I will make myself invisible and stand near +these girls who take care of the garden. I shall find out that way. + +(_She descends to earth. Enter a maid, gazing at a mango branch, and +behind her, a second_.) + +_First maid_. + + First mango-twig, so pink, so green, + First living breath of spring, + You are sacrificed as soon as seen, + A festival offering. + +_Second maid_. What are you chirping about to yourself, little cuckoo? + +_First maid_. Why, little bee, you know that the cuckoo goes crazy +with delight when she sees the mango-blossom. + +_Second maid_ (_joyfully_). Oh, has the spring really come? + +_First maid_. Yes, little bee. And this is the time when you too buzz +about in crazy joy. _Second maid_. Hold me, dear, while I stand on +tiptoe and offer this blossom to Love, the divine. + +_First maid_. If I do, you must give me half the reward of the +offering. + +_Second maid_. That goes without saying, dear. We two are one. (_She +leans on her friend and takes the mango-blossom_.) Oh, see! The +mango-blossom hasn't opened, but it has broken the sheath, so it is +fragrant. (_She brings her hands together_.) I worship mighty Love. + + O mango-twig I give to Love + As arrow for his bow, + Most sovereign of his arrows five, + Strike maiden-targets low. + +(_She throws the twig. Enter the chamberlain_.) + +_Chamberlain_ (_angrily_). Stop, silly girl. The king has strictly +forbidden the spring festival. Do you dare pluck the mango-blossoms? + +_The two maids_ (_frightened_). Forgive us, sir. We did not know. + +_Chamberlain_. What! You have not heard the king's command, which is +obeyed even by the trees of spring and the creatures that dwell in +them. See! + + The mango branches are in bloom, + Yet pollen does not form; + The cuckoo's song sticks in his throat, + Although the days are warm; + + The amaranth-bud is formed, and yet + Its power of growth is gone; + The love-god timidly puts by + The arrow he has drawn. + +_Mishrakeshi_. There is no doubt of it. This good king has wonderful +power. + +_First maid_. A few days ago, sir, we were sent to his Majesty by his +brother-in-law Mitravasu to decorate the garden. That is why we have +heard nothing of this affair. + +_Chamberlain_. You must not do so again. + +_The two maids_. But we are curious. If we girls may know about it, +pray tell us, sir. Why did his Majesty forbid the spring festival? +_Mishrakeshi_. Kings are fond of celebrations. There must be some good +reason. + +_Chamberlain_ (_to himself_). It is in everybody's mouth. Why should I +not tell it? (_Aloud_.) Have you heard the gossip concerning +Shakuntala's rejection? + +_The two maids_. Yes, sir. The king's brother-in-law told us, up to +the point where the ring was recovered. + +_Chamberlain_. There is little more to tell. When his Majesty saw the +ring, he remembered that he had indeed contracted a secret marriage +with Shakuntala, and had rejected her under a delusion. And then he +fell a prey to remorse. + + He hates the things he loved; he intermits + The daily audience, nor in judgment sits; + Spends sleepless nights in tossing on his bed; + At times, when he by courtesy is led + To address a lady, speaks another name, + Then stands for minutes, sunk in helpless shame. + +_Mishrakeshi_. I am glad to hear it. + +_Chamberlain_. His Majesty's sorrow has forbidden the festival. + +_The two maids_. It is only right. + +_A voice behind the scenes_. Follow me. + +_Chamberlain_ (_listening_). Ah, his Majesty approaches. Go, and +attend to your duties. (_Exeunt the two maids. Enter the king, wearing +a dress indicative of remorse; the clown, and the portress_.) + +_Chamberlain_ (_observing the king_). A beautiful figure charms in +whatever state. Thus, his Majesty is pleasing even in his sorrow. For + + All ornament is laid aside; he wears + One golden bracelet on his wasted arm; + His lip is scorched by sighs; and sleepless cares + Redden his eyes. Yet all can work no harm + On that magnificent beauty, wasting, but + Gaining in brilliance, like a diamond cut. + +_Mishrakeshi_ (_observing the king_). No wonder Shakuntala pines for +him, even though he dishonoured her by his rejection of her. + +_King_ (_walks about slowly, sunk in thought_). + + Alas! My smitten heart, that once lay sleeping, + Heard in its dreams my fawn-eyed love's laments, + And wakened now, awakens but to weeping, + To bitter grief, and tears of penitence. + +_Mishrakeshi_. That is the poor girl's fate. + +_Clown_ (_to himself_). He has got his Shakuntala-sickness again. I +wish I knew how to cure him. + +_Chamberlain (advancing)_. Victory to your Majesty. I have examined +the garden. Your Majesty may visit its retreats. + +_King_. Vetravati, tell the minister Pishuna in my name that a +sleepless night prevents me from mounting the throne of judgment. He +is to investigate the citizens' business and send me a memorandum. + +_Portress_. Yes, your Majesty. _(Exit.)_ + +_King_. And you, Parvatayana, return to your post of duty. + +_Chamberlain_. Yes, your Majesty. (_Exit_.) + +_Clown_. You have got rid of the vermin. Now amuse yourself in this +garden. It is delightful with the passing of the cold weather. + +_King_ (_sighing_). My friend, the proverb makes no mistake. +Misfortune finds the weak spot. See! + + No sooner did the darkness lift + That clouded memory's power, + Than the god of love prepared his bow + And shot the mango-flower. + + No sooner did the ring recall + My banished maiden dear, + No sooner do I vainly weep + For her, than spring is here. + +_Clown_. Wait a minute, man. I will destroy Love's arrow with my +stick. (_He raises his stick and strikes at the mango branch_.) + +_King_ (_smiling_). Enough! I see your pious power. My friend, where +shall I sit now to comfort my eyes with the vines? They remind me +somehow of her. + +_Clown_. Well, you told one of the maids, the clever painter, that +you would spend this hour in the bower of spring-creepers. And you +asked her to bring you there the picture of the lady Shakuntala which +you painted on a tablet. + +_King_. It is my only consolation. Lead the way to the bower of +spring-creepers. + +_Clown_. Follow me. (_They walk about_. MISHRAKESHI _follows_.) Here +is the bower of spring-creepers, with its jewelled benches. Its +loneliness seems to bid you a silent welcome. Let us go in and sit +down. (_They do so_.) + +_Mishrakeshi_. I will hide among the vines and see the dear girl's +picture. Then I shall be able to tell her how deep her husband's love +is. (_She hides_.) + +_King_ (_sighing_). I remember it all now, my friend. I told you how I +first met Shakuntala. It is true, you were not with me when I rejected +her. But I had told you of her at the first. Had you forgotten, as I +did? + +_Mishrakeshi_. This shows that a king should not be separated a single +moment from some intimate friend. + +_Clown_. No, I didn't forget. But when you had told the whole story, +you said it was a joke and there was nothing in it. And I was fool +enough to believe you. No, this is the work of fate. + +_Mishrakeshi_. It must be. + +_King_ (_after meditating a moment_). Help me, my friend. + +_Clown_. But, man, this isn't right at all. A good man never lets +grief get the upper hand. The mountains are calm even in a tempest. + +_King_. My friend, I am quite forlorn. I keep thinking of her pitiful +state when I rejected her. Thus: + + When I denied her, then she tried + To join her people. "Stay," one cried, + Her father's representative. + She stopped, she turned, she could but give + A tear-dimmed glance to heartless me-- + That arrow burns me poisonously. + +_Mishrakeshi_. How his fault distresses him! + +_Clown_. Well, I don't doubt it was some heavenly being that carried +her away. + +_King_. Who else would dare to touch a faithful wife? Her friends told +me that Menaka was her mother. My heart persuades me that it was +she, or companions of hers, who carried Shakuntala away. + +_Mishrakeshi_. His madness was wonderful, not his awakening reason. + +_Clown_. But in that case, you ought to take heart. You will meet her +again. + +_King_. How so? + +_Clown_. Why, a mother or a father cannot long bear to see a daughter +separated from her husband. + +_King_. My friend, + + And was it phantom, madness, dream, + Or fatal retribution stern? + My hopes fell down a precipice + And never, never will return. + +_Clown_. Don't talk that way. Why, the ring shows that incredible +meetings do happen. + +_King_ (_looking at the ring_). This ring deserves pity. It has fallen +from a heaven hard to earn. + + Your virtue, ring, like mine, + Is proved to be but small; + Her pink-nailed finger sweet + You clasped. How could you fall? + +_Mishrakeshi_. If it were worn on any other hand, it would deserve +pity. My dear girl, you are far away. I am the only one to hear these +delightful words. + +_Clown_. Tell me how you put the ring on her finger. + +_Mishrakeshi_. He speaks as if prompted by my curiosity. + +_King_. Listen, my friend. When I left the pious grove for the city, +my darling wept and said: "But how long will you remember us, dear?" + +_Clown_. And then you said---- + +_King_. Then I put this engraved ring on her finger, and said to +her---- + +_Clown_. Well, what? + +_King_. + + Count every day one letter of my name; + Before you reach the end, dear, + Will come to lead you to my palace halls + A guide whom I shall send, dear. + +Then, through my madness, it fell out cruelly. _Mishrakeshi_. It was +too charming an agreement to be frustrated by fate. + +_Clown_. But how did it get into a carp's mouth, as if it had been a +fish-hook? + +_King_. While she was worshipping the Ganges at Shachitirtha, it fell. + +_Clown_. I see. + +_Mishrakeshi_. That is why the virtuous king doubted his marriage with +poor Shakuntala. Yet such love does not ask for a token. How could it +have been? + +_King_. Well, I can only reproach this ring. + +_Clown_ (_smiling_). And I will reproach this stick of mine. Why are +you crooked when I am straight? + +_King_ (_not hearing him_). + + How could you fail to linger + On her soft, tapering finger, + And in the water fall? + +And yet + + Things lifeless know not beauty; + But I--I scorned my duty, + The sweetest task of all. + +_Mishrakeshi_. He has given the answer which I had ready. + +_Clown_. But that is no reason why I should starve to death. + +_King_ (_not heeding_). O my darling, my heart burns with repentance +because I abandoned you without reason. Take pity on me. Let me see +you again. (_Enter a maid with a tablet_.) + +_Maid_. Your Majesty, here is the picture of our lady. (_She produces +the tablet_.) + +_King_ (_gazing at it_). It is a beautiful picture. See! + + A graceful arch of brows above great eyes; + Lips bathed in darting, smiling light that flies + Reflected from white teeth; a mouth as red + As red karkandhu-fruit; love's brightness shed + O'er all her face in bursts of liquid charm-- + The picture speaks, with living beauty warm. + +_Clown_ (_looking at it_). The sketch is full of sweet meaning. My +eyes seem to stumble over its uneven surface. What more can I say? I +expect to see it come to life, and I feel like speaking to it. + +_Mishrakeshi_. The king is a clever painter. I seem to see the dear +girl before me. + +_King_. My friend, + + What in the picture is not fair, + Is badly done; + Yet something of her beauty there, + I feel, is won. + +_Mishrakeshi_. This is natural, when love is increased by remorse. + +_King_ (_sighing_). + + I treated her with scorn and loathing ever; + Now o'er her pictured charms my heart will burst: + A traveller I, who scorned the mighty river. + And seeks in the mirage to quench his thirst. + +_Clown_. There are three figures in the picture, and they are all +beautiful. Which one is the lady Shakuntala? + +_Mishrakeshi_. The poor fellow never saw her beauty. His eyes are +useless, for she never came before them. + +_King_. Which one do you think? + +_Clown_ (_observing closely_). I think it is this one, leaning against +the creeper which she has just sprinkled. Her face is hot and the +flowers are dropping from her hair; for the ribbon is loosened. Her +arms droop like weary branches; she has loosened her girdle, and she +seems a little fatigued. This, I think, is the lady Shakuntala, the +others are her friends. + +_King_. You are good at guessing. Besides, here are proofs of my love. + + See where discolorations faint + Of loving handling tell; + And here the swelling of the paint + Shows where my sad tears fell. + +Chaturika, I have not finished the background. Go, get the brushes. + +_Maid_. Please hold the picture, Madhavya, while I am gone. + +_King_. I will hold it. (_He does so. Exit maid_.) + +_Clown_. What are you going to add? + +_Mishrakeshi_. Surely, every spot that the dear girl loved. + +_King_. Listen, my friend. + + The stream of Malini, and on its sands + The swan-pairs resting; holy foot-hill lands + Of great Himalaya's sacred ranges, where + The yaks are seen; and under trees that bear + Bark hermit-dresses on their branches high, + A doe that on the buck's horn rubs her eye. + +_Clown_ (_aside_). To hear him talk, I should think he was going to +fill up the picture with heavy-bearded hermits. + +_King_. And another ornament that Shakuntala loved I have forgotten to +paint. + +_Clown_. What? + +_Mishrakeshi_. Something natural for a girl living in the forest. + +_King_. + + The siris-blossom, fastened o'er her ear, + Whose stamens brush her cheek; + The lotus-chain like autumn moonlight soft + Upon her bosom meek. + +_Clown_. But why does she cover her face with fingers lovely as the +pink water-lily? She seems frightened. (_He looks more closely_.) I +see. Here is a bold, bad bee. He steals honey, and so he flies to her +lotus-face. + +_King_. Drive him away. + +_Clown_. It is your affair to punish evil-doers. + +_King_. True. O welcome guest of the flowering vine, why do you waste +your time in buzzing here? + + Your faithful, loving queen, + Perched on a flower, athirst, + Is waiting for you still, + Nor tastes the honey first. + +_Mishrakeshi_. A gentlemanly way to drive him off! + +_Clown_. This kind are obstinate, even when you warn them. + +_King_ (_angrily_). Will you not obey my command? Then listen: + + 'Tis sweet as virgin blossoms on a tree, + The lip I kissed in love-feasts tenderly; + Sting that dear lip, O bee, with cruel power, + And you shall be imprisoned in a flower. + +_Clown_. Well, he doesn't seem afraid of your dreadful punishment. +(_Laughing. To himself_.) The man is crazy, and I am just as bad, from +associating with him. + +_King_. Will he not go, though I warn him? + +_Mishrakeshi_. Love works a curious change even in a brave man. + +_Clown_ (_aloud_). It is only a picture, man. + +_King_. A picture? + +_Mishrakeshi_. I too understand it now. But to him, thoughts are real +experiences. + +_King_. You have done an ill-natured thing. + + When I was happy in the sight, + And when my heart was warm, + You brought sad memories back, and made + My love a painted form. + +(_He sheds a tear_.) + +_Mishrakeshi_. Fate plays strangely with him. + +_King_. My friend, how can I endure a grief that has no respite? + + I cannot sleep at night + And meet her dreaming; + I cannot see the sketch + While tears are streaming. + +_Mishrakeshi_. My friend, you have indeed atoned--and in her friend's +presence--for the pain you caused by rejecting dear Shakuntala. + +(_Enter the maid_ CHATURIKA.) + +_Maid_. Your Majesty, I was coming back with the box of +paint-brushes---- + +_King_. Well? + +_Maid_. I met Queen Vasumati with the maid Pingalika. And the queen +snatched the box from me, saying: "I will take it to the king myself." + +_Clown_. How did you escape? + +_Maid_. The queen's dress caught on a vine. And while her maid was +setting her free, I excused myself in a hurry. _A voice behind the +scenes_. Follow me, your Majesty. + +_Clown_ (_listening_). Man, the she-tiger of the palace is making a +spring on her prey. She means to make one mouthful of the maid. + +_King_. My friend, the queen has come because she feels touched in her +honour. You had better take care of this picture. + +_Clown_. "And yourself," you might add. (_He takes the picture and +rises_.) If you get out of the trap alive, call for me at the Cloud +Balcony. And I will hide the thing there so that nothing but a pigeon +could find it. (_Exit on the run_.) + +_Mishrakeshi_. Though his heart is given to another, he is courteous +to his early flame. He is a constant friend. + +(_Enter the portress with a document_.) + +_Portress_. Victory to your Majesty. + +_King_. Vetravati, did you not meet Queen Vasumati? + +_Portress_. Yes, your Majesty. But she turned back when she saw that I +carried a document. + +_King_. The queen knows times and seasons. She will not interrupt +business. + +_Portress_. Your Majesty, the minister sends word that in the press of +various business he has attended to only one citizen's suit. This he +has reduced to writing for your Majesty's perusal. + +_King_. Give me the document. (_The portress does so_.) + +_King_ (_reads_). "Be it known to his Majesty. A seafaring merchant +named Dhanavriddhi has been lost in a shipwreck. He is childless, and +his property, amounting to several millions, reverts to the crown. +Will his Majesty take action?" (_Sadly_.) It is dreadful to be +childless. Vetravati, he had great riches. There must be several +wives. Let inquiry be made. There may be a wife who is with child. + +_Portress_. We have this moment heard that a merchant's daughter of +Saketa is his wife. And she is soon to become a mother. + +_King_. The child shall receive the inheritance. Go, inform the +minister. + +_Portress_. Yes, your Majesty. (_She starts to go_.) + +_King_. Wait a moment. + +_Portress_ (_turning back_). Yes, your Majesty. _King_. After all, +what does it matter whether he have issue or not? + + Let King Dushyanta be proclaimed + To every sad soul kin + That mourns a kinsman loved and lost, + Yet did not plunge in sin. + +_Portress_. The proclamation shall be made. (_She goes out and soon +returns_.) Your Majesty, the royal proclamation was welcomed by the +populace as is a timely shower. + +_King_ (_sighing deeply_). Thus, when issue fails, wealth passes, on +the death of the head of the family, to a stranger. When I die, it +will be so with the glory of Puru's line. + +_Portress_. Heaven avert the omen! + +_King_. Alas! I despised the happiness that offered itself to me. + +_Mishrakeshi_. Without doubt, he has dear Shakuntala in mind when he +thus reproaches himself. + +_King_. + + Could I forsake the virtuous wife + Who held my best, my future life + And cherished it for glorious birth, + As does the seed-receiving earth? + +_Mishrakeshi_. She will not long be forsaken. + +_Maid_ (_to the portress_). Mistress, the minister's report has +doubled our lord's remorse. Go to the Cloud Balcony and bring Madhavya +to dispel his grief. + +_Portress_. A good suggestion. (_Exit_.) + +_King_. Alas! The ancestors of Dushyanta are in a doubtful case. + + For I am childless, and they do not know, + When I am gone, what child of theirs will bring + The scriptural oblation; and their tears + Already mingle with my offering. + +_Mishrakeshi_. He is screened from the light, and is in darkness. + +_Maid_. Do not give way to grief, your Majesty. You are in the prime +of your years, and the birth of a son to one of your other wives will +make you blameless before your ancestors. (_To herself_.) He does not +heed me. The proper medicine is needed for any disease. _King_ +(_betraying his sorrow_). Surely, + + The royal line that flowed + A river pure and grand, + Dies in the childless king, + Like streams in desert sand. + +(_He swoons_.) + +_Maid_ (_in distress_). Oh, sir, come to yourself. + +_Mishrakeski_. Shall I make him happy now? No, I heard the mother of +the gods consoling Shakuntala. She said that the gods, impatient for +the sacrifice, would soon cause him to welcome his true wife. I must +delay no longer. I will comfort dear Shakuntala with my tidings. + +(_Exit through the air_.) + +_A voice behind the scenes_. Help, help! + +_King_ (_comes to himself and listens_). It sounds as if Madhavya were +in distress. + +_Maid_. Your Majesty, I hope that Pingalika and the other maids did +not catch poor Madhavya with the picture in his hands. + +_King_. Go, Chaturika. Reprove the queen in my name for not +controlling her servants. + +_Maid_. Yes, your Majesty. (_Exit_.) + +_The voice_. Help, help! + +_King_. The Brahman's voice seems really changed by fear. Who waits +without? (_Enter the chamberlain_.) + +_Chamberlain_. Your Majesty commands? + +_King_. See why poor Madhavya is screaming so. + +_Chamberlain_. I will see. (_He goes out, and returns trembling_.) + +_King_. Parvatayana, I hope it is nothing very dreadful. + +_Chamberlain_. I hope not. + +_King_. Then why do you tremble so? For + + Why should the trembling, born + Of age, increasing, seize + Your limbs and bid them shake + Like fig-leaves in the breeze? + +_Chamberlain_. Save your friend, O King! + +_King_. From what? + +_Chamberlain_. From great danger. + +_King_. Speak plainly, man. + +_Chamberlain_. On the Cloud Balcony, open to the four winds of +heaven-- + +_King_. What has happened there? + +_Chamberlain_. + + While he was resting on its height, + Which palace peacocks in their flight + Can hardly reach, he seemed to be + Snatched up--by what, we could not see. + +_King_ (_rising quickly_). My very palace is invaded by evil +creatures. To be a king, is to be a disappointed man. + + The moral stumblings of mine own, + The daily slips, are scarcely known; + Who then that rules a kingdom, can + Guide every deed of every man? + +_The voice_. Hurry, hurry! + +_King_ (_hears the voice and quickens his steps_). Have no fear, my +friend. + +_The voice_. Have no fear! When something has got me by the back of +the neck, and is trying to break my bones like a piece of sugar-cane! + +_King_ (_looks about_). A bow! a bow! (_Enter a Greek woman with a +bow_.) + +_Greek woman_. A bow and arrows, your Majesty. And here are the +finger-guards. (_The king takes the bow and arrows_.) + +_Another voice behind the scenes_. + + Writhe, while I drink the red blood flowing clear + And kill you, as a tiger kills a deer; + Let King Dushyanta grasp his bow; but how + Can all his kingly valour save you now? + +_King_ (_angrily_). He scorns me, too! In one moment, miserable demon, +you shall die. (_Stringing his bow_.) Where is the stairway, +Parvatayana? + +_Chamberlain_. Here, your Majesty. (_All make haste_.) + +_King_ (_Looking about_). There is no one here. + +_The Clown's voice_. Save me, save me! I see you, if you can't see me. +I am a mouse in the claws of the cat. I am done for. _King_. You are +proud of your invisibility. But shall not my arrow see you? Stand +still. Do not hope to escape by clinging to my friend. + + My arrow, flying when the bow is bent, + Shall slay the wretch and spare the innocent; + When milk is mixed with water in a cup, + Swans leave the water, and the milk drink up. + +(_He takes aim. Enter_ MATALI _and the clown_.) + +_Matali_. O King, as Indra, king of the gods, commands, + + Seek foes among the evil powers alone; + For them your bow should bend; + Not cruel shafts, but glances soft and kind + Should fall upon a friend. + +_King_ (_hastily withdrawing the arrow_). It is Matali. Welcome to the +charioteer of heaven's king. + +_Clown_. Well! He came within an inch of butchering me. And you +welcome him. + +_Matali_ (_smiling_). Hear, O King, for what purpose Indra sends me to +you. + +_King_. I am all attention. + +_Matali_. There is a host of demons who call themselves +Invincible--the brood of Kalanemi. + +_King_. So Narada has told me. + +_Matali_. + + Heaven's king is powerless; you shall smite + His foes in battle soon; + Darkness that overcomes the day, + Is scattered by the moon. + +Take your bow at once, enter my heavenly chariot, and set forth for +victory. + +_King_. I am grateful for the honour which Indra shows me. But why did +you act thus toward Madhavya? + +_Matali_. I will tell you. I saw that you were overpowered by some +inner sorrow, and acted thus to rouse you. For + + The spurnèd snake will swell his hood; + Fire blazes when 'tis stirred; + Brave men are roused to fighting mood + By some insulting word. +_King_. Friend Madhavya, I must obey the bidding of heaven's king. Go, +acquaint the minister Pishuna with the matter, and add these words of +mine: + + Your wisdom only shall control + The kingdom for a time; + My bow is strung; a distant goal + Calls me, and tasks sublime. + +_Clown_. Very well. (_Exit_.) + +_Matali_. Enter the chariot. (_The king does so. Exeunt omnes_.) + + +ACT VII + + +(_Enter, in a chariot that flies through the air, the king and_ +MATALI.) + +_King_. Matali, though I have done what Indra commanded, I think +myself an unprofitable servant, when I remember his most gracious +welcome. + +_Matali_. O King, know that each considers himself the other's debtor. +For + + You count the service given + Small by the welcome paid, + Which to the king of heaven + Seems mean for such brave aid. + +_King_. Ah, no! For the honour given me at parting went far beyond +imagination. Before the gods, he seated me beside him on his throne. +And then + + He smiled, because his son Jayanta's heart + Beat quicker, by the self-same wish oppressed, + And placed about my neck the heavenly wreath + Still fragrant from the sandal on his breast. + +_Matali_. But what do you not deserve from heaven's king? Remember: + + Twice, from peace-loving Indra's sway + The demon-thorn was plucked away: + First, by Man-lion's crooked claws; + Again, by your smooth shafts to-day. + +_King_. This merely proves Indra's majesty. Remember: + + All servants owe success in enterprise + To honour paid before the great deed's done; + Could dawn defeat the darkness otherwise + Than resting on the chariot of the sun? + +_Matali_. The feeling becomes you. (_After a little_.) See, O King! +Your glory has the happiness of being published abroad in heaven. + + With colours used by nymphs of heaven + To make their beauty shine, + Gods write upon the surface given + Of many a magic vine, + As worth their song, the simple story + Of those brave deeds that made your glory. + +_King_. Matali, when I passed before, I was intent on fighting the +demons, and did not observe this region. Tell me. In which path of the +winds are we? + +_Matali_. + + It is the windpath sanctified + By holy Vishnu's second stride; + Which, freed from dust of passion, ever + Upholds the threefold heavenly river; + And, driving them with reins of light, + Guides the stars in wheeling flight. + +_King_. That is why serenity pervades me, body and soul. (_He observes +the path taken by the chariot_.) It seems that we have descended into +the region of the clouds. + +_Matali_. How do you perceive it? + +_King_. + + Plovers that fly from mountain-caves, + Steeds that quick-flashing lightning laves, + And chariot-wheels that drip with spray-- + A path o'er pregnant clouds betray. + +_Matali_. You are right. And in a moment you will be in the world over +which you bear rule. + +_King_ (_looking down_). Matali, our quick descent gives the world of +men a mysterious look. For + + The plains appear to melt and fall + From mountain peaks that grow more tall; + The trunks of trees no longer hide + Nor in their leafy nests abide; + The river network now is clear, + For smaller streams at last appear: + It seems as if some being threw + The world to me, for clearer view. + +_Matali_. You are a good observer, O King. (_He looks down, +awe-struck_.) There is a noble loveliness in the earth. _King_. +Matali, what mountain is this, its flanks sinking into the eastern and +into the western sea? It drips liquid gold like a cloud at sunset. + +_Matali_. O King, this is Gold Peak, the mountain of the fairy +centaurs. Here it is that ascetics most fully attain to magic powers. +See! + + The ancient sage, Marichi's son, + Child of the Uncreated One, + Father of superhuman life, + Dwells here austerely with his wife. + +_King_ (_reverently_). I must not neglect the happy chance. I cannot +go farther until I have walked humbly about the holy one. + +_Matali_. It is a worthy thought, O King. (_The chariot descends_.) We +have come down to earth. + +_King_ (_astonished_). Matali, + + The wheels are mute on whirling rim; + Unstirred, the dust is lying there; + We do not bump the earth, but skim: + Still, still we seem to fly through air. + +_Matali_. Such is the glory of the chariot which obeys you and Indra. + +_King_. In which direction lies the hermitage of Marichi's son? + +_Matali_ (_pointing_). See! + + Where stands the hermit, horridly austere, + Whom clinging vines are choking, tough and sore; + Half-buried in an ant-hill that has grown + About him, standing post-like and alone; + Sun-staring with dim eyes that know no rest, + The dead skin of a serpent on his breast: + So long he stood unmoved, insensate there + That birds build nests within his mat of hair. + +_King_ (_gazing_). All honour to one who mortifies the flesh so +terribly. + +_Matali_ (_checking the chariot_). We have entered the hermitage of +the ancient sage, whose wife Aditi tends the coral-trees. _King_. +Here is deeper contentment than in heaven. I seem plunged in a pool of +nectar. + +_Matali_ (_stopping the chariot_). Descend, O King. + +_King_ (_descending_). But how will you fare? + +_Matali_. The chariot obeys the word of command. I too will descend. +(_He does so_.) Before you, O King, are the groves where the holiest +hermits lead their self-denying life. + +_King_. I look with amazement both at their simplicity and at what +they might enjoy. + + Their appetites are fed with air + Where grows whatever is most fair; + They bathe religiously in pools + Which golden lily-pollen cools; + They pray within a jewelled home, + Are chaste where nymphs of heaven roam: + They mortify desire and sin + With things that others fast to win. + +_Matali_. The desires of the great aspire high. (_He walks about and +speaks to some one not visible_.) Ancient Shakalya, how is Marichi's +holy son occupied? (_He listens_.) What do you say? That he is +explaining to Aditi, in answer to her question, the duties of a +faithful wife? My matter must await a fitter time. (_He turns to the +king_.) Wait here, O King, in the shade of the ashoka tree, till I +have announced your coming to the sire of Indra. + +_King_. Very well. (_Exit_ MATALI. _The king's arm throbs, a happy +omen_.) + + I dare not hope for what I pray; + Why thrill--in vain? + For heavenly bliss once thrown away + Turns into pain. + +_A voice behind the scenes_. Don't! You mustn't be so foolhardy. Oh, +you are always the same. + +_King_ (_listening_). No naughtiness could feel at home in this spot. +Who draws such a rebuke upon himself? (_He looks towards the sound. In +surprise_.) It is a child, but no child in strength. And two +hermit-women are trying to control him. + + He drags a struggling lion cub, + The lioness' milk half-sucked, half-missed, + Towzles his mane, and tries to drub + Him tame with small, imperious fist. + +(_Enter a small boy, as described, and two hermit-women_.) + +_Boy_. Open your mouth, cub. I want to count your teeth. + +_First woman_. Naughty boy, why do you torment our pets? They are like +children to us. Your energy seems to take the form of striking +something. No wonder the hermits call you All-tamer. + +_King_. Why should my heart go out to this boy as if he were my own +son? (_He reflects_.) No doubt my childless state makes me +sentimental. + +_Second woman_. The lioness will spring at you if you don't let her +baby go. + +_Boy_ (_smiling_). Oh, I'm dreadfully scared. (_He bites his lip_.) + +_King_ (_in surprise_). + + The boy is seed of fire + Which, when it grows, will burn; + A tiny spark that soon + To awful flame may turn. + +_First woman_. Let the little lion go, dear. I will give you another +plaything. + +_Boy_. Where is it? Give it to me. (_He stretches out his hand_.) + +_King_ (_looking at the hand_.) He has one of the imperial birthmarks! +For + + Between the eager fingers grow + The close-knit webs together drawn, + Like some lone lily opening slow + To meet the kindling blush of dawn. + +_Second woman_. Suvrata, we can't make him stop by talking. Go. In my +cottage you will find a painted clay peacock that belongs to the +hermit-boy Mankanaka. Bring him that. + +_First woman_. I will. (_Exit_.) _Boy_. Meanwhile I'll play with +this one. + +_Hermit-woman_ (_looks and laughs_). Let him go. + +_King_. My heart goes out to this wilful child. (_Sighing_.) + + They show their little buds of teeth + In peals of causeless laughter; + They hide their trustful heads beneath + Your heart. And stumbling after + Come sweet, unmeaning sounds that sing + To you. The father warms + And loves the very dirt they bring + Upon their little forms. + +_Hermit-woman_ (_shaking her finger_). Won't you mind me? (_She looks +about_.) Which one of the hermit-boys is here? (_She sees the king_.) +Oh, sir, please come here and free this lion cub. The little rascal is +tormenting him, and I can't make him let go. + +_King_. Very well. (_He approaches, smiling_.) O little son of a great +sage! + + Your conduct in this place apart, + Is most unfit; + 'Twould grieve your father's pious heart + And trouble it. + + To animals he is as good + As good can be; + You spoil it, like a black snake's brood + In sandal tree. + +_Hermit-woman_. But, sir, he is not the son of a hermit. + +_King_. So it would seem, both from his looks and his actions. But in +this spot, I had no suspicion of anything else. (_He loosens the boy's +hold on the cub, and touching him, says to himself_.) + + It makes me thrill to touch the boy, + The stranger's son, to me unknown; + What measureless content must fill + The man who calls the child his own! + +_Hermit-woman_ (_looking at the two_). Wonderful! wonderful! + +_King_. Why do you say that, mother? + +_Hermit-woman_. I am astonished to see how much the boy looks like +you, sir. You are not related. Besides, he is a perverse little +creature and he does not know you. Yet he takes no dislike to +you. + +_King_ (_caressing the boy_). Mother, if he is not the son of a +hermit, what is his family? + +_Hermit-woman_. The family of Puru. + +_King_ (_to himself_). He is of one family with me! Then could my +thought be true? (_Aloud_.) But this is the custom of Puru's line: + + In glittering palaces they dwell + While men, and rule the country well; + Then make the grove their home in age, + And die in austere hermitage. + +But how could human beings, of their own mere motion, attain this +spot? + +_Hermit-woman_. You are quite right, sir. But the boy's mother was +related to a nymph, and she bore her son in the pious grove of the +father of the gods. + +_King_ (_to himself_). Ah, a second ground for hope. (_Aloud_.) What +was the name of the good king whose wife she was? + +_Hermit-woman_. Who would speak his name? He rejected his true wife. + +_King_ (_to himself_). This story points at me. Suppose I ask the boy +for his mother's name. (_He reflects_.) No, it is wrong to concern +myself with one who may be another's wife. + +(_Enter the first woman, with the clay peacock_.) + +_First woman_. Look, All-tamer. Here is the bird, the _shakunta_. +Isn't the _shakunta_ lovely? + +_Boy_ (_looks about_). Where is my mamma? (_The two women burst out +laughing_.) + +_First woman_. It sounded like her name, and deceived him. He loves +his mother. + +_Second woman_. She said: "See how pretty the peacock is." That is +all. + +_King_ (_to himself_). His mother's name is Shakuntala! But names are +alike. I trust this hope may not prove a disappointment in the end, +like a mirage. + +_Boy_. I like this little peacock, sister. Can it fly? (_He seizes the +toy_.) _First woman_ (_looks at the boy. Anxiously_), Oh, the amulet +is not on his wrist. + +_King_. Do not be anxious, mother. It fell while he was struggling +with the lion cub. (_He starts to pick it up_.) + +_The two women_. Oh, don't, don't! (_They look at him_.) He has +touched it! (_Astonished, they lay their hands on their bosoms, and +look at each other_.) + +_King_. Why did you try to prevent me? + +_First woman_. Listen, your Majesty. This is a divine and most potent +charm, called the Invincible. Marichi's holy son gave it to the baby +when the birth-ceremony was performed. If it falls on the ground, no +one may touch it except the boy's parents or the boy himself. + +_King_. And if another touch it? + +_First woman_. It becomes a serpent and stings him. + +_King_. Did you ever see this happen to any one else? + +_Both women_. More than once. + +_King_ (_joyfully_). Then why may I not welcome my hopes fulfilled at +last? (_He embraces the boy_.) + +_Second woman_. Come, Suvrata. Shakuntala is busy with her religious +duties. We must go and tell her what has happened. (_Exeunt ambo_.) + +_Boy_. Let me go. I want to see my mother. + +_King_. My son, you shall go with me to greet your mother. + +_Boy_. Dushyanta is my father, not you. + +_King_ (_smiling_). You show I am right by contradicting me. (_Enter_ +SHAKUNTALA, _wearing her hair in a single braid_.) + +_Shakuntala_ (_doubtfully_). I have heard that All-tamer's amulet did +not change when it should have done so. But I do not trust my own +happiness. Yet perhaps it is as Mishrakeshi told me. (_She walks +about_.) + +_King_ (_looking at_ SHAKUNTALA. _With plaintive joy_). It is she. It +is Shakuntala. + + The pale, worn face, the careless dress, + The single braid, + Show her still true, me pitiless, + The long vow paid. + +_Shakuntala_ (_seeing the king pale with remorse. Doubtfully_). It is +not my husband. Who is the man that soils my boy with his caresses? +The amulet should protect him. _Boy_ (_running to his mother_). +Mother, he is a man that belongs to other people. And he calls me his +son. + +_King_. My darling, the cruelty I showed you has turned to happiness. +Will you not recognise me? + +_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). Oh, my heart, believe it. Fate struck +hard, but its envy is gone and pity takes its place. It is my husband. + +_King_. + + Black madness flies; + Comes memory; + Before my eyes + My love I see. + + Eclipse flees far; + Light follows soon; + The loving star + Draws to the moon. + +_Shakuntala_. Victory, victo--(_Tears choke her utterance_.) + +_King_. + + The tears would choke you, sweet, in vain; + My soul with victory is fed, + Because I see your face again-- + No jewels, but the lips are red. + +_Boy_. Who is he, mother? + +_Shakuntala_. Ask fate, my child. (_She weeps_.) + +_King_. + + Dear, graceful wife, forget; + Let the sin vanish; + Strangely did madness strive + Reason to banish. + + Thus blindness works in men, + Love's joy to shake; + Spurning a garland, lest + It prove a snake. (_He falls at her feet_.) + +_Shakuntala_. Rise, my dear husband. Surely, it was some old sin of +mine that broke my happiness--though it has turned again to happiness. +Otherwise, how could you, dear, have acted so? You are so kind. (_The +king rises_.) But what brought back the memory of your suffering +wife? _King_. I will tell you when I have plucked out the dart of +sorrow. + + 'Twas madness, sweet, that could let slip + A tear to burden your dear lip; + On graceful lashes seen to-day, + I wipe it, and our grief, away. (_He does so_.) + +_Shakuntala_ (_sees more clearly and discovers the ring_). My husband, +it is the ring! + +_King_. Yes. And when a miracle recovered it, my memory returned. + +_Shakuntala_. That was why it was so impossible for me to win your +confidence. + +_King_. Then let the vine receive her flower, as earnest of her union +with spring. + +_Shakuntala_. I do not trust it. I would rather you wore it. + +(_Enter_ MATALI) + +_Matali_. I congratulate you, O King, on reunion with your wife and on +seeing the face of your son. + +_King_. My desires bear sweeter fruit because fulfilled through a +friend. Matali, was not this matter known to Indra? + +_Matali_ (_smiling_.) What is hidden from the gods? Come. Marichi's +holy son, Kashyapa, wishes to see you. + +_King_. My dear wife, bring our son. I could not appear without you +before the holy one. + +_Shakuntala_. I am ashamed to go before such parents with my husband. + +_King_. It is the custom in times of festival. Come. (_They walk +about_. KASHYAPA _appears seated, with_ ADITI.) + +_Kashyapa_ (_looking at the king_). Aditi, + + 'Tis King Dushyanta, he who goes before + Your son in battle, and who rules the earth, + Whose bow makes Indra's weapon seem no more + Than a fine plaything, lacking sterner worth. + +_Aditi_. His valour might be inferred from his appearance. + +_Matali_. O King, the parents of the gods look upon you with a glance +that betrays parental fondness. Approach them. _King_. Matali, + + Sprung from the Creator's children, do I see + Great Kashyapa and Mother Aditi? + The pair that did produce the sun in heaven, + To which each year twelve changing forms are given; + That brought the king of all the gods to birth, + Who rules in heaven, in hell, and on the earth; + That Vishnu, than the Uncreated higher, + Chose as his parents with a fond desire. + +_Matali_. It is indeed they. + +_King_ (_falling before them_). Dushyanta, servant of Indra, does +reverence to you both. + +_Kashyapa_. My son, rule the earth long. + +_Aditi_. And be invincible. (SHAKUNTALA _and her son fall at their +feet_.) + +_Kashyapa_. My daughter, + + Your husband equals Indra, king + Of gods; your son is like his son; + No further blessing need I bring: + Win bliss such as his wife has won. + +_Aditi_. My child, keep the favour of your husband. And may this fine +boy be an honour to the families of both parents. Come, let us be +seated. (_All seat themselves_.) + +_Kashyapa_ (_indicating one after the other_). + + Faithful Shakuntala, the boy, + And you, O King, I see + A trinity to bless the world-- + Faith, Treasure, Piety. + +_King_. Holy one, your favour shown to us is without parallel. You +granted the fulfilment of our wishes before you called us to your +presence. For, holy one, + + The flower comes first, and then the fruit; + The clouds appear before the rain; + Effect comes after cause; but you + First helped, then made your favour plain. + +_Matali_. O King, such is the favour shown by the parents of the +world. _King_. Holy one, I married this your maid-servant by the +voluntary ceremony. When after a time her relatives brought her to me, +my memory failed and I rejected her. In so doing, I sinned against +Kanva, who is kin to you. But afterwards, when I saw the ring, I +perceived that I had married her. And this seems very wonderful to me. + + Like one who doubts an elephant, + Though seeing him stride by, + And yet believes when he has seen + The footprints left; so I. + +_Kashyapa_. My son, do not accuse yourself of sin. Your infatuation +was inevitable. Listen. + +_King_. I am all attention. + +_Kashyapa_. When the nymph Menaka descended to earth and received +Shakuntala, afflicted at her rejection, she came to Aditi. Then I +perceived the matter by my divine insight. I saw that the unfortunate +girl had been rejected by her rightful husband because of Durvasas' +curse. And that the curse would end when the ring came to light. + +_King_ (_with a sigh of relief. To himself_). Then I am free from +blame. + +_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). Thank heaven! My husband did not reject +me of his own accord. He really did not remember me. I suppose I did +not hear the curse in my absent-minded state, for my friends warned me +most earnestly to show my husband the ring. + +_Kashyapa_. My daughter, you know the truth. Do not now give way to +anger against your rightful husband. Remember: + + The curse it was that brought defeat and pain; + The darkness flies; you are his queen again. + Reflections are not seen in dusty glass, + Which, cleaned, will mirror all the things that pass. + +_King_. It is most true, holy one. + +_Kashyapa_. My son, I hope you have greeted as he deserves the son +whom Shakuntala has borne you, for whom I myself have performed the +birth-rite and the other ceremonies. + +_King_. Holy one, the hope of my race centres in him. + +_Kashyapa_. Know then that his courage will make him emperor. + + Journeying over every sea, + His car will travel easily; + The seven islands of the earth + Will bow before his matchless worth; + Because wild beasts to him were tame, + All-tamer was his common name; + As Bharata he shall be known, + For he will bear the world alone. + +_King_. I anticipate everything from him, since you have performed the +rites for him. + +_Aditi_. Kanva also should be informed that his daughter's wishes are +fulfilled. But Menaka is waiting upon me here and cannot be spared. + +_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). The holy one has expressed my own desire. + +_Kashyapa_. Kanva knows the whole matter through his divine insight. +(_He reflects_.) Yet he should hear from us the pleasant tidings, how +his daughter and her son have been received by her husband. Who waits +without? (_Enter a pupil_.) + +_Pupil_. I am here, holy one. + +_Kashyapa_. Galava, fly through the air at once, carrying pleasant +tidings from me to holy Kanva. Tell him how Durvasas' curse has come +to an end, how Dushyanta recovered his memory, and has taken +Shakuntala with her child to himself. + +_Pupil_. Yes, holy one. (_Exit_.) + +_Kashyapa_ (_to the king_). My son, enter with child and wife the +chariot of your friend Indra, and set out for your capital. + +_King_. Yes, holy one. + +_Kashyapa_. For now + + May Indra send abundant rain, + Repaid by sacrificial gain; + With aid long mutually given, + Rule you on earth, and he in heaven. + +_King_. Holy one, I will do my best. + +_Kashyapa_. What more, my son, shall I do for you? + +_King_. Can there be more than this? Yet may this prayer be fulfilled. + + May kingship benefit the land, + And wisdom grow in scholars' band; + May Shiva see my faith on earth + And make me free of all rebirth. + +(_Exeunt omnes_.) + + * * * * * + + + + +THE STORY OF SHAKUNTALA + + +In the first book of the vast epic poem _Mahabharata_, Kalidasa found +the story of Shakuntala. The story has a natural place there, for +Bharata, Shakuntala's son, is the eponymous ancestor of the princes +who play the leading part in the epic. + +With no little abbreviation of its epic breadth, the story runs as +follows:-- + +THE EPIC TALE + +Once that strong-armed king, with a mighty host of men and chariots, +entered a thick wood. Then when the king had slain thousands of wild +creatures, he entered another wood with his troops and his chariots, +intent on pursuing a deer. And the king beheld a wonderful, beautiful +hermitage on the bank of the sacred river Malini; on its bank was the +beautiful hermitage of blessèd, high-souled Kanva, whither the great +sages resorted. Then the king determined to enter, that he might see +the great sage Kanva, rich in holiness. He laid aside the insignia of +royalty and went on alone, but did not see the austere sage in the +hermitage. Then, when he did not see the sage, and perceived that the +hermitage was deserted, he cried aloud, "Who is here?" until the +forest seemed to shriek. Hearing his cry, a maiden, lovely as Shri, +came from the hermitage, wearing a hermit garb. "Welcome!" she said at +once, greeting him, and smilingly added: "What may be done for you?" +Then the king said to the sweet-voiced maid: "I have come to pay +reverence to the holy sage Kanva. Where has the blessèd one gone, +sweet girl? Tell me this, lovely maid." Shakuntala said: "My blessèd +father has gone from the hermitage to gather fruits. Wait a moment. +You shall see him when he returns." + +The king did not see the sage, but when the lovely girl of the fair +hips and charming smile spoke to him, he saw that{} she was radiant in +her beauty, yes, in her hard vows and self-restraint all youth and +beauty, and he said to her: + +"Who are you? Whose are you, lovely maiden? Why did you come to the +forest? Whence are you, sweet girl, so lovely and so good? Your beauty +stole my heart at the first glance. I wish to know you better. Answer +me, sweet maid." + +The maiden laughed when thus questioned by the king in the hermitage, +and the words she spoke were very sweet: "O Dushyanta, I am known as +blessed Kanva's daughter, and he is austere, steadfast, wise, and of a +lofty soul." + +Dushyanta said: "But he is chaste, glorious maid, holy, honoured by +the world. Though virtue should swerve from its course, he would not +swerve from the hardness of his vow. How were you born his daughter, +for you are beautiful? I am in great perplexity about this. Pray +remove it." + +[Shakuntala here explains how she is the child of a sage and a nymph, +deserted at birth, cared for by birds (_shakuntas_), found and reared +by Kanva, who gave her the name Shakuntala.] + +Dushyanta said: "You are clearly a king's daughter, sweet maiden, as +you say. Become my lovely wife. Tell me, what shall I do for you? Let +all my kingdom be yours to-day. Become my wife, sweet maid." + +Shakuntala said: "Promise me truly what I say to you in secret. The +son that is born to me must be your heir. If you promise, Dushyanta, I +will marry you." + +"So be it," said the king without thinking, and added: "I will bring +you too to my city, sweet-smiling girl." + +So the king took the faultlessly graceful maiden by the hand and dwelt +with her. And when he had bidden her be of good courage, he went +forth, saying again and again: "I will send a complete army for you, +and tell them to bring my sweet-smiling bride to my palace." When he +had made this promise, the king went thoughtfully to find Kanva. "What +will he do when he hears it, this holy, austere man?" he wondered, and +still thinking, he went back to his capital. + +Now the moment he was gone, Kanva came to the hermitage. And +Shakuntala was ashamed and did not come to meet her father. But +blessed, austere Kanva had divine discernment. He discovered her, and +seeing the matter with celestial vision, he was pleased and said: +"What you have done, dear, to-day, forgetting me and meeting a man, +this does not break the law. A man who loves may marry secretly the +woman who loves him without a ceremony; and Dushyanta is virtuous and +noble, the best of men. Since you have found a loving husband, +Shakuntala, a noble son shall be born to you, mighty in the world." + +Sweet Shakuntala gave birth to a boy of unmeasured prowess. His hands +were marked with the wheel, and he quickly grew to be a glorious boy. +As a six years' child in Kanva's hermitage he rode on the backs of +lions, tigers, and boars near the hermitage, and tamed them, and ran +about playing with them. Then those who lived in Kanva's hermitage +gave him a name. "Let him be called All-tamer," they said: "for he +tames everything." + +But when the sage saw the boy and his more than human deeds, he said +to Shakuntala: "It is time for him to be anointed crown prince." When +he saw how strong the boy was, Kanva said to his pupils: "Quickly +bring my Shakuntala and her son from my house to her husband's palace. +A long abiding with their relatives is not proper for married women. +It destroys their reputation, and their character, and their virtue; +so take her without delay." "We will," said all the mighty men, and +they set out with Shakuntala and her son for Gajasahvaya. + +When Shakuntala drew near, she was recognised and invited to enter, +and she said to the king: "This is your son, O King. You must anoint +him crown prince, just as you promised before, when we met." + +When the king heard her, although he remembered her, he said: "I do +not remember. To whom do you belong, you wicked hermit-woman? I do not +remember a union with you for virtue, love, and wealth.[1] Either go +or stay, or do whatever you wish." + +When he said this, the sweet hermit-girl half fainted from shame and +grief, and stood stiff as a pillar. Her eyes darkened with passionate +indignation; her lips quivered; she seemed to consume the king as she +gazed at him with sidelong glances. Concealing her feelings and nerved +by anger, she held in check the magic power that her ascetic life had +given her. She seemed to meditate a moment, overcome by grief and +anger. She gazed at her husband, then spoke passionately: "O shameless +king, although you know, why do you say, 'I do not know,' like any +other ordinary man?" + +Dushyanta said: "I do not know the son born of you, Shakuntala. Women +are liars. Who will believe what you say? Are you not ashamed to say +these incredible things, especially in my presence? You wicked +hermit-woman, go!" + +Shakuntala said: "O King, sacred is holy God, and sacred is a holy +promise. Do not break your promise, O King. Let your love be sacred. +If you cling to a lie, and will not believe, alas! I must go away; +there is no union with a man like you. For even without you, +Dushyanta, my son shall rule this foursquare earth adorned with kingly +mountains." + +When she had said so much to the king, Shakuntala started to go. But a +bodiless voice from heaven said to Dushyanta: "Care for your son, +Dushyanta. Do not despise Shakuntala. You are the boy's father. +Shakuntala tells the truth." + +When he heard the utterance of the gods, the king joyfully said to his +chaplain and his ministers: "Hear the words of this heavenly +messenger. If I had received my son simply because of her words, he +would be suspected by the world, he would not be pure." + +Then the king received his son gladly and joyfully. He kissed his head +and embraced him lovingly. His wife also Dushyanta honoured, as +justice required. And the king soothed her, and said: "This union +which I had with you was hidden from the world. Therefore I hesitated, +O Queen, in order to save your reputation. And as for the cruel words +you said to me in an excess of passion, these I pardon you, my +beautiful, great-eyed darling, because you love me." + +Then King Dushyanta gave the name Bharata to Shakuntala's son, and had +him anointed crown prince. + +It is plain that this story contains the material for a good play; the +very form of the epic tale is largely dramatic. It is also plain, in a +large way, of what nature are the principal changes which a dramatist +must introduce in the original. For while Shakuntala is charming in +the epic story, the king is decidedly contemptible. Somehow or other, +his face must be saved. + +To effect this, Kalidasa has changed the old story in three important +respects. In the first place, he introduces the curse of Durvasas, +clouding the king's memory, and saving him from moral responsibility +in his rejection of Shakuntala. That there may be an ultimate recovery +of memory, the curse is so modified as to last only until the king +shall see again the ring which he has given to his bride. To the +Hindu, curse and modification are matters of frequent occurrence; and +Kalidasa has so delicately managed the matter as not to shock even a +modern and Western reader with a feeling of strong improbability. Even +to us it seems a natural part of the divine cloud that envelops the +drama, in no way obscuring human passion, but rather giving to human +passion an unwonted largeness and universality. + +In the second place, the poet makes Shakuntala undertake her journey +to the palace before her son is born. Obviously, the king's character +is thus made to appear in a better light, and a greater probability is +given to the whole story. + +The third change is a necessary consequence of the first; for without +the curse, there could have been no separation, no ensuing remorse, +and no reunion. + +But these changes do not of themselves make a drama out of the epic +tale. Large additions were also necessary, both of scenes and of +characters. We find, indeed, that only acts one and five, with a part +of act seven, rest upon the ancient text, while acts two, three, four, +and six, with most of seven, are a creation of the poet. As might have +been anticipated, the acts of the former group are more dramatic, +while those of the latter contribute more of poetical charm. It is +with these that scissors must be chiefly busy when the play--rather +too long for continuous presentation as it stands--is performed on the +stage. + +In the epic there are but three characters--Dushyanta, Shakuntala, +Kanva, with the small boy running about in the background. To these +Kalidasa has added from the palace, from the hermitage, and from the +Elysian region which is represented with vague precision in the last +act. + +The conventional clown plays a much smaller part in this play than in +the others which Kalidasa wrote. He has also less humour. The real +humorous relief is given by the fisherman and the three policemen in +the opening scene of the sixth act. This, it may be remarked, is the +only scene of rollicking humour in Kalidasa's writing. + +The forest scenes are peopled with quiet hermit-folk. Far the most +charming of these are Shakuntala's girl friends. The two are +beautifully differentiated: Anusuya grave, sober; Priyamvada +vivacious, saucy; yet wonderfully united in friendship and in devotion +to Shakuntala, whom they feel to possess a deeper nature than theirs. + +Kanva, the hermit-father, hardly required any change from the epic +Kanva. It was a happy thought to place beside him the staid, motherly +Gautami. The small boy in the last act has magically become an +individual in Kalidasa's hands. In this act too are the creatures of a +higher world, their majesty not rendered too precise. + +Dushyanta has been saved by the poet from his epic shabbiness; it may +be doubted whether more has been done. There is in him, as in some +other Hindu heroes, a shade too much of the meditative to suit our +ideal of more alert and ready manhood. + +But all the other characters sink into insignificance beside the +heroine. Shakuntala dominates the play. She is actually on the stage +in five of the acts, and her spirit pervades the other two, the second +and the sixth. Shakuntala has held captive the heart of India for +fifteen hundred years, and wins the love of increasing thousands in +the West; for so noble a union of sweetness with strength is one of +the miracles of art. + + Though lovely women walk the world to-day + By tens of thousands, there is none so fair + In all that exhibition and display + With her most perfect beauty to compare-- + +because it is a most perfect beauty of soul no less than of outward +form. Her character grows under our very eyes. When we first meet her, +she is a simple maiden, knowing no greater sorrow than the death of a +favourite deer; when we bid her farewell, she has passed through happy +love, the mother's joys and pains, most cruel humiliation and +suspicion, and the reunion with her husband, proved at last not to +have been unworthy. And each of these great experiences has been met +with a courage and a sweetness to which no words can render justice. + +Kalidasa has added much to the epic tale; yet his use of the original +is remarkably minute. A list of the epic suggestions incorporated in +his play is long. But it is worth making, in order to show how keen is +the eye of genius. Thus the king lays aside the insignia of royalty +upon entering the grove (Act I). Shakuntala appears in hermit garb, a +dress of bark (Act I). The quaint derivation of the heroine's name +from _shakunta_--bird--is used with wonderful skill in a passage (Act +VII) which defies translation, as it involves a play on words. The +king's anxiety to discover whether the maiden's father is of a caste +that permits her to marry him is reproduced (Act I). The marriage +without a ceremony is retained (Act IV), but robbed of all offence. +Kanva's celestial vision, which made it unnecessary for his child to +tell him of her union with the king, is introduced with great delicacy +(Act IV). The curious formation of the boy's hand which indicated +imperial birth adds to the king's suspense (Act VII). The boy's rough +play with wild animals is made convincing (Act VII) and his very +nickname All-tamer is preserved (Act VII). Kanva's worldly wisdom as +to husband and wife dwelling together is reproduced (Act IV). No small +part of the give-and-take between the king and Shakuntala is given +(Act V), but with a new dignity. + +Of the construction of the play I speak with diffidence. It seems +admirable to me, the apparently undue length of some scenes hardly +constituting a blemish, as it was probably intended to give the actors +considerable latitude of choice and excision. Several versions of the +text have been preserved; it is from the longer of the two more +familiar ones that the translation in this volume has been made. In +the warm discussion over this matter, certain technical arguments of +some weight have been advanced in favour of this choice; there is also +a more general consideration which seems to me of importance. I find +it hard to believe that any lesser artist could pad such a +masterpiece, and pad it all over, without making the fraud apparent on +almost every page. The briefer version, on the other hand, might +easily grow out of the longer, either as an acting text, or as a +school-book. + +We cannot take leave of Shakuntala in any better way than by quoting +the passage[2] in which Lévi's imagination has conjured up "the +memorable _première_ when Shakuntala saw the light, in the presence of +Vikramaditya and his court." + + La fête du printemps approche; Ujjayinî, la ville aux riches + marchands et la capitale intellectuelle de l'Inde, glorieuse et + prospère sous un roi victorieux et sage, se prépare à célébrer + la solennité avec une pompe digne de son opulence et de son + goût.... L'auteur applaudi de Mâlavikâ ... le poète dont le + souple génie s'accommode sans effort au ton de l'épopée ou de + l'élégie, Kâlidâsa vient d'achever une comédie héroïque + annoncée comme un chef-d'oeuvre par la voix de ses amis.... Le + poète a ses comédiens, qu'il a éprouvés et dressés à sa manière + avec Mâlavikâ. Les comédiens suivront leur poète familier, + devenu leur maître et leur ami.... Leur solide instruction, + leur goût épuré reconnaissent les qualités maîtresses de + l'oeuvre, l'habileté de l'intrigue, le juste équilibre des + sentiments, la fraîcheur de l'imagination ... + + Vikramâditya entre, suivi des courtisans, et s'asseoit sur son + trône; ses femmes restent à sa gauche; à sa droite les rois + vassaux accourus pour rendre leurs hommages, les princes, les + hauts fonctionnaires, les littérateurs et les savants, groupés + autour de Varâha-mihira l'astrologue et d'Amarasimha le + lexicographe ... + + Tout à coup, les deux jolies figurantes placées devant le + rideau de la coulisse en écartent les plis, et Duhsanta, l'arc + et les flèches à la main, paraît monté sur un char; son cocher + tient les rênes; lancés à la poursuite d'une gazelle + imaginaire, ils simulent par leurs gestes la rapidité de la + course; leurs stances pittoresques et descriptives suggèrent à + l'imagination un décor que la peinture serait impuissante à + tracer. Ils approchent de l'ermitage; le roi descend à terre, + congédie le cocher, les chevaux et le char, entend les voix des + jeunes filles et se cache. Un mouvement de curiosité + agite les spectateurs; fille d'une Apsaras et création de + Kâlidâsa, Çakuntalâ réunit tous les charmes; l'actrice + saura-t-elle répondre à l'attente des connaisseurs et réaliser + l'idéal? Elle paraît, vêtue d'une simple tunique d'écorce qui + semble cacher ses formes et par un contraste habile les + embellit encore; la ligne arrondie du visage, les yeux longs, + d'un bleu sombre, langoureux, les seins opulents mal + emprisonnés, les bras délicats laissent à deviner les beautés + que le costume ascétique dérobe. Son attitude, ses gestes + ravissent à la fois les regards et les coeurs; elle parle, et sa + voix est un chant. La cour de Vikrâmaditya frémit d'une émotion + sereine et profonde: un chef-d'oeuvre nouveau vient d'entrer + dans l'immortalité. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: The Hindu equivalent of "for better, for worse."] + +[Footnote 2: _Le Théâtre Indien_, pages 368-371. This is without +competition the best work in which any part of the Sanskrit literature +has been treated, combining erudition, imagination, and taste. The +book is itself literature of a high order. The passage is +unfortunately too long to be quoted entire.] + + * * * * * + + + + +THE TWO MINOR DRAMAS + + +I.--"MALAVIKA AND AGNIMITRA" + +_Malavika and Agnimitra_ is the earliest of Kalidasa's three dramas, +and probably his earliest work. This conclusion would be almost +certain from the character of the play, but is put beyond doubt by the +following speeches of the prologue: + +_Stage-director_. The audience has asked us to present at this spring +festival a drama called _Malavika and Agnimitra_, composed by +Kalidasa. Let the music begin. + +_Assistant_. No, no! Shall we neglect the works of such illustrious +authors as Bhasa, Saumilla, and Kaviputra? Can the audience feel any +respect for the work of a modern poet, a Kalidasa? + +_Stage-director_. You are quite mistaken. Consider: + + Not all is good that bears an ancient name, + Nor need we every modern poem blame: + Wise men approve the good, or new or old; + The foolish critic follows where he's told. + +_Assistant_. The responsibility rests with you, sir. + +There is irony in the fact that the works of the illustrious authors +mentioned have perished, that we should hardly know of their existence +were it not for the tribute of their modest, youthful rival. But +Kalidasa could not read the future. We can imagine his feelings of +mingled pride and fear when his early work was presented at the spring +festival before the court of King Vikramaditya, without doubt the most +polished and critical audience that could at that hour have been +gathered in any city on earth. The play which sought the approbation +of this audience shows no originality of plot, no depth of passion. It +is a light, graceful drama of court intrigue. The hero, King +Agnimitra, is an historical character of the second century before +Christ, and Kalidasa's play gives us some information about him that +history can seriously consider. The play represents Agnimitra's +father, the founder of the Sunga dynasty, as still living. As the seat +of empire was in Patna on the Ganges, and as Agnimitra's capital is +Vidisha--the modern Bhilsa--it seems that he served as regent of +certain provinces during his father's lifetime. The war with the King +of Vidarbha seems to be an historical occurrence, and the fight with +the Greek cavalry force is an echo of the struggle with Menander, in +which the Hindus were ultimately victorious. It was natural for +Kalidasa to lay the scene of his play in Bhilsa rather than in the +far-distant Patna, for it is probable that many in the audience were +acquainted with the former city. It is to Bhilsa that the poet refers +again in _The Cloud-Messenger_, where these words are addressed to the +cloud: + + At thine approach, Dasharna land is blest + With hedgerows where gay buds are all aglow, + With village trees alive with many a nest + Abuilding by the old familiar crow, + With lingering swans, with ripe rose-apples' darker show. + + There shalt thou see the royal city, known + Afar, and win the lover's fee complete, + If thou subdue thy thunders to a tone + Of murmurous gentleness, and taste the sweet, + Love-rippling features of the river at thy feet. + +Yet in Kalidasa's day, the glories of the Sunga dynasty were long +departed, nor can we see why the poet should have chosen his hero and +his era as he did. + +There follows an analysis of the plot and some slight criticism. + +In addition to the stage-director and his assistant, who appear in the +prologue, the characters of the play are these: + + + AGNIMITRA, _king in Vidisha_. + + GAUTAMA, _a clown, his friend_. + + + GANADASA } + } _dancing-masters_. + HARADATTA } + + + DHARINI, _the senior queen_. + + IRAVATI, _the junior queen_. + + MALAVIKA, _maid to Queen Dharini, later discovered to be a princess_. + + KAUSHIKI, _a Buddhist nun_. + + BAKULAVALIKA, _a maid, friend of Malavika_. + + NIPUNIKA, _maid to Queen Iravati_. + + _A counsellor, a chamberlain, a humpback, two court poets, maids, + and mute attendants_. + +The scene is the palace and gardens of King Agnimitra, the time a few +days. + + +ACT I.--After the usual prologue, the maid Bakulavalika appears with +another maid. From their conversation we learn that King Agnimitra has +seen in the palace picture-gallery a new painting of Queen Dharini +with her attendants. So beautiful is one of these, Malavika, that the +king is smitten with love, but is prevented by the jealous queen from +viewing the original. At this point the dancing-master Ganadasa +enters. From him Bakulavalika learns that Malavika is a wonderfully +proficient pupil, while he learns from her that Malavika had been sent +as a present to Queen Dharini by a general commanding a border +fortress, the queen's brother. + +After this introductory scene, the king enters, and listens to a +letter sent by the king of Vidarbha. The rival monarch had imprisoned +a prince and princess, cousins of Agnimitra, and in response to +Agnimitra's demand that they be set free, he declares that the +princess has escaped, but that the prince shall not be liberated +except on certain conditions. This letter so angers Agnimitra that he +despatches an army against the king of Vidarbha. + +Gautama, the clown, informs Agnimitra that he has devised a plan for +bringing Malavika into the king's presence. He has stirred an envious +rivalry in the bosoms of the two dancing-masters, who soon appear, +each abusing the other vigorously, and claiming for himself the +pre-eminence in their art. It is agreed that each shall exhibit his +best pupil before the king, Queen Dharini, and the learned Buddhist +nun, Kaushiki. The nun, who is in the secret of the king's desire, is +made mistress of ceremonies, and the queen's jealous opposition is +overborne. + + +ACT II.--The scene is laid in the concert-hall of the palace. The nun +determines that Ganadasa shall present his pupil first. Malavika is +thereupon introduced, dances, and sings a song which pretty plainly +indicates her own love for the king. He is in turn quite ravished, +finding her far more beautiful even than the picture. The clown +manages to detain her some little time by starting a discussion as to +her art, and when she is finally permitted to depart, both she and the +king are deeply in love. The court poet announces the noon hour, and +the exhibition of the other dancing-master is postponed. + + +ACT III.--The scene is laid in the palace garden. From the +conversation of two maids it appears that a favourite ashoka-tree is +late in blossoming. This kind of tree, so the belief runs, can be +induced to put forth blossoms if touched by the foot of a beautiful +woman in splendid garments. + +When the girls depart, the king enters with the clown, his confidant. +The clown, after listening to the king's lovelorn confidences, reminds +him that he has agreed to meet his young Queen Iravati in the garden, +and swing with her. But before the queen's arrival, Malavika enters, +sent thither by Dharini to touch the ashoka-tree with her foot, and +thus encourage it to blossom. The king and the clown hide in a +thicket, to feast their eyes upon her. Presently the maid Bakulavalika +appears, to adorn Malavika for the ceremony, and engages her in +conversation about the king. But now a third pair enter, the young +Queen Iravati, somewhat flushed with wine, and her maid Nipunika. They +also conceal themselves to spy upon the young girls. Thus there are +three groups upon the stage: the two girls believe themselves to be +alone; the king and the clown are aware of the two girls, as are also +the queen and her maid; but neither of these two pairs knows of the +presence of the other. This situation gives rise to very entertaining +dialogue, which changes its character when the king starts forward to +express his love for Malavika. Another sudden change is brought about +when Iravati, mad with jealousy, joins the group, sends the two girls +away, and berates the king. He excuses himself as earnestly as a man +may when caught in such a predicament, but cannot appease the young +queen, who leaves him with words of bitter jealousy. + + +ACT IV.--The clown informs the king that Queen Dharini has locked +Malavika and her friend in the cellar, and has given orders to the +doorkeeper that they are to be released only upon presentation of her +own signet-ring, engraved with the figure of a serpent. But he +declares that he has devised a plan to set them free. He bids the king +wait upon Queen Dharini, and presently rushes into their presence, +showing his thumb marked with two scratches, and declaring that he has +been bitten by a cobra. Imploring the king to care for his childless +mother, he awakens genuine sympathy in the queen, who readily parts +with her serpent-ring, supposed to be efficacious in charming away the +effects of snake-poison. Needless to say, he uses the ring to procure +the freedom of Malavika and her friend, and then brings about a +meeting with Agnimitra in the summer-house. The love-scene which +follows is again interrupted by Queen Iravati. This time the king is +saved by the news that his little daughter has been frightened by a +yellow monkey, and will be comforted only by him. The act ends with +the announcement that the ashoka-tree has blossomed. + + +ACT V.--It now appears that Queen Dharini has relented and is willing +to unite Malavika with the king; for she invites him to meet her under +the ashoka-tree, and includes Malavika among her attendants. Word is +brought that the army despatched against the king of Vidarbha has been +completely successful, and that in the spoil are included two maids +with remarkable powers of song. These maids are brought before the +company gathered at the tree, where they surprise every one by falling +on their faces before Malavika with the exclamation, "Our princess!" +Here the Buddhist nun takes up the tale. She tells how her brother, +the counsellor of the captive prince, had rescued her and Malavika +from the king of Vidarbha, and had started for Agnimitra's court. + +On the way they had been overpowered by robbers, her brother killed, +and she herself separated from Malavika. She had thereupon become a +nun and made her way to Agnimitra's court, and had there found +Malavika, who had been taken from the robbers by Agnimitra's general +and sent as a present to Queen Dharini. She had not divulged the +matter sooner, because of a prophecy that Malavika should be a servant +for just one year before becoming a king's bride. This recital removes +any possible objection to a union of Malavika and Agnimitra. To +complete the king's happiness, there comes a letter announcing that +his son by Dharini has won a victory over a force of Greek cavalry, +and inviting the court to be present at the sacrifice which was to +follow the victory. Thus every one is made happy except the jealous +young Queen Iravati, now to be supplanted by Malavika; yet even she +consents, though somewhat ungraciously, to the arrangements made. + +Criticism of the large outlines of this plot would be quite unjust, +for it is completely conventional. In dozens of plays we have the same +story: the king who falls in love with a maid-servant, the jealousy of +his harem, the eventual discovery that the maid is of royal birth, and +the addition of another wife to a number already sufficiently large. +In writing a play of this kind, the poet frankly accepts the +conventions; his ingenuity is shown in the minor incidents, in stanzas +of poetical description, and in giving abundant opportunity for +graceful music and dancing. When the play is approached in this way, +it is easy to see the _griffe du lion_ in this, the earliest work of +the greatest poet who ever sang repeatedly of love between man and +woman, troubled for a time but eventually happy. For though there is +in Agnimitra, as in all heroes of his type, something contemptible, +there is in Malavika a sweetness, a delicacy, a purity, that make her +no unworthy precursor of Sita, of Indumati, of the Yaksha's bride, and +of Shakuntala. + + * * * * * + + + +II.--"URVASHI" + + +The second of the two inferior dramas may be conveniently called +_Urvashi_, though the full title is _The Tale of Urvashi won by +Valour_. When and where the play was first produced we do not know, +for the prologue is silent as to these matters. It has been thought +that it was the last work of Kalidasa, even that it was never produced +in his lifetime. Some support is lent to this theory by the fact that +the play is filled with reminiscences of Shakuntala, in small matters +as well as in great; as if the poet's imagination had grown weary, and +he were willing to repeat himself. Yet _Urvashi_ is a much more +ambitious effort than _Malavika_, and invites a fuller criticism, +after an outline of the plot has been given. + +In addition to the stage-director and his assistant, who appear in the +prologue, the characters of the play are these: + + + PURURAVAS, _king in Pratishthana on the Ganges_. + + AYUS, _his son_. + + MANAVAKA, _a clown, his friend_. + + URVASHI, _a heavenly nymph_. + + CHITRALEKHA, _another nymph, her friend_. + + AUSHINARI, _queen of Pururavas_. + + NIPUNIKA, _her maid_. + +_A charioteer, a chamberlain, a hermit-woman, various nymphs and other +divine beings, and attendants_. + +The scene shifts as indicated in the following analysis. The time of +the first four acts is a few days. Between acts four and five several +years elapse. + + +ACT I.--The prologue only tells us that we may expect a new play of +Kalidasa. A company of heavenly nymphs then appear upon Mount +Gold-peak wailing and calling for help. Their cries are answered by +King Pururavas, who rides in a chariot that flies through the air. In +response to his inquiries, the nymphs inform him that two of their +number, Urvashi and Chitralekha, have been carried into captivity by a +demon. The king darts in pursuit, and presently returns, victorious, +with the two nymphs. As soon as Urvashi recovers consciousness, and +has rejoined her joyful friends, it is made plain that she and the +king have been deeply impressed with each other's attractions. The +king is compelled to decline an invitation to visit Paradise, but he +and Urvashi exchange loving glances before they part. + + +ACT II.--The act opens with a comic scene in the king's palace. The +clown appears, bursting with the secret of the king's love for +Urvashi, which has been confided to him. He is joined by the maid +Nipunika, commissioned by the queen to discover what it is that +occupies the king's mind. She discovers the secret ingeniously, but +without much difficulty, and gleefully departs. + +The king and the clown then appear in the garden, and the king +expresses at some length the depth and seeming hopelessness of his +passion. The latter part of his lament is overheard by Urvashi +herself, who, impelled by love for the king, has come down to earth +with her friend Chitralekha, and now stands near, listening but +invisible. When she has heard enough to satisfy her of the king's +passion, she writes a love-stanza on a birch-leaf, and lets it fall +before him. His reception of this token is such that Urvashi throws +aside the magic veil that renders her invisible, but as soon as she +has greeted the king, she and her friend are called away to take their +parts in a play that is being presented in Paradise. + +The king and the clown hunt for Urvashi's love-letter, which has been +neglected during the past few minutes. But the leaf has blown away, +only to be picked up and read by Nipunika, who at that moment enters +with the queen. The queen can hardly be deceived by the lame excuses +which the king makes, and after offering her ironical congratulations, +jealously leaves him. + + +ACT III.--The act opens with a conversation between two minor +personages in Paradise. It appears that Urvashi had taken the +heroine's part in the drama just presented there, and when asked, "On +whom is your heart set?" had absentmindedly replied, "On Pururavas." +Heaven's stage-director had thereupon cursed her to fall from +Paradise, but this curse had been thus modified: that she was to live +on earth with Pururavas until he should see a child born of her, and +was then to return. + +The scene shifts to Pururavas' palace. In the early evening, the +chamberlain brings the king a message, inviting him to meet the queen +on a balcony bathed in the light of the rising moon. The king betakes +himself thither with his friend, the clown. In the midst of a dialogue +concerning moonlight and love, Urvashi and Chitralekha enter from +Paradise, wearing as before veils of invisibility. Presently the queen +appears and with humble dignity asks pardon of the king for her +rudeness, adding that she will welcome any new queen whom he genuinely +loves and who genuinely returns his love. When the queen departs, +Urvashi creeps up behind the king and puts her hands over his eyes. +Chitralekha departs after begging the king to make her friend forget +Paradise. + + +ACT IV.--From a short dialogue in Paradise between Chitralekha and +another nymph, we learn that a misfortune has befallen Pururavas and +Urvashi. During their honeymoon in a delightful Himalayan forest, +Urvashi, in a fit of jealousy, had left her husband, and had +inadvertently entered a grove forbidden by an austere god to women. +She was straightway transformed into a vine, while Pururavas is +wandering through the forest in desolate anguish. + +The scene of what follows is laid in the Himalayan forest. Pururavas +enters, and in a long poetical soliloquy bewails his loss and seeks +for traces of Urvashi. He vainly asks help of the creatures whom he +meets: a peacock, a cuckoo, a swan, a ruddy goose, a bee, an elephant, +a mountain-echo, a river, and an antelope. At last he finds a +brilliant ruby in a cleft of the rocks, and when about to throw it +away, is told by a hermit to preserve it: for this is the gem of +reunion, and one who possesses it will soon be reunited with his love. +With the gem in his hand, Pururavas comes to a vine which mysteriously +reminds him of Urvashi, and when he embraces it, he finds his beloved +in his arms. After she has explained to him the reason of her +transformation, they determine to return to the king's capital. + + +ACT V.--The scene of the concluding act is the king's palace. Several +years have passed in happy love, and Pururavas has only one +sorrow--that he is childless. + +One day a vulture snatches from a maid's hand the treasured gem of +reunion, which he takes to be a bit of bloody meat, and flies off with +it, escaping before he can be killed. While the king and his +companions lament the gem's loss, the chamberlain enters, bringing the +gem and an arrow with which the bird had been shot. On the arrow is +written a verse declaring it to be the property of Ayus, son of +Pururavas and Urvashi. A hermit-woman is then ushered in, who brings a +lad with her. She explains that the lad had been entrusted to her as +soon as born by Urvashi, and that it was he who had just shot the bird +and recovered the gem. When Urvashi is summoned to explain why she had +concealed her child, she reminds the king of heaven's decree that she +should return as soon as Pururavas should see the child to be born to +them. She had therefore sacrificed maternal love to conjugal +affection. Upon this, the king's new-found joy gives way to gloom. He +determines to give up his kingdom and spend the remainder of his life +as a hermit in the forest. But the situation is saved by a messenger +from Paradise, bearing heaven's decree that Urvashi shall live with +the king until his death. A troop of nymphs then enter and assist in +the solemn consecration of Ayus as crown prince. + +The tale of Pururavas and Urvashi, which Kalidasa has treated +dramatically, is first made known to us in the Rigveda. It is thus one +of the few tales that so caught the Hindu imagination as to survive +the profound change which came over Indian thinking in the passage +from Vedic to classical times. As might be expected from its history, +it is told in many widely differing forms, of which the oldest and +best may be summarised thus. + +Pururavas, a mortal, sees and loves the nymph Urvashi. She consents to +live with him on earth so long as he shall not break certain trivial +conditions. Some time after the birth of a son, these conditions are +broken, through no fault of the man, and she leaves him. He wanders +disconsolate, finds her, and pleads with her, by her duty as a wife, +by her love for her child, even by a threat of suicide. She rejects +his entreaties, declaring that there can be no lasting love between +mortal and immortal, even adding: "There are no friendships with +women. Their hearts are the hearts of hyenas." Though at last she +comforts him with vague hopes of a future happiness, the story +remains, as indeed it must remain, a tragedy--the tragedy of love +between human and divine. + +This splendid tragic story Kalidasa has ruined. He has made of it an +ordinary tale of domestic intrigue, has changed the nymph of heaven +into a member of an earthly harem. The more important changes made by +Kalidasa in the traditional story, all have the tendency to remove the +massive, godlike, austere features of the tale, and to substitute +something graceful or even pretty. These principal changes are: the +introduction of the queen, the clown, and the whole human +paraphernalia of a court; the curse pronounced on Urvashi for her +carelessness in the heavenly drama, and its modification; the +invention of the gem of reunion; and the final removal of the curse, +even as modified. It is true that the Indian theatre permits no +tragedy, and we may well believe that no successor of Kalidasa could +hope to present a tragedy on the stage. But might not Kalidasa, far +overtopping his predecessors, have put on the stage a drama the story +of which was already familiar to his audience as a tragic story? +Perhaps not. If not, one can but wish that he had chosen another +subject. + +This violent twisting of an essentially tragic story has had a further +ill consequence in weakening the individual characters. Pururavas is a +mere conventional hero, in no way different from fifty others, in +spite of his divine lineage and his successful wooing of a goddess. +Urvashi is too much of a nymph to be a woman, and too much of a woman +to be a nymph. The other characters are mere types. + +Yet, in spite of these obvious objections, Hindu critical opinion has +always rated the _Urvashi_ very high, and I have long hesitated to +make adverse comments upon it, for it is surely true that every nation +is the best judge of its own literature. And indeed, if one could but +forget plot and characters, he would find in _Urvashi_ much to attract +and charm. There is no lack of humour in the clever maid who worms the +clown's secret out of him. There is no lack of a certain shrewdness in +the clown, as when he observes: + +"Who wants heaven? It is nothing to eat or drink. It is just a place +where they never shut their eyes--like fishes!" + +Again, the play offers an opportunity for charming scenic display. The +terrified nymphs gathered on the mountain, the palace balcony bathed +in moonlight, the forest through which the king wanders in search of +his lost darling, the concluding solemn consecration of the crown +prince by heavenly beings--these scenes show that Kalidasa was no +closet dramatist. And finally, there is here and there such poetry as +only Kalidasa could write. The fourth act particularly, undramatic as +it is, is full of a delicate beauty that defies transcription. It was +a new and daring thought--to present on the stage a long lyrical +monologue addressed to the creatures of the forest and inspired by +despairing passion. Nor must it be forgotten that this play, like all +Indian plays, is an opera. The music and the dancing are lost. We +judge it perforce unfairly, for we judge it by the text alone. If, in +spite of all, the _Urvashi_ is a failure, it is a failure possible +only to a serene and mighty poet. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE DYNASTY OF RAGHU + + +_The Dynasty of Raghu_ is an epic poem in nineteen cantos. It consists +of 1564 stanzas, or something over six thousand lines of verse. The +subject is that great line of kings who traced their origin to the +sun, the famous "solar line" of Indian story. The bright particular +star of the solar line is Rama, the knight without fear and without +reproach, the Indian ideal of a gentleman. His story had been told +long before Kalidasa's time in the _Ramayana_, an epic which does not +need to shun comparison with the foremost epic poems of Europe. In +_The Dynasty of Raghu_, too, Rama is the central figure; yet in +Kalidasa's poem there is much detail concerning other princes of the +line. The poem thus naturally falls into three great parts: first, the +four immediate ancestors of Rama (cantos 1-9); second, Rama (cantos +10-15); third, certain descendants of Rama (cantos 16-19). A somewhat +detailed account of the matter of the poem may well precede criticism +and comment. + + +_First canto. The journey to the hermitage_.--The poem begins with the +customary brief prayer for Shiva's favour: + + God Shiva and his mountain bride, + Like word and meaning unified, + The world's great parents, I beseech + To join fit meaning to my speech. + +Then follow nine stanzas in which Kalidasa speaks more directly of +himself than elsewhere in his works: + + How great is Raghu's solar line! + How feebly small are powers of mine! + As if upon the ocean's swell + I launched a puny cockle-shell. + + The fool who seeks a poet's fame + Must look for ridicule and blame, + Like tiptoe dwarf who fain would try + To pluck the fruit for giants high. + + Yet I may enter through the door + That mightier poets pierced of yore; + A thread may pierce a jewel, but + Must follow where the diamond cut. + + Of kings who lived as saints from birth, + Who ruled to ocean-shore on earth, + Who toiled until success was given, + Whose chariots stormed the gates of heaven, + + Whose pious offerings were blest, + Who gave his wish to every guest, + Whose punishments were as the crimes, + Who woke to guard the world betimes, + + Who sought, that they might lavish, pelf, + Whose measured speech was truth itself, + Who fought victorious wars for fame, + Who loved in wives the mother's name, + + Who studied all good arts as boys, + Who loved, in manhood, manhood's joys, + Whose age was free from worldly care, + Who breathed their lives away in prayer, + + Of these I sing, of Raghu's line, + Though weak mine art, and wisdom mine. + Forgive these idle stammerings + And think: For virtue's sake he sings. + + The good who hear me will be glad + To pluck the good from out the bad; + When ore is proved by fire, the loss + Is not of purest gold, but dross. + +After the briefest glance at the origin of the solar line, the poet +tells of Rama's great-great-grandfather, King Dilipa. The detailed +description of Dilipa's virtues has interest as showing Kalidasa's +ideal of an aristocrat; a brief sample must suffice here: + + He practised virtue, though in health; + Won riches, with no greed for wealth; + Guarded his life, though not from fear; + Prized joys of earth, but not too dear. + + His virtuous foes he could esteem + Like bitter drugs that healing seem; + The friends who sinned he could forsake + Like fingers bitten by a snake. + +Yet King Dilipa has one deep-seated grief: he has no son. He therefore +journeys with his queen to the hermitage of the sage Vasishtha, in +order to learn what they must do to propitiate an offended fate. Their +chariot rolls over country roads past fragrant lotus-ponds and +screaming peacocks and trustful deer, under archways formed without +supporting pillars by the cranes, through villages where they receive +the blessings of the people. At sunset they reach the peaceful forest +hermitage, and are welcomed by the sage. In response to Vasishtha's +benevolent inquiries, the king declares that all goes well in the +kingdom, and yet: + + Until from this dear wife there springs + A son as great as former kings, + The seven islands of the earth + And all their gems, are nothing worth. + + The final debt, most holy one, + Which still I owe to life--a son-- + Galls me as galls the cutting chain + An elephant housed in dirt and pain. + +Vasishtha tells the king that on a former occasion he had offended the +divine cow Fragrant, and had been cursed by the cow to lack children +until he had propitiated her own offspring. While the sage is +speaking, Fragrant's daughter approaches, and is entrusted to the care +of the king and queen. + + +_Second canto. The holy cow's gift_.--During twenty-one days the king +accompanies the cow during her wanderings in the forest, and each +night the queen welcomes their return to the hermitage. On the +twenty-second day the cow is attacked by a lion, and when the king +hastens to draw an arrow, his arm is magically numbed, so that he +stands helpless. To increase his horror, the lion speaks with a human +voice, saying that he is a servant of the god Shiva, set on guard +there and eating as his appointed food any animals that may appear. +Dilipa perceives that a struggle with earthly weapons is useless, and +begs the lion to accept his own body as the price of the cow's +release. The lion tries sophistry, using the old, hollow arguments: + + Great beauty and fresh youth are yours; on earth + As sole, unrivalled emperor you rule; + Should you redeem a thing of little worth + At such a price, you would appear a fool. + + If pity moves you, think that one mere cow + Would be the gainer, should you choose to die; + Live rather for the world! Remember how + The father-king can bid all dangers fly. + + And if the fiery sage's wrath, aglow + At loss of one sole cow, should make you shudder, + Appease his anger; for you can bestow + Cows by the million, each with pot-like udder. + + Save life and youth; for to the dead are given + No long, unbroken years of joyous mirth; + But riches and imperial power are heaven-- + The gods have nothing that you lack on earth. + + The lion spoke and ceased; but echo rolled + Forth from the caves wherein the sound was pent, + As if the hills applauded manifold, + Repeating once again the argument. + +Dilipa has no trouble in piercing this sophistical argument, and again +offers his own life, begging the lion to spare the body of his fame +rather than the body of his flesh. The lion consents, but when the +king resolutely presents himself to be eaten, the illusion vanishes, +and the holy cow grants the king his desire. The king returns to his +capital with the queen, who shortly becomes pregnant. + + +_Third canto. Raghu's consecration_.--The queen gives birth to a +glorious boy, whom the joyful father names Raghu. There follows a +description of the happy family, of which a few stanzas are given +here: + + The king drank pleasure from him late and soon + With eyes that stared like windless lotus-flowers; + Unselfish joy expanded all his powers + As swells the sea responsive to the moon. + + The rooted love that filled each parent's soul + For the other, deep as bird's love for the mate, + Was now divided with the boy; and straight + The remaining half proved greater than the whole. + + He learned the reverence that befits a boy; + Following the nurse's words, began to talk; + And clinging to her finger, learned to walk: + These childish lessons stretched his father's joy, + + Who clasped the baby to his breast, and thrilled + To feel the nectar-touch upon his skin, + Half closed his eyes, the father's bliss to win + Which, more for long delay, his being filled. + + The baby hair must needs be clipped; yet he + Retained two dangling locks, his cheeks to fret; + And down the river of the alphabet + He swam, with other boys, to learning's sea. + + Religion's rites, and what good learning suits + A prince, he had from teachers old and wise; + Not theirs the pain of barren enterprise, + For effort spent on good material, fruits. + +This happy childhood is followed by a youth equally happy. Raghu is +married and made crown prince. He is entrusted with the care of the +horse of sacrifice,[1] and when Indra, king of the gods, steals the +horse, Raghu fights him. He cannot overcome the king of heaven, yet he +acquits himself so creditably that he wins Indra's friendship. In +consequence of this proof of his manhood, the empire is bestowed upon +Raghu by his father, who retires with his queen to the forest, to +spend his last days and prepare for death. + + +_Fourth canto. Raghu conquers the world_.--The canto opens with +several stanzas descriptive of the glory of youthful King Raghu. + + He manifested royal worth + By even justice toward the earth, + Beloved as is the southern breeze, + Too cool to burn, too warm to freeze. + + The people loved his father, yet + For greater virtues could forget; + The beauty of the blossoms fair + Is lost when mango-fruits are there. + +But the vassal kings are restless + + For when they knew the king was gone + And power was wielded by his son, + The wrath of subject kings awoke, + Which had been damped in sullen smoke. + +Raghu therefore determines to make a warlike progress through all +India. He marches eastward with his army from his capital Ayodhya (the +name is preserved in the modern Oudh) to the Bay of Bengal, then south +along the eastern shore of India to Cape Comorin, then north along the +western shore until he comes to the region drained by the Indus, +finally east through the tremendous Himalaya range into Assam, and +thence home. The various nations whom he encounters, Hindus, Persians, +Greeks, and White Huns, all submit either with or without fighting. On +his safe return, Raghu offers a great sacrifice and gives away all his +wealth.[2] + + +_Fifth canto. Aja goes wooing_.--While King Raghu is penniless, a +young sage comes to him, desiring a huge sum of money to give to the +teacher with whom he has just finished his education. The king, +unwilling that any suppliant should go away unsatisfied, prepares to +assail the god of wealth in his Himalayan stronghold, and the god, +rather than risk the combat, sends a rain of gold into the king's +treasury. This gold King Raghu bestows upon the sage, who gratefully +uses his spiritual power to cause a son to be born to his benefactor. +In course of time, the son is born and the name Aja is given to him. +We are here introduced to Prince Aja, who is a kind of secondary hero +in the poem, inferior only to his mighty grandson, Rama. To Aja are +devoted the remainder of this fifth canto and the following three +cantos; and these Aja-cantos are among the loveliest in the epic. When +the prince has grown into young manhood, he journeys to a neighbouring +court to participate in the marriage reception of Princess +Indumati.[3] + +One evening he camps by a river, from which a wild elephant issues and +attacks his party. When wounded by Aja, the elephant strangely changes +his form, becoming a demigod, gives the prince a magic weapon, and +departs to heaven. Aja proceeds without further adventure to the +country and the palace of Princess Indumati, where he is made welcome +and luxuriously lodged for the night. In the morning, he is awakened +by the song of the court poets outside his chamber. He rises and +betakes himself to the hall where the suitors are gathering. + + +_Sixth canto. The princess chooses_.--The princely suitors assemble in +the hall; then, to the sound of music, the princess enters in a +litter, robed as a bride, and creates a profound sensation. + + For when they saw God's masterpiece, the maid + Who smote their eyes to other objects blind, + Their glances, wishes, hearts, in homage paid, + Flew forth to her; mere flesh remained behind. + + The princes could not but betray their yearning + By sending messengers, their love to bring, + In many a quick, involuntary turning, + As flowering twigs of trees announce the spring. + +Then a maid-servant conducts the princess from one suitor to another, +and explains the claim which each has upon her affection. First is +presented the King of Magadha, recommended in four stanzas, one of +which runs: + + Though other kings by thousands numbered be, + He seems the one, sole governor of earth; + Stars, constellations, planets, fade and flee + When to the moon the night has given birth. + +But the princess is not attracted. + + The slender maiden glanced at him; she glanced + And uttered not a word, nor heeded how + The grass-twined blossoms of her garland danced + When she dismissed him with a formal bow. + +They pass to the next candidate, the king of the Anga country, in +whose behalf this, and more, is said: + + Learning and wealth by nature are at strife, + Yet dwell at peace in him; and for the two + You would be fit companion as his wife, + Like wealth enticing, and like learning true. + +Him too the princess rejects, "not that he was unworthy of love, or +she lacking in discernment, but tastes differ." She is then conducted +to the King of Avanti: + + And if this youthful prince your fancy pleases, + Bewitching maiden, you and he may play + In those unmeasured gardens that the breezes + From Sipra's billows ruffle, cool with spray. + +The inducement is insufficient, and a new candidate is presented, the +King of Anupa, + + A prince whose fathers' glories cannot fade, + By whom the love of learned men is wooed, + Who proves that Fortune is no fickle jade + When he she chooses is not fickly good. + +But alas! + + She saw that he was brave to look upon, + Yet could not feel his love would make her gay; + Full moons of autumn nights, when clouds are gone, + Tempt not the lotus-flowers that bloom by day. + +The King of Shurasena has no better fortune, in spite of his virtues +and his wealth. As a river hurrying to the sea passes by a mountain +that would detain her, so the princess passes him by. She is next +introduced to the king of the Kalinga country; + + His palace overlooks the ocean dark + With windows gazing on the unresting deep, + Whose gentle thunders drown the drums that mark + The hours of night, and wake him from his sleep. + +But the maiden can no more feel at home with him than the goddess of +fortune can with a good but unlucky man. She therefore turns her +attention to the king of the Pandya country in far southern India. But +she is unmoved by hearing of the magic charm of the south, and rejects +him too. + + And every prince rejected while she sought + A husband, darkly frowned, as turrets, bright + One moment with the flame from torches caught, + Frown gloomily again and sink in night. + +The princess then approaches Aja, who trembles lest she pass him by, +as she has passed by the other suitors. The maid who accompanies +Indumati sees that Aja awakens a deeper feeling, and she therefore +gives a longer account of his kingly line, ending with the +recommendation: + + High lineage is his, fresh beauty, youth, + And virtue shaped in kingly breeding's mould; + Choose him, for he is worth your love; in truth, + A gem is ever fitly set in gold. + +The princess looks lovingly at the handsome youth, but cannot speak +for modesty. She is made to understand her own feelings when the maid +invites her to pass on to the next candidate. Then the wreath is +placed round Aja's neck, the people of the city shout their approval, +and the disappointed suitors feel like night-blooming lotuses at +daybreak. + + +_Seventh canto. Aja's marriage_.--While the suitors retire to the +camps where they have left their retainers, Aja conducts Indumati into +the decorated and festive city. The windows are filled with the faces +of eager and excited women, who admire the beauty of the young prince +and the wisdom of the princess's choice. When the marriage ceremony +has been happily celebrated, the disappointed suitors say farewell +with pleasant faces and jealous hearts, like peaceful pools concealing +crocodiles. They lie in ambush on the road which he must take, and +when he passes with his young bride, they fall upon him. Aja provides +for the safety of Indumati, marshals his attendants, and greatly +distinguishes himself in the battle which follows. Finally he uses the +magic weapon, given him by the demigod, to benumb his adversaries, and +leaving them in this helpless condition, returns home. He and his +young bride are joyfully welcomed by King Raghu, who resigns the +kingdom in favour of Aja. + + +_Eighth canto. Aja's lament_.--As soon as King Aja is firmly +established on his throne, Raghu retires to a hermitage to prepare for +the death of his mortal part. After some years of religious meditation +he is released, attaining union with the eternal spirit which is +beyond all darkness. His obsequies are performed by his dutiful son. +Indumati gives birth to a splendid boy, who is named Dasharatha. One +day, as the queen is playing with her husband in the garden, a wreath +of magic flowers falls upon her from heaven, and she dies. The +stricken king clasps the body of his dead beloved, and laments over +her. + + If flowers that hardly touch the body, slay it, + The simplest instruments of fate may bring + Destruction, and we have no power to stay it; + Then must we live in fear of everything? + + No! Death was right. He spared the sterner anguish; + Through gentle flowers your gentle life was lost + As I have seen the lotus fade and languish + When smitten by the slow and silent frost. + + Yet God is hard. With unforgiving rigour + He forged a bolt to crush this heart of mine; + He left the sturdy tree its living vigour, + But stripped away and slew the clinging vine. + + Through all the years, dear, you would not reprove me, + Though I offended. Can you go away + Sudden, without a word? I know you love me, + And I have not offended you to-day. + + You surely thought me faithless, to be banished + As light-of-love and gambler, from your life, + Because without a farewell word, you vanished + And never will return, sweet-smiling wife. + + The warmth and blush that followed after kisses + Is still upon her face, to madden me; + For life is gone, 'tis only life she misses. + A curse upon such life's uncertainty! + + I never wronged you with a thought unspoken, + Still less with actions. Whither are you flown? + Though king in name, I am a man heartbroken, + For power and love took root in you alone. + + Your bee-black hair from which the flowers are peeping, + Dear, wavy hair that I have loved so well, + Stirs in the wind until I think you sleeping, + Soon to return and make my glad heart swell. + + Awake, my love! Let only life be given, + And choking griefs that stifle now, will flee + As darkness from the mountain-cave is driven + By magic herbs that glitter brilliantly. + + The silent face, round which the curls are keeping + Their scattered watch, is sad to look upon + As in the night some lonely lily, sleeping + When musically humming bees are gone. + + The girdle that from girlhood has befriended + You, in love-secrets wise, discreet, and true, + No longer tinkles, now your dance is ended, + Faithful in life, in dying faithful too. + + Your low, sweet voice to nightingales was given; + Your idly graceful movement to the swans; + Your grace to fluttering vines, dear wife in heaven; + Your trustful, wide-eyed glances to the fawns: + + You left your charms on earth, that I, reminded + By them, might be consoled though you depart; + But vainly! Far from you, by sorrow blinded, + I find no prop of comfort for my heart. + + Remember how you planned to make a wedding, + Giving the vine-bride to her mango-tree; + Before that happy day, dear, you are treading + The path with no return. It should not be. + + And this ashoka-tree that you have tended + With eager longing for the blossoms red-- + How can I twine the flowers that should have blended + With living curls, in garlands for the dead? + + The tree remembers how the anklets, tinkling + On graceful feet, delighted other years; + Sad now he droops, your form with sorrow sprinkling, + And sheds his blossoms in a rain of tears. + + Joy's sun is down, all love is fallen and perished, + The song of life is sung, the spring is dead, + Gone is the use of gems that once you cherished, + And empty, ever empty, is my bed. + + You were my comrade gay, my home, my treasure, + You were my bosom's friend, in all things true, + My best-loved pupil in the arts of pleasure: + Stern death took all I had in taking you. + + Still am I king, and rich in kingly fashion, + Yet lacking you, am poor the long years through; + I cannot now be won to any passion, + For all my passions centred, dear, in you. + +Aja commits the body of his beloved queen to the flames. A holy hermit +comes to tell the king that his wife had been a nymph of heaven in a +former existence, and that she has now returned to her home. But Aja +cannot be comforted. He lives eight weary years for the sake of his +young son, then is reunited with his queen in Paradise. + + +_Ninth canto. The hunt_.--This canto introduces us to King Dasharatha, +father of the heroic Rama. It begins with an elaborate description of +his glory, justice, prowess, and piety; then tells of the three +princesses who became his wives: Kausalya, Kaikeyi, and Sumitra. In +the beautiful springtime he takes an extended hunting-trip in the +forest, during which an accident happens, big with fate. + + He left his soldiers far behind one day + In the wood, and following where deer-tracks lay, + Came with his weary horse adrip with foam + To river-banks where hermits made their home. + + And in the stream he heard the water fill + A jar; he heard it ripple clear and shrill, + And shot an arrow, thinking he had found + A trumpeting elephant, toward the gurgling sound. + + Such actions are forbidden to a king, + Yet Dasharatha sinned and did this thing; + For even the wise and learned man is minded + To go astray, by selfish passion blinded. + + He heard the startling cry, "My father!" rise + Among the reeds; rode up; before his eyes + He saw the jar, the wounded hermit boy: + Remorse transfixed his heart and killed his joy. + + He left his horse, this monarch famous far, + Asked him who drooped upon the water-jar + His name, and from the stumbling accents knew + A hermit youth, of lowly birth but true. + + The arrow still undrawn, the monarch bore + Him to his parents who, afflicted sore + With blindness, could not see their only son + Dying, and told them what his hand had done. + + The murderer then obeyed their sad behest + And drew the fixèd arrow from his breast; + The boy lay dead; the father cursed the king, + With tear-stained hands, to equal suffering. + + "In sorrow for your son you too shall die, + An old, old man," he said, "as sad as I." + Poor, trodden snake! He used his venomous sting, + Then heard the answer of the guilty king: + + "Your curse is half a blessing if I see + The longed-for son who shall be born to me: + The scorching fire that sweeps the well-ploughed field, + May burn indeed, but stimulates the yield. + + The deed is done; what kindly act can I + Perform who, pitiless, deserve to die?" + "Bring wood," he begged, "and build a funeral pyre, + That we may seek our son through death by fire." + + The king fulfilled their wish; and while they burned, + In mute, sin-stricken sorrow he returned, + Hiding death's seed within him, as the sea + Hides magic fire that burns eternally. + +Thus is foreshadowed in the birth of Rama, his banishment, and the +death of his father. + +Cantos ten to fifteen form the kernel of the epic, for they tell the +story of Rama, the mighty hero of Raghu's line. In these cantos +Kalidasa attempts to present anew, with all the literary devices of a +more sophisticated age, the famous old epic story sung in masterly +fashion by the author of the _Ramayana_. As the poet is treading +ground familiar to all who hear him, the action of these cantos is +very compressed. + + +_Tenth canto. The incarnation of Rama_.--While Dasharatha, desiring a +son, is childless, the gods, oppressed by a giant adversary, betake +themselves to Vishnu, seeking aid. They sing a hymn of praise, a part +of which is given here. + + O thou who didst create this All, + Who dost preserve it, lest it fall, + Who wilt destroy it and its ways-- + To thee, O triune Lord, be praise. + + As into heaven's water run + The tastes of earth--yet it is one, + So thou art all the things that range + The universe, yet dost not change. + + Far, far removed, yet ever near; + Untouched by passion, yet austere; + Sinless, yet pitiful of heart; + Ancient, yet free from age--Thou art. + + Though uncreate, thou seekest birth; + Dreaming, thou watchest heaven and earth; + Passionless, smitest low thy foes; + Who knows thy nature, Lord? Who knows? + + Though many different paths, O Lord, + May lead us to some great reward, + They gather and are merged in thee + Like floods of Ganges in the sea. + + The saints who give thee every thought, + Whose every act for thee is wrought, + Yearn for thine everlasting peace, + For bliss with thee, that cannot cease. + + Like pearls that grow in ocean's night, + Like sunbeams radiantly bright, + Thy strange and wonder-working ways + Defeat extravagance of praise. + + If songs that to thy glory tend + Should weary grow or take an end, + Our impotence must bear the blame, + And not thine unexhausted name. + +Vishnu is gratified by the praise of the gods, and asks their desire. +They inform him that they are distressed by Ravana, the giant king of +Lanka (Ceylon), whom they cannot conquer. Vishnu promises to aid them +by descending to earth in a new avatar, as son of Dasharatha. Shortly +afterwards, an angel appears before King Dasharatha, bringing in a +golden bowl a substance which contains the essence of Vishnu. The king +gives it to his three wives, who thereupon conceive and dream +wonderful dreams. Then Queen Kausalya gives birth to Rama; Queen +Kaikeyi to Bharata; Queen Sumitra to twins, Lakshmana and Shatrughna. +Heaven and earth rejoice. The four princes grow up in mutual +friendship, yet Rama and Lakshmana are peculiarly drawn to each other, +as are Bharata and Shatrughna. So beautiful and so modest are the four +boys that they seem like incarnations of the four things worth living +for--virtue, money, love, and salvation. + + +_Eleventh canto. The victory over Rama-with-the-axe_.--At the request +of the holy hermit Vishvamitra, the two youths Rama and Lakshmana +visit his hermitage, to protect it from evil spirits. The two lads +little suspect, on their maiden journey, how much of their lives will +be spent in wandering together in the forest. On the way they are +attacked by a giantess, whom Rama kills; the first of many giants who +are to fall at his hand. He is given magic weapons by the hermit, with +which he and his brother kill other giants, freeing the hermitage from +all annoyance. The two brothers then travel with the hermit to the +city of Mithila, attracted thither by hearing of its king, his +wonderful daughter, and his wonderful bow. The bow was given him by +the god Shiva; no man has been able to bend it; and the beautiful +princess's hand is the prize of any man who can perform the feat. On +the way thither, Rama brings to life Ahalya, a woman who in a former +age had been changed to stone for unfaithfulness to her austere +husband, and had been condemned to remain a stone until trodden by +Rama's foot. Without further adventure, they reach Mithila, where the +hermit presents Rama as a candidate for the bending of the bow. + + The king beheld the boy, with beauty blest + And famous lineage; he sadly thought + How hard it was to bend the bow, distressed + Because his child must be so dearly bought. + + He said: "O holy one, a mighty deed + That full-grown elephants with greatest pain + Could hardly be successful in, we need + Not ask of elephant-cubs. It would be vain. + + For many splendid kings of valorous name, + Bearing the scars of many a hard-fought day, + Have tried and failed; then, covered with their shame, + Have shrugged their shoulders, cursed, and strode away." + +Yet when the bow is given to the youthful Rama, he not only bends, but +breaks it. He is immediately rewarded with the hand of the Princess +Sita, while Lakshmana marries her sister. On their journey home with +their young brides, dreadful portents appear, followed by their cause, +a strange being called Rama-with-the-axe, who is carefully to be +distinguished from Prince Rama. This Rama-with-the-axe is a Brahman +who has sworn to exterminate the entire warrior caste, and who +naturally attacks the valorous prince. He makes light of Rama's +achievement in breaking Shiva's bow, and challenges him to bend the +mightier bow which he carries. This the prince succeeds in doing, and +Rama-with-the-axe disappears, shamed and defeated. The marriage party +then continues its journey to Ayodhya. + + +_Twelfth canto. The killing of Ravana_.--King Dasharatha prepares to +anoint Rama crown prince, when Queen Kaikeyi interposes. On an earlier +occasion she had rendered the king a service and received his promise +that he would grant her two boons, whatever she desired. She now +demands her two boons: the banishment of Rama for fourteen years, and +the anointing of her own son Bharata as crown prince. Rama thereupon +sets out for the Dandaka forest in Southern India, accompanied by his +faithful wife Sita and his devoted brother Lakshmana. The stricken +father dies of grief, thus fulfilling the hermit's curse. Now Prince +Bharata proves himself more generous than his mother; he refuses the +kingdom, and is with great difficulty persuaded by Rama himself to act +as regent during the fourteen years. Even so, he refuses to enter the +capital city, dwelling in a village outside the walls, and preserving +Rama's slippers as a symbol of the rightful king. Meanwhile Rama's +little party penetrates the wild forests of the south, fighting as +need arises with the giants there. Unfortunately, a giantess falls in +love with Rama, and + + In Sita's very presence told + Her birth--love made her overbold: + For mighty passion, as a rule, + Will change a woman to a fool. + +Scorned by Rama, laughed at by Sita, she becomes furious and +threatening. + + Laugh on! Your laughter's fruit shall be + Commended to you. Gaze on me! + I am a tigress, you shall know, + Insulted by a feeble doe. + +Lakshmana thereupon cuts off her nose and ears, rendering her +redundantly hideous. She departs, to return presently at the head of +an army of giants, whom Rama defeats single-handed, while his brother +guards Sita. The giantess then betakes herself to her brother, the +terrible ten-headed Ravana, king of Ceylon. He succeeds in capturing +Sita by a trick, and carries her off to his fortress in Ceylon. It is +plainly necessary for Rama to seek allies before attempting to cross +the straits and attack the stronghold. He therefore renders an +important service to the monkey king Sugriva, who gratefully leads an +army of monkeys to his assistance. The most valiant of these, Hanumat, +succeeds in entering Ravana's capital, where he finds Sita, gives her +a token from Rama, and receives a token for Rama. The army thereupon +sets out and comes to the seashore, where it is reinforced by the +giant Vibhishana, who has deserted his wicked brother Ravana. The +monkeys hurl great boulders into the strait, thus forming a bridge +over which they cross into Ceylon and besiege Ravana's capital. There +ensue many battles between the giants and the monkeys, culminating in +a tremendous duel between the champions, Rama and Ravana. In this duel +Ravana is finally slain. Rama recovers his wife, and the principal +personages of the army enter the flying chariot which had belonged to +Ravana, to return to Ayodhya; for the fourteen years of exile are now +over. + + +_Thirteenth canto. The return from the forest_.--This canto describes +the long journey through the air from Ceylon over the whole length of +India to Ayodhya. As the celestial car makes its journey, Rama points +out the objects of interest or of memory to Sita. Thus, as they fly +over the sea: + + The form of ocean, infinitely changing, + Clasping the world and all its gorgeous state, + Unfathomed by the intellect's wide ranging, + Is awful like the form of God, and great. + + He gives his billowy lips to many a river + That into his embrace with passion slips, + Lover of many wives, a generous giver + Of kisses, yet demanding eager lips. + + Look back, my darling, with your fawn-like glances + Upon the path that from your prison leads; + See how the sight of land again entrances, + How fair the forest, as the sea recedes. + +Then, as they pass over the spot where Rama searched for his stolen +wife: + + There is the spot where, sorrowfully searching, + I found an anklet on the ground one day; + It could not tinkle, for it was not perching + On your dear foot, but sad and silent lay. + + I learned where you were carried by the giant + From vines that showed themselves compassionate; + They could not utter words, yet with their pliant + Branches they pointed where you passed of late. + + The deer were kind; for while the juicy grasses + Fell quite unheeded from each careless mouth, + They turned wide eyes that said, "'Tis there she passes + The hours as weary captive" toward the south. + + There is the mountain where the peacocks' screaming, + And branches smitten fragrant by the rain, + And madder-flowers that woke at last from dreaming, + Made unendurable my lonely pain; + + And mountain-caves where I could scarce dissemble + The woe I felt when thunder crashed anew, + For I remembered how you used to tremble + At thunder, seeking arms that longed for you. + +Rama then points out the spots in Southern India where he and Sita had +dwelt in exile, and the pious hermitages which they had visited; +later, the holy spot where the Jumna River joins the Ganges; finally, +their distant home, unseen for fourteen years, and the well-known +river, from which spray-laden breezes come to them like cool, +welcoming hands. When they draw near, Prince Bharata comes forth to +welcome them, and the happy procession approaches the capital city. + + +_Fourteenth canto. Sita is put away_.--The exiles are welcomed by +Queen Kausalya and Queen Sumitra with a joy tinged with deep +melancholy. After the long-deferred anointing of Rama as king, comes +the triumphal entry into the ancestral capital, where Rama begins his +virtuous reign with his beloved queen most happily; for the very +hardships endured in the forest turn into pleasures when remembered in +the palace. To crown the king's joy, Sita becomes pregnant, and +expresses a wish to visit the forest again. At this point, where an +ordinary story would end, comes the great tragedy, the tremendous test +of Rama's character. The people begin to murmur about the queen, +believing that she could not have preserved her purity in the giant's +palace. Rama knows that she is innocent, but he also knows that he +cannot be a good king while the people feel as they do; and after a +pitiful struggle, he decides to put away his beloved wife. He bids his +brother Lakshmana take her to the forest, in accordance with her +request, but to leave her there at the hermitage of the sage Valmiki. +When this is done, and Sita hears the terrible future from Lakshmana, +she cries: + + Take reverent greeting to the queens, my mothers, + And say to each with honour due her worth: + "My child is your son's child, and not another's; + Oh, pray for him, before he comes to birth." + + And tell the king from me: "You saw the matter, + How I was guiltless proved in fire divine; + Will you desert me for mere idle chatter? + Are such things done in Raghu's royal line? + + Ah no! I cannot think you fickle-minded, + For you were always very kind to me; + Fate's thunderclap by which my eyes are blinded + Rewards my old, forgotten sins, I see. + + Oh, I could curse my life and quickly end it, + For it is useless, lived from you apart, + But that I bear within, and must defend it, + Your life, your child and mine, beneath my heart. + + When he is born, I'll scorn my queenly station, + Gaze on the sun, and live a hell on earth, + That I may know no pain of separation + From you, my husband, in another birth. + + My king! Eternal duty bids you never + Forget a hermit who for sorrow faints; + Though I am exiled from your bed for ever, + I claim the care you owe to all the saints." + +So she accepts her fate with meek courage. But + + When Rama's brother left her there to languish + And bore to them she loved her final word, + She loosed her throat in an excess of anguish + And screamed as madly as a frightened bird. + + Trees shed their flowers, the peacock-dances ended, + The grasses dropped from mouths of feeding deer, + As if the universal forest blended + Its tears with hers, and shared her woeful fear. + +While she laments thus piteously, she is discovered by the poet-sage +Valmiki, who consoles her with tender and beautiful words, and +conducts her to his hermitage, where she awaits the time of her +confinement. Meanwhile Rama leads a dreary life, finding duty but a +cold comforter. He makes a golden statue of his wife, and will not +look at other women. + + +_Fifteenth canto. Rama goes to heaven_.--The canto opens with a rather +long description of a fight between Rama's youngest brother and a +giant. On the journey to meet the giant, Shatrughna spends a night in +Valmiki's hermitage, and that very night Sita gives birth to twin +sons. Valmiki gives them the names Kusha and Lava, and when they grow +out of childhood he teaches them his own composition, the _Ramayana_, +"the sweet story of Rama," "the first path shown to poets." At this +time the young son of a Brahman dies in the capital, and the father +laments at the king's gate, for he believes that the king is unworthy, +else heaven would not send death prematurely. Rama is roused to stamp +out evil-doing in the kingdom, whereupon the dead boy comes to life. +The king then feels that his task on earth is nearly done, and +prepares to celebrate the great horse-sacrifice.[4] + +At this sacrifice appear the two youths Kusha and Lava, who sing the +epic of Rama's deeds in the presence of Rama himself. The father +perceives their likeness to himself, then learns that they are indeed +his children, whom he has never seen. Thereupon Sita is brought +forward by the poet-sage Valmiki and in the presence of her husband +and her detractors establishes her constant purity in a terrible +fashion. + + "If I am faithful to my lord + In thought, in action, and in word, + I pray that Earth who bears us all + May bid me in her bosom fall." + + The faithful wife no sooner spoke + Than earth divided, and there broke + From deep within a flashing light + That flamed like lightning, blinding-bright. + + And, seated on a splendid throne + Upheld by serpents' hoods alone, + The goddess Earth rose visibly, + And she was girded with the sea. + + Sita was clasped in her embrace, + While still she gazed on Rama's face: + He cried aloud in wild despair; + She sank, and left him standing there. + +Rama then establishes his brothers, sons, and nephews in different +cities of the kingdom, buries the three queens of his father, and +awaits death. He has not long to wait; Death comes, wearing a hermit's +garb, asks for a private interview, and threatens any who shall +disturb their conference. Lakshmana disturbs them, and so dies before +Rama. Then Rama is translated. + +Cantos sixteen to nineteen form the third division of the epic, and +treat of Rama's descendants. The interest wanes, for the great hero is +gone. + + +_Sixteenth canto. Kumudvati's wedding_.--As Kusha lies awake one +night, a female figure appears in his chamber; and in answer to his +question, declares that she is the presiding goddess of the ancient +capital Ayodhya, which has been deserted since Rama's departure to +heaven. She pictures the sad state of the city thus: + + I have no king; my towers and terraces + Crumble and fall; my walls are overthrown; + As when the ugly winds of evening seize + The rack of clouds in helpless darkness blown. + + In streets where maidens gaily passed at night, + Where once was known the tinkle and the shine + Of anklets, jackals slink, and by the light + Of flashing fangs, seek carrion, snarl, and whine. + + The water of the pools that used to splash + With drumlike music, under maidens' hands, + Groans now when bisons from the jungle lash + It with their clumsy horns, and roil its sands. + + The peacock-pets are wild that once were tame; + They roost on trees, not perches; lose desire + For dancing to the drums; and feel no shame + For fans singed close by sparks of forest-fire. + + On stairways where the women once were glad + To leave their pink and graceful footprints, here + Unwelcome, blood-stained paws of tigers pad, + Fresh-smeared from slaughter of the forest deer. + + Wall-painted elephants in lotus-brooks, + Receiving each a lily from his mate, + Are torn and gashed, as if by cruel hooks, + By claws of lions, showing furious hate. + + I see my pillared caryatides + Neglected, weathered, stained by passing time, + Wearing in place of garments that should please, + The skins of sloughing cobras, foul with slime. + + The balconies grow black with long neglect, + And grass-blades sprout through floors no longer tight; + They still receive but cannot now reflect + The old, familiar moonbeams, pearly white. + + The vines that blossomed in my garden bowers, + That used to show their graceful beauty, when + Girls gently bent their twigs and plucked their flowers, + Are broken by wild apes and wilder men. + + The windows are not lit by lamps at night, + Nor by fair faces shining in the day, + But webs of spiders dim the delicate, light + Smoke-tracery with one mere daub of grey. + + The river is deserted; on the shore + No gaily bathing men and maidens leave + Food for the swans; its reedy bowers no more + Are vocal: seeing this, I can but grieve. + +The goddess therefore begs Kusha to return with his court to the old +capital, and when he assents, she smiles and vanishes. The next +morning Kusha announces the vision of the night, and immediately sets +out for Ayodhya with his whole army. Arrived there, King Kusha quickly +restores the city to its former splendour. Then when the hot summer +comes, the king goes down to the river to bathe with the ladies of the +court. While in the water he loses a great gem which his father had +given him. The divers are unable to find it, and declare their belief +that it has been stolen by the serpent Kumuda who lives in the river. +The king threatens to shoot an arrow into the river, whereupon the +waters divide, and the serpent appears with the gem. He is accompanied +by a beautiful maiden, whom he introduces as his sister Kumudvati, and +whom he offers in marriage to Kusha. The offer is accepted, and the +wedding celebrated with great pomp. + + +_Seventeenth canto. King Atithi_.--To the king and queen is born a +son, who is named Atithi. When he has grown into manhood, his father +Kusha engages in a struggle with a demon, in which the king is killed +in the act of killing his adversary. He goes to heaven, followed by +his faithful queen, and Atithi is anointed king. The remainder of the +canto describes King Atithi's glorious reign. + + +_Eighteenth canto. The later princes_.--This canto gives a brief, +impressionistic sketch of the twenty-one kings who in their order +succeeded Atithi. + + +_Nineteenth canto. The loves of Agnivarna_.--After the twenty-one +kings just mentioned, there succeeds a king named Agnivarna, who gives +himself to dissipation. He shuts himself up in the palace; even when +duty requires him to appear before his subjects, he does so merely by +hanging one foot out of a window. He trains dancing-girls himself, and +has so many mistresses that he cannot always call them by their right +names. It is not wonderful that this kind of life leads before long to +a consuming disease; and as Agnivarna is even then unable to resist +the pleasures of the senses, he dies. His queen is pregnant, and she +mounts the throne as regent in behalf of her unborn son. With this +strange scene, half tragic, half vulgar, the epic, in the form in +which it has come down to us, abruptly ends. + +If we now endeavour to form some critical estimate of the poem, we are +met at the outset by this strangely unnatural termination. We cannot +avoid wondering whether the poem as we have it is complete. And we +shall find that there are good reasons for believing that Kalidasa did +not let the glorious solar line end in the person of the voluptuous +Agnivarna and his unborn child. In the first place, there is a +constant tradition which affirms that _The Dynasty of Raghu_ +originally consisted of twenty-five cantos. A similar tradition +concerning Kalidasa's second epic has justified itself; for some time +only seven cantos were known; then more were discovered, and we now +have seventeen. Again, there is a rhetorical rule, almost never +disregarded, which requires a literary work to end with an epilogue in +the form of a little prayer for the welfare of readers or auditors. +Kalidasa himself complies with this rule, certainly in five of his +other six books. Once again, Kalidasa has nothing of the tragedian in +his soul; his works, without exception, end happily. In the drama +_Urvashi_ he seriously injures a splendid old tragic story for the +sake of a happy ending. These facts all point to the probability that +the conclusion of the epic has been lost. We may even assign a +natural, though conjectural, reason for this. _The Dynasty of Raghu_ +has been used for centuries as a text-book in India, so that +manuscripts abound, and commentaries are very numerous. Now if the +concluding cantos were unfitted for use as a text-book, they might +very easily be lost during the centuries before the introduction of +printing-presses into India. Indeed, this very unfitness for use as a +school text seems to be the explanation of the temporary loss of +several cantos of Kalidasa's second epic. + +On the other hand, we are met by the fact that numerous commentators, +living in different parts of India, know the text of only nineteen +cantos. Furthermore, it is unlikely that Kalidasa left the poem +incomplete at his death; for it was, without serious question, one of +his earlier works. Apart from evidences of style, there is the +subject-matter of the introductory stanzas, in which the poet presents +himself as an aspirant for literary fame. No writer of established +reputation would be likely to say: + + The fool who seeks a poet's fame, + Must look for ridicule and blame, + Like tiptoe dwarf who fain would try + To pluck the fruit for giants high. + +In only one other of his writings, in the drama which was undoubtedly +written earlier than the other two dramas, does the poet thus present +his feeling of diffidence to his auditors. + +It is of course possible that Kalidasa wrote the first nineteen cantos +when a young man, intending to add more, then turned to other matters, +and never afterwards cared to take up the rather thankless task of +ending a youthful work. + +The question does not admit of final solution. Yet whoever reads and +re-reads _The Dynasty of Raghu_, and the other works of its author, +finds the conviction growing ever stronger that our poem in nineteen +cantos is mutilated. We are thus enabled to clear the author of the +charge of a lame and impotent conclusion. + +Another adverse criticism cannot so readily be disposed of; that of a +lack of unity in the plot. As the poem treats of a kingly dynasty, we +frequently meet the cry: The king is dead. Long live the king! The +story of Rama himself occupies only six cantos; he is not born until +the tenth canto, he is in heaven after the fifteenth. There are in +truth six heroes, each of whom has to die to make room for his +successor. One may go farther and say that it is not possible to give +a brief and accurate title to the poem. It is not a _Ramayana_, or +epic of Rama's deeds, for Rama is on the stage during only a third of +the poem. It is not properly an epic of Raghu's line, for many kings +of this line are unmentioned. Not merely kings who escape notice by +their obscurity, but also several who fill a large place in Indian +story, whose deeds and adventures are splendidly worthy of epic +treatment. _The Dynasty of Raghu_ is rather an epic poem in which Rama +is the central figure, giving it such unity as it possesses, but which +provides Rama with a most generous background in the shape of selected +episodes concerning his ancestors and his descendants. + +Rama is the central figure. Take him away and the poem falls to pieces +like a pearl necklace with a broken string. Yet it may well be doubted +whether the cantos dealing with Rama are the most successful. They are +too compressed, too briefly allusive. Kalidasa attempts to tell the +story in about one-thirtieth of the space given to it by his great +predecessor Valmiki. The result is much loss by omission and much loss +by compression. Many of the best episodes of the _Ramayana_ are quite +omitted by Kalidasa: for example, the story of the jealous humpback +who eggs on Queen Kaikeyi to demand her two boons; the beautiful scene +in which Sita insists on following Rama into the forest; the account +of the somnolent giant Pot-ear, a character quite as good as +Polyphemus. Other fine episodes are so briefly alluded to as to lose +all their charm: for example, the story of the golden deer that +attracts the attention of Rama while Ravana is stealing his wife; the +journey of the monkey Hanumat to Ravana's fortress and his interview +with Sita. + +The Rama-story, as told by Valmiki, is one of the great epic stories +of the world. It has been for two thousand years and more the story +_par excellence_ of the Hindus; and the Hindus may fairly claim to be +the best story-tellers of the world. There is therefore real matter +for regret in the fact that so great a poet as Kalidasa should have +treated it in a way not quite worthy of it and of himself. The reason +is not far to seek, nor can there be any reasonable doubt as to its +truth. Kalidasa did not care to put himself into direct competition +with Valmiki. The younger poet's admiration of his mighty predecessor +is clearly expressed. It is with especial reference to Valmiki that he +says in his introduction: + + Yet I may enter through the door + That mightier poets pierced of yore; + A thread may pierce a jewel, but + Must follow where the diamond cut. + +He introduces Valmiki into his own epic, making him compose the +_Ramayana_ in Rama's lifetime. Kalidasa speaks of Valmiki as "the +poet," and the great epic he calls "the sweet story of Rama," "the +first path shown to poets," which, when sung by the two boys, was +heard with motionless delight by the deer, and, when sung before a +gathering of learned men, made them heedless of the tears that rolled +down their cheeks. + +Bearing these matters in mind, we can see the course of Kalidasa's +thoughts almost as clearly as if he had expressed them directly. He +was irresistibly driven to write the wonderful story of Rama, as any +poet would be who became familiar with it. At the same time, his +modesty prevented him from challenging the old epic directly. He +therefore writes a poem which shall appeal to the hallowed association +that cluster round the great name of Rama, but devotes two-thirds of +it to themes that permit him greater freedom. The result is a formless +plot. + +This is a real weakness, yet not a fatal weakness. In general, +literary critics lay far too much emphasis on plot. Of the elements +that make a great book, two, style and presentation of character, +hardly permit critical analysis. The third, plot, does permit such +analysis. Therefore the analyst overrates its importance. It is fatal +to all claim of greatness in a narrative if it is shown to have a bad +style or to be without interesting characters. It is not fatal if it +is shown that the plot is rambling. In recent literature it is easy to +find truly great narratives in which the plot leaves much to be +desired. We may cite the _Pickwick Papers, Les Misérables, War and +Peace_. + +We must then regard _The Dynasty of Raghu_ as a poem in which single +episodes take a stronger hold upon the reader than does the unfolding +of an ingenious plot. In some degree, this is true of all long poems. +The _Æneid_ itself, the most perfect long poem ever written, has dull +passages. And when this allowance is made, what wonderful passages we +have in Kalidasa's poem! One hardly knows which of them makes the +strongest appeal, so many are they and so varied. There is the +description of the small boy Raghu in the third canto, the choice of +the princess in the sixth, the lament of King Aja in the eighth, the +story of Dasharatha and the hermit youth in the ninth, the account of +the ruined city in the sixteenth. Besides these, the Rama cantos, ten +to fifteen, make an epic within an epic. And if Kalidasa is not seen +at his very best here, yet his second best is of a higher quality than +the best of others. Also, the Rama story is so moving that a mere +allusion to it stirs like a sentimental memory of childhood. It has +the usual qualities of a good epic story: abundance of travel and +fighting and adventure and magic interweaving of human with +superhuman, but it has more than this. In both hero and heroine there +is real development of character. Odysseus and Æneas do not grow; they +go through adventures. But King Rama, torn between love for his wife +and duty to his subjects, is almost a different person from the +handsome, light-hearted prince who won his bride by breaking Shiva's +bow. Sita, faithful to the husband who rejects her, has made a long, +character-forming journey since the day when she left her father's +palace, a youthful bride. Herein lies the unique beauty of the tale of +Rama, that it unites romantic love and moral conflict with a splendid +story of wild adventure. No wonder that the Hindus, connoisseurs of +story-telling, have loved the tale of Rama's deeds better than any +other story. + +If we compare _The Dynasty of Raghu_ with Kalidasa's other books, we +find it inferior to _The Birth of the War-god_ in unity of plot, +inferior to _Shakuntala_ in sustained interest, inferior to _The +Cloud-Messenger_ in perfection of every detail. Yet passages in it are +as high and sweet as anything in these works. And over it is shed the +magic charm of Kalidasa's style. Of that it is vain to speak. It can +be had only at first hand. The final proof that _The Dynasty of Raghu_ +is a very great poem, is this: no one who once reads it can leave it +alone thereafter.{} + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: If a king aspired to the title of emperor, or king of +kings, he was at liberty to celebrate the horse-sacrifice. A horse was +set free to wander at will for a year, and was escorted by a band of +noble youths who were not permitted to interfere with his movements. +If the horse wandered into the territory of another king, such king +must either submit to be the vassal of the horse's owner, or must +fight him. If the owner of the horse received the submission, with or +without fighting, of all the kings into whose territories the horse +wandered during the year of freedom, he offered the horse in sacrifice +and assumed the imperial title.] + +[Footnote 2: This is not the place to discuss the many interesting +questions of geography and ethnology suggested by the fourth canto. +But it is important to notice that Kalidasa had at least superficial +knowledge of the entire Indian peninsula and of certain outlying +regions.] + +[Footnote 3: A girl of the warrior caste had the privilege of choosing +her husband. The procedure was this. All the eligible youths of the +neighbourhood were invited to her house, and were lavishly +entertained. On the appointed day, they assembled in a hall of the +palace, and the maiden entered with a garland in her hand. The suitors +were presented to her with some account of their claims upon her +attention, after which she threw the garland around the neck of him +whom she preferred.] + +[Footnote 4: See footnote, p. 128.] + + * * * * * + + + + +THE BIRTH OF THE WAR-GOD + + +_The Birth of the War-god_ is an epic poem in seventeen cantos. It +consists of 1096 stanzas, or about 4400 lines of verse. The subject is +the marriage of the god Shiva, the birth of his son, and the victory +of this son over a powerful demon. The story was not invented by +Kalidasa, but taken from old mythology. Yet it had never been told in +so masterly a fashion as had been the story of Rama's deeds by +Valmiki. Kalidasa is therefore under less constraint in writing this +epic than in writing _The Dynasty of Raghu_. I give first a somewhat +detailed analysis of the matter of the poem. + +_First canto. The birth of Parvati_.--The poem begins with a +description of the great Himalaya mountain-range. + + God of the distant north, the Snowy Range + O'er other mountains towers imperially; + Earth's measuring-rod, being great and free from change, + Sinks to the eastern and the western sea. + + Whose countless wealth of natural gems is not + Too deeply blemished by the cruel snow; + One fault for many virtues is forgot, + The moon's one stain for beams that endless flow. + + Where demigods enjoy the shade of clouds + Girding his lower crests, but often seek, + When startled by the sudden rain that shrouds + His waist, some loftier, ever sunlit peak. + + Where bark of birch-trees makes, when torn in strips + And streaked with mountain minerals that blend + To written words 'neath dainty finger-tips, + Such dear love-letters as the fairies send. + + Whose organ-pipes are stems of bamboo, which + Are filled from cavern-winds that know no rest, + As if the mountain strove to set the pitch + For songs that angels sing upon his crest. + + Where magic herbs that glitter in the night + Are lamps that need no oil within them, when + They fill cave-dwellings with their shimmering light + And shine upon the loves of mountain men. + + Who offers roof and refuge in his caves + To timid darkness shrinking from the day; + A lofty soul is generous; he saves + Such honest cowards as for protection pray, + + Who brings to birth the plants of sacrifice; + Who steadies earth, so strong is he and broad. + The great Creator, for this service' price, + Made him the king of mountains, and a god. + +Himalaya marries a wife, to whom in course of time a daughter is born, +as wealth is born when ambition pairs with character. The child is +named Parvati, that is, daughter of the mountain. Her father takes +infinite delight in her, as well he may; for + + She brought him purity and beauty too, + As white flames to the lamp that burns at night; + Or Ganges to the path whereby the true + Reach heaven; or judgment to the erudite. + +She passes through a happy childhood of sand-piles, balls, dolls, and +little girl friends, when all at once young womanhood comes upon her. + + As pictures waken to the painter's brush, + Or lilies open to the morning sun, + Her perfect beauty answered to the flush + Of womanhood when childish days were done. + + Suppose a blossom on a leafy spray; + Suppose a pearl on spotless coral laid: + Such was the smile, pure, radiantly gay, + That round her red, red lips for ever played. + + And when she spoke, the music of her tale + Was sweet, the music of her voice to suit, + Till listeners felt as if the nightingale + Had grown discordant like a jangled lute. + +It is predicted by a heavenly being that she will one day become the +wife of the god Shiva. This prediction awakens her father's pride, and +also his impatience, since Shiva makes no advances. For the destined +bridegroom is at this time leading a life of stern austerity and +self-denial upon a mountain peak. Himalaya therefore bids his daughter +wait upon Shiva. She does so, but without being able to divert him +from his austerities. + + +_Second canto. Brahma's self-revelation_.--At this time, the gods +betake themselves to Brahma, the Creator, and sing a hymn of praise, a +part of which is given here. + + Before creation, thou art one; + Three, when creation's work is done: + All praise and honour unto thee + In this thy mystic trinity. + + Three various forms and functions three + Proclaim thy living majesty; + Thou dost create, and then maintain, + And last, destroyest all again. + + Thy slow recurrent day and night + Bring death to all, or living light. + We live beneath thy waking eye; + Thou sleepest, and thy creatures die. + + Solid and fluid, great and small, + And light and heavy--Thou art all; + Matter and form are both in thee: + Thy powers are past discovery.[] + + Thou art the objects that unroll + Their drama for the passive soul; + Thou art the soul that views the play + Indifferently, day by day. + + Thou art the knower and the known; + Eater and food art thou alone; + The priest and his oblation fair; + The prayerful suppliant and the prayer. + +Brahma receives their worship graciously, and asks the reason of their +coming. The spokesman of the gods explains to Brahma how a great demon +named Taraka is troubling the world, and how helpless they are in +opposing him. They have tried the most extravagant propitiation, and +found it useless. + + The sun in heaven dare not glow + With undiminished heat, but so + As that the lilies may awake + Which blossom in his pleasure-lake. + + The wind blows gently as it can + To serve him as a soothing fan, + And dare not manifest its power, + Lest it should steal a garden flower. + + The seasons have forgotten how + To follow one another now; + They simultaneously bring + Him flowers of autumn, summer, spring. + + Such adoration makes him worse; + He troubles all the universe: + Kindness inflames a rascal's mind; + He should be recompensed in kind. + + And all the means that we have tried + Against the rogue, are brushed aside, + As potent herbs have no avail + When bodily powers begin to fail. + + We seek a leader, O our Lord, + To bring him to his just reward-- + As saints seek evermore to win + Virtue, to end life's woe and sin-- + + That he may guide the heavenly host, + And guard us to the uttermost, + And from our foe lead captive back + The victory which still we lack. + +Brahma answers that the demon's power comes from him, and he does not +feel at liberty to proceed against it; "for it is not fitting to cut +down even a poison-tree that one's own hand has planted." But he +promises that a son shall be born to Shiva and Parvati, who shall lead +the gods to victory. With this answer the gods are perforce content, +and their king, Indra, waits upon the god of love, to secure his +necessary co-operation. + + +_Third canto. The burning of Love_.--Indra waits upon Love, who asks +for his commands. Indra explains the matter, and asks Love to inflame +Shiva with passion for Parvati. Love thereupon sets out, accompanied +by his wife Charm and his friend Spring. When they reach the mountain +where Shiva dwells, Spring shows his power. The snow disappears; the +trees put forth blossoms; bees, deer, and birds waken to new life. The +only living being that is not influenced by the sudden change of +season is Shiva, who continues his meditation, unmoved. Love himself +is discouraged, until he sees the beauty of Parvati, when he takes +heart again. At this moment, Shiva chances to relax his meditation, +and Parvati approaches to do him homage. Love seizes the lucky moment, +and prepares to shoot his bewildering arrow at Shiva. But the great +god sees him, and before the arrow is discharged, darts fire from his +eye, whereby Love is consumed. Charm falls in a swoon, Shiva vanishes, +and the wretched Parvati is carried away by her father. + + +_Fourth canto. The lament of Charm_.--This canto is given entire. + + The wife of Love lay helpless in a swoon, + Till wakened by a fate whose deadliest sting + Was preparation of herself full soon + To taste the youthful widow's sorrowing. + + Her opening eyes were fixed with anxious thought + On every spot where he might be, in vain, + Were gladdened nowhere by the sight she sought, + The lover she should never see again. + + She rose and cried aloud: "Dost thou yet live, + Lord of my life?" And at the last she found + Him whom the wrathful god could not forgive, + Her Love, a trace of ashes on the ground. + + With breaking heart, with lovely bosom stained + By cold embrace of earth, with flying hair, + She wept and to the forest world complained, + As if the forest in her grief might share. + + "Thy beauty slew the pride that maidens cherish; + Perfect its loveliness in every part; + I saw that beauty fade away and perish, + Yet did not die. How hard is woman's heart! + + Where art thou gone? Thy love a moment only + Endured, and I for ever need its power; + Gone like the stream that leaves the lily lonely, + When the dam breaks, to mourn her dying flower. + + Thou never didst a thing to cause me anguish; + I never did a thing to work thee harm; + Why should I thus in vain affliction languish? + Why not return to bless thy grieving Charm? + + Of playful chastisements art thou reminded, + Thy flirtings punished by my girdle-strands, + Thine eyes by flying dust of blossoms blinded, + Held for thy meet correction in these hands? + + I loved to hear the name thou gav'st me often + 'Heart of my heart,' Alas! It was not true, + But lulling phrase, my coming grief to soften: + Else in thy death, my life had ended, too. + + Think not that on the journey thou hast taken + So newly, I should fail to find thy track; + Ah, but the world! The world is quite forsaken, + For life is love; no life, when thee they lack. + + Thou gone, my love, what power can guide the maiden + Through veils of midnight darkness in the town + To the eager heart with loving fancies laden, + And fortify against the storm-cloud's frown? + + The wine that teaches eyes their gladdest dances, + That bids the love-word trippingly to glide, + Is now deception; for if flashing glances + Lead not to love, they lead to naught beside. + + And when he knows thy life is a remembrance, + Thy friend the moon will feel his shining vain, + Will cease to show the world a circle's semblance, + And even in his waxing time, will wane. + + Slowly the mango-blossoms are unfolding + On twigs where pink is struggling with the green, + Greeted by koïl-birds sweet concert holding-- + Thou dead, who makes of flowers an arrow keen? + + Or weaves a string of bees with deft invention, + To speed the missile when the bow is bent? + They buzz about me now with kind intention, + And mortify the grief which they lament. + + Arise! Assume again thy radiant beauty! + Rebuke the koïl-bird, whom nature taught + Such sweet persuasion; she forgets her duty + As messenger to bosoms passion-fraught. + + Well I remember, Love, thy suppliant motion, + Thy trembling, quick embrace, the moments blest + By fervent, self-surrendering devotion-- + And memories like these deny me rest. + + Well didst thou know thy wife; the springtime garland, + Wrought by thy hands, O charmer of thy Charm! + Remains to bid me grieve, while in a far land + Thy body seeks repose from earthly harm. + + Thy service by the cruel gods demanded, + Meant service to thy wife left incomplete, + My bare feet with coquettish streakings banded-- + Return to end the adorning of my feet. + + No, straight to thee I fly, my body given, + A headlong moth, to quick-consuming fire, + Or e'er my cunning rivals, nymphs in heaven, + Awake in thee an answering desire. + + Yet, dearest, even this short delay is fated + For evermore a deep reproach to prove, + A stain that may not be obliterated, + If Charm has lived one moment far from Love. + + And how can I perform the last adorning + Of thy poor body, as befits a wife? + So strangely on the path that leaves me mourning + Thy body followed still the spirit's life. + + I see thee straighten out thy blossom-arrow, + The bow slung careless on thy breast the while, + Thine eyes in mirthful, sidelong glance grow narrow, + Thy conference with friendly Spring, thy smile. + + But where is Spring? Dear friend, whose art could fashion + The flowery arrow for thee? Has the wrath + Of dreadful Shiva, in excess of passion, + Bade him, too, follow on that fatal path?" + + Heart-smitten by the accents of her grief + Like poisoned darts, soothing her fond alarm, + Incarnate Spring appeared, to bring relief + As friendship can, to sore-lamenting Charm. + + And at the sight of him, she wept the more, + And often clutched her throat, and beat her breast; + For lamentation finds an open door + In the presence of the friends we love the best. + + Stifling, she cried: "Behold the mournful matter! + In place of him thou seekest, what is found? + A something that the winds of heaven scatter, + A trace of dove-grey ashes on the ground. + + Arise, O Love! For Spring knows no estranging, + Thy friend in lucky hap and evil lot; + Man's love for wife is ever doubtful, changing; + Man's love for man abides and changes not. + + With such a friend, thy dart, on dainty pinion + Of blossoms, shot from lotus-fibre string, + Reduced men, giants, gods to thy dominion-- + The triple world has felt that arrow sting. + + But Love is gone, far gone beyond returning, + A candle snuffed by wandering breezes vain; + And see! I am his wick, with Love once burning, + Now blackened by the smoke of nameless pain. + + In slaying Love, fate wrought but half a slaughter, + For I am left. And yet the clinging vine + Must fall, when falls the sturdy tree that taught her + Round him in loving tenderness to twine. + + So then, fulfil for me the final mission + Of him who undertakes a kinsman's part; + Commit me to the flames (my last petition) + And speed the widow to her husband's heart. + + The moonlight wanders not, the moon forsaking; + Where sails the cloud, the lightning is not far; + Wife follows mate, is law of nature's making, + Yes, even among such things as lifeless are. + + My breast is stained; I lay among the ashes + Of him I loved with all a woman's powers; + Now let me lie where death-fire flames and flashes, + As glad as on a bed of budding flowers. + + Sweet Spring, thou camest oft where we lay sleeping + On blossoms, I and he whose life is sped; + Unto the end thy friendly office keeping, + Prepare for me the last, the fiery bed. + + And fan the flame to which I am committed + With southern winds; I would no longer stay; + Thou knowest well how slow the moments flitted + For Love, my love, when I was far away. + + And sprinkle some few drops of water, given + In friendship, on his ashes and on me; + That Love and I may quench our thirst in heaven + As once on earth, in heavenly unity. + + And sometimes seek the grave where Love is lying; + Pause there a moment, gentle Spring, and shower + Sweet mango-clusters to the winds replying; + For he thou lovedst, loved the mango-flower." + + As Charm prepared to end her mortal pain + In fire, she heard a voice from heaven cry, + That showed her mercy, as the early rain + Shows mercy to the fish, when lakes go dry: + + "O wife of Love! Thy lover is not lost + For evermore. This voice shall tell thee why + He perished like the moth, when he had crossed + The dreadful god, in fire from Shiva's eye. + + When darts of Love set Brahma in a flame, + To shame his daughter with impure desire, + He checked the horrid sin without a name, + And cursed the god of love to die by fire. + + But Virtue interceded in behalf + Of Love, and won a softening of the doom: + 'Upon the day when Shiva's heart shall laugh + In wedding joy, for mercy finding room, + + He shall unite Love's body with the soul, + A marriage-present to his mountain bride.' + As clouds hold fire and water in control, + Gods are the fount of wrath, and grace beside. + + So, gentle Charm, preserve thy body sweet + For dear reunion after present pain; + The stream that dwindles in the summer heat, + Is reunited with the autumn rain." + + Invisibly and thus mysteriously + The thoughts of Charm were turned away from death; + And Spring, believing where he might not see, + Comforted her with words of sweetest breath. + + The wife of Love awaited thus the day, + Though racked by grief, when fate should show its power, + As the waning moon laments her darkened ray + And waits impatient for the twilight hour. + + +_Fifth canto. The reward of self-denial_.--Parvati reproaches her own +beauty, for "loveliness is fruitless if it does not bind a lover." She +therefore resolves to lead a life of religious self-denial, hoping +that the merit thus acquired will procure her Shiva's love. Her mother +tries in vain to dissuade her; her father directs her to a fit +mountain peak, and she retires to her devotions. She lays aside all +ornaments, lets her hair hang unkempt, and assumes the hermit's dress +of bark. While she is spending her days in self-denial, she is visited +by a Brahman youth, who compliments her highly upon her rigid +devotion, and declares that her conduct proves the truth of the +proverb: Beauty can do no wrong. Yet he confesses himself bewildered, +for she seems to have everything that heart can desire. He therefore +asks her purpose in performing these austerities, and is told how her +desires are fixed upon the highest of all objects, upon the god Shiva +himself, and how, since Love is dead, she sees no way to win him +except by ascetic religion. The youth tries to dissuade Parvati by +recounting all the dreadful legends that are current about Shiva: how +he wears a coiling snake on his wrist, a bloody elephant-hide upon his +back, how he dwells in a graveyard, how he rides upon an undignified +bull, how poor he is and of unknown birth. Parvati's anger is awakened +by this recital. She frowns and her lip quivers as she defends herself +and the object of her love. + + Shiva, she said, is far beyond the thought + Of such as you: then speak no more to me. + Dull crawlers hate the splendid wonders wrought + By lofty souls untouched by rivalry. + + They search for wealth, whom dreaded evil nears, + Or they who fain would rise a little higher; + The world's sole refuge neither hopes nor fears + Nor seeks the objects of a small desire. + + Yes, he is poor, yet he is riches' source; + This graveyard-haunter rules the world alone; + Dreadful is he, yet all beneficent force: + Think you his inmost nature can be known? + + All forms are his; and he may take or leave + At will, the snake, or gem with lustre white; + The bloody skin, or silk of softest weave; + Dead skulls, or moonbeams radiantly bright. + + For poverty he rides upon a bull, + While Indra, king of heaven, elephant-borne, + Bows low to strew his feet with beautiful, + Unfading blossoms in his chaplet worn. + + Yet in the slander spoken in pure hate + One thing you uttered worthy of his worth: + How could the author of the uncreate + Be born? How could we understand his birth? + + Enough of this! Though every word that you + Have said, be faithful, yet would Shiva please + My eager heart all made of passion true + For him alone. Love sees no blemishes. + +In response to this eloquence, the youth throws off his disguise, +appearing as the god Shiva himself, and declares his love for her. +Parvati immediately discontinues her religious asceticism; for +"successful effort regenerates." + + +_Sixth canto. Parvati is given in marriage_.--While Parvati departs to +inform her father of what has happened, Shiva summons the seven sages, +who are to make the formal proposal of marriage to the bride's +parents. The seven sages appear, flying through the air, and with them +Arundhati, the heavenly model of wifely faith and devotion. On seeing +her, Shiva feels his eagerness for marriage increase, realising that + + All actions of a holy life + Are rooted in a virtuous wife. + +Shiva then explains his purpose, and sends the seven sages to make the +formal request for Parvati's hand. The seven sages fly to the +brilliant city of Himalaya, where they are received by the mountain +god. After a rather portentous interchange of compliments, the seven +sages announce their errand, requesting Parvati's hand in behalf of +Shiva. The father joyfully assents, and it is agreed that the marriage +shall be celebrated after three days. These three days are spent by +Shiva in impatient longing. + + +_Seventh canto. Parvati's wedding_.--The three days are spent in +preparations for the wedding. So great is Parvati's unadorned beauty +that the waiting-women can hardly take their eyes from her to inspect +the wedding-dress. But the preparations are complete at last; and the +bride is beautiful indeed. + + As when the flowers are budding on a vine, + Or white swans rest upon a river's shore, + Or when at night the stars in heaven shine, + Her lovely beauty grew with gems she wore. + + When wide-eyed glances gave her back the same + Bright beauty--and the mirror never lies-- + She waited with impatience till he came: + For women dress to please their lovers' eyes. + +Meanwhile Shiva finishes his preparations, and sets out on his wedding +journey, accompanied by Brahma, Vishnu, and lesser gods. At his +journey's end, he is received by his bride's father, and led through +streets ankle-deep in flowers, where the windows are filled with the +faces of eager and excited women, who gossip together thus: + + For his sake it was well that Parvati + Should mortify her body delicate; + Thrice happy might his serving-woman be, + And infinitely blest his bosom's mate. + +Shiva and his retinue then enter the palace, where he is received with +bashful love by Parvati, and the wedding is celebrated with due pomp. +The nymphs of heaven entertain the company with a play, and Shiva +restores the body of Love. + + +_Eighth canto. The honeymoon_.--The first month of marital bliss is +spent in Himalaya's palace. After this the happy pair wander for a +time among the famous mountain-peaks. One of these they reach at +sunset, and Shiva describes the evening glow to his bride. A few +stanzas are given here. + + See, my belovèd, how the sun + With beams that o'er the water shake + From western skies has now begun + A bridge of gold across the lake. + + Upon the very tree-tops sway + The peacocks; even yet they hold + And drink the dying light of day, + Until their fans are molten gold. + + The water-lily closes, but + With wonderful reluctancy; + As if it troubled her to shut + Her door of welcome to the bee. + + The steeds that draw the sun's bright car, + With bended neck and falling plume + And drooping mane, are seen afar + To bury day in ocean's gloom. + + The sun is down, and heaven sleeps: + Thus every path of glory ends; + As high as are the scaled steeps, + The downward way as low descends. + +Shiva then retires for meditation. On his return, he finds that his +bride is peevish at being left alone even for a little time, and to +soothe her, he describes the night which is now advancing. A few +stanzas of this description run as follows. + + The twilight glow is fading far + And stains the west with blood-red light, + As when a reeking scimitar + Slants upward on a field of fight. + + And vision fails above, below, + Around, before us, at our back; + The womb of night envelops slow + The world with darkness vast and black. + + Mute while the world is dazed with light, + The smiling moon begins to rise + And, being teased by eager night, + Betrays the secrets of the skies. + + Moon-fingers move the black, black hair + Of night into its proper place, + Who shuts her eyes, the lilies fair, + As he sets kisses on her face. + +Shiva and Parvati then drink wine brought them by the guardian goddess +of the grove, and in this lovely spot they dwell happily for many +years. + + +_Ninth canto. The journey to Mount Kailasa_.--One day the god of fire +appears as a messenger from the gods before Shiva, to remonstrate with +him for not begetting the son upon whom heaven's welfare depends. +Shiva deposits his seed in Fire, who departs, bent low with the +burden. Shortly afterwards the gods wait upon Shiva and Parvati, who +journey with them to Mount Kailasa, the splendid dwelling-place of the +god of wealth. Here also Shiva and Parvati spend happy days. + + +_Tenth canto. The birth of Kumara_.--To Indra, king of the gods, Fire +betakes himself, tells his story, and begs to be relieved of his +burden. Indra advises him to deposit it in the Ganges. Fire therefore +travels to the Ganges, leaves Shiva's seed in the river, and departs +much relieved. But now it is the turn of Ganges to be distressed, +until at dawn the six Pleiades come to bathe in the river. They find +Shiva's seed and lay it in a nest of reeds, where it becomes a child, +Kumara, the future god of war. + + +_Eleventh canto. The birth of Kumara, continued_.--Ganges suckles the +beautiful infant. But there arises a dispute for the possession of the +child between Fire, Ganges, and the Pleiades. At this point Shiva and +Parvati arrive, and Parvati, wondering at the beauty of the infant and +at the strange quarrel, asks Shiva to whom the child belongs. When +Shiva tells her that Kumara is their own child, her joy is unbounded. + + Because her eyes with happy tears were dim, + 'Twas but by snatches that she saw the boy; + Yet, with her blossom-hand caressing him, + She felt a strange, an unimagined joy. + + The vision of the infant made her seem + A flower unfolding in mysterious bliss; + Or, billowy with her joyful tears, a stream; + Or pure affection, perfect in a kiss. + +Shiva conducts Parvati and the boy back to Mount Kailasa, where gods +and fairies welcome them with music and dancing. Here the divine child +spends the days of a happy infancy, not very different from human +infancy; for he learns to walk, gets dirty in the courtyard, laughs a +good deal, pulls the scanty hair of an old servant, and learns to +count: "One, nine, two, ten, five, seven." These evidences of healthy +development cause Shiva and Parvati the most exquisite joy. + + +_Twelfth canto. Kumara is made general_.--Indra, with the other gods, +waits upon Shiva, to ask that Kumara, now a youth, may be lent to them +as their leader in the campaign against Taraka. The gods are +graciously received by Shiva, who asks their errand. Indra prefers +their request, whereupon Shiva bids his son assume command of the +gods, and slay Taraka. Great is the joy of Kumara himself, of his +mother Parvati, and of Indra. + + +_Thirteenth canto. Kumara is consecrated general_.--Kumara takes an +affectionate farewell of his parents, and sets out with the gods. When +they come to Indra's paradise, the gods are afraid to enter, lest they +find their enemy there. There is an amusing scene in which each +courteously invites the others to precede him, until Kumara ends their +embarrassment by leading the way. Here for the first time Kumara sees +with deep respect the heavenly Ganges, Indra's garden and palace, and +the heavenly city. But he becomes red-eyed with anger on beholding the +devastation wrought by Taraka. + + He saw departed glory, saw the state + Neglected, ruined, sad, of Indra's city, + As of a woman with a cowardly mate: + And all his inmost heart dissolved in pity. + + He saw how crystal floors were gashed and torn + By wanton tusks of elephants, were strewed + With skins that sloughing cobras once had worn: + And sadness overcame him as he viewed. + + He saw beside the bathing-pools the bowers + Defiled by elephants grown overbold, + Strewn with uprooted golden lotus-flowers, + No longer bright with plumage of pure gold, + + Rough with great, jewelled columns overthrown, + Rank with invasion of the untrimmed grass: + Shame strove with sorrow at the ruin shown, + For heaven's foe had brought these things to pass. + +Amid these sorrowful surroundings the gods gather and anoint Kumara, +thus consecrating him as their general. + + +_Fourteenth canto. The march_.--Kumara prepares for battle, and +marshals his army. He is followed by Indra riding on an elephant, Agni +on a ram, Yama on a buffalo, a giant on a ghost, Varuna on a dolphin, +and many other lesser gods. When all is ready, the army sets out on +its dusty march. + + +_Fifteenth canto. The two armies clash_.--The demon Taraka is informed +that the hostile army is approaching, but scorns the often-conquered +Indra and the boy Kumara. Nevertheless, he prepares for battle, +marshals his army, and sets forth to meet the gods. But he is beset by +dreadful omens of evil. + + For foul birds came, a horrid flock to see, + Above the army of the foes of heaven, + And dimmed the sun, awaiting ravenously + The feast of demon corpses to be given. + + And monstrous snakes, as black as powdered soot, + Spitting hot poison high into the air, + Brought terror to the army underfoot, + And crept and coiled and crawled before them there. + + The sun a sickly halo round him had; + Coiling within it frightened eyes could see + Great, writhing serpents, enviously glad + Because the demon's death so soon should be. + + And in the very circle of the sun + Were phantom jackals, snarling to be fed; + And with impatient haste they seemed to run + To drink the demon's blood in battle shed. + + There fell, with darting flame and blinding flash + Lighting the farthest heavens, from on high + A thunderbolt whose agonising crash + Brought fear and shuddering from a cloudless sky. + + There came a pelting rain of blazing coals + With blood and bones of dead men mingled in; + Smoke and weird flashes horrified their souls; + The sky was dusty grey like asses' skin. + + The elephants stumbled and the horses fell, + The footmen jostled, leaving each his post, + The ground beneath them trembled at the swell + Of ocean, when an earthquake shook the host. + + And dogs before them lifted muzzles foul + To see the sun that lit that awful day, + And pierced the ears of listeners with a howl + Dreadful yet pitiful, then slunk away. + +Taraka's counsellors endeavour to persuade him to turn back, but he +refuses; for timidity is not numbered among his faults. As he advances +even worse portents appear, and finally warning voices from heaven +call upon him to desist from his undertaking. The voices assure him of +Kumara's prowess and inevitable victory; they advise him to make his +peace while there is yet time. But Taraka's only answer is a defiance. + + "You mighty gods that flit about in heaven + And take my foeman's part, what would you say? + Have you forgot so soon the torture given + By shafts of mine that never miss their way? + + Why should I fear before a six-days child? + Why should you prowl in heaven and gibber shrill, + Like dogs that in an autumn night run wild, + Like deer that sneak through forests, trembling still? + + The boy whom you have chosen as your chief + In vain upon his hermit-sire shall cry; + The upright die, if taken with a thief: + First you shall perish, then he too shall die." + +And as Taraka emphasises his meaning by brandishing his great sword, +the warning spirits flee, their knees knocking together. Taraka laughs +horribly, then mounts his chariot, and advances against the army of +the gods. On the other side the gods advance, and the two armies +clash. + + +_Sixteenth canto. The battle between gods and demons_.--This canto is +entirely taken up with the struggle between the two armies. A few +stanzas are given here. + + As pairs of champions stood forth + To test each other's fighting worth, + The bards who knew the family fame + Proclaimed aloud each mighty name. + + As ruthless weapons cut their way + Through quilted armour in the fray, + White tufts of cotton flew on high + Like hoary hairs upon the sky. + + Blood-dripping swords reflected bright + The sunbeams in that awful fight; + Fire-darting like the lightning-flash, + They showed how mighty heroes clash. + + The archers' arrows flew so fast, + As through a hostile breast they passed, + That they were buried in the ground, + No stain of blood upon them found. + + The swords that sheaths no longer clasped, + That hands of heroes firmly grasped, + Flashed out in glory through the fight, + As if they laughed in mad delight. + + And many a warrior's eager lance + Shone radiant in the eerie dance, + A curling, lapping tongue of death + To lick away the soldier's breath. + + Some, panting with a bloody thirst, + Fought toward the victim chosen first, + But had a reeking path to hew + Before they had him full in view. + + Great elephants, their drivers gone + And pierced with arrows, struggled on, + But sank at every step in mud + Made liquid by the streams of blood. + + The warriors falling in the fray, + Whose heads the sword had lopped away, + Were able still to fetch a blow + That slew the loud-exulting foe. + + The footmen thrown to Paradise + By elephants of monstrous size, + Were seized upon by nymphs above, + Exchanging battle-scenes for love. + + The lancer, charging at his foe, + Would pierce him through and bring him low, + And would not heed the hostile dart + That found a lodgment in his heart. + + The war-horse, though unguided, stopped + The moment that his rider dropped, + And wept above the lifeless head, + Still faithful to his master dead. + + Two lancers fell with mortal wound + And still they struggled on the ground; + With bristling hair, with brandished knife, + Each strove to end the other's life. + + Two slew each other in the fight; + To Paradise they took their flight; + There with a nymph they fell in love, + And still they fought in heaven above. + + Two souls there were that reached the sky; + From heights of heaven they could spy + Two writhing corpses on the plain, + And knew their headless forms again. + +As the struggle comes to no decisive issue, Taraka seeks out the chief +gods, and charges upon them. + +_Seventeenth canto. Taraka is slain_.--Taraka engages the principal +gods and defeats them with magic weapons. When they are relieved by +Kumara, the demon turns to the youthful god of war, and advises him to +retire from the battle. + + Stripling, you are the only son + Of Shiva and of Parvati. + Go safe and live! Why should you run + On certain death? Why fight with me? + Withdraw! Let sire and mother blest + Clasp living son to joyful breast. + + Flee, son of Shiva, flee the host + Of Indra drowning in the sea + That soon shall close upon his boast + In choking waves of misery. + For Indra is a ship of stone; + Withdraw, and let him sink alone. + +Kumara answers with modest firmness. + + The words you utter in your pride, + O demon-prince, are only fit; + Yet I am minded to abide + The fight, and see the end of it. + The tight-strung bow and brandished sword + Decide, and not the spoken word. + +And with this the duel begins. When Taraka finds his arrows parried by +Kumara, he employs the magic weapon of the god of wind. When this too +is parried, he uses the magic weapon of the god of fire, which Kumara +neutralises with the weapon of the god of water. As they fight on, +Kumara finds an opening, and slays Taraka with his lance, to the +unbounded delight of the universe. + +Here the poem ends, in the form in which it has come down to us. It +has been sometimes thought that we have less than Kalidasa wrote, +partly because of a vague tradition that there were once twenty-three +cantos, partly because the customary prayer is lacking at the end. +These arguments are not very cogent. Though the concluding prayer is +not given in form, yet the stanzas which describe the joy of the +universe fairly fill its place. And one does not see with what matter +further cantos would be concerned. The action promised in the earlier +part is completed in the seventeenth canto. + +It has been somewhat more formidably argued that the concluding cantos +are spurious, that Kalidasa wrote only the first seven or perhaps the +first eight cantos. Yet, after all, what do these arguments amount to? +Hardly more than this, that the first eight cantos are better poetry +than the last nine. As if a poet were always at his best, even when +writing on a kind of subject not calculated to call out his best. +Fighting is not Kalidasa's _forte_; love is. Even so, there is great +vigour in the journey of Taraka, the battle, and the duel. It may not +be the highest kind of poetry, but it is wonderfully vigorous poetry +of its kind. And if we reject the last nine cantos, we fall into a +very much greater difficulty. The poem would be glaringly incomplete, +its early promise obviously disregarded. We should have a _Birth of +the War-god_ in which the poet stopped before the war-god was born. + +There seems then no good reason to doubt that we have the epic +substantially as Kalidasa wrote it. Plainly, it has a unity which is +lacking in Kalidasa's other epic, _The Dynasty_ _of Raghu_, though in +this epic, too, the interest shifts. Parvati's love-affair is the +matter of the first half, Kumara's fight with the demon the matter of +the second half. Further, it must be admitted that the interest runs a +little thin. Even in India, where the world of gods runs insensibly +into the world of men, human beings take more interest in the +adventures of men than of gods. The gods, indeed, can hardly have +adventures; they must be victorious. _The Birth of the War-god_ pays +for its greater unity by a poverty of adventure. + +It would be interesting if we could know whether this epic was written +before or after _The Dynasty of Raghu_. But we have no data for +deciding the question, hardly any for even arguing it. The +introduction to _The Dynasty of Raghu_ seems, indeed, to have been +written by a poet who yet had his spurs to win. But this is all. + +As to the comparative excellence of the two epics, opinions differ. My +own preference is for _The Dynasty of Raghu_, yet there are passages +in _The Birth of the War-god_ of a piercing beauty which the world can +never let die. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE CLOUD-MESSENGER + + +In _The Cloud-Messenger_ Kalidasa created a new _genre_ in Sanskrit +literature. Hindu critics class the poem with _The Dynasty of Raghu_ +and _The Birth of the War-god_ as a _kavya_, or learned epic. This it +obviously is not. It is fair enough to call it an elegiac poem, though +a precisian might object to the term. + +We have already seen, in speaking of _The Dynasty of Raghu_, what +admiration Kalidasa felt for his great predecessor Valmiki, the author +of the _Ramayana_; and it is quite possible that an episode of the +early epic suggested to him the idea which he has exquisitely treated +in _The Cloud-Messenger_. In the _Ramayana_, after the defeat and +death of Ravana, Rama returns with his wife and certain heroes of the +struggle from Ceylon to his home in Northern India. The journey, made +in an aërial car, gives the author an opportunity to describe the +country over which the car must pass in travelling from one end of +India to the other. The hint thus given him was taken by Kalidasa; a +whole canto of _The Dynasty of Raghu_ (the thirteenth) is concerned +with the aërial journey. Now if, as seems not improbable, _The Dynasty +of Raghu_ was the earliest of Kalidasa's more ambitious works, it is +perhaps legitimate to imagine him, as he wrote this canto, suddenly +inspired with the plan of _The Cloud-Messenger_. + +This plan is slight and fanciful. A demigod, in consequence of some +transgression against his master, the god of wealth, is condemned to +leave his home in the Himalayas, and spend a year of exile on a peak +in the Vindhya Mountains, which divide the Deccan from the Ganges +basin. He wishes to comfort and encourage his wife, but has no +messenger to send her. In his despair, he begs a passing cloud to +carry his words. He finds it necessary to describe the long journey +which the cloud must take, and, as the two termini are skilfully +chosen, the journey involves a visit to many of the spots famous in +Indian story. The description of these spots fills the first half of +the poem. The second half is filled with a more minute description of +the heavenly city, of the home and bride of the demigod, and with the +message proper. The proportions of the poem may appear unfortunate to +the Western reader, in whom the proper names of the first half will +wake scanty associations. Indeed, it is no longer possible to identify +all the places mentioned, though the general route followed by the +cloud can be easily traced. The peak from which he starts is probably +one near the modern Nagpore. From this peak he flies a little west of +north to the Nerbudda River, and the city of Ujjain; thence pretty +straight north to the upper Ganges and the Himalaya. The geography of +the magic city of Alaka is quite mythical. + +_The Cloud-Messenger_ contains one hundred and fifteen four-line +stanzas, in a majestic metre called the "slow-stepper." The English +stanza which has been chosen for the translation gives perhaps as fair +a representation of the original movement as may be, where direct +imitation is out of the question. Though the stanza of the translation +has five lines to four for the slow-stepper, it contains fewer +syllables; a constant check on the temptation to padding. + +The analysis which accompanies the poem, and which is inserted in +Italics at the beginning of each stanza, has more than one object. It +saves footnotes; it is intended as a real help to comprehension; and +it is an eminently Hindu device. Indeed, it was my first intention to +translate literally portions of Mallinatha's famous commentary; and +though this did not prove everywhere feasible, there is nothing in the +analysis except matter suggested by the commentary. + +One minor point calls for notice. The word Himálaya has been accented +on the second syllable wherever it occurs. This accent is historically +correct, and has some foothold in English usage; besides, it is more +euphonious and better adapted to the needs of the metre. + + +FORMER CLOUD + + I + +_A Yaksha, or divine attendant on Kubera, god of wealth, is exiled for +a year from his home in the Himalayas. As he dwells on a peak in the +Vindhya range, half India separates him from his young bride_. + + On Rama's shady peak where hermits roam, + Mid streams by Sita's bathing sanctified, + An erring Yaksha made his hapless home, + Doomed by his master humbly to abide, + And spend a long, long year of absence from his bride. + + II + +_After eight months of growing emaciation, the first cloud warns him +of the approach of the rainy season, when neglected brides are wont to +pine and die_. + + Some months were gone; the lonely lover's pain + Had loosed his golden bracelet day by day + Ere he beheld the harbinger of rain, + A cloud that charged the peak in mimic fray, + As an elephant attacks a bank of earth in play. + + III + + Before this cause of lovers' hopes and fears + Long time Kubera's bondman sadly bowed + In meditation, choking down his tears-- + Even happy hearts thrill strangely to the cloud; + To him, poor wretch, the loved embrace was disallowed. + + IV + +_Unable to send tidings otherwise of his health and unchanging love, +he resolves to make the cloud his messenger_. + + Longing to save his darling's life, unblest + With joyous tidings, through the rainy days, + He plucked fresh blossoms for his cloudy guest, + Such homage as a welcoming comrade pays, + And bravely spoke brave words of greeting and of praise. + + V + + Nor did it pass the lovelorn Yaksha's mind + How all unfitly might his message mate + With a cloud, mere fire and water, smoke and wind-- + Ne'er yet was lover could discriminate + 'Twixt life and lifeless things, in his love-blinded state. + + VI + +_He prefers his request_, + + I know, he said, thy far-famed princely line, + Thy state, in heaven's imperial council chief, + Thy changing forms; to thee, such fate is mine, + I come a suppliant in my widowed grief-- + Better thy lordly "no" than meaner souls' relief. + + VII + + O cloud, the parching spirit stirs thy pity; + My bride is far, through royal wrath and might; + Bring her my message to the Yaksha city, + Rich-gardened Alaka, where radiance bright + From Shiva's crescent bathes the palaces in light. + + VIII + +_hinting at the same time that the' cloud will find his kindly labour +rewarded by pleasures on the road_, + + When thou art risen to airy paths of heaven, + Through lifted curls the wanderer's love shall peep + And bless the sight of thee for comfort given; + Who leaves his bride through cloudy days to weep + Except he be like me, whom chains of bondage keep? + + IX + +_and by happy omens_. + + While favouring breezes waft thee gently forth, + And while upon thy left the plover sings + His proud, sweet song, the cranes who know thy worth + Will meet thee in the sky on joyful wings + And for delights anticipated join their rings. + + X + +_He assures the cloud that his bride is neither dead nor faithless_; + + Yet hasten, O my brother, till thou see-- + Counting the days that bring the lonely smart-- + The faithful wife who only lives for me: + A drooping flower is woman's loving heart, + Upheld by the stem of hope when two true lovers part. + + XI + +_further, that there will be no lack of travelling companions_. + + And when they hear thy welcome thunders break, + When mushrooms sprout to greet thy fertile weeks, + The swans who long for the Himalayan lake + Will be thy comrades to Kailasa's peaks, + With juicy bits of lotus-fibre in their beaks. + + XII + + One last embrace upon this mount bestow + Whose flanks were pressed by Rama's holy feet, + Who yearly strives his love for thee to show, + Warmly his well-beloved friend to greet + With the tear of welcome shed when two long-parted meet. + + XIII + +_He then describes the long journey_, + + Learn first, O cloud, the road that thou must go, + Then hear my message ere thou speed away; + Before thee mountains rise and rivers flow: + When thou art weary, on the mountains stay, + And when exhausted, drink the rivers' driven spray. + + XIV + +_beginning with the departure from Rama's peak, where dwells a company +of Siddhas, divine beings of extraordinary sanctity_. + + Elude the heavenly elephants' clumsy spite; + Fly from this peak in richest jungle drest; + And Siddha maids who view thy northward flight + Will upward gaze in simple terror, lest + The wind be carrying quite away the mountain crest. + + XV + + Bright as a heap of flashing gems, there shines + Before thee on the ant-hill, Indra's bow; + Matched with that dazzling rainbow's glittering lines, + Thy sombre form shall find its beauties grow, + Like the dark herdsman Vishnu, with peacock-plumes aglow. + + XVI + + _The Mala plateau_. + + The farmers' wives on Mala's lofty lea, + Though innocent of all coquettish art, + Will give thee loving glances; for on thee + Depends the fragrant furrow's fruitful part; + Thence, barely westering, with lightened burden start. + + XVII + + _The Mango Peak_. + + The Mango Peak whose forest fires were laid + By streams of thine, will soothe thy weariness; + In memory of a former service paid, + Even meaner souls spurn not in time of stress + A suppliant friend; a soul so lofty, much the less. + + XVIII + + With ripened mango-fruits his margins teem; + And thou, like wetted braids, art blackness quite; + When resting on the mountain, thou wilt seem + Like the dark nipple on Earth's bosom white, + For mating gods and goddesses a thrilling sight. + + XIX + + _The Reva, or Nerbudda River, foaming + against the mountain side_, + + His bowers are sweet to forest maidens ever; + Do thou upon his crest a moment bide, + Then fly, rain-quickened, to the Reva river + Which gaily breaks on Vindhya's rocky side, + Like painted streaks upon an elephant's dingy hide. + + XX + +_and flavoured with the ichor which exudes from the temples of +elephants during the mating season_. + + Refresh thyself from thine exhausted state + With ichor-pungent drops that fragrant flow; + Thou shalt not then to every wind vibrate-- + Empty means ever light, and full means added weight. + + XXI + + Spying the madder on the banks, half brown, + Half green with shoots that struggle to the birth, + Nibbling where early plantain-buds hang down, + Scenting the sweet, sweet smell of forest earth, + The deer will trace thy misty track that ends the dearth. + + XXII + + Though thou be pledged to ease my darling's pain, + Yet I foresee delay on every hill + Where jasmines blow, and where the peacock-train + Cries forth with joyful tears a welcome shrill; + Thy sacrifice is great, but haste thy journey still. + + XXIII + +_The Dasharna country_, + + At thine approach, Dasharna land is blest + With hedgerows where gay buds are all aglow, + With village trees alive with many a nest + Abuilding by the old familiar crow, + With lingering swans, with ripe rose-apples' darker show. + + XXIV + +_and its capital Vidisha, on the banks of Reed River_. + + There shalt thou see the royal city, known + Afar, and win the lover's fee complete, + If thou subdue thy thunders to a tone + Of murmurous gentleness, and taste the sweet, + Love-rippling features of the river at thy feet. + + XXV + + A moment rest on Nichais' mountain then, + Where madder-bushes don their blossom coat + As thrilling to thy touch; where city men + O'er youth's unbridled pleasures fondly gloat + In caverns whence the perfumes of gay women float. + + XXVI + + Fly on refreshed; and sprinkle buds that fade + On jasmine-vines in gardens wild and rare + By forest rivers; and with loving shade + Caress the flower-girls' heated faces fair, + Whereon the lotuses droop withering from their hair. + + XXVII + +_The famous old city of Ujjain, the home of the poet, and dearly +beloved by him_; + + Swerve from thy northern path; for westward rise + The palace balconies thou mayst not slight + In fair Ujjain; and if bewitching eyes + That flutter at thy gleams, should not delight + Thine amorous bosom, useless were thy gift of sight. + + XXVIII + +_and the river, personified as a loving woman, whom the cloud will +meet just before he reaches the city_. + + The neighbouring mountain stream that gliding grants + A glimpse of charms in whirling eddies pursed, + While noisy swans accompany her dance + Like a tinkling zone, will slake thy loving thirst-- + A woman always tells her love in gestures first. + + XXIX + + Thou only, happy lover! canst repair + The desolation that thine absence made: + Her shrinking current seems the careless hair + That brides deserted wear in single braid, + And dead leaves falling give her face a paler shade. + + XXX + +_The city of Ujjain is fully described_, + + Sufficed, though fallen from heaven, to bring down heaven on earth! + + XXXI + + Where the river-breeze at dawn, with fragrant gain + From friendly lotus-blossoms, lengthens out + The clear, sweet passion-warbling of the crane, + To cure the women's languishing, and flout + With a lover's coaxing all their hesitating doubt. + + XXXII + + Enriched with odours through the windows drifting + From perfumed hair, and greeted as a friend + By peacock pets their wings in dances lifting, + On flower-sweet balconies thy labour end, + Where prints of dear pink feet an added glory lend. + + XXXIII + +_especially its famous shrine to Shiva, called Mahakala_; + + Black as the neck of Shiva, very God, + Dear therefore to his hosts, thou mayest go + To his dread shrine, round which the gardens nod + When breezes rich with lotus-pollen blow + And ointments that the gaily bathing maidens know. + + XXXIV + + Reaching that temple at another time, + Wait till the sun is lost to human eyes; + For if thou mayest play the part sublime + Of Shiva's drum at evening sacrifice, + Then hast thou in thy thunders grave a priceless prize. + + XXXV + + The women there, whose girdles long have tinkled + In answer to the dance, whose hands yet seize + And wave their fans with lustrous gems besprinkled, + Will feel thine early drops that soothe and please, + And recompense thee from black eyes like clustering bees. + + XXXVI + +_and the black cloud, painted with twilight red, is bidden to serve as +a robe for the god, instead of the bloody elephant hide which he +commonly wears in his wild dance_. + + Clothing thyself in twilight's rose-red glory, + Embrace the dancing Shiva's tree-like arm; + He will prefer thee to his mantle gory + And spare his grateful goddess-bride's alarm, + Whose eager gaze will manifest no fear of harm. + + XXXVII + +_After one night of repose in the city_ + + Where women steal to rendezvous by night + Through darkness that a needle might divide, + Show them the road with lightning-flashes bright + As golden streaks upon the touchstone's side-- + But rain and thunder not, lest they be terrified. + + XXXVIII + + On some rich balcony where sleep the doves, + Through the dark night with thy beloved stay, + The lightning weary with the sport she loves; + But with the sunrise journey on thy way-- + For they that labour for a friend do not delay. + + XXXIX + + The gallant dries his mistress' tears that stream + When he returns at dawn to her embrace-- + Prevent thou not the sun's bright-fingered beam + That wipes the tear-dew from the lotus' face; + His anger else were great, and great were thy disgrace. + + XL + + _the cloud is besought to travel to Deep River_. + + Thy winsome shadow-soul will surely find + An entrance in Deep River's current bright, + As thoughts find entrance in a placid mind; + Then let no rudeness of thine own affright + The darting fish that seem her glances lotus-white. + + XLI + + But steal her sombre veil of mist away, + Although her reeds seem hands that clutch the dress + To hide her charms; thou hast no time to stay, + Yet who that once has known a dear caress + Could bear to leave a woman's unveiled loveliness? + + XLII + +_Thence to Holy Peak_, + + The breeze 'neath which the breathing acre grants + New odours, and the forest figs hang sleek, + With pleasant whistlings drunk by elephants + Through long and hollow trunks, will gently seek + To waft thee onward fragrantly to Holy Peak. + + XLIII + + _the dwelling-place of Skanda, god of war, the + child of Shiva and Gauri, concerning whose + birth more than one quaint tale is told_. + + There change thy form; become a cloud of flowers + With heavenly moisture wet, and pay the meed + Of praise to Skanda with thy blossom showers; + That sun-outshining god is Shiva's seed, + Fire-born to save the heavenly hosts in direst need. + + XLIV + + God Skanda's peacock--he whose eyeballs shine + By Shiva's moon, whose flashing fallen plume + The god's fond mother wears, a gleaming line + Over her ear beside the lotus bloom-- + Will dance to thunders echoing in the caverns' room. + + XLV + +_Thence to Skin River, so called because it flowed forth from a +mountain of cattle carcasses, offered in sacrifice by the pious +emperor Rantideva_. + + Adore the reed-born god and speed away, + While Siddhas flee, lest rain should put to shame + The lutes which they devoutly love to play; + But pause to glorify the stream whose name + Recalls the sacrificing emperor's blessed fame. + + XLVI + + Narrow the river seems from heaven's blue; + And gods above, who see her dainty line + Matched, when thou drinkest, with thy darker hue, + Will think they see a pearly necklace twine + Round Earth, with one great sapphire in its midst ashine. + + XLVII + +_The province of the Ten Cities_. + + Beyond, the province of Ten Cities lies + Whose women, charming with their glances rash, + Will view thine image with bright, eager eyes, + Dark eyes that dance beneath the lifted lash, + As when black bees round nodding jasmine-blossoms flash. + + XLVIII + +_The Hallowed Land, where were fought the awful battles of the ancient +epic time_. + + Then veil the Hallowed Land in cloudy shade; + Visit the field where to this very hour + Lie bones that sank beneath the soldier's blade, + Where Arjuna discharged his arrowy shower + On men, as thou thy rain-jets on the lotus-flower. + + XLIX + +_In these battles, the hero Balarama, whose weapon was a plough-share, +would take no part, because kinsmen of his were fighting in each army. +He preferred to spend the time in drinking from the holy river +Sarasvati, though little accustomed to any other drink than wine_. + + Sweet friend, drink where those holy waters shine + Which the plough-bearing hero--loath to fight + His kinsmen--rather drank than sweetest wine + With a loving bride's reflected eyes alight; + Then, though thy form be black, thine inner soul is bright. + + L + + _The Ganges River, which originates in heaven. + Its fall is broken by the head of Shiva, who + stands on the Himalaya Mountains; + otherwise the shock would be too great for + the earth. But Shiva's goddess-bride is + displeased_. + + Fly then where Ganges o'er the king of mountains + Falls like a flight of stairs from heaven let down + For the sons of men; she hurls her billowy fountains + Like hands to grasp the moon on Shiva's crown + And laughs her foamy laugh at Gauri's jealous frown. + + LI + +_The dark cloud is permitted to mingle with the clear stream of +Ganges, as the muddy Jumna River does near the city now called +Allahabad_. + + If thou, like some great elephant of the sky, + Shouldst wish from heaven's eminence to bend + And taste the crystal stream, her beauties high-- + As thy dark shadows with her whiteness blend-- + Would be what Jumna's waters at Prayaga lend. + + LII + +_The magnificent Himalaya range_. + + Her birth-place is Himalaya's rocky crest + Whereon the scent of musk is never lost, + For deer rest ever there where thou wilt rest + Sombre against the peak with whiteness glossed, + Like dark earth by the snow-white bull of Shiva tossed. + + LIII + + If, born from friction of the deodars, + A scudding fire should prove the mountain's bane, + Singeing the tails of yaks with fiery stars, + Quench thou the flame with countless streams of rain-- + The great have power that they may soothe distress and pain. + + LIV + + If mountain monsters should assail thy path + With angry leaps that of their object fail, + Only to hurt themselves in helpless wrath, + Scatter the creatures with thy pelting hail-- + For who is not despised that strives without avail? + + LV + + Bend lowly down and move in reverent state + Round Shiva's foot-print on the rocky plate + With offerings laden by the saintly great; + The sight means heaven as their eternal fate + When death and sin are past, for them that faithful wait. + + LVI + + The breeze is piping on the bamboo-tree; + And choirs of heaven sing in union sweet + O'er demon foe of Shiva's victory; + If thunders in the caverns drumlike beat, + Then surely Shiva's symphony will be complete. + + LVII + +_The mountain pass called the Swan-gate_. + + Pass by the wonders of the snowy slope; + Through the Swan-gate, through mountain masses rent + To make his fame a path by Bhrigu's hope + In long, dark beauty fly, still northward bent, + Like Vishnu's foot, when he sought the demon's chastisement. + + LVIII + +_And at Mount Kailasa, the long journey is ended_; + + Seek then Kailasa's hospitable care, + With peaks by magic arms asunder riven, + To whom, as mirror, goddesses repair, + So lotus-bright his summits cloud the heaven, + Like form and substance to God's daily laughter given. + + LIX + + Like powder black and soft I seem to see + Thine outline on the mountain slope as bright + As new-sawn tusks of stainless ivory; + No eye could wink before as fair a sight + As dark-blue robes upon the Ploughman's shoulder white. + + LX + + Should Shiva throw his serpent-ring aside + And give Gauri his hand, go thou before + Upon the mount of joy to be their guide; + Conceal within thee all thy watery store + And seem a terraced stairway to the jewelled floor. + + LXI + + I doubt not that celestial maidens sweet + With pointed bracelet gems will prick thee there + To make of thee a shower-bath in the heat; + Frighten the playful girls if they should dare + To keep thee longer, friend, with thunder's harshest blare. + + LXII + + Drink where the golden lotus dots the lake; + Serve Indra's elephant as a veil to hide + His drinking; then the tree of wishing shake, + Whose branches like silk garments flutter wide: + With sports like these, O cloud, enjoy the mountain side. + + LXIII + +_for on this mountain is the city of the Yakshas_. + + Then, in familiar Alaka find rest, + Down whom the Ganges' silken river swirls, + Whose towers cling to her mountain lover's breast, + While clouds adorn her face like glossy curls + And streams of rain like strings of close-inwoven pearls. + + +LATTER CLOUD + + I + + _The splendid heavenly city Alaka_, + + Where palaces in much may rival thee-- + Their ladies gay, thy lightning's dazzling powers-- + Symphonic drums, thy thunder's melody-- + Their bright mosaic floors, thy silver showers-- + Thy rainbow, paintings, and thy height, cloud-licking towers. + + II + +_where the flowers which on earth blossom at different seasons, are +all found in bloom the year round_. + + Where the autumn lotus in dear fingers shines, + And lodh-flowers' April dust on faces rare, + Spring amaranth with winter jasmine twines + In women's braids, and summer siris fair, + The rainy madder in the parting of their hair. + + III + +_Here grows the magic tree which yields whatever is desired_. + + Where men with maids whose charm no blemish mars + Climb to the open crystal balcony + Inlaid with flower-like sparkling of the stars, + And drink the love-wine from the wishing-tree, + And listen to the drums' deep-thundering dignity. + + IV + + Where maidens whom the gods would gladly wed + Are fanned by breezes cool with Ganges' spray + In shadows that the trees of heaven spread; + In golden sands at hunt-the-pearl they play, + Bury their little fists, and draw them void away. + + V + + Where lovers' passion-trembling fingers cling + To silken robes whose sashes flutter wide, + The knots undone; and red-lipped women fling, + Silly with shame, their rouge from side to side. + Hoping in vain the flash of jewelled lamps to hide. + + VI + + Where, brought to balconies' palatial tops + By ever-blowing guides, were clouds before + Like thee who spotted paintings with their drops; + Then, touched with guilty fear, were seen no more, + But scattered smoke-like through the lattice' grated door. + + VII + + _Here are the stones from which drops of water + ooze when the moon shines on them_. + + Where from the moonstones hung in nets of thread + Great drops of water trickle in the night-- + When the moon shines clear and thou, O cloud, art fled-- + To ease the languors of the women's plight + Who lie relaxed and tired in love's embraces tight. + + VIII + + _Here are the magic gardens of heaven_. + + Where lovers, rich with hidden wealth untold, + Wander each day with nymphs for ever young, + Enjoy the wonders that the gardens hold, + The Shining Gardens, where the praise is sung + Of the god of wealth by choirs with love-impassioned tongue. + + IX + + Where sweet nocturnal journeys are betrayed + At sunrise by the fallen flowers from curls + That fluttered as they stole along afraid, + By leaves, by golden lotuses, by pearls, + By broken necklaces that slipped from winsome girls. + + X + + _Here the god of love is not seen, because of + the presence of his great enemy, Shiva. + Yet his absence is not severely felt_. + + Where the god of love neglects his bee-strung bow, + Since Shiva's friendship decks Kubera's reign; + His task is done by clever maids, for lo! + Their frowning missile glances, darting plain + At lover-targets, never pass the mark in vain. + + XI + + _Here the goddesses have all needful ornaments. + For the Mine of Sentiment declares: + "Women everywhere have four kinds of + ornaments--hair-ornaments, jewels, clothes, + cosmetics; anything else is local_." + + Where the wishing-tree yields all that might enhance + The loveliness of maidens young and sweet: + Bright garments, wine that teaches eyes to dance, + And flowering twigs, and rarest gems discrete, + And lac-dye fit to stain their pretty lotus-feet. + + XII + + _And here is the home of the unhappy Yaksha_, + + There, northward from the master's palace, see + Our home, whose rainbow-gateway shines afar; + And near it grows a little coral-tree, + Bending 'neath many a blossom's clustered star, + Loved by my bride as children of adoption are. + + XIII + + _with its artificial pool_; + + A pool is near, to which an emerald stair + Leads down, with blooming lotuses of gold + Whose stalks are polished beryl; resting there, + The wistful swans are glad when they behold + Thine image, and forget the lake they loved of old. + + XIV + + _its hill of sport, girdled by bright hedges, like + the dark cloud girdled by the lightening_; + + And on the bank, a sapphire-crested hill + Round which the golden plantain-hedges fit; + She loves the spot; and while I marvel still + At thee, my friend, as flashing lightnings flit + About thine edge, with restless rapture I remember it. + + XV + + _its two favourite trees, which will not blossom + while their mistress is grieving_; + + The ashoka-tree, with sweetly dancing lines, + The favourite bakul-tree, are near the bower + Of amaranth-engirdled jasmine-vines; + Like me, they wait to feel the winning power + Of her persuasion, ere they blossom into flower. + + XVI + + _its tame peacock_; + + A golden pole is set between the pair, + With crystal perch above its emerald bands + As green as young bamboo; at sunset there + Thy friend, the blue-necked peacock, rises, stands, + And dances when she claps her bracelet-tinkling hands. + + XVII + + _and its painted emblems of the god + of wealth_. + + These are the signs--recall them o'er and o'er, + My clever friend--by which the house is known, + And the Conch and Lotus painted by the door: + Alas! when I am far, the charm is gone-- + The lotus' loveliness is lost with set of sun. + + XVIII + + Small as the elephant cub thou must become + For easy entrance; rest where gems enhance + The glory of the hill beside my home, + And peep into the house with lightning-glance, + But make its brightness dim as fireflies' twinkling dance. + + XIX + + _The Yaksha's bride_. + + The supremest woman from God's workshop gone-- + Young, slender; little teeth and red, red lips, + Slight waist and gentle eyes of timid fawn, + An idly graceful movement, generous hips, + Fair bosom into which the sloping shoulder slips-- + + XX + + Like a bird that mourns her absent mate anew + Passing these heavy days in longings keen, + My girlish wife whose words are sweet and few, + My second life, shall there of thee be seen-- + But changed like winter-blighted lotus-blooms, I ween. + + XXI + + Her eyes are swol'n with tears that stream unchidden; + Her lips turn pale with sorrow's burning sighs; + The face that rests upon her hand is hidden + By hanging curls, as when the glory dies + Of the suffering moon pursued by thee through nightly skies. + + XXII + + _The passion of love passes through ten stages, + eight of which are suggested in this stanza + and the stanzas which follow. The first + stage is not indicated; it is called Exchange + of Glances_. + + Thou first wilt see her when she seeks relief + In worship; or, half fancying, half recalling, + She draws mine image worn by absent grief; + Or asks the caged, sweetly-singing starling: + "Do you remember, dear, our lord? You were his darling." + + XXIII + + _In this stanza and the preceding one is + suggested the second stage: Wistfulness_. + + Or holds a lute on her neglected skirt, + And tries to sing of me, and tries in vain; + For she dries the tear-wet string with hands inert, + And e'er begins, and e'er forgets again, + Though she herself composed it once, the loving strain. + + XXIV + + _Here is suggested the third stage: Desire_. + + Or counts the months of absence yet remaining + With flowers laid near the threshold on the floor, + Or tastes the bliss of hours when love was gaining + The memories recollected o'er and o'er-- + woman's comforts when her lonely heart is sore. + + XXV + + _Here is suggested the fourth stage: Wakefulness_. + + Such daytime labours doubtless ease the ache + Which doubly hurts her in the helpless dark; + With news from me a keener joy to wake, + Stand by her window in the night, and mark + My sleepless darling on her pallet hard and stark. + + XXVI + + _Here is suggested the fifth stage: Emaciation_. + + Resting one side upon that widowed bed, + Like the slender moon upon the Eastern height, + So slender she, now worn with anguish dread, + Passing with stifling tears the long, sad night + Which, spent in love with me, seemed but a moment's flight. + + XXVII + + _Here is suggested the sixth stage: Loss of + Interest in Ordinary Pleasures_. + + On the cool, sweet moon that through the lattice flashes + She looks with the old delight, then turns away + And veils her eyes with water-weighted lashes, + Sad as the flower that blooms in sunlight gay, + But cannot wake nor slumber on a cloudy day. + + XXVIII + + _Here is suggested the seventh stage: Loss of + Youthful Bashfulness_. + + One unanointed curl still frets her cheek + When tossed by sighs that burn her blossom-lip; + And still she yearns, and still her yearnings seek + That we might be united though in sleep-- + Ah! Happy dreams come not to brides that ever weep. + + XXIX + + _Here is suggested the eighth stage: Absent-mindedness. + For if she were not absent-minded, + she would arrange the braid so + as not to be annoyed by it_. + + Her single tight-bound braid she pushes oft-- + With a hand uncared for in her lonely madness-- + So rough it seems, from the cheek that is so soft: + That braid ungarlanded since the first day's sadness, + Which I shall loose again when troubles end in gladness. + + XXX + + _Here is suggested the ninth stage: Prostration. + The tenth stage, Death, is not suggested_. + + The delicate body, weak and suffering, + Quite unadorned and tossing to and fro + In oft-renewing wretchedness, will wring + Even from thee a raindrop-tear, I know-- + Soft breasts like thine are pitiful to others' woe. + + XXXI + + I know her bosom full of love for me, + And therefore fancy how her soul doth grieve + In this our first divorce; it cannot be + Self-flattery that idle boastings weave-- + Soon shalt thou see it all, and seeing, shalt believe. + + XXXII + + _Quivering of the eyelids_ + + Her hanging hair prevents the twinkling shine + Of fawn-eyes that forget their glances sly, + Lost to the friendly aid of rouge and wine-- + Yet the eyelids quiver when thou drawest nigh + As water-lilies do when fish go scurrying by. + + XXXIII + + _and trembling of the limbs are omens of + speedy union with the beloved_. + + And limbs that thrill to thee thy welcome prove, + Limbs fair as stems in some rich plantain-bower, + No longer showing marks of my rough love, + Robbed of their cooling pearls by fatal power, + The limbs which I was wont to soothe in passion's hour. + + XXXIV + + But if she should be lost in happy sleep, + Wait, bear with her, grant her but three hours' grace, + And thunder not, O cloud, but let her keep + The dreaming vision of her lover's face-- + Loose not too soon the imagined knot of that embrace. + + XXXV + + As thou wouldst wake the jasmine's budding wonder, + Wake her with breezes blowing mistily; + Conceal thy lightnings, and with words of thunder + Speak boldly, though she answer haughtily + With eyes that fasten on the lattice and on thee. + + XXXVI + + _The cloud is instructed how to announce himself_ + + "Thou art no widow; for thy husband's friend + Is come to tell thee what himself did say-- + A cloud with low, sweet thunder-tones that send + All weary wanderers hastening on their way, + Eager to loose the braids of wives that lonely stay." + + XXXVII + + _in such a way as to win the favour of his auditor_. + + Say this, and she will welcome thee indeed, + Sweet friend, with a yearning heart's tumultuous beating + And joy-uplifted eyes; and she will heed + The after message: such a friendly greeting + Is hardly less to woman's heart than lovers' meeting. + + XXXVIII + + _The message itself_. + + Thus too, my king, I pray of thee to speak, + Remembering kindness is its own reward; + "Thy lover lives, and from the holy peak + Asks if these absent days good health afford-- + Those born to pain must ever use this opening word. + + XXXIX + + With body worn as thine, with pain as deep, + With tears and ceaseless longings answering thine, + With sighs more burning than the sighs that keep + Thy lips ascorch--doomed far from thee to pine, + He too doth weave the fancies that thy soul entwine. + + XL + + He used to love, when women friends were near, + To whisper things he might have said aloud + That he might touch thy face and kiss thine ear; + Unheard and even unseen, no longer proud, + He now must send this yearning message by a cloud. + + XLI + + _According to the treatise called "Virtues + Banner," a lover has four solaces in separation: + first, looking at objects that remind + him of her he loves_; + + 'I see thy limbs in graceful-creeping vines, + Thy glances in the eyes of gentle deer, + Thine eyebrows in the ripple's dancing lines, + Thy locks in plumes, thy face in moonlight clear-- + Ah, jealous! But the whole sweet image is not here. + + XLII + + _second, painting a picture of her_; + + And when I paint that loving jealousy + With chalk upon the rock, and my caress + As at thy feet I lie, I cannot see + Through tears that to mine eyes unbidden press-- + So stern a fate denies a painted happiness. + + XLIII + + _third, dreaming of her_; + + And when I toss mine arms to clasp thee tight, + Mine own though but in visions of a dream-- + They who behold the oft-repeated sight, + The kind divinities of wood and stream, + Let fall great pearly tears that on the blossoms gleam. + + XLIV + + _fourth, touching something which she + has touched_. + + Himalaya's breeze blows gently from the north, + Unsheathing twigs upon the deodar + And sweet with sap that it entices forth-- + I embrace it lovingly; it came so far, + Perhaps it touched thee first, my life's unchanging star! + + XLV + + Oh, might the long, long night seem short to me! + Oh, might the day his hourly tortures hide! + Such longings for the things that cannot be, + Consume my helpless heart, sweet-glancing bride, + In burning agonies of absence from thy side. + + XLVI + + _The bride is besought not to lose heart at + hearing of her lover's wretchedness_, + + Yet much reflection, dearest, makes me strong, + Strong with an inner strength; nor shouldst thou feel + Despair at what has come to us of wrong; + Who has unending woe or lasting weal? + Our fates move up and down upon a circling wheel. + + XLVII + + _and to remember that the curse has its + appointed end, when the rainy season is + over and the year of exile fulfilled. Vishnu + spends the rainy months in sleep upon the + back of the cosmic serpent Shesha_. + + When Vishnu rises from his serpent bed + The curse is ended; close thine eyelids tight + And wait till only four months more are sped; + Then we shall taste each long-desired delight + Through nights that the full autumn moon illumines bright. + + XLVIII + + _Then is added a secret which, as it could not + possibly be known to a third person, + assures her that the cloud is a true + messenger_. + + And one thing more: thou layest once asleep, + Clasping my neck, then wakening with a scream; + And when I wondered why, thou couldst but weep + A while, and then a smile began to beam: + "Rogue! Rogue! I saw thee with another girl in dream." + + XLIX + + This memory shows me cheerful, gentle wife; + Then let no gossip thy suspicions move: + They say the affections strangely forfeit life + In separation, but in truth they prove + Toward the absent dear, a growing bulk of tenderest love.'" + + L + + _The Yaksha then begs the cloud to return + with a message of comfort_. + + Console her patient heart, to breaking full + In our first separation; having spoken, + Fly from the mountain ploughed by Shiva's bull; + Make strong with message and with tender token + My life, so easily, like morning jasmines, broken. + + LI + + I hope, sweet friend, thou grantest all my suit, + Nor read refusal in thy solemn air; + When thirsty birds complain, thou givest mute + The rain from heaven: such simple hearts are rare, + Whose only answer is fulfilment of the prayer. + + LII + + _and dismisses him, with a prayer for his + welfare_. + + Thus, though I pray unworthy, answer me + For friendship's sake, or pity's, magnified + By the sight of my distress; then wander free + In rainy loveliness, and ne'er abide + One moment's separation from thy lightning bride. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE SEASONS + + +_The Seasons_ is an unpretentious poem, describing in six short cantos +the six seasons into which the Hindus divide the year. The title is +perhaps a little misleading, as the description is not objective, but +deals with the feelings awakened by each season in a pair of young +lovers. Indeed, the poem might be called a Lover's Calendar. +Kalidasa's authorship has been doubted, without very cogent argument. +The question is not of much interest, as _The Seasons_ would neither +add greatly to his reputation nor subtract from it. + +The whole poem contains one hundred and forty-four stanzas, or +something less than six hundred lines of verse. There follow a few +stanzas selected from each canto. + + SUMMER + + Pitiless heat from heaven pours + By day, but nights are cool; + Continual bathing gently lowers + The water in the pool; + The evening brings a charming peace: + For summer-time is here + When love that never knows surcease, + Is less imperious, dear. + + Yet love can never fall asleep; + For he is waked to-day + By songs that all their sweetness keep + And lutes that softly play, + By fans with sandal-water wet + That bring us drowsy rest, + By strings of pearls that gently fret + Full many a lovely breast. + + The sunbeams like the fires are hot + That on the altar wake; + The enmity is quite forgot + Of peacock and of snake; + The peacock spares his ancient foe, + For pluck and hunger fail; + He hides his burning head below + The shadow of his tail. + + Beneath the garland of the rays + That leave no corner cool, + The water vanishes in haze + And leaves a muddy pool; + The cobra does not hunt for food + Nor heed the frog at all + Who finds beneath the serpent's hood + A sheltering parasol. + + Dear maiden of the graceful song, + To you may summer's power + Bring moonbeams clear and garlands long + And breath of trumpet-flower, + Bring lakes that countless lilies dot, + Refreshing water-sprays, + Sweet friends at evening, and a spot + Cool after burning days. + + + THE RAINS + + The rain advances like a king + In awful majesty; + Hear, dearest, how his thunders ring + Like royal drums, and see + His lightning-banners wave; a cloud + For elephant he rides, + And finds his welcome from the crowd + Of lovers and of brides. + + The clouds, a mighty army, march + With drumlike thundering + And stretch upon the rainbow's arch + The lightning's flashing string; + The cruel arrows of the rain + Smite them who love, apart + From whom they love, with stinging pain, + And pierce them to the heart. + + The forest seems to show its glee + In flowering nipa plants; + In waving twigs of many a tree + Wind-swept, it seems to dance; + Its ketak-blossom's opening sheath + Is like a smile put on + To greet the rain's reviving breath, + Now pain and heat are gone. + + To you, dear, may the cloudy time + Bring all that you desire, + Bring every pleasure, perfect, prime, + To set a bride on fire; + May rain whereby life wakes and shines + Where there is power of life, + The unchanging friend of clinging vines, + Shower blessings on my wife. + + + AUTUMN + + The autumn comes, a maiden fair + In slenderness and grace, + With nodding rice-stems in her hair + And lilies in her face. + In flowers of grasses she is clad; + And as she moves along, + Birds greet her with their cooing glad + Like bracelets' tinkling song. + + A diadem adorns the night + Of multitudinous stars; + Her silken robe is white moonlight, + Set free from cloudy bars; + And on her face (the radiant moon) + Bewitching smiles are shown: + She seems a slender maid, who soon + Will be a woman grown. + + Over the rice-fields, laden plants + Are shivering to the breeze; + While in his brisk caresses dance + The blossom-burdened trees; + He ruffles every lily-pond + Where blossoms kiss and part, + And stirs with lover's fancies fond + The young man's eager heart. + + + WINTER + + The bloom of tenderer flowers is past + And lilies droop forlorn, + For winter-time is come at last, + Rich with its ripened corn; + Yet for the wealth of blossoms lost + Some hardier flowers appear + That bid defiance to the frost + Of sterner days, my dear. + + The vines, remembering summer, shiver + In frosty winds, and gain + A fuller life from mere endeavour + To live through all that pain; + Yet in the struggle and acquist + They turn as pale and wan + As lonely women who have missed + Known love, now lost and gone. + + Then may these winter days show forth + To you each known delight, + Bring all that women count as worth + Pure happiness and bright; + While villages, with bustling cry, + Bring home the ripened corn, + And herons wheel through wintry sky, + Forget sad thoughts forlorn. + + + EARLY SPRING + + Now, dearest, lend a heedful ear + And listen while I sing + Delights to every maiden dear, + The charms of early spring: + When earth is dotted with the heaps + Of corn, when heron-scream + Is rare but sweet, when passion leaps + And paints a livelier dream. + + When all must cheerfully applaud + A blazing open fire; + Or if they needs must go abroad, + The sun is their desire; + When everybody hopes to find + The frosty chill allayed + By garments warm, a window-blind + Shut, and a sweet young maid. + + Then may the days of early spring + For you be rich and full + With love's proud, soft philandering + And many a candy-pull, + With sweetest rice and sugar-cane: + And may you float above + The absent grieving and the pain + Of separated love. + + + SPRING + + A stalwart soldier comes, the spring, + Who bears the bow of Love; + And on that bow, the lustrous string + Is made of bees, that move + With malice as they speed the shaft + Of blossoming mango-flower + At us, dear, who have never laughed + At love, nor scorned his power. + + Their blossom-burden weights the trees; + The winds in fragrance move; + The lakes are bright with lotuses, + The women bright with love; + The days are soft, the evenings clear + And charming; everything + That moves and lives and blossoms, dear, + Is sweeter in the spring. + + The groves are beautifully bright + For many and many a mile + With jasmine-flowers that are as white + As loving woman's smile: + The resolution of a saint + Might well be tried by this; + Far more, young hearts that fancies paint + With dreams of loving bliss. + + * * * * * + + + +EVERYMAN'S LIBRARY + +By Ernest Rhys + +MADE AT THE TEMPLE + +PRESS LETCHWORTH IN GREAT BRITAIN + + + + + +Victor Hugo said a Library was "an act of faith," and some unknown +essayist spoke of one so beautiful, so perfect, so harmonious in all +its parts, that he who made it was smitten with a passion. In that +faith the promoters of Everyman's Library planned it out originally on +a large scale; and their idea in so doing was to make it conform as +far as possible to a perfect scheme. However, perfection is a thing to +be aimed at and not to be achieved in this difficult world; and since +the first volumes appeared, now several years ago, there have been +many interruptions. A great war has come and gone; and even the City +of Books has felt something like a world commotion. Only in recent +years is the series getting back into its old stride and looking +forward to complete its original scheme of a Thousand Volumes. One of +the practical expedients in that original plan was to divide the +volumes into sections, as Biography, Fiction, History, Belles Lettres, +Poetry, Romance, and so forth; with a compartment for young people, +and last, and not least, one of Reference Books. Beside the +dictionaries and encyclopædias to be expected in that section, there +was a special set of literary and historical atlases. One of these +atlases dealing with Europe, we may recall, was directly affected by +the disturbance of frontiers during the war; and the maps had to be +completely revised in consequence, so as to chart the New Europe which +we hope will now preserve its peace under the auspices of the League +of Nations set up at Geneva. That is only one small item, however, in +a library list which runs already to the final centuries of the +Thousand. The largest slice of this huge provision is, as a matter of +course, given to the tyrannous demands of fiction. But in carrying out +the scheme, publishers and editors contrived to keep in mind that +books, like men and women, have their elective affinities. The present +volume, for instance, will be found to have its companion books, both +in the same section and even more significantly in other sections. +With that idea too, novels like Walter Scott's _Ivanhoe_ and _Fortunes +of Nigel_, Lytton's _Harold_ and Dickens's _Tale of Two Cities_, have +been used as pioneers of history and treated as a sort of holiday +history books. For in our day history is tending to grow more +documentary and less literary; and "the historian who is a stylist," +as one of our contributors, the late Thomas Seccombe, said, "will soon +be regarded as a kind of Phoenix." But in this special department of +Everyman's Library we have been eclectic enough to choose our history +men from every school in turn. We have Grote, Gibbon, Finlay, +Macaulay, Motley, Frescott. We have among earlier books the Venerable +Bede and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, have completed a Livy in an +admirable new translation by Canon Roberts, while Cæsar, Tacitus, +Thucydides and Herodotus are not forgotten. "You only, O Books," said +Richard de Bury, "are liberal and independent; you give to all who +ask." The delightful variety, the wisdom and the wit which are at the +disposal of Everyman in his own library may well, at times, seem to +him a little embarrassing. He may turn to Dick Steele in _The +Spectator_ and learn how Cleomira dances, when the elegance of her +motion is unimaginable and "her eyes are chastised with the simplicity +and innocence of her thoughts." He may turn to Plato's Phædrus and +read how every soul is divided into three parts (like Cæsar's Gaul). +He may turn to the finest critic of Victorian times, Matthew Arnold, +and find in his essay on Maurice de Guerin the perfect key to what is +there called the "magical power of poetry." It is Shakespeare, with +his + + "daffodils That come before the swallow dares, and take + The winds of March with beauty;" + +it is Wordsworth, with his + + "voice ... heard + In spring-time from the cuckoo-bird, + Breaking the silence of the seas + Among the farthest Hebrides;" + +or Keats, with his + + ".... moving waters at their priest-like task + Of cold ablution round Earth's human shores." + +William Hazlitt's "Table Talk," among the volumes of Essays, may help +to show the relationship of one author to another, which is another +form of the Friendship of Books. His incomparable essay in that +volume, "On Going a Journey," forms a capital prelude to Coleridge's +"Biographia Literaria" and to his and Wordsworth's poems. In the same +way one may turn to the review of Moore's Life of Byron in Macaulay's +_Essays_ as a prelude to the three volumes of Byron's own poems, +remembering that the poet whom Europe loved more than England did was +as Macaulay said: "the beginning, the middle and the end of all his +own poetry." This brings us to the provoking reflection that it is the +obvious authors and the books most easy to reprint which have been the +signal successes out of the many hundreds in the series, for Everyman +is distinctly proverbial in his tastes. He likes best of all an old +author who has worn well or a comparatively new author who has gained +something like newspaper notoriety. In attempting to lead him on from +the good books that are known to those that are less known, the +publishers may have at times been too adventurous. The late _Chief_ +himself was much more than an ordinary book-producer in this critical +enterprise. He threw himself into it with the zeal of a book-lover and +indeed of one who, like Milton, thought that books might be as alive +and productive as dragons' teeth, which, being "sown up and down the +land, might chance to spring up armed men." Mr. Pepys in his _Diary_ +writes about some of his books, "which are come home gilt on the +backs, very handsome to the eye." The pleasure he took in them is that +which Everyman may take in the gilt backs of his favourite books in +his own Library, which after all he has helped to make good and +lasting. + + * * * * * + + Abbott's Rollo at Work, etc., 275 + + Addison's Spectator, 164-167 + + Æschylus' Lyrical Dramas, 62 + + Æsop's and Other Fables, 657 + + Aimard's The Indian Scout, 428 + + Ainsworth's Tower of London, 400 + " Old St. Paul's, 522 + " Windsor Castle, 709 + " The Admirable Crichton, 804 + + A'Kempis' Imitation of Christ, 484 + + Alcott's Little Women, and Good Wives, 248 + " Little Men, 512 + + Alpine Club. Peaks, Passes and Glaciers, 778 + + Andersen's Fairy Tales, 4 + + Anglo-Saxon Poetry, 794 + + Anson's Voyages, 510 + + Aristophanes' The Acharnians, etc., 344 + " The Frogs, etc., 516 + + Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics, 547 + " Politics, 605 + + Arnold's (Matthew) Essays, 115 + " Poems, 334 + " Study of Celtic Literature, etc., 458 + + Augustine's (Saint) Confessions, 200 + + Aurelius' (Marcus) Golden Book, 9 + + Austen's (Jane) Sense and Sensibility, 21 + " Pride and Prejudice, 22 + " Mansfield Park, 23 + " Emma, 24 + " Northanger Abbey, and Persuasion, 25 + + + Bacon's Essays, 10 + " Advancement of Learning, 719 + + Bagehot's Literary Studies, 520, 521 + + Baker's (Sir S.W.) Cast up by the Sea, 539 + + Ballantyne's Coral Island, 245 + " Martin Rattler, 246 + " Ungava, 276 + + Balzac's Wild Ass's Skin, 26 + " Eugénie Grandet, 169 + " Old Goriot, 170 + " Atheist's Mass, etc., 229 + " Christ in Flanders, etc., 284 + " The Chouans, 285 + " Quest of the Absolute, 286 + " Cat and Racket, etc., 349 + " Catherine de Medici, 419 + " Cousin Pons, 463 + " The Country Doctor, 530 + " Rise and Fall of César Birotteau, 596 + " Lost Illusions, 656 + " The Country Parson, 686 + " Ursule Mirouët, 733 + + Barbusse's Under Fire, 798 + + Barca's (Mme. C. de la) Life in Mexico, 664 + + Bates' Naturalist on the Amazons, 446 + + Beaumont and Fletcher's Select Plays, 506 + + Beaumont's (Mary) Joan Seaton, 597 + + Bede's Ecclesiastical History, etc., 479 + + Belt's The Naturalist in Nicaragua, 561 + + Berkeley's (Bishop) Principles of Human Knowledge, New Theory of + Vision, etc., 483 + + Berlioz (Hector), Life of, 602 + + Binns' Life of Abraham Lincoln, 783 + + Björnson's Plays, 625, 696 + + Blackmore's Lorna Doone, 304 + " Springhaven, 350 + + Blackwell's Pioneer Work for Women, 667 + + Blake's Poems and Prophecies, 792 + + + Boehme's The Signature of All Things, etc., 569 + + Bonaventura's The Little Flowers, + The Life of St. Francis, etc., 485 + + Borrow's Wild Wales, 49 + " Lavengro, 119 + " Romany Rye, 120 + " Bible in Spain, 151 + " Gypsies in Spain, 697 + + Boswell's Life of Johnson, 1, 2 + " Tour in the Hebrides, etc., 387 + + Boult's Asgard and Norse Heroes, 689 + + Boyle's The Sceptical Chymist, 559 + + Bright's (John) Speeches, 252 + + Brontë's (A.) The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, 685 + + Brontë's (C.) Jane Eyre, 287 + " Shirley, 288 + " Villette, 351 + " The Professor, 417 + + Brontë's (E.) Wuthering Heights, 243 + + Brooke's (Stopford A.) Theology in the English Poets, 493 + + Brown's (Dr. John) Rab and His Friends, etc., 116 + + Browne's (Frances) Grannie's Wonderful Chair, 112 + + Browne's (Sir Thos.) Religio Medici, etc., 92 + + Browning's Poems, 1833-1844, 41 + " " 1844-1864, 42 + " The Ring and the Book, 502 + + Buchanan's Life and Adventures of Audubon, 601 + + Bulfinch's The Age of Fable, 472 + " Legends of Charlemagne, 556 + + Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, 204 + + Burke's American Speeches and Letters, 340 + " Reflections on the French Revolution, etc., 460 + + Burnet's History of His Own Times, 85 + + Burney's Evelina, 352 + + Burns' Poems and Songs, 94 + + Burrell's Volume of Heroic Verse, 574 + + Burton's East Africa, 500 + + Butler's Analogy of Religion, 90 + + Buxton's Memoirs, 773 + + Byron's Complete Poetical and Dramatic Works, 486-488 + + + Cæsar's Gallic War, etc., 702 + + Canton's Child's Book of Saints, 61 + " Invisible Playmate, etc., 566 + + Carlyle's French Revolution, 31, 32 + " Letters, etc., of Cromwell, 266-268 + " Sartor Resartus, 278 + " Past and Present, 608 + " Essays, 703, 704 + + Cellini's Autobiography, 51 + + Cervantes' Don Quixote, 385, 386 + + Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, 307 + + Chrétien de Troyes' Eric and Enid, 698 + + Cibber's Apology for his Life, 668 + + Cicero's Select Letters and Orations, 345 + + Clarke's Tales from Chaucer, 537 + " Shakespeare's Heroines, 109-111 + + Cobbett's Rural Rides, 638, 639 + + Coleridge's Biographia, 11 + " Golden Book, 43 + " Lectures on Shakespeare, 162 + + Collins' Woman in White, 464 + + Collodi's Pinocchio, 538 + + Converse's Long Will, 328 + + Cook's Voyages, 99 + + Cooper's The Deerslayer, 77 + " The Pathfinder, 78 + " Last of the Mohicans, 79 + " The Pioneer, 171 + " The Prairie, 172 + + Cousin's Biographical Dictionary of English Literature, 449 + + Cowper's Letters, 774 + + Cox's Tales of Ancient Greece, 721 + + Craik's Manual of English Literature, 346 + + Craik (Mrs.). _See_ Mulock. + + Creasy's Fifteen Decisive Battles, 300 + + Crèvecoeur's Letters from an American Farmer, 640 + + Curtis's Prue and I, and Lotus, 418 + + + Dana's Two Years Before the Mast, 588 + + Dante's Divine Comedy, 308 + + Darwin's Voyage of the Beagle, 104 + + Dasent's The Story of Burnt Njal, 558 + + Daudet's Tartarin of Tarascon, 423 + + Defoe's Robinson Crusoe, 59 + " Captain Singleton, 74 + " Memoirs of a Cavalier, 283 + " Journal of Plague, 289 + + De Joinville's Memoirs of the Crusades, 333 + + Demosthenes' Select Orations, 546 + + Dennis' Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria, 183, 184 + + De Quincey's Lake Poets, 163 + " Opium-Eater, 223 + " English Mail Coach, etc., 609 + + De Retz (Cardinal), Memoirs of, 735, 736 + + Descartes' Discourse on Method, 570 + + Dickens' Barnaby Rudge, 76 + " Tale of Two Cities, 102 + " Old Curiosity Shop, 173 + " Oliver Twist, 233 + " Great Expectations, 234 + " Pickwick Papers, 235 + " Bleak House, 236 + " Sketches by Boz, 237 + " Nicholas Nickleby, 238 + " Christmas Books, 239 + " Dombey & Son, 240 + " Martin Chuzzlewit, 241 + " David Copperfield, 242 + " American Notes, 290 + " Child's History of England, 291 + " Hard Times, 292 + " Little Dorrit, 293 + " Our Mutual Friend, 294 + " Christmas Stories, 414 + " Uncommercial Traveller, 536 + " Edwin Drood, 725 + " Reprinted Pieces, 744 + + Disraeli's Coningsby, 635 + + Dixon's Fairy Tales from Arabian Nights, 249 + + Dodge's Hans Brinker, or the Silver Skates, 620 + + Dostoieffsky's Crime and Punishment, 501 + " The House of the Dead, or Prison Life in Siberia, 533 + " Letters from the Underworld, etc., 654 + " The Idiot, 682 + " Poor Folk, and The Gambler, 711 + " The Brothers Karamazov, 802, 803 + + Dowden's Life of R. Browning, 701 + + Dryden's Dramatic Essays, 568 + + Dufferin's Letters from High Latitudes, 499 + + Dumas' The Three Musketeers, 81 + " The Black Tulip, 174 + + Dumas' Twenty Years After, 175 + " Marguerite de Valois, 326 + " The Count of Monte Cristo, 393, 394 + " The Forty-Five, 420 + " Chicot the Jester, 421 + " Vicomte de Bragelonne, 593-595 + " Le Chevalier de Maison Rouge, 614 + + Duruy's History of France, 737, 738 + + Edgar's Cressy and Poictiers, 17 + " Runnymede and Lincoln Fair, 320 + " Heroes of England, 471 + + Edgeworth's Castle Rackrent, etc., 410 + + Edwardes' Dictionary of Non-Classical Mythology, 632 + + Eliot's Adam Bede, 27 + " Silas Marner, 121 + " Romola, 231 + " Mill on the Floss, 325 + " Felix Holt, 353 + " Scenes of Clerical Life, 468 + + Elyot's Governour, 227 + + Emerson's Essays, 12 + " Representative Men, 279 + " Nature, Conduct of Life, etc., 322 + " Society and Solitude, etc., 567 + " Poems, 715 + + Epictetus' Moral Discourses, etc., 404 + + Erckmann--Chatrian's The Conscript and Waterloo, 354 + " Story of a Peasant, 706, 707 + + Euripides' Plays, 63, 271 + + Evelyn's Diary, 220, 221 + + Ewing's (Mrs.) Mrs. Overtheway's Remembrances, and other Stories, 730 + " Jackanapes, Daddy Darwin's Dovecot, and The Story of a Short Life, + 731 + + Faraday's Experimental Researches in Electricity, 576 + + Fielding's Tom Jones, 355, 356 + " Joseph Andrews, 467 + + Finlay's Byzantine Empire, 33 + " Greece under the Romans, 185 + + Fletcher's (Beaumont and) Select Plays, 506 + + Ford's Gatherings from Spain, 152 + + Forster's Life of Dickens, 781, 782 + + Fox's Journal, 754 + + Fox's Selected Speeches, 759 + + Franklin's Journey to Polar Sea, 447 + + Freeman's Old English History for Children, 540 + + Froissart's Chronicles, 57 + + Fronde's Short Studies, 13, 705 + " Henry VIII., 372-374 + " Edward VI., 375 + " Mary Tudor, 477 + " History of Queen Elizabeth's Reign, 583-587 + " Life of Benjamin Disraeli, Lord Beaconsfield, 666 + + Gait's Annals of the Parish, 427 + + Galton's Inquiries into Human Faculty, 263 + + Gaskell's Cranford, 83 + " Charlotte Brontë, 318 + " Sylvia's Lovers, 524 + " Mary Barton, 598 + " Cousin Phillis, etc., 615 + " North and South, 680 + + Gatty's Parables from Nature, 158 + + Geoffrey of Monmouth's Histories of the Kings of Britain, 577 + + George's Progress and Poverty, 560 + + Gibbon's Roman Empire, 434-436, 474-476 + " Autobiography, 511 + + Gilfillian's Literary Portraits, 348 + + Giraldus Cambrensis, 272 + + Gleig's Life of Wellington, 341 + " The Subaltern, 708 + + Goethe's Faust (Parts I. and II.), 335 + " Wilhelm Meister, 599, 600 + + Gogol's Dead Souls, 726 + " Taras Bulba, 740 + + Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield, 295 + " Poems and Plays, 415 + + Gorki's Through Russia, 741 + + Gosse's Restoration Plays, 604 + + Gotthelf's Ulric the Farm Servant, 228 + + Gray's Poems and Letters, 628 + + Green's Short History of the English People, 727, 728 The cloth + edition is in 2 vols. or 1 vol. All other editions are in 1 vol. + + Grimms' Fairy Tales, 56 + + Grote's History of Greece, 186-197 + + Guest's (Lady) Mabinogion, 97 + + + Hahnemann's The Organon of the Rational Art of Healing, 663 + + Hakluyt's Voyages, 264, 265, 313, 314, 338, 339, 388, 389 + + Hallam's Constitutional History, 621-623 + + Hamilton's The Federalist, 519 + + Harte's Luck of Roaring Camp, 681 + + Harvey's Circulation of Blood, 262 + + Hawthorne's Wonder Book, 5 + " The Scarlet Letter, 122 + " House of Seven Gables, 176 + " The Marble Faun, 424 + " Twice Told Tales, 531 + " Blithedale Romance, 592 + + Hazlitt's Shakespeare's Characters, 65 + " Table Talk, 321 + " Lectures, 411 + " Spirit of the Age and Lectures on English Poets, 459 + + Hebbel's Plays, 694 + + Helps' (Sir Arthur) Life of Columbus, 332 + + Herbert's Temple, 309 + + Herodotus (Rawlinson's), 405, 406 + + Herrick's Hesperides, 310 + + Hobbes' Leviathan, 691 + + Holinshed's Chronicle, 800 + + Holmes' Life of Mozart, 564 + + Holmes' (O.W.) Autocrat, 66 + " Professor, 67 + " Poet, 68 + + Homer's Iliad, 453 " Odyssey, 454 + + Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity, 201, 202 + + Horace's Complete Poetical Works, 515 + + Houghton's Life and Letters of Keats, 801 + + Hughes' Tom Brown's Schooldays, 58 + + Hugo's (Victor) Les Misérables, 363, 364 + " Notre Dame, 422 + " Toilers of the Sea, 509 + + Hume's Treatise of Human Nature, etc., 548, 549 + + Hutchinson's (Col.) Memoirs, 317 + + Hutchinson's (W.M.L.) Muses' Pageant, 581, 606, 671 + + Huxley's Man's Place in Nature, 47 + " Select Lectures and Lay Sermons, 498 + + + Ibsen's The Doll's House, etc., 494 + " Ghosts, etc., 552 + " Pretenders, Pillars of Society, etc., 659 + " Brand, 716 " Lady Inger, etc., 729 + " Peer Gynt, 747 + + Ingelow's Mopsa the Fairy, 619 + + Ingram's Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 624 + + Irving's Sketch Book, 117 + " Conquest of Granada, 478 + " Life of Mahomet, 513 + + + James' (G.P.R.) Richelieu, 357 + + James (Wm.), Selections from, 739 + + Johnson's (Dr.) Lives of the Poets, 770-771 + + Johnson's (R.B.) Book of English Ballads, 572 + + Jonson's (Ben) Plays, 489, 490 + + Josephus' Wars of the Jews, 712 + + + Kalidasa's Shakuntala, 629 + + Keats' Poems, 101 + + Keble's Christian Year, 690 + + King's Life of Mazzini, 562 + + Kinglake's Eothen, 337 + + Kingsley's (Chas.) Westward Ho! 20 + " Heroes, 113 " Hypatia, 230 + " Water Babies and Glaucus, 277 + " Hereward the Wake, 296 + " Alton Locke, 462 + " Yeast, 611 + " Madam How and Lady Why, 777 + " Poems, 793 + + Kingsley's (Henry) Ravenshoe, 28 + " Geoffrey Hamlyn, 416 + + Kingston's Peter the Whaler, 6 + " Three Midshipmen, 7 + + + Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare, 8 + " Essays of Elia, 14 + " Letters, 342, 343 + + Lane's Modern Egyptians, 315 + + Langland's Piers Plowman, 571 + + Latimer's Sermons, 40 + + Law's Serious Call, 91 + + Layamon's (Wace and) Arthurian Chronicles, 578 + + Lear (and others), A Book of Nonsense, 806 + + Le Sage's Gil Blas, 437, 438 + + Leslie's Memoirs of John Constable, 563 + + Lever's Harry Lorrequer, 177 + + Lewes' Life of Goethe, 269 + + Lincoln's Speeches, etc., 206 + + Livy's History of Rome, 603, 669, 670, 749, 755, 756 + + Locke's Civil Government, 751 + + Lockhart's Life of Napoleon, 3 + " Life of Scott, 55 " Burns, 156 + + Longfellow's Poems, 382 + + Lönnrott's Kalevala, 259, 260 + + Lover's Handy Andy, 178 + + Lowell's Among My Books, 607 + + Lucretius: Of the Nature of Things, 750 + + Lützow's History of Bohemia, 432 + + Lyell's Antiquity of Man, 700 + + Lytton's Harold, 15 + " Last of the Barons, 18 + " Last Days of Pompeii, 80 + " Pilgrims of the Rhine, 390 + " Rienzi, 532 + + + Macaulay's England, 34-36 + " Essays, 225, 226 + " Speeches on Politics, etc., 399 + " Miscellaneous Essays, 439 + + MacDonald's Sir Gibbie, 678 + " Phantastes, 732 + + Machiavelli's Prince, 280 " Florence, 376 + + Maine's Ancient Law, 734 + + Malory's Le Morte D'Arthur, 45, 46 + + Malthus on the Principles of Population, 692, 693 + + Manning's Sir Thomas More, 19 + " Mary Powell, and Deborah's Diary, 324 + + Marcus Aurelius' Golden Book, 9 + + Marlowe's Plays and Poems, 383 + + Marryat's Mr. Midshipman Easy, 82 + " Little Savage, 159 + " Masterman Ready, 160 + " Peter Simple, 232 + " Children of New Forest, 247 + " Percival Keene, 358 + " Settlers in Canada, 370 + " King's Own, 580 + " Jacob Faithful, 618 + + Martineau's Feats on the Fjords, 429 + + Martinengo-Cesaresco's Folk-Lore and Other Essays, 673 + + Maurice's Kingdom of Christ, 146, 147 + + Mazzini's Duties of Man, etc., 224 + + Melville's Moby Dick, 179 + " Typee, 180 + " Omoo, 297 + + Merivale's History of Rome, 433 + + Mignet's French Revolution, 713 + + Mill's Utilitarianism, Liberty, Representative Government, 482 + + Miller's Old Red Sandstone, 103 + + Milman's History of the Jews, 377, 378 + + Milton's Areopagitica and other Prose Works, 795 + + Milton's Poems, 384 + + Mommsen's History of Rome, 542-545 + + Montagu's (Lady) Letters, 69 + + Montaigne, Florio's, 440-442 + + More's Utopia, and Dialogue of Comfort against Tribulation, 461 + + Morier's Hajji Baba, 679 + + Morris' (Wm.) Early Romances, 261 " Life and Death of Jason, 575 + + Motley's Dutch Republic, 86-88 + + Mulock's John Halifax, 123 + + + Neale's Fall of Constantinople, 655 + + Newcastle's (Margaret, Duchess of) Life of the First Duke of + Newcastle, etc., 722 + + Newman's Apologia Pro Vita Sua, 636 + " On the Scope and Nature of University Education, and + a Paper on Christianity and Scientific Investigation, 723 + + + Oliphant's Salem Chapel, 244 + + Osborne (Dorothy), Letters of, 674 + + Owen's A New View of Society, etc., 799 + + + Paine's Rights of Man, 718 + + Palgrave's Golden Treasury, 96 + + Paltock's Peter Wilkins, 676 + + Park (Mungo), Travels of, 205 + + Parkman's Conspiracy of Pontiac, 302, 303 + + Parry's Letters of Dorothy Osborne, 674 + + Paston's Letters, 752, 753 + + Paton's Two Morte D'Arthur Romances, 634 + + Peacock's Headlong Hall, 327 + + Penn's The Peace of Europe, Some Fruits of Solitude, etc., 724 + + Pepys' Diary, 53, 54 + + Percy's Reliques, 148, 149 + + Pitt's Orations, 145 + + Plato's Republic, 64 " Dialogues, 456, 457 + + Plutarch's Lives, 407-409 + " Moralia, 565 + + Poe's Tales of Mystery and Imagination, 336 + " Poems and Essays, 791 + + Polo's (Marco) Travels, 306 + + Pope's Complete Poetical Works, 760 + + Prelude to Poetry, 789 + + Prescott's Conquest of Peru, 301 + Conquest of Mexico, 397, 398 + + Procter's Legends and Lyrics, 150 + + + Rawlinson's Herodotus, 405, 406 + + Reade's The Cloister and the Hearth, 29 + " Peg Woffington, 299 + + Reid's (Mayne) Boy Hunters of the Mississippi, 582 + + Reid's (Mayne) The Boy Slaves, 797 + + Renan's Life of Jesus, 805 + + Reynolds' Discourses, 118 + + Rhys' Fairy Gold, 157 + " New Golden Treasury, 695 + " Anthology of British Hitstorical Speeches and Orations, 714 + " Political Liberty, 745 + " Golden Treasury of Longer Poems, 746 + + Ricardo's Principles of Political Economy and Taxation, 590 + + Richardson's Pamela, 683, 684 + + Roberts' (Morley) Western Avernus, 762 + + Robertson's Religion and Life, 37 + " Christian Doctrine, 38 + " Bible Subjects, 39 + + Robinson's (Wade) Sermons, 637 + + Roget's Thesaurus, 630, 631 + + Rossetti's (D.G.) Poems, 627 + + Rousseau's Emile, on Education, 518 + " Social Contract and Other Essays, 660 + + Ruskin's Seven Lamps of Architecture, 207 + " Modern Painters, 208-212 + " Stones of Venice, 213-215 + " Unto this Last, etc., 216 + " Elements of Drawing, etc., 217 + " Pre-Raphaelitism, etc., 218 + " Sesame and Lilies, 219 + + Ruskin's Ethics of the Dust, 282 + " Crown of Wild Olive, and Cestus of Aglaia, 323 + " Time and Tide, with other Essays, 450 + " The Two Boyhoods, 688 + + Russell's Life of Gladstone, 661 + + Russian Short Stories, 758 + + + Sand's (George) The Devil's Pool, and François the Waif, 534 + + Scheffel's Ekkehard: A Tale of the 10th Century, 529 + + Scott's (M.) Tom Cringle's Log, 710 + + Scott's (Sir W.) Ivanhoe, 16 + " Fortunes of Nigel, 71 + " Woodstock, 72 + " Waverley, 75 + " The Abbot, 124 + " Anne of Geierstein, 125 + " The Antiquary, 126 + " Highland Widow, and Betrothed, 127 + " Black Dwarf, Legend of Montrose, 123 + " Bride of Lammermoor, 129 + " Castle Dangerous, Surgeon's Daughter, 130 + " Robert of Paris, 131 + " Fair Maid of Perth, 132 + " Guy Mannering, 133 + " Heart of Midlothian, 134 + " Kenilworth, 135 + " The Monastery, 136 + " Old Mortality, 137 + " Peveril of the Peak, 138 + " The Pirate, 139 + " Quentin Durward, 140 + " Redgauntlet, 141 + " Rob Roy, 142 + " St. Ronan's Well, 143 + " The Talisman, 144 + " Lives of the Novelists, 331 + " Poems and Plays, 550, 551 + + Seebohm's Oxford Reformers, 665 + + Seeley's Ecce Homo, 305 + + Sewell's (Anna) Black Beauty, 748 + + Shakespeare's Comedies, 153 + " Histories, etc., 154 + " Tragedies, 155 + + Shelley's Poetical Works, 257, 258 + + Shelley's (Mrs.) Frankenstein, 616 + + Sheppard's Charles Auchester, 505 + + Sheridan's Plays, 95 + + Sismondi's Italian Republics, 250 + + Smeaton's Life of Shakespeare, 514 + + Smith's A Dictionary of Dates, 554 + + Smith's Wealth of Nations, 412, 413 + + Smith's (George) Life of Wm. Carey, 395 + + Smith's (Sir Wm.) Smaller Classical Dictionary, 495 + + Smollett's Roderick Random, 790 + + Sophocles, Young's, 114 + + Southey's Life of Nelson, 52 + + Speke's Source of the Nile, 50 + + Spence's Dictionary of Non-Classical Mythology, 632 + + Spencer's (Herbert) Essays on Education, 504 + + Spenser's Faerie Queene, 443, 444 + + Spinoza's Ethics, etc., 481 + + Spyri's Heidi, 431 + + Stanley's Memorials of Canterbury, 89 + " Eastern Church, 251 + + Steele's The Spectator, 164-167 + + Sterne's Tristram Shandy, 617 + " Sentimental Journey and Journal to Eliza, 796 + + Stevenson's Treasure Island and Kidnapped, 763 + " Master of Ballantrae and the Black Arrow, 764 + " Virginibus Puerisque and Familiar Studies of Men and Books, 765 + " An Inland Voyage, Travels with a Donkey, and Silverado Squatters, 766 + " Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The Merry Men, etc., 767 + " Poems, 768 + " In the South Seas and Island Nights' Entertainments, 769 + + St. Francis, The Little Flowers of, etc., 485 + + Stopford Brooke's Theology in the English Poets, 493 + + Stow's Survey of London, 589 + + Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin, 371 + + Strickland's Queen Elizabeth, 100 + + Swedenborg's Heaven and Hell, 379 + " Divine Love and Wisdom, 635 + " Divine Providence, 658 + + Swift's Gulliver's Travels, 60 + " Journal to Stella, 757 + " Tale of a Tub, etc., 347 + + + Tacitus' Annals, 273 + " Agricola and Germania, 274 + + Taylor's Words and Places, 517 + + Tennyson's Poems, 44, 626 + + Thackeray's Esmond, 73 + " Vanity Fair, 298 + " Christmas Books, 359 + " Pendennis, 425, 426 + " Newcomes, 465, 466 + " The Virginians, 507, 508 + " English Humorists, and The Four Georges, 610 + " Roundabout Papers, 687 + + Thierry's Norman Conquest, 198, 199 + + Thoreau's Walden, 281 + + Thucydides' Peloponnesian War, 455 + + Tolstoy's Master and Man, and Other Parables and Tales, 469 + " War and Peace, 525-527 + " Childhood, Boyhood and Youth, 591 + " Anna Karenina, 612, 613 + + Trench's On the Study of Words and English Past and Present, 788 + + Trollope's Barchester Towers, 30 + " Framley Parsonage, 181 + " Golden Lion of Granpere, 761 + " The Warden, 182 + " Dr. Thorne, 360 + " Small House at Allington, 361 + " Last Chronicles of Barset, 391, 392 + + Trotter's The Bayard of India, 396 + " Hodson, of Hodson's Horse, 401 + " Warren Hastings, 452 + + Turgeniev's Virgin Soil, 528 + " Liza, 677 + " Fathers and Sons, 742 + + Tyndall's Glaciers of the Alps, 98 + + Tytler's Principles of Translation, 168 + + + Vasari's Lives of the Painters, 784-7 + + Verne's (Jules) Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea, 319 + " Dropped from the Clouds, 367 + " Abandoned, 368 + " The Secret of the Island, 369 + " Five Weeks in a Balloon and Around the World in Eighty Days, 779 + + Virgil's Aeneid, 161 + " Eclogues and Georgics, 222 + + Voltaire's Life of Charles XII., 270 + " Age of Louis XIV., 780 + + + Wace and Layamon's Arthurian Chronicles, 578 + + Walpole's Letters, 775 + + Walton's Compleat Angler, 70 + + Waterton's Wanderings in South America, 772 + + Wesley's Journal, 105-108 + + White's Selborne, 48 + + Whitman's Leaves of Grass (I.) and Democratic Vistas, etc., 573 + + Whyte-Melville's Gladiators, 523 + + Wood's (Mrs. Henry) The Channings, 84 + + Woolman's Journal, etc., 402 + + Wordsworth's Shorter Poems, 203 + " Longer Poems, 311 + + Wright's An Encyclopædia of Gardening, 555 + + + Xenophon's Cyropaedia, 672 + + + Yonge's The Dove in the Eagle's Nest, 329 + " The Book of Golden Deeds, 330 + " The Heir of Redclyffe, 362 + " The Little Duke, 470 + " The Lances of Lynwood, 579 + + Young's (Arthur) Travels in France and Italy, 720 + + Young's (Sir George) Sophocles, 114 + + The New Testament, 93. + + Ancient Hebrew Literature, 4 vols., 253-256. + + English Short Stories. An Anthology, 143. + + Everyman's English Dictionary, 776 + + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Translations of Shakuntala and Other +Works, by Kåalidåasa + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRANSLATIONS OF SHAKUNTALA *** + +***** This file should be named 16659-8.txt or 16659-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/6/5/16659/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Jayam Subramanian and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** + diff --git a/old/16659.txt b/old/16659.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4ca514b --- /dev/null +++ b/old/16659.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11292 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Translations of Shakuntala and Other Works, by Kaalidaasa + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Translations of Shakuntala and Other Works + +Author: Kaalidaasa + +Translator: Arthur W. Ryder + +Release Date: September 5, 2005 [EBook #16659] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRANSLATIONS OF SHAKUNTALA *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Jayam Subramanian and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + + + + EVERYMAN'S LIBRARY + EDITED BY ERNEST RHYS + + + + + + POETRY AND THE DRAMA + + + + + + KALIDASA + TRANSLATIONS OF SHAKUNTALA & OTHER WORKS + + + BY ARTHUR W. RYDER + + + + + THIS IS NO. 629 OF _EVERYMAN'S + LIBRARY_. THE PUBLISHERS WILL + BE PLEASED TO SEND FREELY TO ALL + APPLICANTS A LIST OF THE PUBLISHED + AND PROJECTED VOLUMES ARRANGED + UNDER THE FOLLOWING SECTIONS: + + + + + + + TRAVEL . SCIENCE . FICTION + THEOLOGY & PHILOSOPHY + HISTORY . CLASSICAL + FOR YOUNG PEOPLE + ESSAYS . ORATORY + POETRY & DRAMA + BIOGRAPHY + REFERENCE + ROMANCE + + + THE ORDINARY EDITION IS BOUND + IN CLOTH WITH GILT DESIGN AND + COLOURED TOP. THERE IS ALSO A + LIBRARY EDITION IN REINFORCED CLOTH + + LONDON: J.M. DENT & SONS LTD. + NEW YORK: E.P. DUTTON & CO. + + + + [Illustration: + KALIDASA + TRANSLATIONS + _of_ SHAKUNTALA + AND OTHER + WORKS, BY + ARTHUR. W. + RYDER. + UNIVERSITY + _of_ CALIFORNIA + + LONDON & TORONTO + PUBLISHED BY J.M. DENT + &. SONS LTD & IN NEW YORK + BY E.P. DUTTON &. CO] + + + [Illustration: #Poets are the trumpets which sing to battle + poets are the unacknowledged legislators of the world# Shelley] + + + FIRST ISSUE OF THIS EDITION 1912 + REPRINTED 1920, 1928 + + PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN + + + + +INTRODUCTION + +KALIDASA--HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS + + +I + +Kalidasa probably lived in the fifth century of the Christian era. +This date, approximate as it is, must yet be given with considerable +hesitation, and is by no means certain. No truly biographical data are +preserved about the author, who nevertheless enjoyed a great +popularity during his life, and whom the Hindus have ever regarded as +the greatest of Sanskrit poets. We are thus confronted with one of the +remarkable problems of literary history. For our ignorance is not due +to neglect of Kalidasa's writings on the part of his countrymen, but +to their strange blindness in regard to the interest and importance of +historic fact. No European nation can compare with India in critical +devotion to its own literature. During a period to be reckoned not by +centuries but by millenniums, there has been in India an unbroken line +of savants unselfishly dedicated to the perpetuation and exegesis of +the native masterpieces. Editions, recensions, commentaries abound; +poets have sought the exact phrase of appreciation for their +predecessors: yet when we seek to reconstruct the life of their +greatest poet, we have no materials except certain tantalising +legends, and such data as we can gather from the writings of a man who +hardly mentions himself. + +One of these legends deserves to be recounted for its intrinsic +interest, although it contains, so far as we can see, no grain of +historic truth, and although it places Kalidasa in Benares, five +hundred miles distant from the only city in which we certainly know +that he spent a part of his life. According to this account, Kalidasa +was a Brahman's child. At the age of six months he was left an orphan +and was adopted by an ox-driver. He grew to manhood without formal +education, yet with remarkable beauty and grace of manner. Now it +happened that the Princess of Benares was a blue-stocking, who +rejected one suitor after another, among them her father's counsellor, +because they failed to reach her standard as scholars and poets. The +rejected counsellor planned a cruel revenge. He took the handsome +ox-driver from the street, gave him the garments of a savant and a +retinue of learned doctors, then introduced him to the princess, after +warning him that he was under no circumstances to open his lips. The +princess was struck with his beauty and smitten to the depths of her +pedantic soul by his obstinate silence, which seemed to her, as indeed +it was, an evidence of profound wisdom. She desired to marry Kalidasa, +and together they went to the temple. But no sooner was the ceremony +performed than Kalidasa perceived an image of a bull. His early +training was too much for him; the secret came out, and the bride was +furious. But she relented in response to Kalidasa's entreaties, and +advised him to pray for learning and poetry to the goddess Kali. The +prayer was granted; education and poetical power descended +miraculously to dwell with the young ox-driver, who in gratitude +assumed the name Kalidasa, servant of Kali. Feeling that he owed this +happy change in his very nature to his princess, he swore that he +would ever treat her as his teacher, with profound respect but without +familiarity. This was more than the lady had bargained for; her anger +burst forth anew, and she cursed Kalidasa to meet his death at the +hands of a woman. At a later date, the story continues, this curse was +fulfilled. A certain king had written a half-stanza of verse, and had +offered a large reward to any poet who could worthily complete it. +Kalidasa completed the stanza without difficulty; but a woman whom he +loved discovered his lines, and greedy of the reward herself, killed +him. + +Another legend represents Kalidasa as engaging in a pilgrimage to a +shrine of Vishnu in Southern India, in company with two other famous +writers, Bhavabhuti and Dandin. Yet another pictures Bhavabhuti as a +contemporary of Kalidasa, and jealous of the less austere poet's +reputation. These stories must be untrue, for it is certain that the +three authors were not contemporary, yet they show a true instinct in +the belief that genius seeks genius, and is rarely isolated. + +This instinctive belief has been at work with the stories which +connect Kalidasa with King Vikramaditya and the literary figures of +his court. It has doubtless enlarged, perhaps partly falsified the +facts; yet we cannot doubt that there is truth in this tradition, late +though it be, and impossible though it may ever be to separate the +actual from the fanciful. Here then we are on firmer ground. + +King Vikramaditya ruled in the city of Ujjain, in West-central India. +He was mighty both in war and in peace, winning especial glory by a +decisive victory over the barbarians who pressed into India through +the northern passes. Though it has not proved possible to identify +this monarch with any of the known rulers, there can be no doubt that +he existed and had the character attributed to him. The name +Vikramaditya--Sun of Valour--is probably not a proper name, but a +title like Pharaoh or Tsar. No doubt Kalidasa intended to pay a +tribute to his patron, the Sun of Valour, in the very title of his +play, _Urvashi won by Valour_. + +King Vikramaditya was a great patron of learning and of poetry. Ujjain +during his reign was the most brilliant capital in the world, nor has +it to this day lost all the lustre shed upon it by that splendid +court. Among the eminent men gathered there, nine were particularly +distinguished, and these nine are known as the "nine gems." Some of +the nine gems were poets, others represented science--astronomy, +medicine, lexicography. It is quite true that the details of this late +tradition concerning the nine gems are open to suspicion, yet the +central fact is not doubtful: that there was at this time and place a +great quickening of the human mind, an artistic impulse creating works +that cannot perish. Ujjain in the days of Vikramaditya stands worthily +beside Athens, Rome, Florence, and London in their great centuries. +Here is the substantial fact behind Max Mueller's often ridiculed +theory of the renaissance of Sanskrit literature. It is quite false to +suppose, as some appear to do, that this theory has been invalidated +by the discovery of certain literary products which antedate +Kalidasa. It might even be said that those rare and happy centuries +that see a man as great as Homer or Vergil or Kalidasa or Shakespeare +partake in that one man of a renaissance. + +It is interesting to observe that the centuries of intellectual +darkness in Europe have sometimes coincided with centuries of light in +India. The Vedas were composed for the most part before Homer; +Kalidasa and his contemporaries lived while Rome was tottering under +barbarian assault. + +To the scanty and uncertain data of late traditions may be added some +information about Kalidasa's life gathered from his own writings. He +mentions his own name only in the prologues to his three plays, and +here with a modesty that is charming indeed, yet tantalising. One +wishes for a portion of the communicativeness that characterises some +of the Indian poets. He speaks in the first person only once, in the +verses introductory to his epic poem _The Dynasty of Raghu_[1]. +Here also we feel his modesty, and here once more we are balked of +details as to his life. + +We know from Kalidasa's writings that he spent at least a part of his +life in the city of Ujjain. He refers to Ujjain more than once, and in +a manner hardly possible to one who did not know and love the city. +Especially in his poem _The Cloud-Messenger_ does he dwell upon the +city's charms, and even bids the cloud make a detour in his long +journey lest he should miss making its acquaintance.[2] + +We learn further that Kalidasa travelled widely in India. The fourth +canto of _The Dynasty of Raghu_ describes a tour about the whole of +India and even into regions which are beyond the borders of a narrowly +measured India. It is hard to believe that Kalidasa had not himself +made such a "grand tour"; so much of truth there may be in the +tradition which sends him on a pilgrimage to Southern India. The +thirteenth canto of the same epic and _The Cloud-Messenger_ also +describe long journeys over India, for the most part through regions +far from Ujjain. It is the mountains which impress him most deeply. +His works are full of the Himalayas. Apart from his earliest drama +and the slight poem called _The Seasons_, there is not one of them +which is not fairly redolent of mountains. One, _The Birth of the +War-god_, might be said to be all mountains. Nor was it only Himalayan +grandeur and sublimity which attracted him; for, as a Hindu critic has +acutely observed, he is the only Sanskrit poet who has described a +certain flower that grows in Kashmir. The sea interested him less. To +him, as to most Hindus, the ocean was a beautiful, terrible barrier, +not a highway to adventure. The "sea-belted earth" of which Kalidasa +speaks means to him the mainland of India. + +Another conclusion that may be certainly drawn from Kalidasa's writing +is this, that he was a man of sound and rather extensive education. He +was not indeed a prodigy of learning, like Bhavabhuti in his own +country or Milton in England, yet no man could write as he did without +hard and intelligent study. To begin with, he had a minutely accurate +knowledge of the Sanskrit language, at a time when Sanskrit was to +some extent an artificial tongue. Somewhat too much stress is often +laid upon this point, as if the writers of the classical period in +India were composing in a foreign language. Every writer, especially +every poet, composing in any language, writes in what may be called a +strange idiom; that is, he does not write as he talks. Yet it is true +that the gap between written language and vernacular was wider in +Kalidasa's day than it has often been. The Hindus themselves regard +twelve years' study as requisite for the mastery of the "chief of all +sciences, the science of grammar." That Kalidasa had mastered this +science his works bear abundant witness. + +He likewise mastered the works on rhetoric and dramatic +theory--subjects which Hindu savants have treated with great, if +sometimes hair-splitting, ingenuity. The profound and subtle systems +of philosophy were also possessed by Kalidasa, and he had some +knowledge of astronomy and law. + +But it was not only in written books that Kalidasa was deeply read. +Rarely has a man walked our earth who observed the phenomena of living +nature as accurately as he, though his accuracy was of course that of +the poet, not that of the scientist. Much is lost to us who grow up +among other animals and plants; yet we can appreciate his "bee-black +hair," his ashoka-tree that "sheds his blossoms in a rain of tears," +his river wearing a sombre veil of mist: + + Although her reeds seem hands that clutch the dress + To hide her charms; + +his picture of the day-blooming water-lily at sunset: + + The water-lily closes, but + With wonderful reluctancy; + As if it troubled her to shut + Her door of welcome to the bee. + +The religion of any great poet is always a matter of interest, +especially the religion of a Hindu poet; for the Hindus have ever been +a deeply and creatively religious people. So far as we can judge, +Kalidasa moved among the jarring sects with sympathy for all, +fanaticism for none. The dedicatory prayers that introduce his dramas +are addressed to Shiva. This is hardly more than a convention, for +Shiva is the patron of literature. If one of his epics, _The Birth of +the War-god_, is distinctively Shivaistic, the other, _The Dynasty of +Raghu_, is no less Vishnuite in tendency. If the hymn to Vishnu in +_The Dynasty of Raghu_ is an expression of Vedantic monism, the hymn +to Brahma in _The Birth of the War-god_ gives equally clear expression +to the rival dualism of the Sankhya system. Nor are the Yoga doctrine +and Buddhism left without sympathetic mention. We are therefore +justified in concluding that Kalidasa was, in matters of religion, +what William James would call "healthy-minded," emphatically not a +"sick soul." + +There are certain other impressions of Kalidasa's life and personality +which gradually become convictions in the mind of one who reads and +re-reads his poetry, though they are less easily susceptible of exact +proof. One feels certain that he was physically handsome, and the +handsome Hindu is a wonderfully fine type of manhood. One knows that +he possessed a fascination for women, as they in turn fascinated him. +One knows that children loved him. One becomes convinced that he never +suffered any morbid, soul-shaking experience such as besetting +religious doubt brings with it, or the pangs of despised love; that +on the contrary he moved among men and women with a serene and godlike +tread, neither self-indulgent nor ascetic, with mind and senses ever +alert to every form of beauty. We know that his poetry was popular +while he lived, and we cannot doubt that his personality was equally +attractive, though it is probable that no contemporary knew the full +measure of his greatness. For his nature was one of singular balance, +equally at home in a splendid court and on a lonely mountain, with men +of high and of low degree. Such men are never fully appreciated during +life. They continue to grow after they are dead. + + +II + +Kalidasa left seven works which have come down to us: three dramas, +two epics, one elegiac poem, and one descriptive poem. Many other +works, including even an astronomical treatise, have been attributed +to him; they are certainly not his. Perhaps there was more than one +author who bore the name Kalidasa; perhaps certain later writers were +more concerned for their work than for personal fame. On the other +hand, there is no reason to doubt that the seven recognised works are +in truth from Kalidasa's hand. The only one concerning which there is +reasonable room for suspicion is the short poem descriptive of the +seasons, and this is fortunately the least important of the seven. Nor +is there evidence to show that any considerable poem has been lost, +unless it be true that the concluding cantos of one of the epics have +perished. We are thus in a fortunate position in reading Kalidasa: we +have substantially all that he wrote, and run no risk of ascribing to +him any considerable work from another hand. + +Of these seven works, four are poetry throughout; the three dramas, +like all Sanskrit dramas, are written in prose, with a generous +mingling of lyric and descriptive stanzas. The poetry, even in the +epics, is stanzaic; no part of it can fairly be compared to English +blank verse. Classical Sanskrit verse, so far as structure is +concerned, has much in common with familiar Greek and Latin forms: +it makes no systematic use of rhyme; it depends for its rhythm not +upon accent, but upon quantity. The natural medium of translation into +English seems to me to be the rhymed stanza;[3] in the present work +the rhymed stanza has been used, with a consistency perhaps too rigid, +wherever the original is in verse. + +Kalidasa's three dramas bear the names: _Malavika and Agnimitra, +Urvashi_, and _Shakuntala_. The two epics are _The Dynasty of Raghu_ +and _The Birth of the War-god_. The elegiac poem is called _The +Cloud-Messenger_, and the descriptive poem is entitled _The Seasons_. +It may be well to state briefly the more salient features of the +Sanskrit _genres_ to which these works belong. + +The drama proved in India, as in other countries, a congenial form to +many of the most eminent poets. The Indian drama has a marked +individuality, but stands nearer to the modern European theatre than +to that of ancient Greece; for the plays, with a very few exceptions, +have no religious significance, and deal with love between man and +woman. Although tragic elements may be present, a tragic ending is +forbidden. Indeed, nothing regarded as disagreeable, such as fighting +or even kissing, is permitted on the stage; here Europe may perhaps +learn a lesson in taste. Stage properties were few and simple, while +particular care was lavished on the music. The female parts were +played by women. The plays very rarely have long monologues, even the +inevitable prologue being divided between two speakers, but a Hindu +audience was tolerant of lyrical digression. + +It may be said, though the statement needs qualification in both +directions, that the Indian dramas have less action and less +individuality in the characters, but more poetical charm than the +dramas of modern Europe. + +On the whole, Kalidasa was remarkably faithful to the ingenious but +somewhat over-elaborate conventions of Indian dramaturgy. His first +play, the _Malavika and Agnimitra_, is entirely conventional in plot. +The _Shakuntala_ is transfigured by the character of the heroine. The +_Urvashi_, in spite of detail beauty, marks a distinct decline. + +_The Dynasty of Raghu_ and _The Birth of the War-god_ belong to a +species of composition which it is not easy to name accurately. The +Hindu name _kavya_ has been rendered by artificial epic, _epopee +savante, Kunstgedicht_. It is best perhaps to use the term epic, and +to qualify the term by explanation. + +The _kavyas_ differ widely from the _Mahabharata_ and the _Ramayana_, +epics which resemble the _Iliad_ and _Odyssey_ less in outward form +than in their character as truly national poems. The _kavya_ is a +narrative poem written in a sophisticated age by a learned poet, who +possesses all the resources of an elaborate rhetoric and metric. The +subject is drawn from time-honoured mythology. The poem is divided +into cantos, written not in blank verse but in stanzas. Several +stanza-forms are commonly employed in the same poem, though not in the +same canto, except that the concluding verses of a canto are not +infrequently written in a metre of more compass than the remainder. + +I have called _The Cloud-Messenger_ an elegiac poem, though it would +not perhaps meet the test of a rigid definition. The Hindus class it +with _The Dynasty of Raghu_ and _The Birth of the War-god_ as a +_kavya_, but this classification simply evidences their embarrassment. +In fact, Kalidasa created in _The Cloud-Messenger_ a new _genre_. No +further explanation is needed here, as the entire poem is translated +below. + +The short descriptive poem called _The Seasons_ has abundant analogues +in other literatures, and requires no comment. + +It is not possible to fix the chronology of Kalidasa's writings, yet +we are not wholly in the dark. _Malavika and Agnimitra_ was certainly +his first drama, almost certainly his first work. It is a reasonable +conjecture, though nothing more, that Urvashi was written late, when +the poet's powers were waning. The introductory stanzas of _The +Dynasty of Raghu_ suggest that this epic was written before _The Birth +of the War-god_, though the inference is far from certain. Again, it +is reasonable to assume that the great works on which Kalidasa's fame +chiefly rests--_Shakuntala_, _The Cloud-Messenger_, _The Dynasty of +Raghu_, the first eight cantos of _The Birth of the War-god_--were +composed when he was in the prime of manhood. But as to the succession +of these four works we can do little but guess. + +Kalidasa's glory depends primarily upon the quality of his work, yet +would be much diminished if he had failed in bulk and variety. In +India, more than would be the case in Europe, the extent of his +writing is an indication of originality and power; for the poets of +the classical period underwent an education that encouraged an +exaggerated fastidiousness, and they wrote for a public meticulously +critical. Thus the great Bhavabhuti spent his life in constructing +three dramas; mighty spirit though he was, he yet suffers from the +very scrupulosity of his labour. In this matter, as in others, +Kalidasa preserves his intellectual balance and his spiritual +initiative: what greatness of soul is required for this, every one +knows who has ever had the misfortune to differ in opinion from an +intellectual clique. + + +III + +Le nom de Kalidasa domine la poesie indienne et la resume brillamment. +Le drame, l'epopee savante, l'elegie attestent aujourd'hui encore la +puissance et la souplesse de ce magnifique genie; seul entre les +disciples de Sarasvati [the goddess of eloquence], il a eu le bonheur +de produire un chef-d'oeuvre vraiment classique, ou l'Inde s'admire et +ou l'humanite se reconnait. Les applaudissements qui saluerent la +naissance de Cakuntala a Ujjayini ont apres de longs siecles eclate +d'un bout du monde a l'autre, quand William Jones l'eut revelee a +l'Occident. Kalidasa a marque sa place dans cette pleiade etincelante +ou chaque nom resume une periode de l'esprit humain. La serie de ces +noms forme l'histoire, ou plutot elle est l'histoire meme.[4] + +It is hardly possible to say anything true about Kalidasa's +achievement which is not already contained in this appreciation. Yet +one loves to expand the praise, even though realising that the critic +is by his very nature a fool. Here there shall at any rate be none +of that cold-blooded criticism which imagines itself set above a +world-author to appraise and judge, but a generous tribute of +affectionate admiration. + +The best proof of a poet's greatness is the inability of men to live +without him; in other words, his power to win and hold through +centuries the love and admiration of his own people, especially when +that people has shown itself capable of high intellectual and +spiritual achievement. + +For something like fifteen hundred years, Kalidasa has been more +widely read in India than any other author who wrote in Sanskrit. +There have also been many attempts to express in words the secret of +his abiding power: such attempts can never be wholly successful, yet +they are not without considerable interest. Thus Bana, a celebrated +novelist of the seventh century, has the following lines in some +stanzas of poetical criticism which he prefixes to a historical +romance: + + Where find a soul that does not thrill + In Kalidasa's verse to meet + The smooth, inevitable lines + Like blossom-clusters, honey-sweet? + +A later writer, speaking of Kalidasa and another poet, is more laconic +in this alliterative line: _Bhaso hasah, Kalidaso vilasah_--Bhasa is +mirth, Kalidasa is grace. + +These two critics see Kalidasa's grace, his sweetness, his delicate +taste, without doing justice to the massive quality without which his +poetry could not have survived. + +Though Kalidasa has not been as widely appreciated in Europe as he +deserves, he is the only Sanskrit poet who can properly be said to +have been appreciated at all. Here he must struggle with the truly +Himalayan barrier of language. Since there will never be many +Europeans, even among the cultivated, who will find it possible to +study the intricate Sanskrit language, there remains only one means of +presentation. None knows the cruel inadequacy of poetical translation +like the translator. He understands better than others can, the +significance of the position which Kalidasa has won in Europe. When +Sir William Jones first translated the _Shakuntala_ in 1789, his work +was enthusiastically received in Europe, and most warmly, as was +fitting, by the greatest living poet of Europe. Since that day, as +is testified by new translations and by reprints of the old, there +have been many thousands who have read at least one of Kalidasa's +works; other thousands have seen it on the stage in Europe and +America. + +How explain a reputation that maintains itself indefinitely and that +conquers a new continent after a lapse of thirteen hundred years? None +can explain it, yet certain contributory causes can be named. + +No other poet in any land has sung of happy love between man and woman +as Kalidasa sang. Every one of his works is a love-poem, however much +more it may be. Yet the theme is so infinitely varied that the reader +never wearies. If one were to doubt from a study of European +literature, comparing the ancient classics with modern works, whether +romantic love be the expression of a natural instinct, be not rather a +morbid survival of decaying chivalry, he has only to turn to India's +independently growing literature to find the question settled. +Kalidasa's love-poetry rings as true in our ears as it did in his +countrymen's ears fifteen hundred years ago. + +It is of love eventually happy, though often struggling for a time +against external obstacles, that Kalidasa writes. There is nowhere in +his works a trace of that not quite healthy feeling that sometimes +assumes the name "modern love." If it were not so, his poetry could +hardly have survived; for happy love, blessed with children, is surely +the more fundamental thing. In his drama _Urvashi_ he is ready to +change and greatly injure a tragic story, given him by long tradition, +in order that a loving pair may not be permanently separated. One +apparent exception there is--the story of Rama and Sita in _The +Dynasty of Raghu_. In this case it must be remembered that Rama is an +incarnation of Vishnu, and the story of a mighty god incarnate is not +to be lightly tampered with. + +It is perhaps an inevitable consequence of Kalidasa's subject that his +women appeal more strongly to a modern reader than his men. The man is +the more variable phenomenon, and though manly virtues are the same in +all countries and centuries, the emphasis has been variously laid. But +the true woman seems timeless, universal. I know of no poet, unless it +be Shakespeare, who has given the world a group of heroines so +individual yet so universal; heroines as true, as tender, as brave as +are Indumati, Sita, Parvati, the Yaksha's bride, and Shakuntala. + +Kalidasa could not understand women without understanding children. It +would be difficult to find anywhere lovelier pictures of childhood +than those in which our poet presents the little Bharata, Ayus, Raghu, +Kumara. It is a fact worth noticing that Kalidasa's children are all +boys. Beautiful as his women are, he never does more than glance at a +little girl. + +Another pervading note of Kalidasa's writing is his love of external +nature. No doubt it is easier for a Hindu, with his almost instinctive +belief in reincarnation, to feel that all life, from plant to god, is +truly one; yet none, even among the Hindus, has expressed this feeling +with such convincing beauty as has Kalidasa. It is hardly true to say +that he personifies rivers and mountains and trees; to him they have a +conscious individuality as truly and as certainly as animals or men or +gods. Fully to appreciate Kalidasa's poetry one must have spent some +weeks at least among wild mountains and forests untouched by man; +there the conviction grows that trees and flowers are indeed +individuals, fully conscious of a personal life and happy in that +life. The return to urban surroundings makes the vision fade; yet the +memory remains, like a great love or a glimpse of mystic insight, as +an intuitive conviction of a higher truth. + +Kalidasa's knowledge of nature is not only sympathetic, it is also +minutely accurate. Not only are the snows and windy music of the +Himalayas, the mighty current of the sacred Ganges, his possession; +his too are smaller streams and trees and every littlest flower. It is +delightful to imagine a meeting between Kalidasa and Darwin. They +would have understood each other perfectly; for in each the same kind +of imagination worked with the same wealth of observed fact. + +I have already hinted at the wonderful balance in Kalidasa's +character, by virtue of which he found himself equally at home in a +palace and in a wilderness. I know not with whom to compare him in +this; even Shakespeare, for all his magical insight into natural +beauty, is primarily a poet of the human heart. That can hardly be +said of Kalidasa, nor can it be said that he is primarily a poet of +natural beauty. The two characters unite in him, it might almost be +said, chemically. The matter which I am clumsily endeavouring to make +plain is beautifully epitomised in _The Cloud-Messenger_. The former +half is a description of external nature, yet interwoven with human +feeling; the latter half is a picture of a human heart, yet the +picture is framed in natural beauty. So exquisitely is the thing done +that none can say which half is superior. Of those who read this +perfect poem in the original text, some are more moved by the one, +some by the other. Kalidasa understood in the fifth century what +Europe did not learn until the nineteenth, and even now comprehends +only imperfectly: that the world was not made for man, that man +reaches his full stature only as he realises the dignity and worth of +life that is not human. + +That Kalidasa seized this truth is a magnificent tribute to his +intellectual power, a quality quite as necessary to great poetry as +perfection of form. Poetical fluency is not rare; intellectual grasp +is not very uncommon: but the combination has not been found perhaps +more than a dozen times since the world began. Because he possessed +this harmonious combination, Kalidasa ranks not with Anacreon and +Horace and Shelley, but with Sophocles, Vergil, Milton. + +He would doubtless have been somewhat bewildered by Wordsworth's +gospel of nature. "The world is too much with us," we can fancy him +repeating. "How can the world, the beautiful human world, be too much +with us? How can sympathy with one form of life do other than vivify +our sympathy with other forms of life?" + +It remains to say what can be said in a foreign language of Kalidasa's +style. We have seen that he had a formal and systematic education; in +this respect he is rather to be compared with Milton and Tennyson than +with Shakespeare or Burns. He was completely master of his learning. +In an age and a country which reprobated carelessness but were +tolerant of pedantry, he held the scales with a wonderfully even hand, +never heedless and never indulging in the elaborate trifling with +Sanskrit diction which repels the reader from much of Indian +literature. It is true that some western critics have spoken of his +disfiguring conceits and puerile plays on words. One can only wonder +whether these critics have ever read Elizabethan literature; for +Kalidasa's style is far less obnoxious to such condemnation than +Shakespeare's. That he had a rich and glowing imagination, "excelling +in metaphor," as the Hindus themselves affirm, is indeed true; that he +may, both in youth and age, have written lines which would not have +passed his scrutiny in the vigour of manhood, it is not worth while to +deny: yet the total effect left by his poetry is one of extraordinary +sureness and delicacy of taste. This is scarcely a matter for +argument; a reader can do no more than state his own subjective +impression, though he is glad to find that impression confirmed by the +unanimous authority of fifty generations of Hindus, surely the most +competent judges on such a point. + +Analysis of Kalidasa's writings might easily be continued, but +analysis can never explain life. The only real criticism is +subjective. We know that Kalidasa is a very great poet, because the +world has not been able to leave him alone. + +ARTHUR W. RYDER. + + + + +SELECT BIBLIOGRAPHY + + +On Kalidasa's life and writings may be consulted A.A. Macdonell's +_History of Sanskrit Literature_ (1900); the same author's article +"Kalidasa" in the eleventh edition of the _Encyclopaedia Britannica_ +(1910); and Sylvain Levi's _Le Theatre Indien_ (1890). + +The more important translations in English are the following: of the +_Shakuntala_, by Sir William Jones (1789) and Monier Williams (fifth +edition, 1887); of the _Urvashi_, by H.H. Wilson (in his _Select +Specimens of the Theatre of the Hindus_, third edition, 1871); of _The +Dynasty of Raghu_, by P. de Lacy Johnstone (1902); of _The Birth of +The War-god_ (cantos one to seven), by Ralph T.H. Griffith (second +edition, 1879); of _The Cloud-Messenger_, by H.H. Wilson (1813). + +There is an inexpensive reprint of Jones's _Shakuntala_ and Wilson's +_Cloud-Messenger_ in one volume in the Camelot Series. + + +KALIDASA + + An ancient heathen poet, loving more + God's creatures, and His women, and His flowers + Than we who boast of consecrated powers; + Still lavishing his unexhausted store + + Of love's deep, simple wisdom, healing o'er + The world's old sorrows, India's griefs and ours; + That healing love he found in palace towers, + On mountain, plain, and dark, sea-belted shore, + + In songs of holy Raghu's kingly line + Or sweet Shakuntala in pious grove, + In hearts that met where starry jasmines twine + + Or hearts that from long, lovelorn absence strove + Together. Still his words of wisdom shine: + All's well with man, when man and woman love. + + Willst du die Bluete des fruehen, die + Fruechte des spaeteren Jahres, + Willst du, was reizt und entzueckt, + Willst du, was saettigt und naehrt, + Willst du den Hummel, die erde mit + Einem Namen begreifen, + Nenn' ich, Sakuntala, dich, und + dann ist alles gesagt. + +GOETHE. + * * * * * + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: These verses are translated on pp. 123, 124.] + +[Footnote 2: The passage will be found on pp. 190-192.] + +[Footnote 3: This matter is more fully discussed in the introduction to my +translation of _The Little Clay Cart_ (1905).] + +[Footnote 4: Levi, _Le Theatre Indien_, p. 163.] + + * * * * * + + + + +CONTENTS + + + +INTRODUCTION: KALIDASA--HIS LIFE AND WRITINGS + +SHAKUNTALA + +THE STORY OF SHAKUNTALA + +THE TWO MINOR DRAMAS-- + I. Malavika and Agnimitra + II. Urvashi + +THE DYNASTY OF RAGHU + +THE BIRTH OF THE WAR-GOD + +THE CLOUD-MESSENGER + +THE SEASONS + + * * * * * + + + + +SHAKUNTALA + +A PLAY IN SEVEN ACTS + + + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE + + + KING DUSHYANTA. + + BHARATA, _nicknamed_ All-tamer, _his son_. + + MADHAVYA, _a clown, his companion_. + + His charioteer. + + RAIVATAKA, _a door-keeper_. + + BHADRASENA, _a general_. + + KARABHAKA, _a servant_. + + PARVATAYANA, _a chamberlain_. + + SOMARATA, _a chaplain_. + + KANVA, _hermit-father_. + + + SHARNGARAVA } + + SHARADVATA } _his pupils_. + + HARITA } + + + DURVASAS, _an irascible sage_. + + The chief of police. + + + SUCHAKA } + } _policemen_. + JANUKA } + + + A fisherman. + + SHAKUNTALA, _foster-child of Kanva_. + + + ANUSUVA } + } _her friends_. + PRIYAMVADA } + + + GAUTAMI, _hermit-mother_. + + KASHYAPA, _father of the gods_. + + ADITI, _mother of the gods_. + + MATALI, _charioteer of heaven's king_. + + GALAVA, _a pupil in heaven_. + + MISHRAKESHI, _a heavenly nymph_. + +_Stage-director and actress (in the prologue), hermits and +hermit-women, two court poets, palace attendants, invisible fairies_. + +The first four acts pass in Kanva's forest hermitage; acts five and +six in the king's palace; act seven on a heavenly mountain. The time +is perhaps seven years. + + + +SHAKUNTALA + +PROLOGUE + +BENEDICTION UPON THE AUDIENCE + + Eight forms has Shiva, lord of all and king: + And these are water, first created thing; + And fire, which speeds the sacrifice begun; + The priest; and time's dividers, moon and sun; + The all-embracing ether, path of sound; + The earth, wherein all seeds of life are found; + And air, the breath of life: may he draw near, + Revealed in these, and bless those gathered here. + +_The stage-director_. Enough of this! (_Turning toward the +dressing-room_.) Madam, if you are ready, pray come here. (_Enter an +actress_.) + +_Actress_. Here I am, sir. What am I to do? + +_Director_. Our audience is very discriminating, and we are to offer +them a new play, called _Shakuntala and the ring of recognition_, +written by the famous Kalidasa. Every member of the cast must be on +his mettle. + +_Actress_. Your arrangements are perfect. Nothing will go wrong. + +_Director_ (_smiling_). To tell the truth, madam, + + Until the wise are satisfied, + I cannot feel that skill is shown; + The best-trained mind requires support, + And does not trust itself alone. + +_Actress_. True. What shall we do first? + +_Director_. First, you must sing something to please the ears of the +audience. + +_Actress_. What season of the year shall I sing about? _Director_. +Why, sing about the pleasant summer which has just begun. For at this +time of year + + A mid-day plunge will temper heat; + The breeze is rich with forest flowers; + To slumber in the shade is sweet; + And charming are the twilight hours. + +_Actress_ (_sings_). + + The siris-blossoms fair, + With pollen laden, + Are plucked to deck her hair + By many a maiden, + But gently; flowers like these + Are kissed by eager bees. + +_Director_. Well done! The whole theatre is captivated by your song, +and sits as if painted. What play shall we give them to keep their +good-will? + +_Actress_. Why, you just told me we were to give a new play called +_Shakuntala and the ring_. + +_Director_. Thank you for reminding me. For the moment I had quite +forgotten. + + Your charming song had carried me away + As the deer enticed the hero of our play. + +(_Exeunt ambo_.) + + +ACT I + + +THE HUNT + +(_Enter, in a chariot, pursuing a deer_, KING DUSHYANTA, _bow and +arrow in hand; and a charioteer_.) + +_Charioteer_ (_Looking at the king and the deer_). Your Majesty, + + I see you hunt the spotted deer + With shafts to end his race, + As though God Shiva should appear + In his immortal chase. + +_King_. Charioteer, the deer has led us a long chase. And even now + + His neck in beauty bends + As backward looks he sends + At my pursuing car + That threatens death from far. + Fear shrinks to half the body small; + See how he fears the arrow's fall! + + The path he takes is strewed + With blades of grass half-chewed + From jaws wide with the stress + Of fevered weariness. + He leaps so often and so high, + He does not seem to run, but fly. + +(_In surprise_.) Pursue as I may, I can hardly keep him in sight. + +_Charioteer_. Your Majesty, I have been holding the horses back +because the ground was rough. This checked us and gave the deer a +lead. Now we are on level ground, and you will easily overtake him. + +_King_. Then let the reins hang loose. + +_Charioteer_. Yes, your Majesty. (_He counterfeits rapid motion_.) +Look, your Majesty! + + The lines hang loose; the steeds unreined + Dart forward with a will. + Their ears are pricked; their necks are strained; + Their plumes lie straight and still. + They leave the rising dust behind; + They seem to float upon the wind. + +_King_ (_joyfully_). See! The horses are gaining on the deer. + + As onward and onward the chariot flies, + The small flashes large to my dizzy eyes. + What is cleft in twain, seems to blur and mate; + What is crooked in nature, seems to be straight. + Things at my side in an instant appear + Distant, and things in the distance, near. + +_A voice behind the scenes_. O King, this deer belongs to the +hermitage, and must not be killed. + +_Charioteer_ (_listening and looking_). Your Majesty, here are two +hermits, come to save the deer at the moment when your arrow was about +to fall. + +_King_ (_hastily_). Stop the chariot. + +_Charioteer_. Yes, your Majesty. (_He does so. Enter a hermit with his +pupil_.) + +_Hermit_ (_lifting his hand_). O King, this deer belongs to the +hermitage. + + Why should his tender form expire, + As blossoms perish in the fire? + How could that gentle life endure + The deadly arrow, sharp and sure? + + Restore your arrow to the quiver; + To you were weapons lent + The broken-hearted to deliver, + Not strike the innocent. + +_King_ (_bowing low_). It is done. (_He does so_.) + +_Hermit_ (_joyfully_). A deed worthy of you, scion of Puru's race, and +shining example of kings. May you beget a son to rule earth and +heaven. + +_King_ (_bowing low_). I am thankful for a Brahman's blessing. + +_The two hermits_. O King, we are on our way to gather firewood. Here, +along the bank of the Malini, you may see the hermitage of Father +Kanva, over which Shakuntala presides, so to speak, as guardian deity. +Unless other deities prevent, pray enter here and receive a welcome. +Besides, + + Beholding pious hermit-rites + Preserved from fearful harm, + Perceive the profit of the scars + On your protecting arm. + +_King_. Is the hermit father there? + +_The two hermits_. No, he has left his daughter to welcome guests, and +has just gone to Somatirtha, to avert an evil fate that threatens her. + +_King_. Well, I will see her. She shall feel my devotion, and report +it to the sage. + +_The two hermits_. Then we will go on our way. (_Exit hermit with +pupil_.) + +_King_. Charioteer, drive on. A sight of the pious hermitage will +purify us. + +_Charioteer_. Yes, your Majesty. (_He counterfeits motion again_.) + +_King_ (_looking about_). One would know, without being told, that +this is the precinct of a pious grove. + +_Charioteer_. How so? _King_. Do you not see? Why, here + + Are rice-grains, dropped from bills of parrot chicks + Beneath the trees; and pounding-stones where sticks + A little almond-oil; and trustful deer + That do not run away as we draw near; + And river-paths that are besprinkled yet + From trickling hermit-garments, clean and wet. + +Besides, + + The roots of trees are washed by many a stream + That breezes ruffle; and the flowers' red gleam + Is dimmed by pious smoke; and fearless fawns + Move softly on the close-cropped forest lawns. + +_Charioteer_. It is all true. + +_King_ (_after a little_). We must not disturb the hermitage. Stop +here while I dismount. + +_Charioteer_. I am holding the reins. Dismount, your Majesty. + +_King_ (_dismounts and looks at himself_). One should wear modest +garments on entering a hermitage. Take these jewels and the bow. (_He +gives them to the charioteer_.) Before I return from my visit to the +hermits, have the horses' backs wet down. + +_Charioteer_. Yes, your Majesty. (_Exit_.) + +_King_ (_walking and looking about_). The hermitage! Well, I will +enter. (_As he does so, he feels a throbbing in his arm_.) + + A tranquil spot! Why should I thrill? + Love cannot enter there-- + Yet to inevitable things + Doors open everywhere. + +_A voice behind the scenes_. This way, girls! + +_King_ (_listening_). I think I hear some one to the right of the +grove. I must find out. (_He walks and looks about_.) Ah, here are +hermit-girls, with watering-pots just big enough for them to handle. +They are coming in this direction to water the young trees. They are +charming! + + The city maids, for all their pains, + Seem not so sweet and good; + Our garden blossoms yield to these + Flower-children of the wood. + +I will draw back into the shade and wait for them. (_He stands, gazing +toward them. Enter_ SHAKUNTALA, _as described, and her two friends_.) + +_First friend_. It seems to me, dear, that Father Kanva cares more for +the hermitage trees than he does for you. You are delicate as a +jasmine blossom, yet he tells you to fill the trenches about the +trees. + +_Shakuntala_. Oh, it isn't Father's bidding so much. I feel like a +real sister to them. (_She waters the trees_.) + +_Priyamvada_. Shakuntala, we have watered the trees that blossom in +the summer-time. Now let's sprinkle those whose flowering-time is +past. That will be a better deed, because we shall not be working for +a reward. + +_Shakuntala_. What a pretty idea! (_She does so_.) + +_King_ (_to himself_). And this is Kanva's daughter, Shakuntala. (_In +surprise_.) The good Father does wrong to make her wear the hermit's +dress of bark. + + The sage who yokes her artless charm + With pious pain and grief, + Would try to cut the toughest vine + With a soft, blue lotus-leaf. + + Well, I will step behind a tree and see how she acts with her +friends. (_He conceals himself_.) + +_Shakuntala_. Oh, Anusuya! Priyamvada has fastened this bark dress so +tight that it hurts. Please loosen it. (ANUSUYA _does so_.) + +_Priyamvada_ (_laughing_). You had better blame your own budding +charms for that. + +_King_. She is quite right. + + Beneath the barken dress + Upon the shoulder tied, + In maiden loveliness + Her young breast seems to hide, + + As when a flower amid + The leaves by autumn tossed-- + Pale, withered leaves--lies hid, + And half its grace is lost. + +Yet in truth the bark dress is not an enemy to her beauty. It serves +as an added ornament. For + + The meanest vesture glows + On beauty that enchants: + The lotus lovelier shows + Amid dull water-plants; + + The moon in added splendour + Shines for its spot of dark; + Yet more the maiden slender + Charms in her dress of bark. + +_Shakuntala_ (_looking ahead_). Oh, girls, that mango-tree is trying +to tell me something with his branches that move in the wind like +fingers. I must go and see him. (_She does so_.) + +_Priyamvada_. There, Shakuntala, stand right where you are a minute. + +_Shakuntala_. Why? + +_Priyamvada_. When I see you there, it looks as if a vine were +clinging to the mango-tree. + +_Shakuntala_. I see why they call you the flatterer. + +_King_. But the flattery is true. + + Her arms are tender shoots; her lips + Are blossoms red and warm; + Bewitching youth begins to flower + In beauty on her form. + +_Anusuya_. Oh, Shakuntala! Here is the jasmine-vine that you named +Light of the Grove. She has chosen the mango-tree as her husband. + +_Shakuntala_ (_approaches and looks at it, joyfully_). What a pretty +pair they make. The jasmine shows her youth in her fresh flowers, and +the mango-tree shows his strength in his ripening fruit. (_She stands +gazing at them_.) + +_Priyamvada_ (_smiling_). Anusuya, do you know why Shakuntala looks so +hard at the Light of the Grove? + +_Anusuya_. No. Why? + +_Priyamvada_. She is thinking how the Light of the Grove has found a +good tree, and hoping that she will meet a fine lover. + +_Shakuntala_. That's what you want for yourself. (_She tips her +watering-pot_.) + +_Anusuya_. Look, Shakuntala! Here is the spring-creeper that Father +Kanva tended with his own hands--just as he did you. You are +forgetting her. + +_Shakuntala_. I'd forget myself sooner. (_She goes to the creeper and +looks at it, joyfully_.) Wonderful! Wonderful! Priyamvada, I have +something pleasant to tell you. + +_Priyamvada_. What is it, dear? + +_Shakuntala_. It is out of season, but the spring-creeper is covered +with buds down to the very root. + +_The two friends_ (_running up_). Really? + +_Shakuntala_. Of course. Can't you see? + +_Priyamvada_ (_looking at it joyfully_). And I have something pleasant +to tell _you_. You are to be married soon. + +_Shakuntala_ (_snappishly_). You know that's just what you want for +yourself. + +_Priyamvada_. I'm not teasing. I really heard Father Kanva say that +this flowering vine was to be a symbol of your coming happiness. + +_Anusuya_. Priyamvada, that is why Shakuntala waters the +spring-creeper so lovingly. + +_Shakuntala_. She is my sister. Why shouldn't I give her water? (_She +tips her watering-pot_.) + +_King_. May I hope that she is the hermit's daughter by a mother of a +different caste? But it _must_ be so. + + Surely, she may become a warrior's bride; + Else, why these longings in an honest mind? + The motions of a blameless heart decide + Of right and wrong, when reason leaves us blind. + +Yet I will learn the whole truth. + +_Shakuntala_ (_excitedly_). Oh, oh! A bee has left the jasmine-vine +and is flying into my face. (_She shows herself annoyed by the bee_.) + +_King_ (_ardently_). + + As the bee about her flies, + Swiftly her bewitching eyes + Turn to watch his flight. + She is practising to-day + Coquetry and glances' play + Not from love, but fright. + +(_Jealously_.) + + Eager bee, you lightly skim + O'er the eyelid's trembling rim + Toward the cheek aquiver. + Gently buzzing round her cheek, + Whispering in her ear, you seek + Secrets to deliver. + + While her hands that way and this + Strike at you, you steal a kiss, + Love's all, honeymaker. + I know nothing but her name, + Not her caste, nor whence she came-- + You, my rival, take her. + +_Shakuntala_. Oh, girls! Save me from this dreadful bee! + +_The two friends_ (_smiling_). Who are we, that we should save you? +Call upon Dushyanta. For pious groves are in the protection of the +king. + +_King_. A good opportunity to present myself. Have no--(_He checks +himself. Aside_.) No, they would see that I am the king. I prefer to +appear as a guest. + +_Shakuntala_. He doesn't leave me alone! I am going to run away. +(_She takes a step and looks about_.) Oh, dear! Oh, dear! He is +following me. Please save me. + +_King_ (_hastening forward_). Ah! + + A king of Puru's mighty line + Chastises shameless churls; + What insolent is he who baits + These artless hermit-girls? + +(_The girls are a little flurried on seeing the king_.) + +_Anusuya_. It is nothing very dreadful, sir. But our friend +(_indicating_ SHAKUNTALA) was teased and frightened by a bee. + +_King_ (_to_ SHAKUNTALA). I hope these pious days are happy ones. + +(SHAKUNTALA's _eyes drop in embarrassment_.) + +_Anusuya_. Yes, now that we receive such a distinguished guest. + +_Priyamvada_. Welcome, sir. Go to the cottage, Shakuntala, and bring +fruit. This water will do to wash the feet. + +_King_. Your courteous words are enough to make me feel at home. + +_Anusuya_. Then, sir, pray sit down and rest on this shady bench. + +_King_. You, too, are surely wearied by your pious task. Pray be +seated a moment. + +_Priyamvada_ (_aside to_ SHAKUNTALA). My dear, we must be polite to +our guest. Shall we sit down? (_The three girls sit_.) + +_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). Oh, why do I have such feelings when I +see this man? They seem wrong in a hermitage. + +_King_ (_looking at the girls_). It is delightful to see your +friendship. For you are all young and beautiful. + +_Priyamvada_ (_aside to_ ANUSUYA). Who is he, dear? With his mystery, +and his dignity, and his courtesy? He acts like a king and a +gentleman. + +_Anusuya_. I am curious too. I am going to ask him. (_Aloud_.) Sir, +you are so very courteous that I make bold to ask you something. What +royal family do you adorn, sir? What country is grieving at your +absence? Why does a gentleman so delicately bred submit to the weary +journey into our pious grove? + +_Shakuntala_ (_aside_). Be brave, my heart. Anusuya speaks your very +thoughts. + +_King_ (_aside_). Shall I tell at once who I am, or conceal it? (_He +reflects_.) This will do. (_Aloud_.) I am a student of Scripture. +It is my duty to see justice done in the cities of the king. +And I have come to this hermitage on a tour of inspection. + +_Anusuya_. Then we of the hermitage have some one to take care of us. + +(SHAKUNTALA _shows embarrassment_.) + +_The two friends_ (_observing the demeanour of the pair. Aside to_ +SHAKUNTALA). Oh, Shakuntala! If only Father were here to-day. + +_Shakuntala_. What would he do? + +_The two friends_. He would make our distinguished guest happy, if it +took his most precious treasure. + +_Shakuntala_ (_feigning anger_). Go away! You mean something. I'll not +listen to you. + +_King_. I too would like to ask a question about your friend. + +_The two friends_. Sir, your request is a favour to us. + +_King_. Father Kanva lives a lifelong hermit. Yet you say that your +friend is his daughter. How can that be? + +_Anusuya_. Listen, sir. There is a majestic royal sage named +Kaushika---- + +_King_. Ah, yes. The famous Kaushika. + +_Anusuya_. Know, then, that he is the source of our friend's being. +But Father Kanva is her real father, because he took care of her when +she was abandoned. + +_King_. You waken my curiosity with the word "abandoned." May I hear +the whole story? + +_Anusuya_. Listen, sir. Many years ago, that royal sage was leading a +life of stern austerities, and the gods, becoming strangely jealous, +sent the nymph Menaka to disturb his devotions. + +_King_. Yes, the gods feel this jealousy toward the austerities of +others. And then-- + +_Anusuya_. Then in the lovely spring-time he saw her intoxicating +beauty--(_She stops in embarrassment_.) + +_King_. The rest is plain. Surely, she is the daughter of the nymph. + +_Anusuya_. Yes. + +_King_. It is as it should be. + + To beauty such as this + No woman could give birth; + The quivering lightning flash + Is not a child of earth. + +(SHAKUNTALA _hangs her head in confusion_.) _King_ (_to himself_). +Ah, my wishes become hopes. + +_Priyamvada_ (_looking with a smile at_ SHAKUNTALA). Sir, it seems as +if you had more to say. (SHAKUNTALA _threatens her friend with her +finger_.) + +_King_. You are right. Your pious life interests me, and I have +another question. + +_Priyamvada_. Do not hesitate. We hermit people stand ready to answer +all demands. + +_King_. My question is this: + + Does she, till marriage only, keep her vow + As hermit-maid, that shames the ways of love? + Or must her soft eyes ever see, as now, + Soft eyes of friendly deer in peaceful grove? + +_Priyamvada_. Sir, we are under bonds to lead a life of virtue. But it +is her father's wish to give her to a suitable lover. + +_King_ (_joyfully to himself_). + + O heart, your wish is won! + All doubt at last is done; + The thing you feared as fire, + Is the jewel of your desire. + +_Shakuntala_ (_pettishly_). Anusuya, I'm going. + +_Anusuya_. What for? + +_Shakuntala_. I am going to tell Mother Gautami that Priyamvada is +talking nonsense. (_She rises_.) + +_Anusuya_. My dear, we hermit people cannot neglect to entertain a +distinguished guest, and go wandering about. + +(SHAKUNTALA _starts to walk away without answering_.) + +_King_ (_aside_). She is going! (_He starts up as if to detain her, +then checks his desires_.) A thought is as vivid as an act, to a +lover. + + Though nurture, conquering nature, holds + Me back, it seems + As had I started and returned + In waking dreams. + +_Priyamvada_ (_approaching_ SHAKUNTALA). You dear, peevish girl! You +mustn't go. + +_Shakuntala_ (_turns with a frown_). Why not? + +_Priyamvada_. You owe me the watering of two trees. You can go when +you have paid your debt. (_She forces her to come back_.) + +_King_. It is plain that she is already wearied by watering the trees. +See! + + Her shoulders droop; her palms are reddened yet; + Quick breaths are struggling in her bosom fair; + The blossom o'er her ear hangs limply wet; + One hand restrains the loose, dishevelled hair. + +I therefore remit her debt. (_He gives the two friends a ring. They +take it, read the name engraved on it, and look at each other_.) + +_King_. Make no mistake. This is a present--from the king. + +_Priyamvada_. Then, sir, you ought not to part with it. Your word is +enough to remit the debt. + +_Anusuya_. Well, Shakuntala, you are set free by this kind +gentleman--or rather, by the king himself. Where are you going now? + +_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). I would never leave him if I could help +myself. + +_Priyamvada_. Why don't you go now? + +_Shakuntala_. I am not _your_ servant any longer. I will go when I +like. + +_King_ (_looking at_ SHAKUNTALA. _To himself_). Does she feel toward +me as I do toward her? At least, there is ground for hope. + + Although she does not speak to me, + She listens while I speak; + Her eyes turn not to see my face, + But nothing else they seek. + +_A voice behind the scenes_. Hermits! Hermits! Prepare to defend the +creatures in our pious grove. King Dushyanta is hunting in the +neighbourhood. + + The dust his horses' hoofs have raised, + Red as the evening sky, + Falls like a locust-swarm on boughs + Where hanging garments dry. + +_King_ (_aside_). Alas! My soldiers are disturbing the pious grove in +their search for me. _The voice behind the scenes_. Hermits! +Hermits! Here is an elephant who is terrifying old men, women, and +children. + + One tusk is splintered by a cruel blow + Against a blocking tree; his gait is slow, + For countless fettering vines impede and cling; + He puts the deer to flight; some evil thing + He seems, that comes our peaceful life to mar, + Fleeing in terror from the royal car. + +(_The girls listen and rise anxiously_.) + +_King_. I have offended sadly against the hermits. I must go back. + +_The two friends_. Your Honour, we are frightened by this alarm of the +elephant. Permit us to return to the cottage. + +_Anusuya_ (_to_ SHAKUNTALA). Shakuntala dear, Mother Gautami will be +anxious. We must hurry and find her. + +_Shakuntala_ (_feigning lameness_). Oh, oh! I can hardly walk. + +_King_. You must go very slowly. And I will take pains that the +hermitage is not disturbed. + +_The two friends_. Your honour, we feel as if we knew you very well. +Pray pardon our shortcomings as hostesses. May we ask you to seek +better entertainment from us another time? + +_King_. You are too modest. I feel honoured by the mere sight of you. + +_Shakuntala_. Anusuya, my foot is cut on a sharp blade of grass, and +my dress is caught on an amaranth twig. Wait for me while I loosen it. + +(_She casts a lingering glance at the king, and goes out with her two +friends_.) + +_King_ (_sighing_). They are gone. And I must go. The sight of +Shakuntala has made me dread the return to the city. I will make my +men camp at a distance from the pious grove. But I cannot turn my own +thoughts from Shakuntala. + + It is my body leaves my love, not I; + My body moves away, but not my mind; + For back to her my struggling fancies fly + Like silken banners borne against the wind. (_Exit_.) + + +ACT II + + +THE SECRET + +(_Enter the clown_.) + +_Clown_ (_sighing_). Damn! Damn! Damn! I'm tired of being friends with +this sporting king. "There's a deer!" he shouts, "There's a boar!" And +off he chases on a summer noon through woods where shade is few and +far between. We drink hot, stinking water from the mountain streams, +flavoured with leaves--nasty! At odd times we get a little tepid meat +to eat. And the horses and the elephants make such a noise that I +can't even be comfortable at night. Then the hunters and the +bird-chasers--damn 'em--wake me up bright and early. They do make an +ear-splitting rumpus when they start for the woods. But even that +isn't the whole misery. There's a new pimple growing on the old boil. +He left us behind and went hunting a deer. And there in a hermitage +they say he found--oh, dear! oh, dear! he found a hermit-girl named +Shakuntala. Since then he hasn't a thought of going back to town. I +lay awake all night, thinking about it. What can I do? Well, I'll see +my friend when he is dressed and beautified. (_He walks and looks +about_.) Hello! Here he comes, with his bow in his hand, and his girl +in his heart. He is wearing a wreath of wild flowers! I'll pretend to +be all knocked up. Perhaps I can get a rest that way. (_He stands, +leaning on his staff. Enter the king, as described_.) + +_King_ (_to himself_). + + Although my darling is not lightly won, + She seemed to love me, and my hopes are bright; + Though love be balked ere joy be well begun, + A common longing is itself delight. + +(_Smiling_.) Thus does a lover deceive himself. He judges his love's +feelings by his own desires. + + Her glance was loving--but 'twas not for me; + Her step was slow--'twas grace, not coquetry; + Her speech was short--to her detaining friend. + In things like these love reads a selfish end! + +_Clown_ (_standing as before_). Well, king, I can't move my hand. I +can only greet you with my voice. + +_King_ (_looking and smiling_). What makes you lame? + +_Clown_. Good! You hit a man in the eye, and then ask him why the +tears come. + +_King_. I do not understand you. Speak plainly. + +_Clown_. When a reed bends over like a hunchback, do you blame the +reed or the river-current? + +_King_. The river-current, of course. + +_Clown_. And you are to blame for my troubles. + +_King_. How so? + +_Clown_. It's a fine thing for you to neglect your royal duties and +such a sure job--to live in the woods! What's the good of talking? +Here I am, a Brahman, and my joints are all shaken up by this eternal +running after wild animals, so that I can't move. Please be good to +me. Let us have a rest for just one day. + +_King_ (_to himself_). He says this. And I too, when I remember +Kanva's daughter, have little desire for the chase. For + + The bow is strung, its arrow near; + And yet I cannot bend + That bow against the fawns who share + Soft glances with their friend. + +_Clown_ (_observing the king_). He means more than he says. I might as +well weep in the woods. + +_King_ (_smiling_). What more could I mean? I have been thinking that +I ought to take my friend's advice. + +_Clown_ (_cheerfully_). Long life to you, then. (_He unstiffens_.) + +_King_. Wait. Hear me out. + +_Clown_. Well, sir? + +_King_. When you are rested, you must be my companion in another +task--an easy one. + +_Clown_. Crushing a few sweetmeats? + +_King_. I will tell you presently. + +_Clown_. Pray command my leisure. + +_King_. Who stands without? (_Enter the door-keeper_.) + +_Door-keeper_. I await your Majesty's commands. + +_King_. Raivataka, summon the general. + +_Door-keeper_. Yes, your Majesty. (_He goes out, then returns with the +general_.) Follow me, sir. There is his Majesty, listening to our +conversation. Draw near, sir. + +_General_ (_observing the king, to himself_). Hunting is declared to +be a sin, yet it brings nothing but good to the king. See! + + He does not heed the cruel sting + Of his recoiling, twanging string; + The mid-day sun, the dripping sweat + Affect him not, nor make him fret; + His form, though sinewy and spare, + Is most symmetrically fair; + No mountain-elephant could be + More filled with vital strength than he. + +(_He approaches_.) Victory to your Majesty! The forest is full of +deer-tracks, and beasts of prey cannot be far off. What better +occupation could we have? + +_King_. Bhadrasena, my enthusiasm is broken. Madhavya has been +preaching against hunting. + +_General_ (_aside to the clown_). Stick to it, friend Madhavya. I will +humour the king a moment. (_Aloud_.) Your Majesty, he is a chattering +idiot. Your Majesty may judge by his own case whether hunting is an +evil. Consider: + + The hunter's form grows sinewy, strong, and light; + He learns, from beasts of prey, how wrath and fright + Affect the mind; his skill he loves to measure + With moving targets. 'Tis life's chiefest pleasure. + +_Clown_ (_angrily_). Get out! Get out with your strenuous life! The +king has come to his senses. But you, you son of a slave-wench, can go +chasing from forest to forest, till you fall into the jaws of some old +bear that is looking for a deer or a jackal. + +_King_. Bhadrasena, I cannot take your advice, because I am in the +vicinity of a hermitage. So for to-day + + The horned buffalo may shake + The turbid water of the lake; + Shade-seeking deer may chew the cud, + Boars trample swamp-grass in the mud; + The bow I bend in hunting, may + Enjoy a listless holiday. + +_General_. Yes, your Majesty. + +_King_. Send back the archers who have gone ahead. And forbid the +soldiers to vex the hermitage, or even to approach it. Remember: + + There lurks a hidden fire in each + Religious hermit-bower; + Cool sun-stones kindle if assailed + By any foreign power. + +_General_. Yes, your Majesty. + +_Clown_. Now will you get out with your strenuous life? (_Exit +general_.) + +_King_ (_to his attendants_). Lay aside your hunting dress. And you, +Raivataka, return to your post of duty. + +_Raivataka_. Yes, your Majesty. (_Exit_.) + +_Clown_. You have got rid of the vermin. Now be seated on this flat +stone, over which the trees spread their canopy of shade. I can't sit +down till you do. + +_King_. Lead the way. + +_Clown_. Follow me. (_They walk about and sit down_.) + +_King_. Friend Madhavya, you do not know what vision is. You have not +seen the fairest of all objects. + +_Clown_. I see you, right in front of me. + +_King_. Yes, every one thinks himself beautiful. But I was speaking of +Shakuntala, the ornament of the hermitage. + +_Clown_ (_to himself_). I mustn't add fuel to the flame. (_Aloud_.) +But you can't have her because she is a hermit-girl. What is the use +of seeing her? + +_King_. Fool! + + And is it selfish longing then, + That draws our souls on high + Through eyes that have forgot to wink, + As the new moon climbs the sky? + +Besides, Dushyanta's thoughts dwell on no forbidden object. + +_Clown_. Well, tell me about her. + +_King_. + + Sprung from a nymph of heaven + Wanton and gay, + Who spurned the blessing given, + Going her way; + + By the stern hermit taken + In her most need: + So fell the blossom shaken, + Flower on a weed. + +_Clown_ (_laughing_). You are like a man who gets tired of good dates +and longs for sour tamarind. All the pearls of the palace are yours, +and you want this girl! + +_King_. My friend, you have not seen her, or you could not talk so. + +_Clown_. She must be charming if she surprises _you_. + +_King_. Oh, my friend, she needs not many words. + + She is God's vision, of pure thought + Composed in His creative mind; + His reveries of beauty wrought + The peerless pearl of womankind. + So plays my fancy when I see + How great is God, how lovely she. + +_Clown_. How the women must hate her! + +_King_. This too is in my thought. + + She seems a flower whose fragrance none has tasted, + A gem uncut by workman's tool, + A branch no desecrating hands have wasted, + Fresh honey, beautifully cool. + + No man on earth deserves to taste her beauty, + Her blameless loveliness and worth, + Unless he has fulfilled man's perfect duty-- + And is there such a one on earth? + +_Clown_. Marry her quick, then, before the poor girl falls into the +hands of some oily-headed hermit. + +_King_. She is dependent on her father, and he is not here. + +_Clown_. But how does she feel toward you? _King_. My friend, +hermit-girls are by their very nature timid. And yet + + When I was near, she could not look at me; + She smiled--but not to me--and half denied it; + She would not show her love for modesty, + Yet did not try so very hard to hide it. + +_Clown_. Did you want her to climb into your lap the first time she +saw you? + +_King_. But when she went away with her friends, she almost showed +that she loved me. + + When she had hardly left my side, + "I cannot walk," the maiden cried, + And turned her face, and feigned to free + The dress not caught upon the tree. + +_Clown_. She has given you some memories to chew on. I suppose that is +why you are so in love with the pious grove. + +_King_. My friend, think of some pretext under which we may return to +the hermitage. + +_Clown_. What pretext do you need? Aren't you the king? + +_King_. What of that? + +_Clown_. Collect the taxes on the hermits' rice. + +_King_. Fool! It is a very different tax which these hermits pay--one +that outweighs heaps of gems. + + The wealth we take from common men, + Wastes while we cherish; + These share with us such holiness + As ne'er can perish. + +_Voices behind the scenes_. Ah, we have found him. + +_King_ (_Listening_). The voices are grave and tranquil. These must be +hermits. (_Enter the door-keeper_.) + +_Door-keeper_. Victory, O King. There are two hermit-youths at the +gate. + +_King_. Bid them enter at once. + +_Door-keeper_. Yes, your Majesty. (_He goes out, then returns with the +youths_.) Follow me. + +_First youth_ (_looking at the king_). A majestic presence, yet it +inspires confidence. Nor is this wonderful in a king who is half a +saint. For to him + + The splendid palace serves as hermitage; + His royal government, courageous, sage, + Adds daily to his merit; it is given + To him to win applause from choirs of heaven + Whose anthems to his glory rise and swell, + Proclaiming him a king, and saint as well. + +_Second youth_. My friend, is this Dushyanta, friend of Indra? + +_First youth_. It is. + +_Second youth_. + + Nor is it wonderful that one whose arm + Might bolt a city gate, should keep from harm + The whole broad earth dark-belted by the sea; + For when the gods in heaven with demons fight, + Dushyanta's bow and Indra's weapon bright + Are their reliance for the victory. + +_The two youths_ (_approaching_). Victory, O King! + +_King_ (_rising_). I salute you. + +_The two youths_. All hail! (_They offer fruit_.) + +_King_ (_receiving it and bowing low_). May I know the reason of your +coming? + +_The two youths_. The hermits have learned that you are here, and they +request---- + +_King_. They command rather. + +_The two youths_. The powers of evil disturb our pious life in the +absence of the hermit-father. We therefore ask that you will remain a +few nights with your charioteer to protect the hermitage. + +_King_. I shall be most happy to do so. + +_Clown_ (_to the king_). You rather seem to like being collared this +way. + +_King_. Raivataka, tell my charioteer to drive up, and to bring the +bow and arrows. + +_Raivataka_. Yes, your Majesty. (_Exit_) + +_The two youths_. + + Thou art a worthy scion of + The kings who ruled our nation + And found, defending those in need, + Their truest consecration. + +_King_. Pray go before. And I will follow straightway. + +_The two youths_. Victory, O King! (_Exeunt_.) + +_King_. Madhavya, have you no curiosity to see Shakuntala? + +_Clown_. I _did_ have an unending curiosity, but this talk about the +powers of evil has put an end to it. + +_King_. Do not fear. You will be with me. + +_Clown_. I'll stick close to your chariot-wheel. (_Enter the +door-keeper_.) + +_Door-keeper_. Your Majesty, the chariot is ready, and awaits your +departure to victory. But one Karabhaka has come from the city, a +messenger from the queen-mother. + +_King_ (_respectfully_). Sent by my mother? + +_Door-keeper_. Yes. + +_King_. Let him enter. + +_Door-keeper_ (_goes out and returns with_ KARABHAKA). Karabhaka, here +is his Majesty. You may draw near. + +_Karabhaka_ (_approaching and bowing low_). Victory to your Majesty. +The queen-mother sends her commands---- + +_King_. What are her commands? + +_Karabhaka_. She plans to end a fasting ceremony on the fourth day +from to-day. And on that occasion her dear son must not fail to wait +upon her. + +_King_. On the one side is my duty to the hermits, on the other my +mother's command. Neither may be disregarded. What is to be done? + +_Clown_ (_laughing_). Stay half-way between, like Trishanku. + +_King_. In truth, I am perplexed. + + Two inconsistent duties sever + My mind with cruel shock, + As when the current of a river + Is split upon a rock. + +(_He reflects_.) My friend, the queen-mother has always felt toward +you as toward a son. Do you return, tell her what duty keeps me here, +and yourself perform the offices of a son. + +_Clown_. You don't think I am afraid of the devils? + +_King_ (_smiling_). O mighty Brahman, who could suspect it? + +_Clown_. But I want to travel like a prince. + +_King_. I will send all the soldiers with you, for the pious grove +must not be disturbed. _Clown_ (_strutting_). Aha! Look at the +heir-apparent! + +_King_ (_to himself_). The fellow is a chatterbox. He might betray my +longing to the ladies of the palace. Good, then! (_He takes the clown +by the hand. Aloud_.) Friend Madhavya, my reverence for the hermits +draws me to the hermitage. Do not think that I am really in love with +the hermit-girl. Just think: + + A king, and a girl of the calm hermit-grove, + Bred with the fawns, and a stranger to love! + Then do not imagine a serious quest; + The light words I uttered were spoken in jest. + +_Clown_. Oh, I understand that well enough. (_Exeunt ambo_.) + + +ACT III + + +THE LOVE-MAKING + +(_Enter a pupil, with sacred grass for the sacrifice_.) + +_Pupil_ (_with meditative astonishment_). How great is the power of +King Dushyanta! Since his arrival our rites have been undisturbed. + + He does not need to bend the bow; + For every evil thing, + Awaiting not the arrow, flees + From the twanging of the string. + +Well, I will take this sacred grass to the priests, to strew the +altar. (_He walks and looks about, then speaks to some one not +visible_.) Priyamvada, for whom are you carrying this cuscus-salve and +the fibrous lotus-leaves? (_He listens_.) What do you say? That +Shakuntala has become seriously ill from the heat, and that these +things are to relieve her suffering? Give her the best of care, +Priyamvada. She is the very life of the hermit-father. And I will give +Gautami the holy water for her. (_Exit. Enter the lovelorn king_.) + +_King_ (_with a meditative sigh_). + + I know that stern religion's power + Keeps guardian watch my maiden o'er; + Yet all my heart flows straight to her + Like water to the valley-floor. + +Oh, mighty Love, thine arrows are made of flowers. How can they be so +sharp? (_He recalls something_.) Ah, I understand. + + Shiva's devouring wrath still burns in thee, + As burns the eternal fire beneath the sea; + Else how couldst thou, thyself long since consumed, + Kindle the fire that flames so ruthlessly? + +Indeed, the moon and thou inspire confidence, only to deceive the host +of lovers. + + Thy shafts are blossoms; coolness streams + From moon-rays: thus the poets sing; + But to the lovelorn, falsehood seems + To lurk in such imagining; + The moon darts fire from frosty beams; + Thy flowery arrows cut and sting. + +And yet + + If Love will trouble her + Whose great eyes madden me, + I greet him unafraid, + Though wounded ceaselessly. + +O mighty god, wilt thou not show me mercy after such reproaches? + + With tenderness unending + I cherished thee when small, + In vain--thy bow is bending; + On me thine arrows fall. + My care for thee to such a plight + Has brought me; and it serves me right. + +I have driven off the powers of evil, and the hermits have dismissed +me. Where shall I go now to rest from my weariness? (_He sighs_.) +There is no rest for me except in seeing her whom I love. (_He looks +up_.) She usually spends these hours of midday heat with her friends +on the vine-wreathed banks of the Malini. I will go there. (_He walks +and looks about_.) I believe the slender maiden has just passed +through this corridor of young trees. For + + The stems from which she gathered flowers + Are still unhealed; + The sap where twigs were broken off + Is uncongealed. + +(_He feels a breeze stirring_.) This is a pleasant spot, with the wind +among the trees. + + Limbs that love's fever seizes, + Their fervent welcome pay + To lotus-fragrant breezes + That bear the river-spray. + +(_He studies the ground_.) Ah, Shakuntala must be in this reedy bower. +For + + In white sand at the door + Fresh footprints appear, + The toe lightly outlined, + The heel deep and clear. + +I will hide among the branches, and see what happens. (_He does so. +Joyfully_.) Ah, my eyes have found their heaven. Here is the darling +of my thoughts, lying upon a flower-strewn bench of stone, and +attended by her two friends. I will hear what they say to each other. + +(_He stands gazing. Enter_ SHAKUNTALA _with her two friends_.) + +_The two friends_ (_fanning her_). Do you feel better, dear, when we +fan you with these lotus-leaves? + +_Shakuntala_ (_wearily_). Oh, are you fanning me, my dear girls? (_The +two friends look sorrowfully at each other_.) + +_King_. She is seriously ill. (_Doubtfully_.) Is it the heat, or is it +as I hope? (_Decidedly_.) It _must_ be so. + + With salve upon her breast, + With loosened lotus-chain, + My darling, sore oppressed, + Is lovely in her pain. + + Though love and summer heat + May work an equal woe, + No maiden seems so sweet + When summer lays her low. + +_Priyamvada_ (_aside to_ ANUSUYA). Anusuya, since she first saw the +good king, she has been greatly troubled. I do not believe her fever +has any other cause. + +_Anusuya_. I suspect you are right. I am going to ask her. My dear, I +must ask you something. You are in a high fever. + +_King_. It is too true. + + Her lotus-chains that were as white + As moonbeams shining in the night, + Betray the fever's awful pain, + And fading, show a darker stain. + +_Shakuntala_ (_half rising_.) Well, say whatever you like. +_Anusuya_. Shakuntala dear, you have not told us what is going on in +your mind. But I have heard old, romantic stories, and I can't help +thinking that you are in a state like that of a lady in love. Please +tell us what hurts you. We have to understand the disease before we +can even try to cure it. + +_King_. Anusuya expresses my own thoughts. + +_Shakuntala_. It hurts me terribly. I can't tell you all at once. + +_Priyamvada_. Anusuya is right, dear. Why do you hide your trouble? +You are wasting away every day. You are nothing but a beautiful +shadow. + +_King_. Priyamvada is right. See! + + Her cheeks grow thin; her breast and shoulders fail; + Her waist is weary and her face is pale: + She fades for love; oh, pitifully sweet! + As vine-leaves wither in the scorching heat. + +_Shakuntala_ (_sighing_). I could not tell any one else. But I shall +be a burden to you. + +_The two friends_. That is why we insist on knowing, dear. Grief must +be shared to be endured. + +_King_. + + To friends who share her joy and grief + She tells what sorrow laid her here; + She turned to look her love again + When first I saw her--yet I fear! + +_Shakuntala_. Ever since I saw the good king who protects the pious +grove--(_She stops and fidgets_.) + +_The two friends_. Go on, dear. + +_Shakuntala_. I love him, and it makes me feel like this. + +_The two friends_. Good, good! You have found a lover worthy of your +devotion. But of course, a great river always runs into the sea. + +_King_ (_joyfully_). I have heard what I longed to hear. + + 'Twas love that caused the burning pain; + 'Tis love that eases it again; + As when, upon a sultry day, + Rain breaks, and washes grief away. + +_Shakuntala_. Then, if you think best, make the good king take pity +upon me. If not, remember that I was. _King_. Her words end all +doubt. + +_Priyamvada_ (_aside to_ ANUSUYA). Anusuya, she is far gone in love +and cannot endure any delay. + +_Anusuya_. Priyamvada, can you think of any scheme by which we could +carry out her wishes quickly and secretly? + +_Priyamvada_. We must plan about the "secretly." The "quickly" is not +hard. + +_Anusuya_. How so? + +_Priyamvada_. Why, the good king shows his love for her in his tender +glances, and he has been wasting away, as if he were losing sleep. + +_King_. It is quite true. + + The hot tears, flowing down my cheek + All night on my supporting arm + And on its golden bracelet, seek + To stain the gems and do them harm. + + The bracelet slipping o'er the scars + Upon the wasted arm, that show + My deeds in hunting and in wars, + All night is moving to and fro. + +_Priyamvada_ (_reflecting_). Well, she must write him a love-letter. +And I will hide it in a bunch of flowers and see that it gets into the +king's hand as if it were a relic of the sacrifice. + +_Anusuya_. It is a pretty plan, dear, and it pleases me. What does +Shakuntala say? + +_Shakuntala_. I suppose I must obey orders. + +_Priyamvada_. Then compose a pretty little love-song, with a hint of +yourself in it. + +_Shakuntala_. I'll try. But my heart trembles, for fear he will +despise me. + +_King_. + + Here stands the eager lover, and you pale + For fear lest he disdain a love so kind: + The seeker may find fortune, or may fail; + But how could fortune, seeking, fail to find? + +And again: + + The ardent lover comes, and yet you fear + Lest he disdain love's tribute, were it brought, + The hope of which has led his footsteps here-- + Pearls need not seek, for they themselves are sought. + +_The two friends_. You are too modest about your own charms. Would +anybody put up a parasol to keep off the soothing autumn moonlight? + +_Shakuntala_ (_smiling_). I suppose I shall have to obey orders. (_She +meditates_.) + +_King_. It is only natural that I should forget to wink when I see my +darling. For + + One clinging eyebrow lifted, + As fitting words she seeks, + Her face reveals her passion + For me in glowing cheeks. + +_Shakuntala_. Well, I have thought out a little song. But I haven't +anything to write with. + +_Priyamvada_. Here is a lotus-leaf, glossy as a parrot's breast. You +can cut the letters in it with your nails. + +_Shakuntala_. Now listen, and tell me whether it makes sense. + +_The two friends_. Please. + +_Shakuntala_ (_reads_). + + I know not if I read your heart aright; + Why, pitiless, do you distress me so? + I only know that longing day and night + Tosses my restless body to and fro, + That yearns for you, the source of all its woe. + +_King_ (_advancing_). + + Though Love torments you, slender maid, + Yet he consumes me quite, + As daylight shuts night-blooming flowers + And slays the moon outright. + +_The two friends_ (_perceive the king and rise joyfully_). Welcome to +the wish that is fulfilled without delay. (SHAKUNTALA _tries to +rise_.) + +_King_. + + Do not try to rise, beautiful Shakuntala. + Your limbs from which the strength is fled, + That crush the blossoms of your bed + And bruise the lotus-leaves, may be + Pardoned a breach of courtesy. + + _Shakuntala_ (_sadly to herself_). Oh, my heart, you were so +impatient, and now you find no answer to make. + +_Anusuya_. Your Majesty, pray do this stone bench the honour of +sitting upon it. (SHAKUNTALA _edges away_.) + +_King_ (_seating himself_). Priyamvada, I trust your friend's illness +is not dangerous. + +_Priyamvada_ (_smiling_). A remedy is being applied and it will soon +be better. It is plain, sir, that you and she love each other. But I +love her too, and I must say something over again. + +_King_. Pray do not hesitate. It always causes pain in the end, to +leave unsaid what one longs to say. + +_Priyamvada_. Then listen, sir. + +_King_. I am all attention. + +_Priyamvada_. It is the king's duty to save hermit-folk from all +suffering. Is not that good Scripture? + +_King_. There is no text more urgent. + +_Priyamvada_. Well, our friend has been brought to this sad state by +her love for you. Will you not take pity on her and save her life? + +_King_. We cherish the same desire. I feel it a great honour. + +_Shakuntala_ (_with a jealous smile_). Oh, don't detain the good king. +He is separated from the court ladies, and he is anxious to go back to +them. + +_King_. + + Bewitching eyes that found my heart, + You surely see + It could no longer live apart, + Nor faithless be. + I bear Love's arrows as I can; + Wound not with doubt a wounded man. + +_Anusuya_. But, your Majesty, we hear that kings have many favourites. +You must act in such a way that our friend may not become a cause of +grief to her family. + +_King_. What more can I say? + + Though many queens divide my court, + But two support the throne; + Your friend will find a rival in + The sea-girt earth alone. + +_The two friends_. We are content. (SHAKUNTALA _betrays her joy_.) +_Priyamvada_ (_aside to_ ANUSUYA). Look, Anusuya! See how the dear +girl's life is coming back moment by moment--just like a peahen in +summer when the first rainy breezes come. + +_Shakuntala_. You must please ask the king's pardon for the rude +things we said when we were talking together. + +_The two friends_ (_smiling_). Anybody who says it was rude, may ask +his pardon. Nobody else feels guilty. + +_Shakuntala_. Your Majesty, pray forgive what we said when we did not +know that you were present. I am afraid that we say a great many +things behind a person's back. + +_King_ (_smiling_). + + Your fault is pardoned if I may + Relieve my weariness + By sitting on the flower-strewn couch + Your fevered members press. + +_Priyamvada_. But that will not be enough to satisfy him. + +_Shakuntala_ (_feigning anger_). Stop! You are a rude girl. You make +fun of me when I am in this condition. + +_Anusuya_ (_looking out of the arbour_). Priyamvada, there is a little +fawn, looking all about him. He has probably lost his mother and is +trying to find her. I am going to help him. + +_Priyamvada_. He is a frisky little fellow. You can't catch him alone. +I'll go with you. (_They start to go_.) + +_Shakuntala_. I will not let you go and leave me alone. + +_The two friends_ (_smiling_). You alone, when the king of the world +is with you! (_Exeunt_.) + +_Shakuntala_. Are my friends gone? + +_King_ (_looking about_). Do not be anxious, beautiful Shakuntala. +Have you not a humble servant here, to take the place of your friends? +Then tell me: + + Shall I employ the moistened lotus-leaf + To fan away your weariness and grief? + Or take your lily feet upon my knee + And rub them till you rest more easily? + +_Shakuntala_. I will not offend against those to whom I owe honour. +(_She rises weakly and starts to walk away_.) _King_ (_detaining +her_). The day is still hot, beautiful Shakuntala, and you are +feverish. + + Leave not the blossom-dotted couch + To wander in the midday heat, + With lotus-petals on your breast, + With fevered limbs and stumbling feet. + +(_He lays his hand upon her_.) + +_Shakuntala_. Oh, don't! Don't! For I am not mistress of myself. Yet +what can I do now? I had no one to help me but my friends. + +_King_. I am rebuked. + +_Shakuntala_. I was not thinking of your Majesty. I was accusing fate. + +_King_. Why accuse a fate that brings what you desire? + +_Shakuntala_. Why not accuse a fate that robs me of self-control and +tempts me with the virtues of another? + +_King_ (_to himself_). + + Though deeply longing, maids are coy + And bid their wooers wait; + Though eager for united joy + In love, they hesitate. + + Love cannot torture them, nor move + Their hearts to sudden mating; + Perhaps they even torture love + By their procrastinating. + +(SHAKUNTALA _moves away_.) + +_King_. Why should I not have my way? (_He approaches and seizes her +dress_.) + +_Shakuntala_. Oh, sir! Be a gentleman. There are hermits wandering +about. + +_King_. Do not fear your family, beautiful Shakuntala. Father Kanva +knows the holy law. He will not regret it. + + For many a hermit maiden who + By simple, voluntary rite + Dispensed with priest and witness, yet + Found favour in her father's sight. + +(_He looks about_.) Ah, I have come into the open air. (_He leaves_ +SHAKUNTALA _and retraces his steps_.) _Shakuntala_ (_takes a step, +then turns with an eager gesture_). + +O King, I cannot do as you would have me. You hardly know me after +this short talk. But oh, do not forget me. + +_King_. + + When evening comes, the shadow of the tree + Is cast far forward, yet does not depart; + Even so, beloved, wheresoe'er you be, + The thought of you can never leave my heart. + +_Shakuntala_ (_takes a few steps. To herself_). Oh, oh! When I hear +him speak so, my feet will not move away. I will hide in this amaranth +hedge and see how long his love lasts. (_She hides and waits_.) + +_King_. Oh, my beloved, my love for you is my whole life, yet you +leave me and go away without a thought. + + Your body, soft as siris-flowers, + Engages passion's utmost powers; + How comes it that your heart is hard + As stalks that siris-blossoms guard? + +_Shakuntala_. When I hear this, I have no power to go. + +_King_. What have I to do here, where she is not? (_He gazes on the +ground_.) Ah, I cannot go. + + The perfumed lotus-chain + That once was worn by her + Fetters and keeps my heart + A hopeless prisoner. (_He lifts it reverently_.) + +_Shakuntala_ (_looking at her arm_). Why, I was so weak and ill that +when the lotus-bracelet fell off, I did not even notice it. + +_King_ (_laying the lotus-bracelet on his heart_). Ah! + + Once, dear, on your sweet arm it lay, + And on my heart shall ever stay; + Though you disdain to give me joy, + I find it in a lifeless toy. + +_Shakuntala_. I cannot hold back after that. I will use the bracelet +as an excuse for my coming. (_She approaches_.) + +_King_ (_seeing her. Joyfully_). The queen of my life! As soon as I +complained, fate proved kind to me. + + No sooner did the thirsty bird + With parching throat complain, + Than forming clouds in heaven stirred + And sent the streaming rain. + +_Shakuntala_ (_standing before the king_). When I was going away, sir, +I remembered that this lotus-bracelet had fallen from my arm, and I +have come back for it. My heart seemed to tell me that you had taken +it. Please give it back, or you will betray me, and yourself too, to +the hermits. + +_King_. I will restore it on one condition. + +_Shakuntala_. What condition? + +_King_. That I may myself place it where it belongs. + +_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). What can I do? (_She approaches_.) + +_King_. Let us sit on this stone bench. (_They walk to the bench and +sit down_.) + +_King_ (_taking_ SHAKUNTALA'S _hand_). Ah! + + When Shiva's anger burned the tree + Of love in quenchless fire, + Did heavenly fate preserve a shoot + To deck my heart's desire? + +_Shakuntala_ (_feeling his touch_). Hasten, my dear, hasten. + +_King_ (_joyfully to himself_). Now I am content. She speaks as a wife +to her husband. (_Aloud_.) Beautiful Shakuntala, the clasp of the +bracelet is not very firm. May I fasten it in another way? + +_Shakuntala_ (_smiling_). If you like. + +_King_ (_artfully delaying before he fastens it_). See, my beautiful +girl! + + The lotus-chain is dazzling white + As is the slender moon at night. + Perhaps it was the moon on high + That joined her horns and left the sky, + Believing that your lovely arm + Would, more than heaven, enhance her charm. + +_Shakuntala_. I cannot see it. The pollen from the lotus over my ear +has blown into my eye. + +_King_ (_smiling_). Will you permit me to blow it away? + +_Shakuntala_. I should not like to be an object of pity. But why +should I not trust you? _King_. Do not have such thoughts. A new +servant does not transgress orders. + +_Shakuntala_. It is this exaggerated courtesy that frightens me. + +_King_ (_to himself_). I shall not break the bonds of this sweet +servitude. (_He starts to raise her face to his_. SHAKUNTALA _resists +a little, then is passive_.) + +_King_. Oh, my bewitching girl, have no fear of me. + +(SHAKUNTALA _darts a glance at him, then looks down. The king raises +her face. Aside_.) + + Her sweetly trembling lip + With virgin invitation + Provokes my soul to sip + Delighted fascination. + +_Shakuntala_. You seem slow, dear, in fulfilling your promise. + +_King_. The lotus over your ear is so near your eye, and so like it, +that I was confused. (_He gently blows her eye_.) + +_Shakuntala_. Thank you. I can see quite well now. But I am ashamed +not to make any return for your kindness. + +_King_. What more could I ask? + + It ought to be enough for me + To hover round your fragrant face; + Is not the lotus-haunting bee + Content with perfume and with grace? + +_Shakuntala_. But what does he do if he is not content? + +_King_. This! This! (_He draws her face to his_.) + +_A voice behind the scenes_. O sheldrake bride, bid your mate +farewell. The night is come. + +_Shakuntala_ (_listening excitedly_). Oh, my dear, this is Mother +Gautami, come to inquire about me. Please hide among the branches. + +(_The king conceals himself. Enter _GAUTAMI, _with a bowl in her +hand_.) + +_Gautami_. Here is the holy water, my child. (_She sees_ SHAKUNTALA +_and helps her to rise_.) So ill, and all alone here with the gods? + +_Shakuntala_. It was just a moment ago that Priyamvada and Anusuya +went down to the river. + +_Gautami_ (_sprinkling_ SHAKUNTALA _with the holy water_). May you +live long and happy, my child. Has the fever gone down? (_She touches +her_.) + +_Shakuntala_. There is a difference, mother. + +_Gautami_. The sun is setting. Come, let us go to the cottage. + +_Shakuntala_ (_weakly rising. To herself_). Oh, my heart, you delayed +when your desire came of itself. Now see what you have done. (_She +takes a step, then turns around. Aloud_.) O bower that took away my +pain, I bid you farewell until another blissful hour. (_Exeunt_ +SHAKUNTALA _and_ GAUTAMI.) + +_King_ (_advancing with a sigh_.) The path to happiness is strewn with +obstacles. + + Her face, adorned with soft eye-lashes, + Adorable with trembling flashes + Of half-denial, in memory lingers; + The sweet lips guarded by her fingers, + The head that drooped upon her shoulder-- + Why was I not a little bolder? + +Where shall I go now? Let me stay a moment in this bower where my +beloved lay. (_He looks about_.) + + The flower-strewn bed whereon her body tossed; + The bracelet, fallen from her arm and lost; + The dear love-missive, in the lotus-leaf + Cut by her nails: assuage my absent grief + And occupy my eyes--I have no power, + Though she is gone, to leave the reedy bower. + +(_He reflects_.) Alas! I did wrong to delay when I had found my love. +So now + + If she will grant me but one other meeting, + I'll not delay; for happiness is fleeting; + So plans my foolish, self-defeated heart; + But when she comes, I play the coward's part. + +_A voice behind the scenes_. O King! + + The flames rise heavenward from the evening altar; + And round the sacrifices, blazing high, + Flesh-eating demons stalk, like red cloud-masses, + And cast colossal shadows on the sky. + +_King_ (_listens. Resolutely_). Have no fear, hermits. I am here. + +(_Exit_.) + + +ACT IV + + +SHAKUNTALA'S DEPARTURE + +SCENE I + +(_Enter the two friends, gathering flowers_.) + +_Anusuya_. Priyamvada, dear Shakuntala has been properly married by +the voluntary ceremony and she has a husband worthy of her. And yet I +am not quite satisfied. + +_Priyamvada_. Why not? + +_Anusuya_. The sacrifice is over and the good king was dismissed +to-day by the hermits. He has gone back to the city and there he is +surrounded by hundreds of court ladies. I wonder whether he will +remember poor Shakuntala or not. + +_Priyamvada_. You need not be anxious about that. Such handsome men +are sure to be good. But there is something else to think about. I +don't know what Father will have to say when he comes back from his +pilgrimage and hears about it. + +_Anusuya_. I believe that he will be pleased. + +_Priyamvada_. Why? + +_Anusuya_. Why not? You know he wanted to give his daughter to a lover +worthy of her. If fate brings this about of itself, why shouldn't +Father be happy? + +_Priyamvada_. I suppose you are right. (_She looks at her +flower-basket_.) My dear, we have gathered flowers enough for the +sacrifice. + +_Anusuya_. But we must make an offering to the gods that watch over +Shakuntala's marriage. We had better gather more. + +_Priyamvada_. Very well. (_They do so_.) + +_A voice behind the scenes_. Who will bid me welcome? + +_Anusuya_ (_listening_). My dear, it sounds like a guest announcing +himself. + +_Priyamvada_. Well, Shakuntala is near the cottage. (_Reflecting_.) +Ah, but to-day her heart is far away. Come, we must do with the +flowers we have. (_They start to walk away_.) + +_The voice_. + + Do you dare despise a guest like me? + Because your heart, by loving fancies blinded, + Has scorned a guest in pious life grown old, + Your lover shall forget you though reminded, + Or think of you as of a story told. + +(_The two girls listen and show dejection_.) + +_Priyamvada_. Oh, dear! The very thing has happened. The dear, +absent-minded girl has offended some worthy man. + +_Anusuya_ (_looking ahead_). My dear, this is no ordinary somebody. It +is the great sage Durvasas, the irascible. See how he strides away! + +_Priyamvada_. Nothing burns like fire. Run, fall at his feet, bring +him back, while I am getting water to wash his feet. + +_Anusuya_. I will. (_Exit_.) + +_Priyamvada_ (_stumbling_). There! I stumbled in my excitement, and +the flower-basket fell out of my hand. (_She collects the scattered +flowers_. ANUSUYA _returns_.) + +_Anusuya_. My dear, he is anger incarnate. Who could appease him? But +I softened him a little. + +_Priyamvada_. Even that is a good deal for him. Tell me about it. + +_Anusuya_. When he would not turn back, I fell at his feet and prayed +to him. "Holy sir," I said, "remember her former devotion and pardon +this offence. Your daughter did not recognise your great and holy +power to-day." + +_Priyamvada_. And then---- + +_Anusuya_. Then he said: "My words must be fulfilled. But the curse +shall be lifted when her lover sees a gem which he has given her for a +token." And so he vanished. + +_Priyamvada_. We can breathe again. When the good king went away, he +put a ring, engraved with his own name, on Shakuntala's finger to +remember him by. That will save her. + +_Anusuya_. Come, we must finish the sacrifice for her. (_They walk +about_.) + +_Priyamvada_ (_gazing_). Just look, Anusuya! There is the dear girl, +with her cheek resting on her left hand. She looks like a painted +picture. She is thinking about him. How could she notice a guest when +she has forgotten herself? + +_Anusuya_. Priyamvada, we two must keep this thing to ourselves. We +must be careful of the dear girl. You know how delicate she is. + +_Priyamvada_. Would any one sprinkle a jasmine-vine with scalding +water? (_Exeunt ambo_.) + + +SCENE II.--_Early Morning_ + +(_Enter a pupil of_ KANVA, _just risen from sleep_.) + +_Pupil_. Father Kanva has returned from his pilgrimage, and has bidden +me find out what time it is. I will go into the open air and see how +much of the night remains. (_He walks and looks about_.) See! The dawn +is breaking. For already + + The moon behind the western mount is sinking; + The eastern sun is heralded by dawn; + From heaven's twin lights, their fall and glory linking, + Brave lessons of submission may be drawn. + +And again: + + Night-blooming lilies, when the moon is hidden, + Have naught but memories of beauty left. + Hard, hard to bear! Her lot whom heaven has bidden + To live alone, of love and lover reft. + +And again: + + On jujube-trees the blushing dewdrops falter; + The peacock wakes and leaves the cottage thatch; + A deer is rising near the hoof-marked altar, + And stretching, stands, the day's new life to catch. + +And yet again: + + The moon that topped the loftiest mountain ranges, + That slew the darkness in the midmost sky, + Is fallen from heaven, and all her glory changes: + So high to rise, so low at last to lie! + +_Anusuya_ (_entering hurriedly. To herself_). That is just what +happens to the innocent. Shakuntala has been treated shamefully by the +king. _Pupil_. I will tell Father Kanva that the hour of morning +sacrifice is come. (_Exit_.) + +_Anusuya_. The dawn is breaking. I am awake bright and early. But what +shall I do now that I am awake? My hands refuse to attend to the +ordinary morning tasks. Well, let love take its course. For the dear, +pure-minded girl trusted him--the traitor! Perhaps it is not the good +king's fault. It must be the curse of Durvasas. Otherwise, how could +the good king say such beautiful things, and then let all this time +pass without even sending a message? (_She reflects_.) Yes, we must +send him the ring he left as a token. But whom shall we ask to take +it? The hermits are unsympathetic because they have never suffered. It +seemed as if her friends were to blame and so, try as we might, we +could not tell Father Kanva that Shakuntala was married to Dushyanta +and was expecting a baby. Oh, what shall we do? (_Enter_ PRIYAMVADA.) + +_Priyamvada_. Hurry, Anusuya, hurry! We are getting Shakuntala ready +for her journey. + +_Anusuya_ (_astonished_). What do you mean, my dear? + +_Priyamuada_. Listen. I just went to Shakuntala, to ask if she had +slept well. + +_Anusuya_. And then---- + +_Priyamvada_. I found her hiding her face for shame, and Father Kanva +was embracing her and encouraging her. "My child," he said, "I bring +you joy. The offering fell straight in the sacred fire, and auspicious +smoke rose toward the sacrificer. My pains for you have proved like +instruction given to a good student; they have brought me no regret. +This very day I shall give you an escort of hermits and send you to +your husband." + +_Anusuya_. But, my dear, who told Father Kanva about it? + +_Priyamvada_. A voice from heaven that recited a verse when he had +entered the fire-sanctuary. + +_Anusuya_ (_astonished_). What did it say? + +_Priyamvada_. Listen. (_Speaking in good Sanskrit_.) + + Know, Brahman, that your child, + Like the fire-pregnant tree, + Bears kingly seed that shall be born + For earth's prosperity. + + _Anusuya_ (_hugging_ PRIYAMVADA). I am so glad, dear. But my joy is +half sorrow when I think that Shakuntala is going to be taken away +this very day. + +_Priyamvada_. We must hide our sorrow as best we can. The poor girl +must be made happy to-day. + +_Anusuya_. Well, here is a cocoa-nut casket, hanging on a branch of +the mango-tree. I put flower-pollen in it for this very purpose. It +keeps fresh, you know. Now you wrap it in a lotus-leaf, and I will get +yellow pigment and earth from a sacred spot and blades of panic grass +for the happy ceremony. (PRIYAMVADA _does so. Exit_ ANUSUYA.) + +_A voice behind the scenes_. Gautami, bid the worthy Sharngarava and +Sharadvata make ready to escort my daughter Shakuntala. + +_Priyamvada_ (_listening_). Hurry, Anusuya, hurry! They are calling +the hermits who are going to Hastinapura. (_Enter_ ANUSUYA, _with +materials for the ceremony_.) + +_Anusuya_. Come, dear, let us go. (_They walk about_.) + +_Priyamvada_ (_looking ahead_). There is Shakuntala. She took the +ceremonial bath at sunrise, and now the hermit-women are giving her +rice-cakes and wishing her happiness. Let's go to her. (_They do so. +Enter_ SHAKUNTALA _with attendants as described, and_ GAUTAMI.) + +_Shakuntala_. Holy women, I salute you. + +_Gautami_. My child, may you receive the happy title "queen," showing +that your husband honours you. + +_Hermit-women_. My dear, may you become the mother of a hero. (_Exeunt +all but_ GAUTAMI.) + +_The two friends_ (_approaching_). Did you have a good bath, dear? + +_Shakuntala_. Good morning, girls. Sit here. + +_The two friends_ (_seating themselves_). Now stand straight, while we +go through the happy ceremony. + +_Shakuntala_. It has happened often enough, but I ought to be very +grateful to-day. Shall I ever be adorned by my friends again? (_She +weeps_.) + +_The two friends_. You ought not to weep, dear, at this happy time. + +(_They wipe the tears away and adorn her_.) + +_Priyamvada_. You are so beautiful, you ought to have the finest gems. +It seems like an insult to give you these hermitage things. (_Enter_ +HARITA, _a hermit-youth with ornaments_.) _Harita_. Here are +ornaments for our lady. (_The women look at them in astonishment_.) + +_Gautami_. Harita, my son, whence come these things? + +_Harita_. From the holy power of Father Kanva. + +_Gautami_. A creation of his mind? + +_Harita_. Not quite. Listen. Father Kanva sent us to gather blossoms +from the trees for Shakuntala, and then + + One tree bore fruit, a silken marriage dress + That shamed the moon in its white loveliness; + Another gave us lac-dye for the feet; + From others, fairy hands extended, sweet + Like flowering twigs, as far as to the wrist, + And gave us gems, to adorn her as we list. + +_Priyamvada_ (_Looking at_ SHAKUNTALA). A bee may be born in a hole in +a tree, but she likes the honey of the lotus. + +_Gautami_. This gracious favour is a token of the queenly happiness +which you are to enjoy in your husband's palace. (SHAKUNTALA _shows +embarrassment_.) + +_Harita_. Father Kanva has gone to the bank of the Malini, to perform +his ablutions. I will tell him of the favour shown us by the trees. + +(_Exit_.) + +_Anusuya_. My dear, we poor girls never saw such ornaments. How shall +we adorn you? (_She stops to think, and to look at the ornaments_.) +But we have seen pictures. Perhaps we can arrange them right. + +_Shakuntala_. I know how clever you are. (_The two friends adorn her. +Enter_ KANVA, _returning after his ablutions_.) + +_Kanva_. + + Shakuntala must go to-day; + I miss her now at heart; + I dare not speak a loving word + Or choking tears will start. + + My eyes are dim with anxious thought; + Love strikes me to the life: + And yet I strove for pious peace-- + I have no child, no wife. + + What must a father feel, when come + The pangs of parting from his child at home? + +(_He walks about_.) _The two friends_. There, Shakuntala, we have +arranged your ornaments. Now put on this beautiful silk dress. + +(SHAKUNTALA _rises and does so_.) + +_Gautami_. My child, here is your father. The eyes with which he seems +to embrace you are overflowing with tears of joy. You must greet him +properly. (SHAKUNTALA _makes a shamefaced reverence_.) + +_Kanva_. My child, + + Like Sharmishtha, Yayati's wife, + Win favour measured by your worth; + And may you bear a kingly son + Like Puru, who shall rule the earth. + +_Gautami_. My child, this is not a prayer, but a benediction. + +_Kanva_. My daughter, walk from left to right about the fires in which +the offering has just been thrown. (_All walk about_.) + + The holy fires around the altar kindle, + And at their margins sacred grass is piled; + Beneath their sacrificial odours dwindle + Misfortunes. May the fires protect you, child! + +(SHAKUNTALA _walks about them from left to right_.) + +_Kanva_. Now you may start, my daughter. (_He glances about_.) Where +are Sharngarava and Sharadvata? (_Enter the two pupils_.) + +_The two pupils_. We are here, Father. + +_Kanva_. Sharngarava, my son, lead the way for your sister. + +_Sharngarava_. Follow me. (_They all walk about_.) + +_Kanva_. O trees of the pious grove, in which the fairies dwell, + + She would not drink till she had wet + Your roots, a sister's duty, + Nor pluck your flowers; she loves you yet + Far more than selfish beauty. + + 'Twas festival in her pure life + When budding blossoms showed; + And now she leaves you as a wife-- + Oh, speed her on her road! + + _Sharngarava_ (_listening to the song of koil-birds_). Father, + + The trees are answering your prayer + In cooing cuckoo-song, + Bidding Shakuntala farewell, + Their sister for so long. + +_Invisible beings_, + + May lily-dotted lakes delight your eye; + May shade-trees bid the heat of noonday cease; + May soft winds blow the lotus-pollen nigh; + May all your path be pleasantness and peace. + +(_All listen in astonishment_.) + +_Gautami_. My child, the fairies of the pious grove bid you farewell. +For they love the household. Pay reverence to the holy ones. + +_Shakuntala_ (_does so. Aside to_ PRIYAMVADA). Priyamvada, I long to +see my husband, and yet my feet will hardly move. It is hard, hard to +leave the hermitage. + +_Priyamvada_. You are not the only one to feel sad at this farewell. +See how the whole grove feels at parting from you. + + The grass drops from the feeding doe; + The peahen stops her dance; + Pale, trembling leaves are falling slow, + The tears of clinging plants. + +_Shakuntala_ (_recalling something_). Father, I must say good-bye to +the spring-creeper, my sister among the vines. + +_Kanva_. I know your love for her. See! Here she is at your right +hand. + +_Shakuntala_ (_approaches the vine and embraces it_). Vine sister, +embrace me too with your arms, these branches. I shall be far away +from you after to-day. Father, you must care for her as you did for +me. + +_Kanva_. + + My child, you found the lover who + Had long been sought by me; + No longer need I watch for you; + I'll give the vine a lover true, + This handsome mango-tree. + +And now start on your journey. _Shakuntala_ (_going to the two +friends_). Dear girls, I leave her in your care too. + +_The two friends_. But who will care for poor us? (_They shed tears_.) + +_Kanva_. Anusuya! Priyamvada! Do not weep. It is you who should cheer +Shakuntala. (_All walk about_.) + +_Shakuntala_. Father, there is the pregnant doe, wandering about near +the cottage. When she becomes a happy mother, you must send some one +to bring me the good news. Do not forget. + +_Kanva_. I shall not forget, my child. + +_Shakuntala_ (_stumbling_) Oh, oh! Who is it that keeps pulling at my +dress, as if to hinder me? (_She turns round to see_.) + +_Kanva_. + + It is the fawn whose lip, when torn + By kusha-grass, you soothed with oil; + The fawn who gladly nibbled corn + Held in your hand; with loving toil + You have adopted him, and he + Would never leave you willingly. + +_Shakuntala_. My dear, why should you follow me when I am going away +from home? Your mother died when you were born and I brought you up. +Now I am leaving you, and Father Kanva will take care of you. Go back, +dear! Go back! (_She walks away, weeping_.) + +_Kanva_. Do not weep, my child. Be brave. Look at the path before you. + + Be brave, and check the rising tears + That dim your lovely eyes; + Your feet are stumbling on the path + That so uneven lies. + +_Sharngarava_. Holy Father, the Scripture declares that one should +accompany a departing loved one only to the first water. Pray give us +your commands on the bank of this pond, and then return. + +_Kanva_. Then let us rest in the shade of this fig-tree. (_All do +so_.) What commands would it be fitting for me to lay on King +Dushyanta? (_He reflects_.) + +_Anusuya_. My dear, there is not a living thing in the whole +hermitage that is not grieving to-day at saying good-bye to you. Look! + + The sheldrake does not heed his mate + Who calls behind the lotus-leaf; + He drops the lily from his bill + And turns on you a glance of grief. + +_Kanva_. Son Sharngarava, when you present Shakuntala to the king, +give him this message from me. + + Remembering my religious worth, + Your own high race, the love poured forth + By her, forgetful of her friends, + Pay her what honour custom lends + To all your wives. And what fate gives + Beyond, will please her relatives. + +_Sharngarava_. I will not forget your message, Father. + +_Kanva_ (_turning to_ SHAKUNTALA). My child, I must now give you my +counsel. Though I live in the forest, I have some knowledge of the +world. + +_Sharngarava_. True wisdom, Father, gives insight into everything. + +_Kanva_. My child, when you have entered your husband's home, + + Obey your elders; and be very kind + To rivals; never be perversely blind + And angry with your husband, even though he + Should prove less faithful than a man might be; + Be as courteous to servants as you may, + Not puffed with pride in this your happy day: + Thus does a maiden grow into a wife; + But self-willed women are the curse of life. + +But what does Gautami say? + +_Gautami_. This is advice sufficient for a bride. (_To_ SHAKUNTALA.) +You will not forget, my child. + +_Kanva_. Come, my daughter, embrace me and your friends. + +_Shakuntala_. Oh, Father! Must my friends turn back too? + +_Kanva_. My daughter, they too must some day be given in marriage. +Therefore they may not go to court. Gautami will go with you. + +_Shakuntala_ (_throwing her arms about her father_). I am torn from +my father's breast like a vine stripped from a sandal-tree on the +Malabar hills. How can I live in another soil? (_She weeps_.) + +_Kanva_. My daughter, why distress yourself so? + + A noble husband's honourable wife, + You are to spend a busy, useful life + In the world's eye; and soon, as eastern skies + Bring forth the sun, from you there shall arise + A child, a blessing and a comfort strong-- + You will not miss me, dearest daughter, long. + +_Shakuntala_ (_falling at his feet_). Farewell, Father. + +_Kanva_. My daughter, may all that come to you which I desire for you. + +_Shakuntala_ (_going to her two friends_). Come, girls! Embrace me, +both of you together. + +_The two friends_ (_do so_). Dear, if the good king should perhaps be +slow to recognise you, show him the ring with his own name engraved on +it. + +_Shakuntala_. Your doubts make my heart beat faster. + +_The two friends_. Do not be afraid, dear. Love is timid. + +_Sharngarava_ (_looking about_). Father, the sun is in mid-heaven. She +must hasten. + +_Shakuntala_ (_embracing_ KANVA _once more_). Father, when shall I see +the pious grove again? + +_Kanva_. My daughter, + + When you have shared for many years + The king's thoughts with the earth, + When to a son who knows no fears + You shall have given birth, + + When, trusted to the son you love, + Your royal labours cease, + Come with your husband to the grove + And end your days in peace. + +_Gautami_. My child, the hour of your departure is slipping by. Bid +your father turn back. No, she would never do that. Pray turn back, +sir. + +_Kanva_. Child, you interrupt my duties in the pious grove. + +_Shakuntala_. Yes, Father. You will be busy in the grove. You will not +miss me. But oh! I miss you. _Kanva_. How can you think me so +indifferent? (_He sighs_.) + + My lonely sorrow will not go, + For seeds you scattered here + Before the cottage door, will grow; + And I shall see them, dear. + +Go. And peace go with you. (_Exit_ SHAKUNTALA, _with_ GAUTAMI, +SHARNGARAVA, _and_ SHARADVATA.) + +_The two friends_ (_gazing long after her. Mournfully_). Oh, oh! +Shakuntala is lost among the trees. + +_Kanva_. Anusuya! Priyamvada! Your companion is gone. Choke down your +grief and follow me. (_They start to go back_.) + +_The two friends_. Father, the grove seems empty without Shakuntala. + +_Kanva_. So love interprets. (_He walks about, sunk in thought_.) Ah! +I have sent Shakuntala away, and now I am myself again. For + + A girl is held in trust, another's treasure; + To arms of love my child to-day is given; + And now I feel a calm and sacred pleasure; + I have restored the pledge that came from heaven. + +(_Exeunt omnes_.) + + +ACT V + + +SHAKUNTALA'S REJECTION + +(_Enter a chamberlain_.) + +_Chamberlain_ (_sighing_). Alas! To what a state am I reduced! + + I once assumed the staff of reed + For custom's sake alone, + As officer to guard at need. + The ladies round the throne. + But years have passed away and made + It serve, my tottering steps to aid. + +The king is within. I will tell him of the urgent business which +demands his attention. (_He takes a few steps_.) But what is the +business? (_He recalls it_.) Yes, I remember. Certain hermits, pupils +of Kanva, desire to see his Majesty. Strange, strange! + + The mind of age is like a lamp + Whose oil is running thin; + One moment it is shining bright, + Then darkness closes in. + +(_He walks and looks about_.) Here is his Majesty. + + He does not seek--until a father's care + Is shown his subjects--rest in solitude; + As a great elephant recks not of the sun + Until his herd is sheltered in the wood. + +In truth, I hesitate to announce the coming of Kanva's pupils to the +king. For he has this moment risen from the throne of justice. But +kings are never weary. For + + The sun unyokes his horses never; + Blows night and day the breeze; + Shesha upholds the world forever: + And kings are like to these. + +(_He walks about. Enter the king, the clown, and retinue according to +rank_.) _King_ (_betraying the cares of office_). Every one is happy +on attaining his desire--except a king. His difficulties increase with +his power. Thus: + + Security slays nothing but ambition; + With great possessions, troubles gather thick; + Pain grows, not lessens, with a king's position, + As when one's hand must hold the sunshade's stick. + +_Two court poets behind the scenes_. Victory to your Majesty. + +_First poet_. + + The world you daily guard and bless, + Not heeding pain or weariness; + Thus is your nature made. + A tree will brave the noonday, when + The sun is fierce, that weary men + May rest beneath its shade. + +_Second poet_. + + Vice bows before the royal rod; + Strife ceases at your kingly nod; + You are our strong defender. + Friends come to all whose wealth is sure, + But you, alike to rich and poor, + Are friend both strong and tender. + +_King_ (_listening_). Strange! I was wearied by the demands of my +office, but this renews my spirit. + +_Clown_. Does a bull forget that he is tired when you call him the +leader of the herd? + +_King_ (_smiling_). Well, let us sit down. (_They seat themselves, and +the retinue arranges itself. A lute is heard behind the scenes_.) + +_Clown_ (_listening_). My friend, listen to what is going on in the +music-room. Some one is playing a lute, and keeping good time. I +suppose Lady Hansavati is practising. + +_King_. Be quiet. I wish to listen. + +_Chamberlain_ (_looks at the king_). Ah, the king is occupied. I must +await his leisure. (_He stands aside_.) + +_A song behind the scenes_. + + You who kissed the mango-flower, + Honey-loving bee, + Gave her all your passion's power, + Ah, so tenderly! + + How can you be tempted so + By the lily, pet? + Fresher honey's sweet, I know; + But can you forget? + +_King_. What an entrancing song! + +_Clown_. But, man, don't you understand what the words mean? + +_King_ (_smiling_). I was once devoted to Queen Hansavati. And the +rebuke comes from her. Friend Madhavya, tell Queen Hansavati in my +name that the rebuke is a very pretty one. + +_Clown_. Yes, sir. (_He rises_.) But, man, you are using another +fellow's fingers to grab a bear's tail-feathers with. I have about as +much chance of salvation as a monk who hasn't forgotten his passions. + +_King_. Go. Soothe her like a gentleman. + +_Clown_. I suppose I must. (_Exit_.) + +_King_ (_to himself_). Why am I filled with wistfulness on hearing +such a song? I am not separated from one I love. And yet + + In face of sweet presentment + Or harmonies of sound, + Man e'er forgets contentment, + By wistful longings bound. + + There must be recollections + Of things not seen on earth, + Deep nature's predilections, + Loves earlier than birth. + +(_He shows the wistfulness that comes from unremembered things_.) + +_Chamberlain_ (_approaching_). Victory to your Majesty. Here are +hermits who dwell in the forest at the foot of the Himalayas. They +bring women with them, and they carry a message from Kanva. What is +your pleasure with regard to them? + +_King_ (_astonished_). Hermits? Accompanied by women? From Kanva? + +_Chamberlain_. Yes. + +_King_. Request my chaplain Somarata in my name to receive these +hermits in the manner prescribed by Scripture, and to conduct them +himself before me. I will await them in a place fit for their +reception. + +_Chamberlain_. Yes, your Majesty. (_Exit_.) + +_King_ (_rising_). Vetravati, conduct me to the fire-sanctuary. + +_Portress_. Follow me, your Majesty. (_She walks about_) Your Majesty, +here is the terrace of the fire-sanctuary. It is beautiful, for it has +just been swept, and near at hand is the cow that yields the milk of +sacrifice. Pray ascend it. + +_King_ (_ascends and stands leaning on the shoulder of an attendant_.) +Vetravati, with what purpose does Father Kanva send these hermits to +me? + + Do leagued powers of sin conspire + To balk religion's pure desire? + Has wrong been done to beasts that roam + Contented round the hermits' home? + Do plants no longer bud and flower, + To warn me of abuse of power? + These doubts and more assail my mind, + But leave me puzzled, lost, and blind. + +_Portress_. How could these things be in a hermitage that rests in the +fame of the king's arm? No, I imagine they have come to pay homage to +their king, and to congratulate him on his pious rule. + +(_Enter the chaplain and the chamberlain, conducting the two pupils +of_ KANVA, _with_ GAUTAMI _and_ SHAKUNTALA.) + +_Chamberlain_. Follow me, if you please. + +_Sharngarava_. Friend Sharadvata, + + The king is noble and to virtue true; + None dwelling here commit the deed of shame; + Yet we ascetics view the worldly crew + As in a house all lapped about with flame. + +_Sharadvata_. Sharngarava, your emotion on entering the city is quite +just. As for me, + + Free from the world and all its ways, + I see them spending worldly days + As clean men view men smeared with oil, + As pure men, those whom passions soil, + As waking men view men asleep, + As free men, those in bondage deep. +_Chaplain_. That is why men like you are great. + +_Shakuntala_ (_observing an evil omen_). Oh, why does my right eye +throb? + +_Gautami_. Heaven avert the omen, my child. May happiness wait upon +you. (_They walk about_.) + +_Chaplain_ (_indicating the king_). O hermits, here is he who protects +those of every station and of every age. He has already risen, and +awaits you. Behold him. + +_Sharngarava_. Yes, it is admirable, but not surprising. For + + Fruit-laden trees bend down to earth; + The water-pregnant clouds hang low; + Good men are not puffed up by power-- + The unselfish are by nature so. + +_Portress_. Your Majesty, the hermits seem to be happy. They give you +gracious looks. + +_King_ (_observing_ SHAKUNTALA). Ah! + + Who is she, shrouded in the veil + That dims her beauty's lustre, + Among the hermits like a flower + Round which the dead leaves cluster? + +_Portress_. Your Majesty, she is well worth looking at. + +_King_. Enough! I must not gaze upon another's wife. + +_Shakuntala_ (_laying her hand on her breast. Aside_). Oh, my heart, +why tremble so? Remember his constant love and be brave. + +_Chaplain_ (_advancing_). Hail, your Majesty. The hermits have been +received as Scripture enjoins. They have a message from their teacher. +May you be pleased to hear it. + +_King_ (_respectfully_). I am all attention. + +_The two pupils_ (_raising their right hands_). Victory, O King. + +_King_ (_bowing low_). I salute you all. + +_The two pupils_. All hail. + +_King_. Does your pious life proceed without disturbance? + +_The two pupils_. + + How could the pious duties fail + While you defend the right? + Or how could darkness' power prevail + O'er sunbeams shining bright? +_King_ (_to himself_). Indeed, my royal title is no empty one. +(_Aloud_.) Is holy Kanva in health? + +_Sharngarava_. O King, those who have religious power can command +health. He asks after your welfare and sends this message. + +_King_. What are his commands? + +_Sharngarava_. He says: "Since you have met this my daughter and have +married her, I give you my glad consent. For + + You are the best of worthy men, they say; + And she, I know, Good Works personified; + The Creator wrought for ever and a day, + In wedding such a virtuous groom and bride. + +She is with child. Take her and live with her in virtue." + +_Gautami_. Bless you, sir. I should like to say that no one invites me +to speak. + +_King_. Speak, mother. + +_Gautami_. + + Did she with father speak or mother? + Did you engage her friends in speech? + Your faith was plighted each to other; + Let each be faithful now to each. + +_Shakuntala_. What will my husband say? + +_King_ (_listening with anxious suspicion_). What is this insinuation? + +_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). Oh, oh! So haughty and so slanderous! + +_Sharngarava_. "What is this insinuation?" What is your question? +Surely you know the world's ways well enough. + + Because the world suspects a wife + Who does not share her husband's lot, + Her kinsmen wish her to abide + With him, although he love her not. + +_King_. You cannot mean that this young woman is my wife. + +_Shakuntala_ (_sadly to herself_). Oh, my heart, you feared it, and +now it has come. _Sharngarava_. O King, + + A king, and shrink when love is done, + Turn coward's back on truth, and flee! + +_King_. What means this dreadful accusation? + +_Sharngarava_ (_furiously_). + + O drunk with power! We might have known + That you were steeped in treachery. + +_King_. A stinging rebuke! + +_Gautami_ (_to_ SHAKUNTALA). Forget your shame, my child. I will +remove your veil. Then your husband will recognise you. (_She does +so_.) + +_King_ (_observing_ SHAKUNTALA. _To himself_). + + As my heart ponders whether I could ever + Have wed this woman that has come to me + In tortured loveliness, as I endeavour + To bring it back to mind, then like a bee + + That hovers round a jasmine flower at dawn, + While frosty dews of morning still o'erweave it, + And hesitates to sip ere they be gone, + I cannot taste the sweet, and cannot leave it. + +_Portress_ (_to herself_). What a virtuous king he is! Would any other +man hesitate when he saw such a pearl of a woman coming of her own +accord? + +_Sharngarava_. Have you nothing to say, O King? + +_King_. Hermit, I have taken thought. I cannot believe that this woman +is my wife. She is plainly with child. How can I take her, confessing +myself an adulterer? + +_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). Oh, oh, oh! He even casts doubt on our +marriage. The vine of my hope climbed high, but it is broken now. + +_Sharngarava_. Not so. + + You scorn the sage who rendered whole + His child befouled, and choked his grief, + Who freely gave you what you stole + And added honour to a thief! + +_Sharadvata_. Enough, Sharngarava. Shakuntala, we have said what we +were sent to say. You hear his words. Answer him. + +_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). He loved me so. He is so changed. Why +remind him? Ah, but I must clear my own character. Well, I will try. +(_Aloud_.) My dear husband--(_She stops_.) No, he doubts my right to +call him that. Your Majesty, it was pure love that opened my poor +heart to you in the hermitage. Then you were kind to me and gave me +your promise. Is it right for you to speak so now, and to reject me? + +_King_ (_stopping his ears_). Peace, peace! + + A stream that eats away the bank, + Grows foul, and undermines the tree. + So you would stain your honour, while + You plunge me into misery. + +_Shakuntala_. Very well. If you have acted so because you really fear +to touch another man's wife, I will remove your doubts with a token +you gave me. + +_King_. An excellent idea! + +_Shakuntala_ (_touching her finger_). Oh, oh! The ring is lost. (_She +looks sadly at_ GAUTAMI.) + +_Gautami_. My child, you worshipped the holy Ganges at the spot where +Indra descended. The ring must have fallen there. + +_King_. Ready wit, ready wit! + +_Shakuntala_. Fate is too strong for me there. I will tell you +something else. + +_King_. Let me hear what you have to say. + +_Shakuntala_. One day, in the bower of reeds, you were holding a +lotus-leaf cup full of water. + +_King_. I hear you. + +_Shakuntala_. At that moment the fawn came up, my adopted son. Then +you took pity on him and coaxed him. "Let him drink first," you said. +But he did not know you, and he would not come to drink water from +your hand. But he liked it afterwards, when I held the very same +water. Then you smiled and said: "It is true. Every one trusts his own +sort. You both belong to the forest." + +_King_. It is just such women, selfish, sweet, false, that entice +fools. _Gautami_. You have no right to say that. She grew up in the +pious grove. She does not know how to deceive. + +_King_. Old hermit woman, + + The female's untaught cunning may be seen + In beasts, far more in women selfish-wise; + The cuckoo's eggs are left to hatch and rear + By foster-parents, and away she flies. + +_Shakuntala_ (_angrily_). Wretch! You judge all this by your own false +heart. Would any other man do what you have done? To hide behind +virtue, like a yawning well covered over with grass! + +_King_ (_to himself_). But her anger is free from coquetry, because +she has lived in the forest. See! + + Her glance is straight; her eyes are flashing red; + Her speech is harsh, not drawlingly well-bred; + Her whole lip quivers, seems to shake with cold; + Her frown has straightened eyebrows arching bold. + +No, she saw that I was doubtful, and her anger was feigned. Thus + + When I refused but now + Hard-heartedly, to know + Of love or secret vow, + Her eyes grew red; and so, + Bending her arching brow, + She fiercely snapped Love's bow. + +(_Aloud_.) My good girl, Dushyanta's conduct is known to the whole +kingdom, but not this action. + +_Shakuntala_. Well, well. I had my way. I trusted a king, and put +myself in his hands. He had a honey face and a heart of stone. (_She +covers her face with her dress and weeps_.) + +_Sharngarava_. Thus does unbridled levity burn. + + Be slow to love, but yet more slow + With secret mate; + With those whose hearts we do not know, + Love turns to hate. + +_King_. Why do you trust this girl, and accuse me of an imaginary +crime? _Sharngarava_ (_disdainfully_). You have learned your wisdom +upside down. + + It would be monstrous to believe + A girl who never lies; + Trust those who study to deceive + And think it very wise. + +_King_. Aha, my candid friend! Suppose I were to admit that I am such +a man. What would happen if I deceived the girl? + +_Sharngarava_. Ruin. + +_King_. It is unthinkable that ruin should fall on Puru's line. + +_Sharngarava_. Why bandy words? We have fulfilled our Father's +bidding. We are ready to return. + + Leave her or take her, as you will; + She is your wife; + Husbands have power for good or ill + O'er woman's life. + +Gautami, lead the way. (_They start to go_.) + +_Shakuntala_. He has deceived me shamelessly. And will you leave me +too? (_She starts to follow_.) + +_Gautami_ (_turns around and sees her_). Sharngarava, my son, +Shakuntala is following us, lamenting piteously. What can the poor +child do with a husband base enough to reject her? + +_Sharngarava_ (_turns angrily_). You self-willed girl! Do you dare +show independence? (SHAKUNTALA _shrinks in fear_.) Listen. + + If you deserve such scorn and blame, + What will your father with your shame? + But if you know your vows are pure, + Obey your husband and endure. + +Remain. We must go. + +_King_. Hermit, why deceive this woman? Remember: + + Night-blossoms open to the moon, + Day-blossoms to the sun; + A man of honour ever strives + Another's wife to shun. +_Sharngarava_. O King, suppose you had forgotten your former actions +in the midst of distractions. Should you now desert your wife--you who +fear to fail in virtue? + +_King_. I ask _you_ which is the heavier sin: + + Not knowing whether I be mad + Or falsehood be in her, + Shall I desert a faithful wife + Or turn adulterer? + +_Chaplain_ (_considering_). Now if this were done---- + +_King_. Instruct me, my teacher. + +_Chaplain_. Let the woman remain in my house until her child is born. + +_King_. Why this? + +_Chaplain_. The chief astrologers have told you that your first child +was destined to be an emperor. If the son of the hermit's daughter is +born with the imperial birthmarks, then welcome her and introduce her +into the palace. Otherwise, she must return to her father. + +_King_. It is good advice, my teacher. + +_Chaplain_ (_rising_). Follow me, my daughter. + +_Shakuntala_. O mother earth, give me a grave! (_Exit weeping, with +the chaplain, the hermits, and_ GAUTAMI. _The king, his memory clouded +by the curse, ponders on_ SHAKUNTALA.) + +_Voices behind the scenes_. A miracle! A miracle! + +_King_ (_listening_). What does this mean? (_Enter the chaplain_.) + +_Chaplain_ (_in amazement_). Your Majesty, a wonderful thing has +happened. + +_King_. What? + +_Chaplain_. When Kanva's pupils had departed, + + She tossed her arms, bemoaned her plight, + Accused her crushing fate---- + +_King_. What then? + +_Chaplain_. + + Before our eyes a heavenly light + In woman's form, but shining bright, + Seized her and vanished straight. + +(_All betray astonishment_.) + +_King_. My teacher, we have already settled the matter. Why speculate +in vain? Let us seek repose. _Chaplain_. Victory to your Majesty. + +(_Exit_.) + +_King_. Vetravati, I am bewildered. Conduct me to my apartment. + +_Portress_. Follow me, your Majesty. + +_King_ (_walks about. To himself_). + + With a hermit-wife I had no part, + All memories evade me; + And yet my sad and stricken heart + Would more than half persuade me. + +(_Exeunt omnes_.) + + +ACT VI + + +SEPARATION FROM SHAKUNTALA + +SCENE I.--_In the street before the Palace_ + +(_Enter the chief of police, two policemen, and a man with his hands +bound behind his back_.) + +_The two policemen_ (_striking the man_). Now, pickpocket, tell us +where you found this ring. It is the king's ring, with letters +engraved on it, and it has a magnificent great gem. + +_Fisherman_ (_showing fright_). Be merciful, kind gentlemen. I am not +guilty of such a crime. + +_First policeman_. No, I suppose the king thought you were a pious +Brahman, and made you a present of it. + +_Fisherman_. Listen, please. I am a fisherman, and I live on the +Ganges, at the spot where Indra came down. + +_Second policeman_. You thief, we didn't ask for your address or your +social position. + +_Chief_. Let him tell a straight story, Suchaka. Don't interrupt. + +_The two policemen_. Yes, chief. Talk, man, talk. + +_Fisherman_. I support my family with things you catch fish +with--nets, you know, and hooks, and things. + +_Chief_ (_laughing_). You have a sweet trade. + +_Fisherman_. Don't say that, master. + + You can't give up a lowdown trade + That your ancestors began; + A butcher butchers things, and yet + He's the tenderest-hearted man. + +_Chief_. Go on. Go on. + +_Fisherman_. Well, one day I was cutting up a carp. In its maw I see +this ring with the magnificent great gem. And then I was just trying +to sell it here when you kind gentlemen grabbed me. That is the only +way I got it. Now kill me, or find fault with me. + +_Chief_ (_smelling the ring_). There is no doubt about it, Januka. +It has been in a fish's maw. It has the real perfume of raw meat. Now +we have to find out how he got it. We must go to the palace. + +_The two policemen_ (_to the fisherman_). Move on, you cutpurse, move +on. (_They walk about_.) + +_Chief_. Suchaka, wait here at the big gate until I come out of the +palace. And don't get careless. + +_The two policemen_. Go in, chief. I hope the king will be nice to +you. + +_Chief_. Good-bye. (_Exit_.) + +_Suchaka_. Januka, the chief is taking his time. + +_Januka_. You can't just drop in on a king. + +_Suchaka_. Januka, my fingers are itching (_indicating the fisherman_) +to kill this cutpurse. + +_Fisherman_. Don't kill a man without any reason, master. + +_Januka_ (_looking ahead_). There is the chief, with a written order +from the king. (_To the fisherman_.) Now you will see your family, or +else you will feed the crows and jackals. (_Enter the chief_.) + +_Chief_. Quick! Quick! (_He breaks off_.) + +_Fisherman_. Oh, oh! I'm a dead man. (_He shows dejection_.) + +_Chief_. Release him, you. Release the fishnet fellow. It is all +right, his getting the ring. Our king told me so himself. + +_Suchaka_. All right, chief. He is a dead man come back to life. (_He +releases the fisherman_.) + +_Fisherman_ (_bowing low to the chief_). Master, I owe you my life. + +(_He falls at his feet_.) + +_Chief_. Get up, get up! Here is a reward that the king was kind +enough to give you. It is worth as much as the ring. Take it. (_He +hands the fisherman a bracelet_.) + +_Fisherman_ (_joyfully taking it_). Much obliged. + +_Januka_. He _is_ much obliged to the king. Just as if he had been +taken from the stake and put on an elephant's back. + +_Suchaka_. Chief, the reward shows that the king thought a lot of the +ring. The gem must be worth something. + +_Chief_. No, it wasn't the fine gem that pleased the king. It was this +way. + +_The two policemen_. Well? + +_Chief_. I think, when the king saw it, he remembered somebody he +loves. You know how dignified he is usually. But as soon as he saw it, +he broke down for a moment. + +_Suchaka_. You have done the king a good turn, chief. + +_Januka_. All for the sake of this fish-killer, it seems to me. (_He +looks enviously at the fisherman_.) + +_Fisherman_. Take half of it, masters, to pay for something to drink. + +_Januka_. Fisherman, you are the biggest and best friend I've got. The +first thing we want, is all the brandy we can hold. Let's go where +they keep it. (_Exeunt omnes_.) + + +SCENE II.--_In the Palace Gardens_ + +(_Enter_ MISHRAKESHI, _flying through the air_.) + +_Mishrakeshi_. I have taken my turn in waiting upon the nymphs. And +now I will see what this good king is doing. Shakuntala is like a +second self to me, because she is the daughter of Menaka. And it was +she who asked me to do this. (_She looks about_.) It is the day of the +spring festival. But I see no preparations for a celebration at court. +I might learn the reason by my power of divination. But I must do as +my friend asked me. Good! I will make myself invisible and stand near +these girls who take care of the garden. I shall find out that way. + +(_She descends to earth. Enter a maid, gazing at a mango branch, and +behind her, a second_.) + +_First maid_. + + First mango-twig, so pink, so green, + First living breath of spring, + You are sacrificed as soon as seen, + A festival offering. + +_Second maid_. What are you chirping about to yourself, little cuckoo? + +_First maid_. Why, little bee, you know that the cuckoo goes crazy +with delight when she sees the mango-blossom. + +_Second maid_ (_joyfully_). Oh, has the spring really come? + +_First maid_. Yes, little bee. And this is the time when you too buzz +about in crazy joy. _Second maid_. Hold me, dear, while I stand on +tiptoe and offer this blossom to Love, the divine. + +_First maid_. If I do, you must give me half the reward of the +offering. + +_Second maid_. That goes without saying, dear. We two are one. (_She +leans on her friend and takes the mango-blossom_.) Oh, see! The +mango-blossom hasn't opened, but it has broken the sheath, so it is +fragrant. (_She brings her hands together_.) I worship mighty Love. + + O mango-twig I give to Love + As arrow for his bow, + Most sovereign of his arrows five, + Strike maiden-targets low. + +(_She throws the twig. Enter the chamberlain_.) + +_Chamberlain_ (_angrily_). Stop, silly girl. The king has strictly +forbidden the spring festival. Do you dare pluck the mango-blossoms? + +_The two maids_ (_frightened_). Forgive us, sir. We did not know. + +_Chamberlain_. What! You have not heard the king's command, which is +obeyed even by the trees of spring and the creatures that dwell in +them. See! + + The mango branches are in bloom, + Yet pollen does not form; + The cuckoo's song sticks in his throat, + Although the days are warm; + + The amaranth-bud is formed, and yet + Its power of growth is gone; + The love-god timidly puts by + The arrow he has drawn. + +_Mishrakeshi_. There is no doubt of it. This good king has wonderful +power. + +_First maid_. A few days ago, sir, we were sent to his Majesty by his +brother-in-law Mitravasu to decorate the garden. That is why we have +heard nothing of this affair. + +_Chamberlain_. You must not do so again. + +_The two maids_. But we are curious. If we girls may know about it, +pray tell us, sir. Why did his Majesty forbid the spring festival? +_Mishrakeshi_. Kings are fond of celebrations. There must be some good +reason. + +_Chamberlain_ (_to himself_). It is in everybody's mouth. Why should I +not tell it? (_Aloud_.) Have you heard the gossip concerning +Shakuntala's rejection? + +_The two maids_. Yes, sir. The king's brother-in-law told us, up to +the point where the ring was recovered. + +_Chamberlain_. There is little more to tell. When his Majesty saw the +ring, he remembered that he had indeed contracted a secret marriage +with Shakuntala, and had rejected her under a delusion. And then he +fell a prey to remorse. + + He hates the things he loved; he intermits + The daily audience, nor in judgment sits; + Spends sleepless nights in tossing on his bed; + At times, when he by courtesy is led + To address a lady, speaks another name, + Then stands for minutes, sunk in helpless shame. + +_Mishrakeshi_. I am glad to hear it. + +_Chamberlain_. His Majesty's sorrow has forbidden the festival. + +_The two maids_. It is only right. + +_A voice behind the scenes_. Follow me. + +_Chamberlain_ (_listening_). Ah, his Majesty approaches. Go, and +attend to your duties. (_Exeunt the two maids. Enter the king, wearing +a dress indicative of remorse; the clown, and the portress_.) + +_Chamberlain_ (_observing the king_). A beautiful figure charms in +whatever state. Thus, his Majesty is pleasing even in his sorrow. For + + All ornament is laid aside; he wears + One golden bracelet on his wasted arm; + His lip is scorched by sighs; and sleepless cares + Redden his eyes. Yet all can work no harm + On that magnificent beauty, wasting, but + Gaining in brilliance, like a diamond cut. + +_Mishrakeshi_ (_observing the king_). No wonder Shakuntala pines for +him, even though he dishonoured her by his rejection of her. + +_King_ (_walks about slowly, sunk in thought_). + + Alas! My smitten heart, that once lay sleeping, + Heard in its dreams my fawn-eyed love's laments, + And wakened now, awakens but to weeping, + To bitter grief, and tears of penitence. + +_Mishrakeshi_. That is the poor girl's fate. + +_Clown_ (_to himself_). He has got his Shakuntala-sickness again. I +wish I knew how to cure him. + +_Chamberlain (advancing)_. Victory to your Majesty. I have examined +the garden. Your Majesty may visit its retreats. + +_King_. Vetravati, tell the minister Pishuna in my name that a +sleepless night prevents me from mounting the throne of judgment. He +is to investigate the citizens' business and send me a memorandum. + +_Portress_. Yes, your Majesty. _(Exit.)_ + +_King_. And you, Parvatayana, return to your post of duty. + +_Chamberlain_. Yes, your Majesty. (_Exit_.) + +_Clown_. You have got rid of the vermin. Now amuse yourself in this +garden. It is delightful with the passing of the cold weather. + +_King_ (_sighing_). My friend, the proverb makes no mistake. +Misfortune finds the weak spot. See! + + No sooner did the darkness lift + That clouded memory's power, + Than the god of love prepared his bow + And shot the mango-flower. + + No sooner did the ring recall + My banished maiden dear, + No sooner do I vainly weep + For her, than spring is here. + +_Clown_. Wait a minute, man. I will destroy Love's arrow with my +stick. (_He raises his stick and strikes at the mango branch_.) + +_King_ (_smiling_). Enough! I see your pious power. My friend, where +shall I sit now to comfort my eyes with the vines? They remind me +somehow of her. + +_Clown_. Well, you told one of the maids, the clever painter, that +you would spend this hour in the bower of spring-creepers. And you +asked her to bring you there the picture of the lady Shakuntala which +you painted on a tablet. + +_King_. It is my only consolation. Lead the way to the bower of +spring-creepers. + +_Clown_. Follow me. (_They walk about_. MISHRAKESHI _follows_.) Here +is the bower of spring-creepers, with its jewelled benches. Its +loneliness seems to bid you a silent welcome. Let us go in and sit +down. (_They do so_.) + +_Mishrakeshi_. I will hide among the vines and see the dear girl's +picture. Then I shall be able to tell her how deep her husband's love +is. (_She hides_.) + +_King_ (_sighing_). I remember it all now, my friend. I told you how I +first met Shakuntala. It is true, you were not with me when I rejected +her. But I had told you of her at the first. Had you forgotten, as I +did? + +_Mishrakeshi_. This shows that a king should not be separated a single +moment from some intimate friend. + +_Clown_. No, I didn't forget. But when you had told the whole story, +you said it was a joke and there was nothing in it. And I was fool +enough to believe you. No, this is the work of fate. + +_Mishrakeshi_. It must be. + +_King_ (_after meditating a moment_). Help me, my friend. + +_Clown_. But, man, this isn't right at all. A good man never lets +grief get the upper hand. The mountains are calm even in a tempest. + +_King_. My friend, I am quite forlorn. I keep thinking of her pitiful +state when I rejected her. Thus: + + When I denied her, then she tried + To join her people. "Stay," one cried, + Her father's representative. + She stopped, she turned, she could but give + A tear-dimmed glance to heartless me-- + That arrow burns me poisonously. + +_Mishrakeshi_. How his fault distresses him! + +_Clown_. Well, I don't doubt it was some heavenly being that carried +her away. + +_King_. Who else would dare to touch a faithful wife? Her friends told +me that Menaka was her mother. My heart persuades me that it was +she, or companions of hers, who carried Shakuntala away. + +_Mishrakeshi_. His madness was wonderful, not his awakening reason. + +_Clown_. But in that case, you ought to take heart. You will meet her +again. + +_King_. How so? + +_Clown_. Why, a mother or a father cannot long bear to see a daughter +separated from her husband. + +_King_. My friend, + + And was it phantom, madness, dream, + Or fatal retribution stern? + My hopes fell down a precipice + And never, never will return. + +_Clown_. Don't talk that way. Why, the ring shows that incredible +meetings do happen. + +_King_ (_looking at the ring_). This ring deserves pity. It has fallen +from a heaven hard to earn. + + Your virtue, ring, like mine, + Is proved to be but small; + Her pink-nailed finger sweet + You clasped. How could you fall? + +_Mishrakeshi_. If it were worn on any other hand, it would deserve +pity. My dear girl, you are far away. I am the only one to hear these +delightful words. + +_Clown_. Tell me how you put the ring on her finger. + +_Mishrakeshi_. He speaks as if prompted by my curiosity. + +_King_. Listen, my friend. When I left the pious grove for the city, +my darling wept and said: "But how long will you remember us, dear?" + +_Clown_. And then you said---- + +_King_. Then I put this engraved ring on her finger, and said to +her---- + +_Clown_. Well, what? + +_King_. + + Count every day one letter of my name; + Before you reach the end, dear, + Will come to lead you to my palace halls + A guide whom I shall send, dear. + +Then, through my madness, it fell out cruelly. _Mishrakeshi_. It was +too charming an agreement to be frustrated by fate. + +_Clown_. But how did it get into a carp's mouth, as if it had been a +fish-hook? + +_King_. While she was worshipping the Ganges at Shachitirtha, it fell. + +_Clown_. I see. + +_Mishrakeshi_. That is why the virtuous king doubted his marriage with +poor Shakuntala. Yet such love does not ask for a token. How could it +have been? + +_King_. Well, I can only reproach this ring. + +_Clown_ (_smiling_). And I will reproach this stick of mine. Why are +you crooked when I am straight? + +_King_ (_not hearing him_). + + How could you fail to linger + On her soft, tapering finger, + And in the water fall? + +And yet + + Things lifeless know not beauty; + But I--I scorned my duty, + The sweetest task of all. + +_Mishrakeshi_. He has given the answer which I had ready. + +_Clown_. But that is no reason why I should starve to death. + +_King_ (_not heeding_). O my darling, my heart burns with repentance +because I abandoned you without reason. Take pity on me. Let me see +you again. (_Enter a maid with a tablet_.) + +_Maid_. Your Majesty, here is the picture of our lady. (_She produces +the tablet_.) + +_King_ (_gazing at it_). It is a beautiful picture. See! + + A graceful arch of brows above great eyes; + Lips bathed in darting, smiling light that flies + Reflected from white teeth; a mouth as red + As red karkandhu-fruit; love's brightness shed + O'er all her face in bursts of liquid charm-- + The picture speaks, with living beauty warm. + +_Clown_ (_looking at it_). The sketch is full of sweet meaning. My +eyes seem to stumble over its uneven surface. What more can I say? I +expect to see it come to life, and I feel like speaking to it. + +_Mishrakeshi_. The king is a clever painter. I seem to see the dear +girl before me. + +_King_. My friend, + + What in the picture is not fair, + Is badly done; + Yet something of her beauty there, + I feel, is won. + +_Mishrakeshi_. This is natural, when love is increased by remorse. + +_King_ (_sighing_). + + I treated her with scorn and loathing ever; + Now o'er her pictured charms my heart will burst: + A traveller I, who scorned the mighty river. + And seeks in the mirage to quench his thirst. + +_Clown_. There are three figures in the picture, and they are all +beautiful. Which one is the lady Shakuntala? + +_Mishrakeshi_. The poor fellow never saw her beauty. His eyes are +useless, for she never came before them. + +_King_. Which one do you think? + +_Clown_ (_observing closely_). I think it is this one, leaning against +the creeper which she has just sprinkled. Her face is hot and the +flowers are dropping from her hair; for the ribbon is loosened. Her +arms droop like weary branches; she has loosened her girdle, and she +seems a little fatigued. This, I think, is the lady Shakuntala, the +others are her friends. + +_King_. You are good at guessing. Besides, here are proofs of my love. + + See where discolorations faint + Of loving handling tell; + And here the swelling of the paint + Shows where my sad tears fell. + +Chaturika, I have not finished the background. Go, get the brushes. + +_Maid_. Please hold the picture, Madhavya, while I am gone. + +_King_. I will hold it. (_He does so. Exit maid_.) + +_Clown_. What are you going to add? + +_Mishrakeshi_. Surely, every spot that the dear girl loved. + +_King_. Listen, my friend. + + The stream of Malini, and on its sands + The swan-pairs resting; holy foot-hill lands + Of great Himalaya's sacred ranges, where + The yaks are seen; and under trees that bear + Bark hermit-dresses on their branches high, + A doe that on the buck's horn rubs her eye. + +_Clown_ (_aside_). To hear him talk, I should think he was going to +fill up the picture with heavy-bearded hermits. + +_King_. And another ornament that Shakuntala loved I have forgotten to +paint. + +_Clown_. What? + +_Mishrakeshi_. Something natural for a girl living in the forest. + +_King_. + + The siris-blossom, fastened o'er her ear, + Whose stamens brush her cheek; + The lotus-chain like autumn moonlight soft + Upon her bosom meek. + +_Clown_. But why does she cover her face with fingers lovely as the +pink water-lily? She seems frightened. (_He looks more closely_.) I +see. Here is a bold, bad bee. He steals honey, and so he flies to her +lotus-face. + +_King_. Drive him away. + +_Clown_. It is your affair to punish evil-doers. + +_King_. True. O welcome guest of the flowering vine, why do you waste +your time in buzzing here? + + Your faithful, loving queen, + Perched on a flower, athirst, + Is waiting for you still, + Nor tastes the honey first. + +_Mishrakeshi_. A gentlemanly way to drive him off! + +_Clown_. This kind are obstinate, even when you warn them. + +_King_ (_angrily_). Will you not obey my command? Then listen: + + 'Tis sweet as virgin blossoms on a tree, + The lip I kissed in love-feasts tenderly; + Sting that dear lip, O bee, with cruel power, + And you shall be imprisoned in a flower. + +_Clown_. Well, he doesn't seem afraid of your dreadful punishment. +(_Laughing. To himself_.) The man is crazy, and I am just as bad, from +associating with him. + +_King_. Will he not go, though I warn him? + +_Mishrakeshi_. Love works a curious change even in a brave man. + +_Clown_ (_aloud_). It is only a picture, man. + +_King_. A picture? + +_Mishrakeshi_. I too understand it now. But to him, thoughts are real +experiences. + +_King_. You have done an ill-natured thing. + + When I was happy in the sight, + And when my heart was warm, + You brought sad memories back, and made + My love a painted form. + +(_He sheds a tear_.) + +_Mishrakeshi_. Fate plays strangely with him. + +_King_. My friend, how can I endure a grief that has no respite? + + I cannot sleep at night + And meet her dreaming; + I cannot see the sketch + While tears are streaming. + +_Mishrakeshi_. My friend, you have indeed atoned--and in her friend's +presence--for the pain you caused by rejecting dear Shakuntala. + +(_Enter the maid_ CHATURIKA.) + +_Maid_. Your Majesty, I was coming back with the box of +paint-brushes---- + +_King_. Well? + +_Maid_. I met Queen Vasumati with the maid Pingalika. And the queen +snatched the box from me, saying: "I will take it to the king myself." + +_Clown_. How did you escape? + +_Maid_. The queen's dress caught on a vine. And while her maid was +setting her free, I excused myself in a hurry. _A voice behind the +scenes_. Follow me, your Majesty. + +_Clown_ (_listening_). Man, the she-tiger of the palace is making a +spring on her prey. She means to make one mouthful of the maid. + +_King_. My friend, the queen has come because she feels touched in her +honour. You had better take care of this picture. + +_Clown_. "And yourself," you might add. (_He takes the picture and +rises_.) If you get out of the trap alive, call for me at the Cloud +Balcony. And I will hide the thing there so that nothing but a pigeon +could find it. (_Exit on the run_.) + +_Mishrakeshi_. Though his heart is given to another, he is courteous +to his early flame. He is a constant friend. + +(_Enter the portress with a document_.) + +_Portress_. Victory to your Majesty. + +_King_. Vetravati, did you not meet Queen Vasumati? + +_Portress_. Yes, your Majesty. But she turned back when she saw that I +carried a document. + +_King_. The queen knows times and seasons. She will not interrupt +business. + +_Portress_. Your Majesty, the minister sends word that in the press of +various business he has attended to only one citizen's suit. This he +has reduced to writing for your Majesty's perusal. + +_King_. Give me the document. (_The portress does so_.) + +_King_ (_reads_). "Be it known to his Majesty. A seafaring merchant +named Dhanavriddhi has been lost in a shipwreck. He is childless, and +his property, amounting to several millions, reverts to the crown. +Will his Majesty take action?" (_Sadly_.) It is dreadful to be +childless. Vetravati, he had great riches. There must be several +wives. Let inquiry be made. There may be a wife who is with child. + +_Portress_. We have this moment heard that a merchant's daughter of +Saketa is his wife. And she is soon to become a mother. + +_King_. The child shall receive the inheritance. Go, inform the +minister. + +_Portress_. Yes, your Majesty. (_She starts to go_.) + +_King_. Wait a moment. + +_Portress_ (_turning back_). Yes, your Majesty. _King_. After all, +what does it matter whether he have issue or not? + + Let King Dushyanta be proclaimed + To every sad soul kin + That mourns a kinsman loved and lost, + Yet did not plunge in sin. + +_Portress_. The proclamation shall be made. (_She goes out and soon +returns_.) Your Majesty, the royal proclamation was welcomed by the +populace as is a timely shower. + +_King_ (_sighing deeply_). Thus, when issue fails, wealth passes, on +the death of the head of the family, to a stranger. When I die, it +will be so with the glory of Puru's line. + +_Portress_. Heaven avert the omen! + +_King_. Alas! I despised the happiness that offered itself to me. + +_Mishrakeshi_. Without doubt, he has dear Shakuntala in mind when he +thus reproaches himself. + +_King_. + + Could I forsake the virtuous wife + Who held my best, my future life + And cherished it for glorious birth, + As does the seed-receiving earth? + +_Mishrakeshi_. She will not long be forsaken. + +_Maid_ (_to the portress_). Mistress, the minister's report has +doubled our lord's remorse. Go to the Cloud Balcony and bring Madhavya +to dispel his grief. + +_Portress_. A good suggestion. (_Exit_.) + +_King_. Alas! The ancestors of Dushyanta are in a doubtful case. + + For I am childless, and they do not know, + When I am gone, what child of theirs will bring + The scriptural oblation; and their tears + Already mingle with my offering. + +_Mishrakeshi_. He is screened from the light, and is in darkness. + +_Maid_. Do not give way to grief, your Majesty. You are in the prime +of your years, and the birth of a son to one of your other wives will +make you blameless before your ancestors. (_To herself_.) He does not +heed me. The proper medicine is needed for any disease. _King_ +(_betraying his sorrow_). Surely, + + The royal line that flowed + A river pure and grand, + Dies in the childless king, + Like streams in desert sand. + +(_He swoons_.) + +_Maid_ (_in distress_). Oh, sir, come to yourself. + +_Mishrakeski_. Shall I make him happy now? No, I heard the mother of +the gods consoling Shakuntala. She said that the gods, impatient for +the sacrifice, would soon cause him to welcome his true wife. I must +delay no longer. I will comfort dear Shakuntala with my tidings. + +(_Exit through the air_.) + +_A voice behind the scenes_. Help, help! + +_King_ (_comes to himself and listens_). It sounds as if Madhavya were +in distress. + +_Maid_. Your Majesty, I hope that Pingalika and the other maids did +not catch poor Madhavya with the picture in his hands. + +_King_. Go, Chaturika. Reprove the queen in my name for not +controlling her servants. + +_Maid_. Yes, your Majesty. (_Exit_.) + +_The voice_. Help, help! + +_King_. The Brahman's voice seems really changed by fear. Who waits +without? (_Enter the chamberlain_.) + +_Chamberlain_. Your Majesty commands? + +_King_. See why poor Madhavya is screaming so. + +_Chamberlain_. I will see. (_He goes out, and returns trembling_.) + +_King_. Parvatayana, I hope it is nothing very dreadful. + +_Chamberlain_. I hope not. + +_King_. Then why do you tremble so? For + + Why should the trembling, born + Of age, increasing, seize + Your limbs and bid them shake + Like fig-leaves in the breeze? + +_Chamberlain_. Save your friend, O King! + +_King_. From what? + +_Chamberlain_. From great danger. + +_King_. Speak plainly, man. + +_Chamberlain_. On the Cloud Balcony, open to the four winds of +heaven-- + +_King_. What has happened there? + +_Chamberlain_. + + While he was resting on its height, + Which palace peacocks in their flight + Can hardly reach, he seemed to be + Snatched up--by what, we could not see. + +_King_ (_rising quickly_). My very palace is invaded by evil +creatures. To be a king, is to be a disappointed man. + + The moral stumblings of mine own, + The daily slips, are scarcely known; + Who then that rules a kingdom, can + Guide every deed of every man? + +_The voice_. Hurry, hurry! + +_King_ (_hears the voice and quickens his steps_). Have no fear, my +friend. + +_The voice_. Have no fear! When something has got me by the back of +the neck, and is trying to break my bones like a piece of sugar-cane! + +_King_ (_looks about_). A bow! a bow! (_Enter a Greek woman with a +bow_.) + +_Greek woman_. A bow and arrows, your Majesty. And here are the +finger-guards. (_The king takes the bow and arrows_.) + +_Another voice behind the scenes_. + + Writhe, while I drink the red blood flowing clear + And kill you, as a tiger kills a deer; + Let King Dushyanta grasp his bow; but how + Can all his kingly valour save you now? + +_King_ (_angrily_). He scorns me, too! In one moment, miserable demon, +you shall die. (_Stringing his bow_.) Where is the stairway, +Parvatayana? + +_Chamberlain_. Here, your Majesty. (_All make haste_.) + +_King_ (_Looking about_). There is no one here. + +_The Clown's voice_. Save me, save me! I see you, if you can't see me. +I am a mouse in the claws of the cat. I am done for. _King_. You are +proud of your invisibility. But shall not my arrow see you? Stand +still. Do not hope to escape by clinging to my friend. + + My arrow, flying when the bow is bent, + Shall slay the wretch and spare the innocent; + When milk is mixed with water in a cup, + Swans leave the water, and the milk drink up. + +(_He takes aim. Enter_ MATALI _and the clown_.) + +_Matali_. O King, as Indra, king of the gods, commands, + + Seek foes among the evil powers alone; + For them your bow should bend; + Not cruel shafts, but glances soft and kind + Should fall upon a friend. + +_King_ (_hastily withdrawing the arrow_). It is Matali. Welcome to the +charioteer of heaven's king. + +_Clown_. Well! He came within an inch of butchering me. And you +welcome him. + +_Matali_ (_smiling_). Hear, O King, for what purpose Indra sends me to +you. + +_King_. I am all attention. + +_Matali_. There is a host of demons who call themselves +Invincible--the brood of Kalanemi. + +_King_. So Narada has told me. + +_Matali_. + + Heaven's king is powerless; you shall smite + His foes in battle soon; + Darkness that overcomes the day, + Is scattered by the moon. + +Take your bow at once, enter my heavenly chariot, and set forth for +victory. + +_King_. I am grateful for the honour which Indra shows me. But why did +you act thus toward Madhavya? + +_Matali_. I will tell you. I saw that you were overpowered by some +inner sorrow, and acted thus to rouse you. For + + The spurned snake will swell his hood; + Fire blazes when 'tis stirred; + Brave men are roused to fighting mood + By some insulting word. +_King_. Friend Madhavya, I must obey the bidding of heaven's king. Go, +acquaint the minister Pishuna with the matter, and add these words of +mine: + + Your wisdom only shall control + The kingdom for a time; + My bow is strung; a distant goal + Calls me, and tasks sublime. + +_Clown_. Very well. (_Exit_.) + +_Matali_. Enter the chariot. (_The king does so. Exeunt omnes_.) + + +ACT VII + + +(_Enter, in a chariot that flies through the air, the king and_ +MATALI.) + +_King_. Matali, though I have done what Indra commanded, I think +myself an unprofitable servant, when I remember his most gracious +welcome. + +_Matali_. O King, know that each considers himself the other's debtor. +For + + You count the service given + Small by the welcome paid, + Which to the king of heaven + Seems mean for such brave aid. + +_King_. Ah, no! For the honour given me at parting went far beyond +imagination. Before the gods, he seated me beside him on his throne. +And then + + He smiled, because his son Jayanta's heart + Beat quicker, by the self-same wish oppressed, + And placed about my neck the heavenly wreath + Still fragrant from the sandal on his breast. + +_Matali_. But what do you not deserve from heaven's king? Remember: + + Twice, from peace-loving Indra's sway + The demon-thorn was plucked away: + First, by Man-lion's crooked claws; + Again, by your smooth shafts to-day. + +_King_. This merely proves Indra's majesty. Remember: + + All servants owe success in enterprise + To honour paid before the great deed's done; + Could dawn defeat the darkness otherwise + Than resting on the chariot of the sun? + +_Matali_. The feeling becomes you. (_After a little_.) See, O King! +Your glory has the happiness of being published abroad in heaven. + + With colours used by nymphs of heaven + To make their beauty shine, + Gods write upon the surface given + Of many a magic vine, + As worth their song, the simple story + Of those brave deeds that made your glory. + +_King_. Matali, when I passed before, I was intent on fighting the +demons, and did not observe this region. Tell me. In which path of the +winds are we? + +_Matali_. + + It is the windpath sanctified + By holy Vishnu's second stride; + Which, freed from dust of passion, ever + Upholds the threefold heavenly river; + And, driving them with reins of light, + Guides the stars in wheeling flight. + +_King_. That is why serenity pervades me, body and soul. (_He observes +the path taken by the chariot_.) It seems that we have descended into +the region of the clouds. + +_Matali_. How do you perceive it? + +_King_. + + Plovers that fly from mountain-caves, + Steeds that quick-flashing lightning laves, + And chariot-wheels that drip with spray-- + A path o'er pregnant clouds betray. + +_Matali_. You are right. And in a moment you will be in the world over +which you bear rule. + +_King_ (_looking down_). Matali, our quick descent gives the world of +men a mysterious look. For + + The plains appear to melt and fall + From mountain peaks that grow more tall; + The trunks of trees no longer hide + Nor in their leafy nests abide; + The river network now is clear, + For smaller streams at last appear: + It seems as if some being threw + The world to me, for clearer view. + +_Matali_. You are a good observer, O King. (_He looks down, +awe-struck_.) There is a noble loveliness in the earth. _King_. +Matali, what mountain is this, its flanks sinking into the eastern and +into the western sea? It drips liquid gold like a cloud at sunset. + +_Matali_. O King, this is Gold Peak, the mountain of the fairy +centaurs. Here it is that ascetics most fully attain to magic powers. +See! + + The ancient sage, Marichi's son, + Child of the Uncreated One, + Father of superhuman life, + Dwells here austerely with his wife. + +_King_ (_reverently_). I must not neglect the happy chance. I cannot +go farther until I have walked humbly about the holy one. + +_Matali_. It is a worthy thought, O King. (_The chariot descends_.) We +have come down to earth. + +_King_ (_astonished_). Matali, + + The wheels are mute on whirling rim; + Unstirred, the dust is lying there; + We do not bump the earth, but skim: + Still, still we seem to fly through air. + +_Matali_. Such is the glory of the chariot which obeys you and Indra. + +_King_. In which direction lies the hermitage of Marichi's son? + +_Matali_ (_pointing_). See! + + Where stands the hermit, horridly austere, + Whom clinging vines are choking, tough and sore; + Half-buried in an ant-hill that has grown + About him, standing post-like and alone; + Sun-staring with dim eyes that know no rest, + The dead skin of a serpent on his breast: + So long he stood unmoved, insensate there + That birds build nests within his mat of hair. + +_King_ (_gazing_). All honour to one who mortifies the flesh so +terribly. + +_Matali_ (_checking the chariot_). We have entered the hermitage of +the ancient sage, whose wife Aditi tends the coral-trees. _King_. +Here is deeper contentment than in heaven. I seem plunged in a pool of +nectar. + +_Matali_ (_stopping the chariot_). Descend, O King. + +_King_ (_descending_). But how will you fare? + +_Matali_. The chariot obeys the word of command. I too will descend. +(_He does so_.) Before you, O King, are the groves where the holiest +hermits lead their self-denying life. + +_King_. I look with amazement both at their simplicity and at what +they might enjoy. + + Their appetites are fed with air + Where grows whatever is most fair; + They bathe religiously in pools + Which golden lily-pollen cools; + They pray within a jewelled home, + Are chaste where nymphs of heaven roam: + They mortify desire and sin + With things that others fast to win. + +_Matali_. The desires of the great aspire high. (_He walks about and +speaks to some one not visible_.) Ancient Shakalya, how is Marichi's +holy son occupied? (_He listens_.) What do you say? That he is +explaining to Aditi, in answer to her question, the duties of a +faithful wife? My matter must await a fitter time. (_He turns to the +king_.) Wait here, O King, in the shade of the ashoka tree, till I +have announced your coming to the sire of Indra. + +_King_. Very well. (_Exit_ MATALI. _The king's arm throbs, a happy +omen_.) + + I dare not hope for what I pray; + Why thrill--in vain? + For heavenly bliss once thrown away + Turns into pain. + +_A voice behind the scenes_. Don't! You mustn't be so foolhardy. Oh, +you are always the same. + +_King_ (_listening_). No naughtiness could feel at home in this spot. +Who draws such a rebuke upon himself? (_He looks towards the sound. In +surprise_.) It is a child, but no child in strength. And two +hermit-women are trying to control him. + + He drags a struggling lion cub, + The lioness' milk half-sucked, half-missed, + Towzles his mane, and tries to drub + Him tame with small, imperious fist. + +(_Enter a small boy, as described, and two hermit-women_.) + +_Boy_. Open your mouth, cub. I want to count your teeth. + +_First woman_. Naughty boy, why do you torment our pets? They are like +children to us. Your energy seems to take the form of striking +something. No wonder the hermits call you All-tamer. + +_King_. Why should my heart go out to this boy as if he were my own +son? (_He reflects_.) No doubt my childless state makes me +sentimental. + +_Second woman_. The lioness will spring at you if you don't let her +baby go. + +_Boy_ (_smiling_). Oh, I'm dreadfully scared. (_He bites his lip_.) + +_King_ (_in surprise_). + + The boy is seed of fire + Which, when it grows, will burn; + A tiny spark that soon + To awful flame may turn. + +_First woman_. Let the little lion go, dear. I will give you another +plaything. + +_Boy_. Where is it? Give it to me. (_He stretches out his hand_.) + +_King_ (_looking at the hand_.) He has one of the imperial birthmarks! +For + + Between the eager fingers grow + The close-knit webs together drawn, + Like some lone lily opening slow + To meet the kindling blush of dawn. + +_Second woman_. Suvrata, we can't make him stop by talking. Go. In my +cottage you will find a painted clay peacock that belongs to the +hermit-boy Mankanaka. Bring him that. + +_First woman_. I will. (_Exit_.) _Boy_. Meanwhile I'll play with +this one. + +_Hermit-woman_ (_looks and laughs_). Let him go. + +_King_. My heart goes out to this wilful child. (_Sighing_.) + + They show their little buds of teeth + In peals of causeless laughter; + They hide their trustful heads beneath + Your heart. And stumbling after + Come sweet, unmeaning sounds that sing + To you. The father warms + And loves the very dirt they bring + Upon their little forms. + +_Hermit-woman_ (_shaking her finger_). Won't you mind me? (_She looks +about_.) Which one of the hermit-boys is here? (_She sees the king_.) +Oh, sir, please come here and free this lion cub. The little rascal is +tormenting him, and I can't make him let go. + +_King_. Very well. (_He approaches, smiling_.) O little son of a great +sage! + + Your conduct in this place apart, + Is most unfit; + 'Twould grieve your father's pious heart + And trouble it. + + To animals he is as good + As good can be; + You spoil it, like a black snake's brood + In sandal tree. + +_Hermit-woman_. But, sir, he is not the son of a hermit. + +_King_. So it would seem, both from his looks and his actions. But in +this spot, I had no suspicion of anything else. (_He loosens the boy's +hold on the cub, and touching him, says to himself_.) + + It makes me thrill to touch the boy, + The stranger's son, to me unknown; + What measureless content must fill + The man who calls the child his own! + +_Hermit-woman_ (_looking at the two_). Wonderful! wonderful! + +_King_. Why do you say that, mother? + +_Hermit-woman_. I am astonished to see how much the boy looks like +you, sir. You are not related. Besides, he is a perverse little +creature and he does not know you. Yet he takes no dislike to +you. + +_King_ (_caressing the boy_). Mother, if he is not the son of a +hermit, what is his family? + +_Hermit-woman_. The family of Puru. + +_King_ (_to himself_). He is of one family with me! Then could my +thought be true? (_Aloud_.) But this is the custom of Puru's line: + + In glittering palaces they dwell + While men, and rule the country well; + Then make the grove their home in age, + And die in austere hermitage. + +But how could human beings, of their own mere motion, attain this +spot? + +_Hermit-woman_. You are quite right, sir. But the boy's mother was +related to a nymph, and she bore her son in the pious grove of the +father of the gods. + +_King_ (_to himself_). Ah, a second ground for hope. (_Aloud_.) What +was the name of the good king whose wife she was? + +_Hermit-woman_. Who would speak his name? He rejected his true wife. + +_King_ (_to himself_). This story points at me. Suppose I ask the boy +for his mother's name. (_He reflects_.) No, it is wrong to concern +myself with one who may be another's wife. + +(_Enter the first woman, with the clay peacock_.) + +_First woman_. Look, All-tamer. Here is the bird, the _shakunta_. +Isn't the _shakunta_ lovely? + +_Boy_ (_looks about_). Where is my mamma? (_The two women burst out +laughing_.) + +_First woman_. It sounded like her name, and deceived him. He loves +his mother. + +_Second woman_. She said: "See how pretty the peacock is." That is +all. + +_King_ (_to himself_). His mother's name is Shakuntala! But names are +alike. I trust this hope may not prove a disappointment in the end, +like a mirage. + +_Boy_. I like this little peacock, sister. Can it fly? (_He seizes the +toy_.) _First woman_ (_looks at the boy. Anxiously_), Oh, the amulet +is not on his wrist. + +_King_. Do not be anxious, mother. It fell while he was struggling +with the lion cub. (_He starts to pick it up_.) + +_The two women_. Oh, don't, don't! (_They look at him_.) He has +touched it! (_Astonished, they lay their hands on their bosoms, and +look at each other_.) + +_King_. Why did you try to prevent me? + +_First woman_. Listen, your Majesty. This is a divine and most potent +charm, called the Invincible. Marichi's holy son gave it to the baby +when the birth-ceremony was performed. If it falls on the ground, no +one may touch it except the boy's parents or the boy himself. + +_King_. And if another touch it? + +_First woman_. It becomes a serpent and stings him. + +_King_. Did you ever see this happen to any one else? + +_Both women_. More than once. + +_King_ (_joyfully_). Then why may I not welcome my hopes fulfilled at +last? (_He embraces the boy_.) + +_Second woman_. Come, Suvrata. Shakuntala is busy with her religious +duties. We must go and tell her what has happened. (_Exeunt ambo_.) + +_Boy_. Let me go. I want to see my mother. + +_King_. My son, you shall go with me to greet your mother. + +_Boy_. Dushyanta is my father, not you. + +_King_ (_smiling_). You show I am right by contradicting me. (_Enter_ +SHAKUNTALA, _wearing her hair in a single braid_.) + +_Shakuntala_ (_doubtfully_). I have heard that All-tamer's amulet did +not change when it should have done so. But I do not trust my own +happiness. Yet perhaps it is as Mishrakeshi told me. (_She walks +about_.) + +_King_ (_looking at_ SHAKUNTALA. _With plaintive joy_). It is she. It +is Shakuntala. + + The pale, worn face, the careless dress, + The single braid, + Show her still true, me pitiless, + The long vow paid. + +_Shakuntala_ (_seeing the king pale with remorse. Doubtfully_). It is +not my husband. Who is the man that soils my boy with his caresses? +The amulet should protect him. _Boy_ (_running to his mother_). +Mother, he is a man that belongs to other people. And he calls me his +son. + +_King_. My darling, the cruelty I showed you has turned to happiness. +Will you not recognise me? + +_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). Oh, my heart, believe it. Fate struck +hard, but its envy is gone and pity takes its place. It is my husband. + +_King_. + + Black madness flies; + Comes memory; + Before my eyes + My love I see. + + Eclipse flees far; + Light follows soon; + The loving star + Draws to the moon. + +_Shakuntala_. Victory, victo--(_Tears choke her utterance_.) + +_King_. + + The tears would choke you, sweet, in vain; + My soul with victory is fed, + Because I see your face again-- + No jewels, but the lips are red. + +_Boy_. Who is he, mother? + +_Shakuntala_. Ask fate, my child. (_She weeps_.) + +_King_. + + Dear, graceful wife, forget; + Let the sin vanish; + Strangely did madness strive + Reason to banish. + + Thus blindness works in men, + Love's joy to shake; + Spurning a garland, lest + It prove a snake. (_He falls at her feet_.) + +_Shakuntala_. Rise, my dear husband. Surely, it was some old sin of +mine that broke my happiness--though it has turned again to happiness. +Otherwise, how could you, dear, have acted so? You are so kind. (_The +king rises_.) But what brought back the memory of your suffering +wife? _King_. I will tell you when I have plucked out the dart of +sorrow. + + 'Twas madness, sweet, that could let slip + A tear to burden your dear lip; + On graceful lashes seen to-day, + I wipe it, and our grief, away. (_He does so_.) + +_Shakuntala_ (_sees more clearly and discovers the ring_). My husband, +it is the ring! + +_King_. Yes. And when a miracle recovered it, my memory returned. + +_Shakuntala_. That was why it was so impossible for me to win your +confidence. + +_King_. Then let the vine receive her flower, as earnest of her union +with spring. + +_Shakuntala_. I do not trust it. I would rather you wore it. + +(_Enter_ MATALI) + +_Matali_. I congratulate you, O King, on reunion with your wife and on +seeing the face of your son. + +_King_. My desires bear sweeter fruit because fulfilled through a +friend. Matali, was not this matter known to Indra? + +_Matali_ (_smiling_.) What is hidden from the gods? Come. Marichi's +holy son, Kashyapa, wishes to see you. + +_King_. My dear wife, bring our son. I could not appear without you +before the holy one. + +_Shakuntala_. I am ashamed to go before such parents with my husband. + +_King_. It is the custom in times of festival. Come. (_They walk +about_. KASHYAPA _appears seated, with_ ADITI.) + +_Kashyapa_ (_looking at the king_). Aditi, + + 'Tis King Dushyanta, he who goes before + Your son in battle, and who rules the earth, + Whose bow makes Indra's weapon seem no more + Than a fine plaything, lacking sterner worth. + +_Aditi_. His valour might be inferred from his appearance. + +_Matali_. O King, the parents of the gods look upon you with a glance +that betrays parental fondness. Approach them. _King_. Matali, + + Sprung from the Creator's children, do I see + Great Kashyapa and Mother Aditi? + The pair that did produce the sun in heaven, + To which each year twelve changing forms are given; + That brought the king of all the gods to birth, + Who rules in heaven, in hell, and on the earth; + That Vishnu, than the Uncreated higher, + Chose as his parents with a fond desire. + +_Matali_. It is indeed they. + +_King_ (_falling before them_). Dushyanta, servant of Indra, does +reverence to you both. + +_Kashyapa_. My son, rule the earth long. + +_Aditi_. And be invincible. (SHAKUNTALA _and her son fall at their +feet_.) + +_Kashyapa_. My daughter, + + Your husband equals Indra, king + Of gods; your son is like his son; + No further blessing need I bring: + Win bliss such as his wife has won. + +_Aditi_. My child, keep the favour of your husband. And may this fine +boy be an honour to the families of both parents. Come, let us be +seated. (_All seat themselves_.) + +_Kashyapa_ (_indicating one after the other_). + + Faithful Shakuntala, the boy, + And you, O King, I see + A trinity to bless the world-- + Faith, Treasure, Piety. + +_King_. Holy one, your favour shown to us is without parallel. You +granted the fulfilment of our wishes before you called us to your +presence. For, holy one, + + The flower comes first, and then the fruit; + The clouds appear before the rain; + Effect comes after cause; but you + First helped, then made your favour plain. + +_Matali_. O King, such is the favour shown by the parents of the +world. _King_. Holy one, I married this your maid-servant by the +voluntary ceremony. When after a time her relatives brought her to me, +my memory failed and I rejected her. In so doing, I sinned against +Kanva, who is kin to you. But afterwards, when I saw the ring, I +perceived that I had married her. And this seems very wonderful to me. + + Like one who doubts an elephant, + Though seeing him stride by, + And yet believes when he has seen + The footprints left; so I. + +_Kashyapa_. My son, do not accuse yourself of sin. Your infatuation +was inevitable. Listen. + +_King_. I am all attention. + +_Kashyapa_. When the nymph Menaka descended to earth and received +Shakuntala, afflicted at her rejection, she came to Aditi. Then I +perceived the matter by my divine insight. I saw that the unfortunate +girl had been rejected by her rightful husband because of Durvasas' +curse. And that the curse would end when the ring came to light. + +_King_ (_with a sigh of relief. To himself_). Then I am free from +blame. + +_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). Thank heaven! My husband did not reject +me of his own accord. He really did not remember me. I suppose I did +not hear the curse in my absent-minded state, for my friends warned me +most earnestly to show my husband the ring. + +_Kashyapa_. My daughter, you know the truth. Do not now give way to +anger against your rightful husband. Remember: + + The curse it was that brought defeat and pain; + The darkness flies; you are his queen again. + Reflections are not seen in dusty glass, + Which, cleaned, will mirror all the things that pass. + +_King_. It is most true, holy one. + +_Kashyapa_. My son, I hope you have greeted as he deserves the son +whom Shakuntala has borne you, for whom I myself have performed the +birth-rite and the other ceremonies. + +_King_. Holy one, the hope of my race centres in him. + +_Kashyapa_. Know then that his courage will make him emperor. + + Journeying over every sea, + His car will travel easily; + The seven islands of the earth + Will bow before his matchless worth; + Because wild beasts to him were tame, + All-tamer was his common name; + As Bharata he shall be known, + For he will bear the world alone. + +_King_. I anticipate everything from him, since you have performed the +rites for him. + +_Aditi_. Kanva also should be informed that his daughter's wishes are +fulfilled. But Menaka is waiting upon me here and cannot be spared. + +_Shakuntala_ (_to herself_). The holy one has expressed my own desire. + +_Kashyapa_. Kanva knows the whole matter through his divine insight. +(_He reflects_.) Yet he should hear from us the pleasant tidings, how +his daughter and her son have been received by her husband. Who waits +without? (_Enter a pupil_.) + +_Pupil_. I am here, holy one. + +_Kashyapa_. Galava, fly through the air at once, carrying pleasant +tidings from me to holy Kanva. Tell him how Durvasas' curse has come +to an end, how Dushyanta recovered his memory, and has taken +Shakuntala with her child to himself. + +_Pupil_. Yes, holy one. (_Exit_.) + +_Kashyapa_ (_to the king_). My son, enter with child and wife the +chariot of your friend Indra, and set out for your capital. + +_King_. Yes, holy one. + +_Kashyapa_. For now + + May Indra send abundant rain, + Repaid by sacrificial gain; + With aid long mutually given, + Rule you on earth, and he in heaven. + +_King_. Holy one, I will do my best. + +_Kashyapa_. What more, my son, shall I do for you? + +_King_. Can there be more than this? Yet may this prayer be fulfilled. + + May kingship benefit the land, + And wisdom grow in scholars' band; + May Shiva see my faith on earth + And make me free of all rebirth. + +(_Exeunt omnes_.) + + * * * * * + + + + +THE STORY OF SHAKUNTALA + + +In the first book of the vast epic poem _Mahabharata_, Kalidasa found +the story of Shakuntala. The story has a natural place there, for +Bharata, Shakuntala's son, is the eponymous ancestor of the princes +who play the leading part in the epic. + +With no little abbreviation of its epic breadth, the story runs as +follows:-- + +THE EPIC TALE + +Once that strong-armed king, with a mighty host of men and chariots, +entered a thick wood. Then when the king had slain thousands of wild +creatures, he entered another wood with his troops and his chariots, +intent on pursuing a deer. And the king beheld a wonderful, beautiful +hermitage on the bank of the sacred river Malini; on its bank was the +beautiful hermitage of blessed, high-souled Kanva, whither the great +sages resorted. Then the king determined to enter, that he might see +the great sage Kanva, rich in holiness. He laid aside the insignia of +royalty and went on alone, but did not see the austere sage in the +hermitage. Then, when he did not see the sage, and perceived that the +hermitage was deserted, he cried aloud, "Who is here?" until the +forest seemed to shriek. Hearing his cry, a maiden, lovely as Shri, +came from the hermitage, wearing a hermit garb. "Welcome!" she said at +once, greeting him, and smilingly added: "What may be done for you?" +Then the king said to the sweet-voiced maid: "I have come to pay +reverence to the holy sage Kanva. Where has the blessed one gone, +sweet girl? Tell me this, lovely maid." Shakuntala said: "My blessed +father has gone from the hermitage to gather fruits. Wait a moment. +You shall see him when he returns." + +The king did not see the sage, but when the lovely girl of the fair +hips and charming smile spoke to him, he saw that{} she was radiant in +her beauty, yes, in her hard vows and self-restraint all youth and +beauty, and he said to her: + +"Who are you? Whose are you, lovely maiden? Why did you come to the +forest? Whence are you, sweet girl, so lovely and so good? Your beauty +stole my heart at the first glance. I wish to know you better. Answer +me, sweet maid." + +The maiden laughed when thus questioned by the king in the hermitage, +and the words she spoke were very sweet: "O Dushyanta, I am known as +blessed Kanva's daughter, and he is austere, steadfast, wise, and of a +lofty soul." + +Dushyanta said: "But he is chaste, glorious maid, holy, honoured by +the world. Though virtue should swerve from its course, he would not +swerve from the hardness of his vow. How were you born his daughter, +for you are beautiful? I am in great perplexity about this. Pray +remove it." + +[Shakuntala here explains how she is the child of a sage and a nymph, +deserted at birth, cared for by birds (_shakuntas_), found and reared +by Kanva, who gave her the name Shakuntala.] + +Dushyanta said: "You are clearly a king's daughter, sweet maiden, as +you say. Become my lovely wife. Tell me, what shall I do for you? Let +all my kingdom be yours to-day. Become my wife, sweet maid." + +Shakuntala said: "Promise me truly what I say to you in secret. The +son that is born to me must be your heir. If you promise, Dushyanta, I +will marry you." + +"So be it," said the king without thinking, and added: "I will bring +you too to my city, sweet-smiling girl." + +So the king took the faultlessly graceful maiden by the hand and dwelt +with her. And when he had bidden her be of good courage, he went +forth, saying again and again: "I will send a complete army for you, +and tell them to bring my sweet-smiling bride to my palace." When he +had made this promise, the king went thoughtfully to find Kanva. "What +will he do when he hears it, this holy, austere man?" he wondered, and +still thinking, he went back to his capital. + +Now the moment he was gone, Kanva came to the hermitage. And +Shakuntala was ashamed and did not come to meet her father. But +blessed, austere Kanva had divine discernment. He discovered her, and +seeing the matter with celestial vision, he was pleased and said: +"What you have done, dear, to-day, forgetting me and meeting a man, +this does not break the law. A man who loves may marry secretly the +woman who loves him without a ceremony; and Dushyanta is virtuous and +noble, the best of men. Since you have found a loving husband, +Shakuntala, a noble son shall be born to you, mighty in the world." + +Sweet Shakuntala gave birth to a boy of unmeasured prowess. His hands +were marked with the wheel, and he quickly grew to be a glorious boy. +As a six years' child in Kanva's hermitage he rode on the backs of +lions, tigers, and boars near the hermitage, and tamed them, and ran +about playing with them. Then those who lived in Kanva's hermitage +gave him a name. "Let him be called All-tamer," they said: "for he +tames everything." + +But when the sage saw the boy and his more than human deeds, he said +to Shakuntala: "It is time for him to be anointed crown prince." When +he saw how strong the boy was, Kanva said to his pupils: "Quickly +bring my Shakuntala and her son from my house to her husband's palace. +A long abiding with their relatives is not proper for married women. +It destroys their reputation, and their character, and their virtue; +so take her without delay." "We will," said all the mighty men, and +they set out with Shakuntala and her son for Gajasahvaya. + +When Shakuntala drew near, she was recognised and invited to enter, +and she said to the king: "This is your son, O King. You must anoint +him crown prince, just as you promised before, when we met." + +When the king heard her, although he remembered her, he said: "I do +not remember. To whom do you belong, you wicked hermit-woman? I do not +remember a union with you for virtue, love, and wealth.[1] Either go +or stay, or do whatever you wish." + +When he said this, the sweet hermit-girl half fainted from shame and +grief, and stood stiff as a pillar. Her eyes darkened with passionate +indignation; her lips quivered; she seemed to consume the king as she +gazed at him with sidelong glances. Concealing her feelings and nerved +by anger, she held in check the magic power that her ascetic life had +given her. She seemed to meditate a moment, overcome by grief and +anger. She gazed at her husband, then spoke passionately: "O shameless +king, although you know, why do you say, 'I do not know,' like any +other ordinary man?" + +Dushyanta said: "I do not know the son born of you, Shakuntala. Women +are liars. Who will believe what you say? Are you not ashamed to say +these incredible things, especially in my presence? You wicked +hermit-woman, go!" + +Shakuntala said: "O King, sacred is holy God, and sacred is a holy +promise. Do not break your promise, O King. Let your love be sacred. +If you cling to a lie, and will not believe, alas! I must go away; +there is no union with a man like you. For even without you, +Dushyanta, my son shall rule this foursquare earth adorned with kingly +mountains." + +When she had said so much to the king, Shakuntala started to go. But a +bodiless voice from heaven said to Dushyanta: "Care for your son, +Dushyanta. Do not despise Shakuntala. You are the boy's father. +Shakuntala tells the truth." + +When he heard the utterance of the gods, the king joyfully said to his +chaplain and his ministers: "Hear the words of this heavenly +messenger. If I had received my son simply because of her words, he +would be suspected by the world, he would not be pure." + +Then the king received his son gladly and joyfully. He kissed his head +and embraced him lovingly. His wife also Dushyanta honoured, as +justice required. And the king soothed her, and said: "This union +which I had with you was hidden from the world. Therefore I hesitated, +O Queen, in order to save your reputation. And as for the cruel words +you said to me in an excess of passion, these I pardon you, my +beautiful, great-eyed darling, because you love me." + +Then King Dushyanta gave the name Bharata to Shakuntala's son, and had +him anointed crown prince. + +It is plain that this story contains the material for a good play; the +very form of the epic tale is largely dramatic. It is also plain, in a +large way, of what nature are the principal changes which a dramatist +must introduce in the original. For while Shakuntala is charming in +the epic story, the king is decidedly contemptible. Somehow or other, +his face must be saved. + +To effect this, Kalidasa has changed the old story in three important +respects. In the first place, he introduces the curse of Durvasas, +clouding the king's memory, and saving him from moral responsibility +in his rejection of Shakuntala. That there may be an ultimate recovery +of memory, the curse is so modified as to last only until the king +shall see again the ring which he has given to his bride. To the +Hindu, curse and modification are matters of frequent occurrence; and +Kalidasa has so delicately managed the matter as not to shock even a +modern and Western reader with a feeling of strong improbability. Even +to us it seems a natural part of the divine cloud that envelops the +drama, in no way obscuring human passion, but rather giving to human +passion an unwonted largeness and universality. + +In the second place, the poet makes Shakuntala undertake her journey +to the palace before her son is born. Obviously, the king's character +is thus made to appear in a better light, and a greater probability is +given to the whole story. + +The third change is a necessary consequence of the first; for without +the curse, there could have been no separation, no ensuing remorse, +and no reunion. + +But these changes do not of themselves make a drama out of the epic +tale. Large additions were also necessary, both of scenes and of +characters. We find, indeed, that only acts one and five, with a part +of act seven, rest upon the ancient text, while acts two, three, four, +and six, with most of seven, are a creation of the poet. As might have +been anticipated, the acts of the former group are more dramatic, +while those of the latter contribute more of poetical charm. It is +with these that scissors must be chiefly busy when the play--rather +too long for continuous presentation as it stands--is performed on the +stage. + +In the epic there are but three characters--Dushyanta, Shakuntala, +Kanva, with the small boy running about in the background. To these +Kalidasa has added from the palace, from the hermitage, and from the +Elysian region which is represented with vague precision in the last +act. + +The conventional clown plays a much smaller part in this play than in +the others which Kalidasa wrote. He has also less humour. The real +humorous relief is given by the fisherman and the three policemen in +the opening scene of the sixth act. This, it may be remarked, is the +only scene of rollicking humour in Kalidasa's writing. + +The forest scenes are peopled with quiet hermit-folk. Far the most +charming of these are Shakuntala's girl friends. The two are +beautifully differentiated: Anusuya grave, sober; Priyamvada +vivacious, saucy; yet wonderfully united in friendship and in devotion +to Shakuntala, whom they feel to possess a deeper nature than theirs. + +Kanva, the hermit-father, hardly required any change from the epic +Kanva. It was a happy thought to place beside him the staid, motherly +Gautami. The small boy in the last act has magically become an +individual in Kalidasa's hands. In this act too are the creatures of a +higher world, their majesty not rendered too precise. + +Dushyanta has been saved by the poet from his epic shabbiness; it may +be doubted whether more has been done. There is in him, as in some +other Hindu heroes, a shade too much of the meditative to suit our +ideal of more alert and ready manhood. + +But all the other characters sink into insignificance beside the +heroine. Shakuntala dominates the play. She is actually on the stage +in five of the acts, and her spirit pervades the other two, the second +and the sixth. Shakuntala has held captive the heart of India for +fifteen hundred years, and wins the love of increasing thousands in +the West; for so noble a union of sweetness with strength is one of +the miracles of art. + + Though lovely women walk the world to-day + By tens of thousands, there is none so fair + In all that exhibition and display + With her most perfect beauty to compare-- + +because it is a most perfect beauty of soul no less than of outward +form. Her character grows under our very eyes. When we first meet her, +she is a simple maiden, knowing no greater sorrow than the death of a +favourite deer; when we bid her farewell, she has passed through happy +love, the mother's joys and pains, most cruel humiliation and +suspicion, and the reunion with her husband, proved at last not to +have been unworthy. And each of these great experiences has been met +with a courage and a sweetness to which no words can render justice. + +Kalidasa has added much to the epic tale; yet his use of the original +is remarkably minute. A list of the epic suggestions incorporated in +his play is long. But it is worth making, in order to show how keen is +the eye of genius. Thus the king lays aside the insignia of royalty +upon entering the grove (Act I). Shakuntala appears in hermit garb, a +dress of bark (Act I). The quaint derivation of the heroine's name +from _shakunta_--bird--is used with wonderful skill in a passage (Act +VII) which defies translation, as it involves a play on words. The +king's anxiety to discover whether the maiden's father is of a caste +that permits her to marry him is reproduced (Act I). The marriage +without a ceremony is retained (Act IV), but robbed of all offence. +Kanva's celestial vision, which made it unnecessary for his child to +tell him of her union with the king, is introduced with great delicacy +(Act IV). The curious formation of the boy's hand which indicated +imperial birth adds to the king's suspense (Act VII). The boy's rough +play with wild animals is made convincing (Act VII) and his very +nickname All-tamer is preserved (Act VII). Kanva's worldly wisdom as +to husband and wife dwelling together is reproduced (Act IV). No small +part of the give-and-take between the king and Shakuntala is given +(Act V), but with a new dignity. + +Of the construction of the play I speak with diffidence. It seems +admirable to me, the apparently undue length of some scenes hardly +constituting a blemish, as it was probably intended to give the actors +considerable latitude of choice and excision. Several versions of the +text have been preserved; it is from the longer of the two more +familiar ones that the translation in this volume has been made. In +the warm discussion over this matter, certain technical arguments of +some weight have been advanced in favour of this choice; there is also +a more general consideration which seems to me of importance. I find +it hard to believe that any lesser artist could pad such a +masterpiece, and pad it all over, without making the fraud apparent on +almost every page. The briefer version, on the other hand, might +easily grow out of the longer, either as an acting text, or as a +school-book. + +We cannot take leave of Shakuntala in any better way than by quoting +the passage[2] in which Levi's imagination has conjured up "the +memorable _premiere_ when Shakuntala saw the light, in the presence of +Vikramaditya and his court." + + La fete du printemps approche; Ujjayini, la ville aux riches + marchands et la capitale intellectuelle de l'Inde, glorieuse et + prospere sous un roi victorieux et sage, se prepare a celebrer + la solennite avec une pompe digne de son opulence et de son + gout.... L'auteur applaudi de Malavika ... le poete dont le + souple genie s'accommode sans effort au ton de l'epopee ou de + l'elegie, Kalidasa vient d'achever une comedie heroique + annoncee comme un chef-d'oeuvre par la voix de ses amis.... Le + poete a ses comediens, qu'il a eprouves et dresses a sa maniere + avec Malavika. Les comediens suivront leur poete familier, + devenu leur maitre et leur ami.... Leur solide instruction, + leur gout epure reconnaissent les qualites maitresses de + l'oeuvre, l'habilete de l'intrigue, le juste equilibre des + sentiments, la fraicheur de l'imagination ... + + Vikramaditya entre, suivi des courtisans, et s'asseoit sur son + trone; ses femmes restent a sa gauche; a sa droite les rois + vassaux accourus pour rendre leurs hommages, les princes, les + hauts fonctionnaires, les litterateurs et les savants, groupes + autour de Varaha-mihira l'astrologue et d'Amarasimha le + lexicographe ... + + Tout a coup, les deux jolies figurantes placees devant le + rideau de la coulisse en ecartent les plis, et Duhsanta, l'arc + et les fleches a la main, parait monte sur un char; son cocher + tient les renes; lances a la poursuite d'une gazelle + imaginaire, ils simulent par leurs gestes la rapidite de la + course; leurs stances pittoresques et descriptives suggerent a + l'imagination un decor que la peinture serait impuissante a + tracer. Ils approchent de l'ermitage; le roi descend a terre, + congedie le cocher, les chevaux et le char, entend les voix des + jeunes filles et se cache. Un mouvement de curiosite + agite les spectateurs; fille d'une Apsaras et creation de + Kalidasa, Cakuntala reunit tous les charmes; l'actrice + saura-t-elle repondre a l'attente des connaisseurs et realiser + l'ideal? Elle parait, vetue d'une simple tunique d'ecorce qui + semble cacher ses formes et par un contraste habile les + embellit encore; la ligne arrondie du visage, les yeux longs, + d'un bleu sombre, langoureux, les seins opulents mal + emprisonnes, les bras delicats laissent a deviner les beautes + que le costume ascetique derobe. Son attitude, ses gestes + ravissent a la fois les regards et les coeurs; elle parle, et sa + voix est un chant. La cour de Vikramaditya fremit d'une emotion + sereine et profonde: un chef-d'oeuvre nouveau vient d'entrer + dans l'immortalite. + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: The Hindu equivalent of "for better, for worse."] + +[Footnote 2: _Le Theatre Indien_, pages 368-371. This is without +competition the best work in which any part of the Sanskrit literature +has been treated, combining erudition, imagination, and taste. The +book is itself literature of a high order. The passage is +unfortunately too long to be quoted entire.] + + * * * * * + + + + +THE TWO MINOR DRAMAS + + +I.--"MALAVIKA AND AGNIMITRA" + +_Malavika and Agnimitra_ is the earliest of Kalidasa's three dramas, +and probably his earliest work. This conclusion would be almost +certain from the character of the play, but is put beyond doubt by the +following speeches of the prologue: + +_Stage-director_. The audience has asked us to present at this spring +festival a drama called _Malavika and Agnimitra_, composed by +Kalidasa. Let the music begin. + +_Assistant_. No, no! Shall we neglect the works of such illustrious +authors as Bhasa, Saumilla, and Kaviputra? Can the audience feel any +respect for the work of a modern poet, a Kalidasa? + +_Stage-director_. You are quite mistaken. Consider: + + Not all is good that bears an ancient name, + Nor need we every modern poem blame: + Wise men approve the good, or new or old; + The foolish critic follows where he's told. + +_Assistant_. The responsibility rests with you, sir. + +There is irony in the fact that the works of the illustrious authors +mentioned have perished, that we should hardly know of their existence +were it not for the tribute of their modest, youthful rival. But +Kalidasa could not read the future. We can imagine his feelings of +mingled pride and fear when his early work was presented at the spring +festival before the court of King Vikramaditya, without doubt the most +polished and critical audience that could at that hour have been +gathered in any city on earth. The play which sought the approbation +of this audience shows no originality of plot, no depth of passion. It +is a light, graceful drama of court intrigue. The hero, King +Agnimitra, is an historical character of the second century before +Christ, and Kalidasa's play gives us some information about him that +history can seriously consider. The play represents Agnimitra's +father, the founder of the Sunga dynasty, as still living. As the seat +of empire was in Patna on the Ganges, and as Agnimitra's capital is +Vidisha--the modern Bhilsa--it seems that he served as regent of +certain provinces during his father's lifetime. The war with the King +of Vidarbha seems to be an historical occurrence, and the fight with +the Greek cavalry force is an echo of the struggle with Menander, in +which the Hindus were ultimately victorious. It was natural for +Kalidasa to lay the scene of his play in Bhilsa rather than in the +far-distant Patna, for it is probable that many in the audience were +acquainted with the former city. It is to Bhilsa that the poet refers +again in _The Cloud-Messenger_, where these words are addressed to the +cloud: + + At thine approach, Dasharna land is blest + With hedgerows where gay buds are all aglow, + With village trees alive with many a nest + Abuilding by the old familiar crow, + With lingering swans, with ripe rose-apples' darker show. + + There shalt thou see the royal city, known + Afar, and win the lover's fee complete, + If thou subdue thy thunders to a tone + Of murmurous gentleness, and taste the sweet, + Love-rippling features of the river at thy feet. + +Yet in Kalidasa's day, the glories of the Sunga dynasty were long +departed, nor can we see why the poet should have chosen his hero and +his era as he did. + +There follows an analysis of the plot and some slight criticism. + +In addition to the stage-director and his assistant, who appear in the +prologue, the characters of the play are these: + + + AGNIMITRA, _king in Vidisha_. + + GAUTAMA, _a clown, his friend_. + + + GANADASA } + } _dancing-masters_. + HARADATTA } + + + DHARINI, _the senior queen_. + + IRAVATI, _the junior queen_. + + MALAVIKA, _maid to Queen Dharini, later discovered to be a princess_. + + KAUSHIKI, _a Buddhist nun_. + + BAKULAVALIKA, _a maid, friend of Malavika_. + + NIPUNIKA, _maid to Queen Iravati_. + + _A counsellor, a chamberlain, a humpback, two court poets, maids, + and mute attendants_. + +The scene is the palace and gardens of King Agnimitra, the time a few +days. + + +ACT I.--After the usual prologue, the maid Bakulavalika appears with +another maid. From their conversation we learn that King Agnimitra has +seen in the palace picture-gallery a new painting of Queen Dharini +with her attendants. So beautiful is one of these, Malavika, that the +king is smitten with love, but is prevented by the jealous queen from +viewing the original. At this point the dancing-master Ganadasa +enters. From him Bakulavalika learns that Malavika is a wonderfully +proficient pupil, while he learns from her that Malavika had been sent +as a present to Queen Dharini by a general commanding a border +fortress, the queen's brother. + +After this introductory scene, the king enters, and listens to a +letter sent by the king of Vidarbha. The rival monarch had imprisoned +a prince and princess, cousins of Agnimitra, and in response to +Agnimitra's demand that they be set free, he declares that the +princess has escaped, but that the prince shall not be liberated +except on certain conditions. This letter so angers Agnimitra that he +despatches an army against the king of Vidarbha. + +Gautama, the clown, informs Agnimitra that he has devised a plan for +bringing Malavika into the king's presence. He has stirred an envious +rivalry in the bosoms of the two dancing-masters, who soon appear, +each abusing the other vigorously, and claiming for himself the +pre-eminence in their art. It is agreed that each shall exhibit his +best pupil before the king, Queen Dharini, and the learned Buddhist +nun, Kaushiki. The nun, who is in the secret of the king's desire, is +made mistress of ceremonies, and the queen's jealous opposition is +overborne. + + +ACT II.--The scene is laid in the concert-hall of the palace. The nun +determines that Ganadasa shall present his pupil first. Malavika is +thereupon introduced, dances, and sings a song which pretty plainly +indicates her own love for the king. He is in turn quite ravished, +finding her far more beautiful even than the picture. The clown +manages to detain her some little time by starting a discussion as to +her art, and when she is finally permitted to depart, both she and the +king are deeply in love. The court poet announces the noon hour, and +the exhibition of the other dancing-master is postponed. + + +ACT III.--The scene is laid in the palace garden. From the +conversation of two maids it appears that a favourite ashoka-tree is +late in blossoming. This kind of tree, so the belief runs, can be +induced to put forth blossoms if touched by the foot of a beautiful +woman in splendid garments. + +When the girls depart, the king enters with the clown, his confidant. +The clown, after listening to the king's lovelorn confidences, reminds +him that he has agreed to meet his young Queen Iravati in the garden, +and swing with her. But before the queen's arrival, Malavika enters, +sent thither by Dharini to touch the ashoka-tree with her foot, and +thus encourage it to blossom. The king and the clown hide in a +thicket, to feast their eyes upon her. Presently the maid Bakulavalika +appears, to adorn Malavika for the ceremony, and engages her in +conversation about the king. But now a third pair enter, the young +Queen Iravati, somewhat flushed with wine, and her maid Nipunika. They +also conceal themselves to spy upon the young girls. Thus there are +three groups upon the stage: the two girls believe themselves to be +alone; the king and the clown are aware of the two girls, as are also +the queen and her maid; but neither of these two pairs knows of the +presence of the other. This situation gives rise to very entertaining +dialogue, which changes its character when the king starts forward to +express his love for Malavika. Another sudden change is brought about +when Iravati, mad with jealousy, joins the group, sends the two girls +away, and berates the king. He excuses himself as earnestly as a man +may when caught in such a predicament, but cannot appease the young +queen, who leaves him with words of bitter jealousy. + + +ACT IV.--The clown informs the king that Queen Dharini has locked +Malavika and her friend in the cellar, and has given orders to the +doorkeeper that they are to be released only upon presentation of her +own signet-ring, engraved with the figure of a serpent. But he +declares that he has devised a plan to set them free. He bids the king +wait upon Queen Dharini, and presently rushes into their presence, +showing his thumb marked with two scratches, and declaring that he has +been bitten by a cobra. Imploring the king to care for his childless +mother, he awakens genuine sympathy in the queen, who readily parts +with her serpent-ring, supposed to be efficacious in charming away the +effects of snake-poison. Needless to say, he uses the ring to procure +the freedom of Malavika and her friend, and then brings about a +meeting with Agnimitra in the summer-house. The love-scene which +follows is again interrupted by Queen Iravati. This time the king is +saved by the news that his little daughter has been frightened by a +yellow monkey, and will be comforted only by him. The act ends with +the announcement that the ashoka-tree has blossomed. + + +ACT V.--It now appears that Queen Dharini has relented and is willing +to unite Malavika with the king; for she invites him to meet her under +the ashoka-tree, and includes Malavika among her attendants. Word is +brought that the army despatched against the king of Vidarbha has been +completely successful, and that in the spoil are included two maids +with remarkable powers of song. These maids are brought before the +company gathered at the tree, where they surprise every one by falling +on their faces before Malavika with the exclamation, "Our princess!" +Here the Buddhist nun takes up the tale. She tells how her brother, +the counsellor of the captive prince, had rescued her and Malavika +from the king of Vidarbha, and had started for Agnimitra's court. + +On the way they had been overpowered by robbers, her brother killed, +and she herself separated from Malavika. She had thereupon become a +nun and made her way to Agnimitra's court, and had there found +Malavika, who had been taken from the robbers by Agnimitra's general +and sent as a present to Queen Dharini. She had not divulged the +matter sooner, because of a prophecy that Malavika should be a servant +for just one year before becoming a king's bride. This recital removes +any possible objection to a union of Malavika and Agnimitra. To +complete the king's happiness, there comes a letter announcing that +his son by Dharini has won a victory over a force of Greek cavalry, +and inviting the court to be present at the sacrifice which was to +follow the victory. Thus every one is made happy except the jealous +young Queen Iravati, now to be supplanted by Malavika; yet even she +consents, though somewhat ungraciously, to the arrangements made. + +Criticism of the large outlines of this plot would be quite unjust, +for it is completely conventional. In dozens of plays we have the same +story: the king who falls in love with a maid-servant, the jealousy of +his harem, the eventual discovery that the maid is of royal birth, and +the addition of another wife to a number already sufficiently large. +In writing a play of this kind, the poet frankly accepts the +conventions; his ingenuity is shown in the minor incidents, in stanzas +of poetical description, and in giving abundant opportunity for +graceful music and dancing. When the play is approached in this way, +it is easy to see the _griffe du lion_ in this, the earliest work of +the greatest poet who ever sang repeatedly of love between man and +woman, troubled for a time but eventually happy. For though there is +in Agnimitra, as in all heroes of his type, something contemptible, +there is in Malavika a sweetness, a delicacy, a purity, that make her +no unworthy precursor of Sita, of Indumati, of the Yaksha's bride, and +of Shakuntala. + + * * * * * + + + +II.--"URVASHI" + + +The second of the two inferior dramas may be conveniently called +_Urvashi_, though the full title is _The Tale of Urvashi won by +Valour_. When and where the play was first produced we do not know, +for the prologue is silent as to these matters. It has been thought +that it was the last work of Kalidasa, even that it was never produced +in his lifetime. Some support is lent to this theory by the fact that +the play is filled with reminiscences of Shakuntala, in small matters +as well as in great; as if the poet's imagination had grown weary, and +he were willing to repeat himself. Yet _Urvashi_ is a much more +ambitious effort than _Malavika_, and invites a fuller criticism, +after an outline of the plot has been given. + +In addition to the stage-director and his assistant, who appear in the +prologue, the characters of the play are these: + + + PURURAVAS, _king in Pratishthana on the Ganges_. + + AYUS, _his son_. + + MANAVAKA, _a clown, his friend_. + + URVASHI, _a heavenly nymph_. + + CHITRALEKHA, _another nymph, her friend_. + + AUSHINARI, _queen of Pururavas_. + + NIPUNIKA, _her maid_. + +_A charioteer, a chamberlain, a hermit-woman, various nymphs and other +divine beings, and attendants_. + +The scene shifts as indicated in the following analysis. The time of +the first four acts is a few days. Between acts four and five several +years elapse. + + +ACT I.--The prologue only tells us that we may expect a new play of +Kalidasa. A company of heavenly nymphs then appear upon Mount +Gold-peak wailing and calling for help. Their cries are answered by +King Pururavas, who rides in a chariot that flies through the air. In +response to his inquiries, the nymphs inform him that two of their +number, Urvashi and Chitralekha, have been carried into captivity by a +demon. The king darts in pursuit, and presently returns, victorious, +with the two nymphs. As soon as Urvashi recovers consciousness, and +has rejoined her joyful friends, it is made plain that she and the +king have been deeply impressed with each other's attractions. The +king is compelled to decline an invitation to visit Paradise, but he +and Urvashi exchange loving glances before they part. + + +ACT II.--The act opens with a comic scene in the king's palace. The +clown appears, bursting with the secret of the king's love for +Urvashi, which has been confided to him. He is joined by the maid +Nipunika, commissioned by the queen to discover what it is that +occupies the king's mind. She discovers the secret ingeniously, but +without much difficulty, and gleefully departs. + +The king and the clown then appear in the garden, and the king +expresses at some length the depth and seeming hopelessness of his +passion. The latter part of his lament is overheard by Urvashi +herself, who, impelled by love for the king, has come down to earth +with her friend Chitralekha, and now stands near, listening but +invisible. When she has heard enough to satisfy her of the king's +passion, she writes a love-stanza on a birch-leaf, and lets it fall +before him. His reception of this token is such that Urvashi throws +aside the magic veil that renders her invisible, but as soon as she +has greeted the king, she and her friend are called away to take their +parts in a play that is being presented in Paradise. + +The king and the clown hunt for Urvashi's love-letter, which has been +neglected during the past few minutes. But the leaf has blown away, +only to be picked up and read by Nipunika, who at that moment enters +with the queen. The queen can hardly be deceived by the lame excuses +which the king makes, and after offering her ironical congratulations, +jealously leaves him. + + +ACT III.--The act opens with a conversation between two minor +personages in Paradise. It appears that Urvashi had taken the +heroine's part in the drama just presented there, and when asked, "On +whom is your heart set?" had absentmindedly replied, "On Pururavas." +Heaven's stage-director had thereupon cursed her to fall from +Paradise, but this curse had been thus modified: that she was to live +on earth with Pururavas until he should see a child born of her, and +was then to return. + +The scene shifts to Pururavas' palace. In the early evening, the +chamberlain brings the king a message, inviting him to meet the queen +on a balcony bathed in the light of the rising moon. The king betakes +himself thither with his friend, the clown. In the midst of a dialogue +concerning moonlight and love, Urvashi and Chitralekha enter from +Paradise, wearing as before veils of invisibility. Presently the queen +appears and with humble dignity asks pardon of the king for her +rudeness, adding that she will welcome any new queen whom he genuinely +loves and who genuinely returns his love. When the queen departs, +Urvashi creeps up behind the king and puts her hands over his eyes. +Chitralekha departs after begging the king to make her friend forget +Paradise. + + +ACT IV.--From a short dialogue in Paradise between Chitralekha and +another nymph, we learn that a misfortune has befallen Pururavas and +Urvashi. During their honeymoon in a delightful Himalayan forest, +Urvashi, in a fit of jealousy, had left her husband, and had +inadvertently entered a grove forbidden by an austere god to women. +She was straightway transformed into a vine, while Pururavas is +wandering through the forest in desolate anguish. + +The scene of what follows is laid in the Himalayan forest. Pururavas +enters, and in a long poetical soliloquy bewails his loss and seeks +for traces of Urvashi. He vainly asks help of the creatures whom he +meets: a peacock, a cuckoo, a swan, a ruddy goose, a bee, an elephant, +a mountain-echo, a river, and an antelope. At last he finds a +brilliant ruby in a cleft of the rocks, and when about to throw it +away, is told by a hermit to preserve it: for this is the gem of +reunion, and one who possesses it will soon be reunited with his love. +With the gem in his hand, Pururavas comes to a vine which mysteriously +reminds him of Urvashi, and when he embraces it, he finds his beloved +in his arms. After she has explained to him the reason of her +transformation, they determine to return to the king's capital. + + +ACT V.--The scene of the concluding act is the king's palace. Several +years have passed in happy love, and Pururavas has only one +sorrow--that he is childless. + +One day a vulture snatches from a maid's hand the treasured gem of +reunion, which he takes to be a bit of bloody meat, and flies off with +it, escaping before he can be killed. While the king and his +companions lament the gem's loss, the chamberlain enters, bringing the +gem and an arrow with which the bird had been shot. On the arrow is +written a verse declaring it to be the property of Ayus, son of +Pururavas and Urvashi. A hermit-woman is then ushered in, who brings a +lad with her. She explains that the lad had been entrusted to her as +soon as born by Urvashi, and that it was he who had just shot the bird +and recovered the gem. When Urvashi is summoned to explain why she had +concealed her child, she reminds the king of heaven's decree that she +should return as soon as Pururavas should see the child to be born to +them. She had therefore sacrificed maternal love to conjugal +affection. Upon this, the king's new-found joy gives way to gloom. He +determines to give up his kingdom and spend the remainder of his life +as a hermit in the forest. But the situation is saved by a messenger +from Paradise, bearing heaven's decree that Urvashi shall live with +the king until his death. A troop of nymphs then enter and assist in +the solemn consecration of Ayus as crown prince. + +The tale of Pururavas and Urvashi, which Kalidasa has treated +dramatically, is first made known to us in the Rigveda. It is thus one +of the few tales that so caught the Hindu imagination as to survive +the profound change which came over Indian thinking in the passage +from Vedic to classical times. As might be expected from its history, +it is told in many widely differing forms, of which the oldest and +best may be summarised thus. + +Pururavas, a mortal, sees and loves the nymph Urvashi. She consents to +live with him on earth so long as he shall not break certain trivial +conditions. Some time after the birth of a son, these conditions are +broken, through no fault of the man, and she leaves him. He wanders +disconsolate, finds her, and pleads with her, by her duty as a wife, +by her love for her child, even by a threat of suicide. She rejects +his entreaties, declaring that there can be no lasting love between +mortal and immortal, even adding: "There are no friendships with +women. Their hearts are the hearts of hyenas." Though at last she +comforts him with vague hopes of a future happiness, the story +remains, as indeed it must remain, a tragedy--the tragedy of love +between human and divine. + +This splendid tragic story Kalidasa has ruined. He has made of it an +ordinary tale of domestic intrigue, has changed the nymph of heaven +into a member of an earthly harem. The more important changes made by +Kalidasa in the traditional story, all have the tendency to remove the +massive, godlike, austere features of the tale, and to substitute +something graceful or even pretty. These principal changes are: the +introduction of the queen, the clown, and the whole human +paraphernalia of a court; the curse pronounced on Urvashi for her +carelessness in the heavenly drama, and its modification; the +invention of the gem of reunion; and the final removal of the curse, +even as modified. It is true that the Indian theatre permits no +tragedy, and we may well believe that no successor of Kalidasa could +hope to present a tragedy on the stage. But might not Kalidasa, far +overtopping his predecessors, have put on the stage a drama the story +of which was already familiar to his audience as a tragic story? +Perhaps not. If not, one can but wish that he had chosen another +subject. + +This violent twisting of an essentially tragic story has had a further +ill consequence in weakening the individual characters. Pururavas is a +mere conventional hero, in no way different from fifty others, in +spite of his divine lineage and his successful wooing of a goddess. +Urvashi is too much of a nymph to be a woman, and too much of a woman +to be a nymph. The other characters are mere types. + +Yet, in spite of these obvious objections, Hindu critical opinion has +always rated the _Urvashi_ very high, and I have long hesitated to +make adverse comments upon it, for it is surely true that every nation +is the best judge of its own literature. And indeed, if one could but +forget plot and characters, he would find in _Urvashi_ much to attract +and charm. There is no lack of humour in the clever maid who worms the +clown's secret out of him. There is no lack of a certain shrewdness in +the clown, as when he observes: + +"Who wants heaven? It is nothing to eat or drink. It is just a place +where they never shut their eyes--like fishes!" + +Again, the play offers an opportunity for charming scenic display. The +terrified nymphs gathered on the mountain, the palace balcony bathed +in moonlight, the forest through which the king wanders in search of +his lost darling, the concluding solemn consecration of the crown +prince by heavenly beings--these scenes show that Kalidasa was no +closet dramatist. And finally, there is here and there such poetry as +only Kalidasa could write. The fourth act particularly, undramatic as +it is, is full of a delicate beauty that defies transcription. It was +a new and daring thought--to present on the stage a long lyrical +monologue addressed to the creatures of the forest and inspired by +despairing passion. Nor must it be forgotten that this play, like all +Indian plays, is an opera. The music and the dancing are lost. We +judge it perforce unfairly, for we judge it by the text alone. If, in +spite of all, the _Urvashi_ is a failure, it is a failure possible +only to a serene and mighty poet. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE DYNASTY OF RAGHU + + +_The Dynasty of Raghu_ is an epic poem in nineteen cantos. It consists +of 1564 stanzas, or something over six thousand lines of verse. The +subject is that great line of kings who traced their origin to the +sun, the famous "solar line" of Indian story. The bright particular +star of the solar line is Rama, the knight without fear and without +reproach, the Indian ideal of a gentleman. His story had been told +long before Kalidasa's time in the _Ramayana_, an epic which does not +need to shun comparison with the foremost epic poems of Europe. In +_The Dynasty of Raghu_, too, Rama is the central figure; yet in +Kalidasa's poem there is much detail concerning other princes of the +line. The poem thus naturally falls into three great parts: first, the +four immediate ancestors of Rama (cantos 1-9); second, Rama (cantos +10-15); third, certain descendants of Rama (cantos 16-19). A somewhat +detailed account of the matter of the poem may well precede criticism +and comment. + + +_First canto. The journey to the hermitage_.--The poem begins with the +customary brief prayer for Shiva's favour: + + God Shiva and his mountain bride, + Like word and meaning unified, + The world's great parents, I beseech + To join fit meaning to my speech. + +Then follow nine stanzas in which Kalidasa speaks more directly of +himself than elsewhere in his works: + + How great is Raghu's solar line! + How feebly small are powers of mine! + As if upon the ocean's swell + I launched a puny cockle-shell. + + The fool who seeks a poet's fame + Must look for ridicule and blame, + Like tiptoe dwarf who fain would try + To pluck the fruit for giants high. + + Yet I may enter through the door + That mightier poets pierced of yore; + A thread may pierce a jewel, but + Must follow where the diamond cut. + + Of kings who lived as saints from birth, + Who ruled to ocean-shore on earth, + Who toiled until success was given, + Whose chariots stormed the gates of heaven, + + Whose pious offerings were blest, + Who gave his wish to every guest, + Whose punishments were as the crimes, + Who woke to guard the world betimes, + + Who sought, that they might lavish, pelf, + Whose measured speech was truth itself, + Who fought victorious wars for fame, + Who loved in wives the mother's name, + + Who studied all good arts as boys, + Who loved, in manhood, manhood's joys, + Whose age was free from worldly care, + Who breathed their lives away in prayer, + + Of these I sing, of Raghu's line, + Though weak mine art, and wisdom mine. + Forgive these idle stammerings + And think: For virtue's sake he sings. + + The good who hear me will be glad + To pluck the good from out the bad; + When ore is proved by fire, the loss + Is not of purest gold, but dross. + +After the briefest glance at the origin of the solar line, the poet +tells of Rama's great-great-grandfather, King Dilipa. The detailed +description of Dilipa's virtues has interest as showing Kalidasa's +ideal of an aristocrat; a brief sample must suffice here: + + He practised virtue, though in health; + Won riches, with no greed for wealth; + Guarded his life, though not from fear; + Prized joys of earth, but not too dear. + + His virtuous foes he could esteem + Like bitter drugs that healing seem; + The friends who sinned he could forsake + Like fingers bitten by a snake. + +Yet King Dilipa has one deep-seated grief: he has no son. He therefore +journeys with his queen to the hermitage of the sage Vasishtha, in +order to learn what they must do to propitiate an offended fate. Their +chariot rolls over country roads past fragrant lotus-ponds and +screaming peacocks and trustful deer, under archways formed without +supporting pillars by the cranes, through villages where they receive +the blessings of the people. At sunset they reach the peaceful forest +hermitage, and are welcomed by the sage. In response to Vasishtha's +benevolent inquiries, the king declares that all goes well in the +kingdom, and yet: + + Until from this dear wife there springs + A son as great as former kings, + The seven islands of the earth + And all their gems, are nothing worth. + + The final debt, most holy one, + Which still I owe to life--a son-- + Galls me as galls the cutting chain + An elephant housed in dirt and pain. + +Vasishtha tells the king that on a former occasion he had offended the +divine cow Fragrant, and had been cursed by the cow to lack children +until he had propitiated her own offspring. While the sage is +speaking, Fragrant's daughter approaches, and is entrusted to the care +of the king and queen. + + +_Second canto. The holy cow's gift_.--During twenty-one days the king +accompanies the cow during her wanderings in the forest, and each +night the queen welcomes their return to the hermitage. On the +twenty-second day the cow is attacked by a lion, and when the king +hastens to draw an arrow, his arm is magically numbed, so that he +stands helpless. To increase his horror, the lion speaks with a human +voice, saying that he is a servant of the god Shiva, set on guard +there and eating as his appointed food any animals that may appear. +Dilipa perceives that a struggle with earthly weapons is useless, and +begs the lion to accept his own body as the price of the cow's +release. The lion tries sophistry, using the old, hollow arguments: + + Great beauty and fresh youth are yours; on earth + As sole, unrivalled emperor you rule; + Should you redeem a thing of little worth + At such a price, you would appear a fool. + + If pity moves you, think that one mere cow + Would be the gainer, should you choose to die; + Live rather for the world! Remember how + The father-king can bid all dangers fly. + + And if the fiery sage's wrath, aglow + At loss of one sole cow, should make you shudder, + Appease his anger; for you can bestow + Cows by the million, each with pot-like udder. + + Save life and youth; for to the dead are given + No long, unbroken years of joyous mirth; + But riches and imperial power are heaven-- + The gods have nothing that you lack on earth. + + The lion spoke and ceased; but echo rolled + Forth from the caves wherein the sound was pent, + As if the hills applauded manifold, + Repeating once again the argument. + +Dilipa has no trouble in piercing this sophistical argument, and again +offers his own life, begging the lion to spare the body of his fame +rather than the body of his flesh. The lion consents, but when the +king resolutely presents himself to be eaten, the illusion vanishes, +and the holy cow grants the king his desire. The king returns to his +capital with the queen, who shortly becomes pregnant. + + +_Third canto. Raghu's consecration_.--The queen gives birth to a +glorious boy, whom the joyful father names Raghu. There follows a +description of the happy family, of which a few stanzas are given +here: + + The king drank pleasure from him late and soon + With eyes that stared like windless lotus-flowers; + Unselfish joy expanded all his powers + As swells the sea responsive to the moon. + + The rooted love that filled each parent's soul + For the other, deep as bird's love for the mate, + Was now divided with the boy; and straight + The remaining half proved greater than the whole. + + He learned the reverence that befits a boy; + Following the nurse's words, began to talk; + And clinging to her finger, learned to walk: + These childish lessons stretched his father's joy, + + Who clasped the baby to his breast, and thrilled + To feel the nectar-touch upon his skin, + Half closed his eyes, the father's bliss to win + Which, more for long delay, his being filled. + + The baby hair must needs be clipped; yet he + Retained two dangling locks, his cheeks to fret; + And down the river of the alphabet + He swam, with other boys, to learning's sea. + + Religion's rites, and what good learning suits + A prince, he had from teachers old and wise; + Not theirs the pain of barren enterprise, + For effort spent on good material, fruits. + +This happy childhood is followed by a youth equally happy. Raghu is +married and made crown prince. He is entrusted with the care of the +horse of sacrifice,[1] and when Indra, king of the gods, steals the +horse, Raghu fights him. He cannot overcome the king of heaven, yet he +acquits himself so creditably that he wins Indra's friendship. In +consequence of this proof of his manhood, the empire is bestowed upon +Raghu by his father, who retires with his queen to the forest, to +spend his last days and prepare for death. + + +_Fourth canto. Raghu conquers the world_.--The canto opens with +several stanzas descriptive of the glory of youthful King Raghu. + + He manifested royal worth + By even justice toward the earth, + Beloved as is the southern breeze, + Too cool to burn, too warm to freeze. + + The people loved his father, yet + For greater virtues could forget; + The beauty of the blossoms fair + Is lost when mango-fruits are there. + +But the vassal kings are restless + + For when they knew the king was gone + And power was wielded by his son, + The wrath of subject kings awoke, + Which had been damped in sullen smoke. + +Raghu therefore determines to make a warlike progress through all +India. He marches eastward with his army from his capital Ayodhya (the +name is preserved in the modern Oudh) to the Bay of Bengal, then south +along the eastern shore of India to Cape Comorin, then north along the +western shore until he comes to the region drained by the Indus, +finally east through the tremendous Himalaya range into Assam, and +thence home. The various nations whom he encounters, Hindus, Persians, +Greeks, and White Huns, all submit either with or without fighting. On +his safe return, Raghu offers a great sacrifice and gives away all his +wealth.[2] + + +_Fifth canto. Aja goes wooing_.--While King Raghu is penniless, a +young sage comes to him, desiring a huge sum of money to give to the +teacher with whom he has just finished his education. The king, +unwilling that any suppliant should go away unsatisfied, prepares to +assail the god of wealth in his Himalayan stronghold, and the god, +rather than risk the combat, sends a rain of gold into the king's +treasury. This gold King Raghu bestows upon the sage, who gratefully +uses his spiritual power to cause a son to be born to his benefactor. +In course of time, the son is born and the name Aja is given to him. +We are here introduced to Prince Aja, who is a kind of secondary hero +in the poem, inferior only to his mighty grandson, Rama. To Aja are +devoted the remainder of this fifth canto and the following three +cantos; and these Aja-cantos are among the loveliest in the epic. When +the prince has grown into young manhood, he journeys to a neighbouring +court to participate in the marriage reception of Princess +Indumati.[3] + +One evening he camps by a river, from which a wild elephant issues and +attacks his party. When wounded by Aja, the elephant strangely changes +his form, becoming a demigod, gives the prince a magic weapon, and +departs to heaven. Aja proceeds without further adventure to the +country and the palace of Princess Indumati, where he is made welcome +and luxuriously lodged for the night. In the morning, he is awakened +by the song of the court poets outside his chamber. He rises and +betakes himself to the hall where the suitors are gathering. + + +_Sixth canto. The princess chooses_.--The princely suitors assemble in +the hall; then, to the sound of music, the princess enters in a +litter, robed as a bride, and creates a profound sensation. + + For when they saw God's masterpiece, the maid + Who smote their eyes to other objects blind, + Their glances, wishes, hearts, in homage paid, + Flew forth to her; mere flesh remained behind. + + The princes could not but betray their yearning + By sending messengers, their love to bring, + In many a quick, involuntary turning, + As flowering twigs of trees announce the spring. + +Then a maid-servant conducts the princess from one suitor to another, +and explains the claim which each has upon her affection. First is +presented the King of Magadha, recommended in four stanzas, one of +which runs: + + Though other kings by thousands numbered be, + He seems the one, sole governor of earth; + Stars, constellations, planets, fade and flee + When to the moon the night has given birth. + +But the princess is not attracted. + + The slender maiden glanced at him; she glanced + And uttered not a word, nor heeded how + The grass-twined blossoms of her garland danced + When she dismissed him with a formal bow. + +They pass to the next candidate, the king of the Anga country, in +whose behalf this, and more, is said: + + Learning and wealth by nature are at strife, + Yet dwell at peace in him; and for the two + You would be fit companion as his wife, + Like wealth enticing, and like learning true. + +Him too the princess rejects, "not that he was unworthy of love, or +she lacking in discernment, but tastes differ." She is then conducted +to the King of Avanti: + + And if this youthful prince your fancy pleases, + Bewitching maiden, you and he may play + In those unmeasured gardens that the breezes + From Sipra's billows ruffle, cool with spray. + +The inducement is insufficient, and a new candidate is presented, the +King of Anupa, + + A prince whose fathers' glories cannot fade, + By whom the love of learned men is wooed, + Who proves that Fortune is no fickle jade + When he she chooses is not fickly good. + +But alas! + + She saw that he was brave to look upon, + Yet could not feel his love would make her gay; + Full moons of autumn nights, when clouds are gone, + Tempt not the lotus-flowers that bloom by day. + +The King of Shurasena has no better fortune, in spite of his virtues +and his wealth. As a river hurrying to the sea passes by a mountain +that would detain her, so the princess passes him by. She is next +introduced to the king of the Kalinga country; + + His palace overlooks the ocean dark + With windows gazing on the unresting deep, + Whose gentle thunders drown the drums that mark + The hours of night, and wake him from his sleep. + +But the maiden can no more feel at home with him than the goddess of +fortune can with a good but unlucky man. She therefore turns her +attention to the king of the Pandya country in far southern India. But +she is unmoved by hearing of the magic charm of the south, and rejects +him too. + + And every prince rejected while she sought + A husband, darkly frowned, as turrets, bright + One moment with the flame from torches caught, + Frown gloomily again and sink in night. + +The princess then approaches Aja, who trembles lest she pass him by, +as she has passed by the other suitors. The maid who accompanies +Indumati sees that Aja awakens a deeper feeling, and she therefore +gives a longer account of his kingly line, ending with the +recommendation: + + High lineage is his, fresh beauty, youth, + And virtue shaped in kingly breeding's mould; + Choose him, for he is worth your love; in truth, + A gem is ever fitly set in gold. + +The princess looks lovingly at the handsome youth, but cannot speak +for modesty. She is made to understand her own feelings when the maid +invites her to pass on to the next candidate. Then the wreath is +placed round Aja's neck, the people of the city shout their approval, +and the disappointed suitors feel like night-blooming lotuses at +daybreak. + + +_Seventh canto. Aja's marriage_.--While the suitors retire to the +camps where they have left their retainers, Aja conducts Indumati into +the decorated and festive city. The windows are filled with the faces +of eager and excited women, who admire the beauty of the young prince +and the wisdom of the princess's choice. When the marriage ceremony +has been happily celebrated, the disappointed suitors say farewell +with pleasant faces and jealous hearts, like peaceful pools concealing +crocodiles. They lie in ambush on the road which he must take, and +when he passes with his young bride, they fall upon him. Aja provides +for the safety of Indumati, marshals his attendants, and greatly +distinguishes himself in the battle which follows. Finally he uses the +magic weapon, given him by the demigod, to benumb his adversaries, and +leaving them in this helpless condition, returns home. He and his +young bride are joyfully welcomed by King Raghu, who resigns the +kingdom in favour of Aja. + + +_Eighth canto. Aja's lament_.--As soon as King Aja is firmly +established on his throne, Raghu retires to a hermitage to prepare for +the death of his mortal part. After some years of religious meditation +he is released, attaining union with the eternal spirit which is +beyond all darkness. His obsequies are performed by his dutiful son. +Indumati gives birth to a splendid boy, who is named Dasharatha. One +day, as the queen is playing with her husband in the garden, a wreath +of magic flowers falls upon her from heaven, and she dies. The +stricken king clasps the body of his dead beloved, and laments over +her. + + If flowers that hardly touch the body, slay it, + The simplest instruments of fate may bring + Destruction, and we have no power to stay it; + Then must we live in fear of everything? + + No! Death was right. He spared the sterner anguish; + Through gentle flowers your gentle life was lost + As I have seen the lotus fade and languish + When smitten by the slow and silent frost. + + Yet God is hard. With unforgiving rigour + He forged a bolt to crush this heart of mine; + He left the sturdy tree its living vigour, + But stripped away and slew the clinging vine. + + Through all the years, dear, you would not reprove me, + Though I offended. Can you go away + Sudden, without a word? I know you love me, + And I have not offended you to-day. + + You surely thought me faithless, to be banished + As light-of-love and gambler, from your life, + Because without a farewell word, you vanished + And never will return, sweet-smiling wife. + + The warmth and blush that followed after kisses + Is still upon her face, to madden me; + For life is gone, 'tis only life she misses. + A curse upon such life's uncertainty! + + I never wronged you with a thought unspoken, + Still less with actions. Whither are you flown? + Though king in name, I am a man heartbroken, + For power and love took root in you alone. + + Your bee-black hair from which the flowers are peeping, + Dear, wavy hair that I have loved so well, + Stirs in the wind until I think you sleeping, + Soon to return and make my glad heart swell. + + Awake, my love! Let only life be given, + And choking griefs that stifle now, will flee + As darkness from the mountain-cave is driven + By magic herbs that glitter brilliantly. + + The silent face, round which the curls are keeping + Their scattered watch, is sad to look upon + As in the night some lonely lily, sleeping + When musically humming bees are gone. + + The girdle that from girlhood has befriended + You, in love-secrets wise, discreet, and true, + No longer tinkles, now your dance is ended, + Faithful in life, in dying faithful too. + + Your low, sweet voice to nightingales was given; + Your idly graceful movement to the swans; + Your grace to fluttering vines, dear wife in heaven; + Your trustful, wide-eyed glances to the fawns: + + You left your charms on earth, that I, reminded + By them, might be consoled though you depart; + But vainly! Far from you, by sorrow blinded, + I find no prop of comfort for my heart. + + Remember how you planned to make a wedding, + Giving the vine-bride to her mango-tree; + Before that happy day, dear, you are treading + The path with no return. It should not be. + + And this ashoka-tree that you have tended + With eager longing for the blossoms red-- + How can I twine the flowers that should have blended + With living curls, in garlands for the dead? + + The tree remembers how the anklets, tinkling + On graceful feet, delighted other years; + Sad now he droops, your form with sorrow sprinkling, + And sheds his blossoms in a rain of tears. + + Joy's sun is down, all love is fallen and perished, + The song of life is sung, the spring is dead, + Gone is the use of gems that once you cherished, + And empty, ever empty, is my bed. + + You were my comrade gay, my home, my treasure, + You were my bosom's friend, in all things true, + My best-loved pupil in the arts of pleasure: + Stern death took all I had in taking you. + + Still am I king, and rich in kingly fashion, + Yet lacking you, am poor the long years through; + I cannot now be won to any passion, + For all my passions centred, dear, in you. + +Aja commits the body of his beloved queen to the flames. A holy hermit +comes to tell the king that his wife had been a nymph of heaven in a +former existence, and that she has now returned to her home. But Aja +cannot be comforted. He lives eight weary years for the sake of his +young son, then is reunited with his queen in Paradise. + + +_Ninth canto. The hunt_.--This canto introduces us to King Dasharatha, +father of the heroic Rama. It begins with an elaborate description of +his glory, justice, prowess, and piety; then tells of the three +princesses who became his wives: Kausalya, Kaikeyi, and Sumitra. In +the beautiful springtime he takes an extended hunting-trip in the +forest, during which an accident happens, big with fate. + + He left his soldiers far behind one day + In the wood, and following where deer-tracks lay, + Came with his weary horse adrip with foam + To river-banks where hermits made their home. + + And in the stream he heard the water fill + A jar; he heard it ripple clear and shrill, + And shot an arrow, thinking he had found + A trumpeting elephant, toward the gurgling sound. + + Such actions are forbidden to a king, + Yet Dasharatha sinned and did this thing; + For even the wise and learned man is minded + To go astray, by selfish passion blinded. + + He heard the startling cry, "My father!" rise + Among the reeds; rode up; before his eyes + He saw the jar, the wounded hermit boy: + Remorse transfixed his heart and killed his joy. + + He left his horse, this monarch famous far, + Asked him who drooped upon the water-jar + His name, and from the stumbling accents knew + A hermit youth, of lowly birth but true. + + The arrow still undrawn, the monarch bore + Him to his parents who, afflicted sore + With blindness, could not see their only son + Dying, and told them what his hand had done. + + The murderer then obeyed their sad behest + And drew the fixed arrow from his breast; + The boy lay dead; the father cursed the king, + With tear-stained hands, to equal suffering. + + "In sorrow for your son you too shall die, + An old, old man," he said, "as sad as I." + Poor, trodden snake! He used his venomous sting, + Then heard the answer of the guilty king: + + "Your curse is half a blessing if I see + The longed-for son who shall be born to me: + The scorching fire that sweeps the well-ploughed field, + May burn indeed, but stimulates the yield. + + The deed is done; what kindly act can I + Perform who, pitiless, deserve to die?" + "Bring wood," he begged, "and build a funeral pyre, + That we may seek our son through death by fire." + + The king fulfilled their wish; and while they burned, + In mute, sin-stricken sorrow he returned, + Hiding death's seed within him, as the sea + Hides magic fire that burns eternally. + +Thus is foreshadowed in the birth of Rama, his banishment, and the +death of his father. + +Cantos ten to fifteen form the kernel of the epic, for they tell the +story of Rama, the mighty hero of Raghu's line. In these cantos +Kalidasa attempts to present anew, with all the literary devices of a +more sophisticated age, the famous old epic story sung in masterly +fashion by the author of the _Ramayana_. As the poet is treading +ground familiar to all who hear him, the action of these cantos is +very compressed. + + +_Tenth canto. The incarnation of Rama_.--While Dasharatha, desiring a +son, is childless, the gods, oppressed by a giant adversary, betake +themselves to Vishnu, seeking aid. They sing a hymn of praise, a part +of which is given here. + + O thou who didst create this All, + Who dost preserve it, lest it fall, + Who wilt destroy it and its ways-- + To thee, O triune Lord, be praise. + + As into heaven's water run + The tastes of earth--yet it is one, + So thou art all the things that range + The universe, yet dost not change. + + Far, far removed, yet ever near; + Untouched by passion, yet austere; + Sinless, yet pitiful of heart; + Ancient, yet free from age--Thou art. + + Though uncreate, thou seekest birth; + Dreaming, thou watchest heaven and earth; + Passionless, smitest low thy foes; + Who knows thy nature, Lord? Who knows? + + Though many different paths, O Lord, + May lead us to some great reward, + They gather and are merged in thee + Like floods of Ganges in the sea. + + The saints who give thee every thought, + Whose every act for thee is wrought, + Yearn for thine everlasting peace, + For bliss with thee, that cannot cease. + + Like pearls that grow in ocean's night, + Like sunbeams radiantly bright, + Thy strange and wonder-working ways + Defeat extravagance of praise. + + If songs that to thy glory tend + Should weary grow or take an end, + Our impotence must bear the blame, + And not thine unexhausted name. + +Vishnu is gratified by the praise of the gods, and asks their desire. +They inform him that they are distressed by Ravana, the giant king of +Lanka (Ceylon), whom they cannot conquer. Vishnu promises to aid them +by descending to earth in a new avatar, as son of Dasharatha. Shortly +afterwards, an angel appears before King Dasharatha, bringing in a +golden bowl a substance which contains the essence of Vishnu. The king +gives it to his three wives, who thereupon conceive and dream +wonderful dreams. Then Queen Kausalya gives birth to Rama; Queen +Kaikeyi to Bharata; Queen Sumitra to twins, Lakshmana and Shatrughna. +Heaven and earth rejoice. The four princes grow up in mutual +friendship, yet Rama and Lakshmana are peculiarly drawn to each other, +as are Bharata and Shatrughna. So beautiful and so modest are the four +boys that they seem like incarnations of the four things worth living +for--virtue, money, love, and salvation. + + +_Eleventh canto. The victory over Rama-with-the-axe_.--At the request +of the holy hermit Vishvamitra, the two youths Rama and Lakshmana +visit his hermitage, to protect it from evil spirits. The two lads +little suspect, on their maiden journey, how much of their lives will +be spent in wandering together in the forest. On the way they are +attacked by a giantess, whom Rama kills; the first of many giants who +are to fall at his hand. He is given magic weapons by the hermit, with +which he and his brother kill other giants, freeing the hermitage from +all annoyance. The two brothers then travel with the hermit to the +city of Mithila, attracted thither by hearing of its king, his +wonderful daughter, and his wonderful bow. The bow was given him by +the god Shiva; no man has been able to bend it; and the beautiful +princess's hand is the prize of any man who can perform the feat. On +the way thither, Rama brings to life Ahalya, a woman who in a former +age had been changed to stone for unfaithfulness to her austere +husband, and had been condemned to remain a stone until trodden by +Rama's foot. Without further adventure, they reach Mithila, where the +hermit presents Rama as a candidate for the bending of the bow. + + The king beheld the boy, with beauty blest + And famous lineage; he sadly thought + How hard it was to bend the bow, distressed + Because his child must be so dearly bought. + + He said: "O holy one, a mighty deed + That full-grown elephants with greatest pain + Could hardly be successful in, we need + Not ask of elephant-cubs. It would be vain. + + For many splendid kings of valorous name, + Bearing the scars of many a hard-fought day, + Have tried and failed; then, covered with their shame, + Have shrugged their shoulders, cursed, and strode away." + +Yet when the bow is given to the youthful Rama, he not only bends, but +breaks it. He is immediately rewarded with the hand of the Princess +Sita, while Lakshmana marries her sister. On their journey home with +their young brides, dreadful portents appear, followed by their cause, +a strange being called Rama-with-the-axe, who is carefully to be +distinguished from Prince Rama. This Rama-with-the-axe is a Brahman +who has sworn to exterminate the entire warrior caste, and who +naturally attacks the valorous prince. He makes light of Rama's +achievement in breaking Shiva's bow, and challenges him to bend the +mightier bow which he carries. This the prince succeeds in doing, and +Rama-with-the-axe disappears, shamed and defeated. The marriage party +then continues its journey to Ayodhya. + + +_Twelfth canto. The killing of Ravana_.--King Dasharatha prepares to +anoint Rama crown prince, when Queen Kaikeyi interposes. On an earlier +occasion she had rendered the king a service and received his promise +that he would grant her two boons, whatever she desired. She now +demands her two boons: the banishment of Rama for fourteen years, and +the anointing of her own son Bharata as crown prince. Rama thereupon +sets out for the Dandaka forest in Southern India, accompanied by his +faithful wife Sita and his devoted brother Lakshmana. The stricken +father dies of grief, thus fulfilling the hermit's curse. Now Prince +Bharata proves himself more generous than his mother; he refuses the +kingdom, and is with great difficulty persuaded by Rama himself to act +as regent during the fourteen years. Even so, he refuses to enter the +capital city, dwelling in a village outside the walls, and preserving +Rama's slippers as a symbol of the rightful king. Meanwhile Rama's +little party penetrates the wild forests of the south, fighting as +need arises with the giants there. Unfortunately, a giantess falls in +love with Rama, and + + In Sita's very presence told + Her birth--love made her overbold: + For mighty passion, as a rule, + Will change a woman to a fool. + +Scorned by Rama, laughed at by Sita, she becomes furious and +threatening. + + Laugh on! Your laughter's fruit shall be + Commended to you. Gaze on me! + I am a tigress, you shall know, + Insulted by a feeble doe. + +Lakshmana thereupon cuts off her nose and ears, rendering her +redundantly hideous. She departs, to return presently at the head of +an army of giants, whom Rama defeats single-handed, while his brother +guards Sita. The giantess then betakes herself to her brother, the +terrible ten-headed Ravana, king of Ceylon. He succeeds in capturing +Sita by a trick, and carries her off to his fortress in Ceylon. It is +plainly necessary for Rama to seek allies before attempting to cross +the straits and attack the stronghold. He therefore renders an +important service to the monkey king Sugriva, who gratefully leads an +army of monkeys to his assistance. The most valiant of these, Hanumat, +succeeds in entering Ravana's capital, where he finds Sita, gives her +a token from Rama, and receives a token for Rama. The army thereupon +sets out and comes to the seashore, where it is reinforced by the +giant Vibhishana, who has deserted his wicked brother Ravana. The +monkeys hurl great boulders into the strait, thus forming a bridge +over which they cross into Ceylon and besiege Ravana's capital. There +ensue many battles between the giants and the monkeys, culminating in +a tremendous duel between the champions, Rama and Ravana. In this duel +Ravana is finally slain. Rama recovers his wife, and the principal +personages of the army enter the flying chariot which had belonged to +Ravana, to return to Ayodhya; for the fourteen years of exile are now +over. + + +_Thirteenth canto. The return from the forest_.--This canto describes +the long journey through the air from Ceylon over the whole length of +India to Ayodhya. As the celestial car makes its journey, Rama points +out the objects of interest or of memory to Sita. Thus, as they fly +over the sea: + + The form of ocean, infinitely changing, + Clasping the world and all its gorgeous state, + Unfathomed by the intellect's wide ranging, + Is awful like the form of God, and great. + + He gives his billowy lips to many a river + That into his embrace with passion slips, + Lover of many wives, a generous giver + Of kisses, yet demanding eager lips. + + Look back, my darling, with your fawn-like glances + Upon the path that from your prison leads; + See how the sight of land again entrances, + How fair the forest, as the sea recedes. + +Then, as they pass over the spot where Rama searched for his stolen +wife: + + There is the spot where, sorrowfully searching, + I found an anklet on the ground one day; + It could not tinkle, for it was not perching + On your dear foot, but sad and silent lay. + + I learned where you were carried by the giant + From vines that showed themselves compassionate; + They could not utter words, yet with their pliant + Branches they pointed where you passed of late. + + The deer were kind; for while the juicy grasses + Fell quite unheeded from each careless mouth, + They turned wide eyes that said, "'Tis there she passes + The hours as weary captive" toward the south. + + There is the mountain where the peacocks' screaming, + And branches smitten fragrant by the rain, + And madder-flowers that woke at last from dreaming, + Made unendurable my lonely pain; + + And mountain-caves where I could scarce dissemble + The woe I felt when thunder crashed anew, + For I remembered how you used to tremble + At thunder, seeking arms that longed for you. + +Rama then points out the spots in Southern India where he and Sita had +dwelt in exile, and the pious hermitages which they had visited; +later, the holy spot where the Jumna River joins the Ganges; finally, +their distant home, unseen for fourteen years, and the well-known +river, from which spray-laden breezes come to them like cool, +welcoming hands. When they draw near, Prince Bharata comes forth to +welcome them, and the happy procession approaches the capital city. + + +_Fourteenth canto. Sita is put away_.--The exiles are welcomed by +Queen Kausalya and Queen Sumitra with a joy tinged with deep +melancholy. After the long-deferred anointing of Rama as king, comes +the triumphal entry into the ancestral capital, where Rama begins his +virtuous reign with his beloved queen most happily; for the very +hardships endured in the forest turn into pleasures when remembered in +the palace. To crown the king's joy, Sita becomes pregnant, and +expresses a wish to visit the forest again. At this point, where an +ordinary story would end, comes the great tragedy, the tremendous test +of Rama's character. The people begin to murmur about the queen, +believing that she could not have preserved her purity in the giant's +palace. Rama knows that she is innocent, but he also knows that he +cannot be a good king while the people feel as they do; and after a +pitiful struggle, he decides to put away his beloved wife. He bids his +brother Lakshmana take her to the forest, in accordance with her +request, but to leave her there at the hermitage of the sage Valmiki. +When this is done, and Sita hears the terrible future from Lakshmana, +she cries: + + Take reverent greeting to the queens, my mothers, + And say to each with honour due her worth: + "My child is your son's child, and not another's; + Oh, pray for him, before he comes to birth." + + And tell the king from me: "You saw the matter, + How I was guiltless proved in fire divine; + Will you desert me for mere idle chatter? + Are such things done in Raghu's royal line? + + Ah no! I cannot think you fickle-minded, + For you were always very kind to me; + Fate's thunderclap by which my eyes are blinded + Rewards my old, forgotten sins, I see. + + Oh, I could curse my life and quickly end it, + For it is useless, lived from you apart, + But that I bear within, and must defend it, + Your life, your child and mine, beneath my heart. + + When he is born, I'll scorn my queenly station, + Gaze on the sun, and live a hell on earth, + That I may know no pain of separation + From you, my husband, in another birth. + + My king! Eternal duty bids you never + Forget a hermit who for sorrow faints; + Though I am exiled from your bed for ever, + I claim the care you owe to all the saints." + +So she accepts her fate with meek courage. But + + When Rama's brother left her there to languish + And bore to them she loved her final word, + She loosed her throat in an excess of anguish + And screamed as madly as a frightened bird. + + Trees shed their flowers, the peacock-dances ended, + The grasses dropped from mouths of feeding deer, + As if the universal forest blended + Its tears with hers, and shared her woeful fear. + +While she laments thus piteously, she is discovered by the poet-sage +Valmiki, who consoles her with tender and beautiful words, and +conducts her to his hermitage, where she awaits the time of her +confinement. Meanwhile Rama leads a dreary life, finding duty but a +cold comforter. He makes a golden statue of his wife, and will not +look at other women. + + +_Fifteenth canto. Rama goes to heaven_.--The canto opens with a rather +long description of a fight between Rama's youngest brother and a +giant. On the journey to meet the giant, Shatrughna spends a night in +Valmiki's hermitage, and that very night Sita gives birth to twin +sons. Valmiki gives them the names Kusha and Lava, and when they grow +out of childhood he teaches them his own composition, the _Ramayana_, +"the sweet story of Rama," "the first path shown to poets." At this +time the young son of a Brahman dies in the capital, and the father +laments at the king's gate, for he believes that the king is unworthy, +else heaven would not send death prematurely. Rama is roused to stamp +out evil-doing in the kingdom, whereupon the dead boy comes to life. +The king then feels that his task on earth is nearly done, and +prepares to celebrate the great horse-sacrifice.[4] + +At this sacrifice appear the two youths Kusha and Lava, who sing the +epic of Rama's deeds in the presence of Rama himself. The father +perceives their likeness to himself, then learns that they are indeed +his children, whom he has never seen. Thereupon Sita is brought +forward by the poet-sage Valmiki and in the presence of her husband +and her detractors establishes her constant purity in a terrible +fashion. + + "If I am faithful to my lord + In thought, in action, and in word, + I pray that Earth who bears us all + May bid me in her bosom fall." + + The faithful wife no sooner spoke + Than earth divided, and there broke + From deep within a flashing light + That flamed like lightning, blinding-bright. + + And, seated on a splendid throne + Upheld by serpents' hoods alone, + The goddess Earth rose visibly, + And she was girded with the sea. + + Sita was clasped in her embrace, + While still she gazed on Rama's face: + He cried aloud in wild despair; + She sank, and left him standing there. + +Rama then establishes his brothers, sons, and nephews in different +cities of the kingdom, buries the three queens of his father, and +awaits death. He has not long to wait; Death comes, wearing a hermit's +garb, asks for a private interview, and threatens any who shall +disturb their conference. Lakshmana disturbs them, and so dies before +Rama. Then Rama is translated. + +Cantos sixteen to nineteen form the third division of the epic, and +treat of Rama's descendants. The interest wanes, for the great hero is +gone. + + +_Sixteenth canto. Kumudvati's wedding_.--As Kusha lies awake one +night, a female figure appears in his chamber; and in answer to his +question, declares that she is the presiding goddess of the ancient +capital Ayodhya, which has been deserted since Rama's departure to +heaven. She pictures the sad state of the city thus: + + I have no king; my towers and terraces + Crumble and fall; my walls are overthrown; + As when the ugly winds of evening seize + The rack of clouds in helpless darkness blown. + + In streets where maidens gaily passed at night, + Where once was known the tinkle and the shine + Of anklets, jackals slink, and by the light + Of flashing fangs, seek carrion, snarl, and whine. + + The water of the pools that used to splash + With drumlike music, under maidens' hands, + Groans now when bisons from the jungle lash + It with their clumsy horns, and roil its sands. + + The peacock-pets are wild that once were tame; + They roost on trees, not perches; lose desire + For dancing to the drums; and feel no shame + For fans singed close by sparks of forest-fire. + + On stairways where the women once were glad + To leave their pink and graceful footprints, here + Unwelcome, blood-stained paws of tigers pad, + Fresh-smeared from slaughter of the forest deer. + + Wall-painted elephants in lotus-brooks, + Receiving each a lily from his mate, + Are torn and gashed, as if by cruel hooks, + By claws of lions, showing furious hate. + + I see my pillared caryatides + Neglected, weathered, stained by passing time, + Wearing in place of garments that should please, + The skins of sloughing cobras, foul with slime. + + The balconies grow black with long neglect, + And grass-blades sprout through floors no longer tight; + They still receive but cannot now reflect + The old, familiar moonbeams, pearly white. + + The vines that blossomed in my garden bowers, + That used to show their graceful beauty, when + Girls gently bent their twigs and plucked their flowers, + Are broken by wild apes and wilder men. + + The windows are not lit by lamps at night, + Nor by fair faces shining in the day, + But webs of spiders dim the delicate, light + Smoke-tracery with one mere daub of grey. + + The river is deserted; on the shore + No gaily bathing men and maidens leave + Food for the swans; its reedy bowers no more + Are vocal: seeing this, I can but grieve. + +The goddess therefore begs Kusha to return with his court to the old +capital, and when he assents, she smiles and vanishes. The next +morning Kusha announces the vision of the night, and immediately sets +out for Ayodhya with his whole army. Arrived there, King Kusha quickly +restores the city to its former splendour. Then when the hot summer +comes, the king goes down to the river to bathe with the ladies of the +court. While in the water he loses a great gem which his father had +given him. The divers are unable to find it, and declare their belief +that it has been stolen by the serpent Kumuda who lives in the river. +The king threatens to shoot an arrow into the river, whereupon the +waters divide, and the serpent appears with the gem. He is accompanied +by a beautiful maiden, whom he introduces as his sister Kumudvati, and +whom he offers in marriage to Kusha. The offer is accepted, and the +wedding celebrated with great pomp. + + +_Seventeenth canto. King Atithi_.--To the king and queen is born a +son, who is named Atithi. When he has grown into manhood, his father +Kusha engages in a struggle with a demon, in which the king is killed +in the act of killing his adversary. He goes to heaven, followed by +his faithful queen, and Atithi is anointed king. The remainder of the +canto describes King Atithi's glorious reign. + + +_Eighteenth canto. The later princes_.--This canto gives a brief, +impressionistic sketch of the twenty-one kings who in their order +succeeded Atithi. + + +_Nineteenth canto. The loves of Agnivarna_.--After the twenty-one +kings just mentioned, there succeeds a king named Agnivarna, who gives +himself to dissipation. He shuts himself up in the palace; even when +duty requires him to appear before his subjects, he does so merely by +hanging one foot out of a window. He trains dancing-girls himself, and +has so many mistresses that he cannot always call them by their right +names. It is not wonderful that this kind of life leads before long to +a consuming disease; and as Agnivarna is even then unable to resist +the pleasures of the senses, he dies. His queen is pregnant, and she +mounts the throne as regent in behalf of her unborn son. With this +strange scene, half tragic, half vulgar, the epic, in the form in +which it has come down to us, abruptly ends. + +If we now endeavour to form some critical estimate of the poem, we are +met at the outset by this strangely unnatural termination. We cannot +avoid wondering whether the poem as we have it is complete. And we +shall find that there are good reasons for believing that Kalidasa did +not let the glorious solar line end in the person of the voluptuous +Agnivarna and his unborn child. In the first place, there is a +constant tradition which affirms that _The Dynasty of Raghu_ +originally consisted of twenty-five cantos. A similar tradition +concerning Kalidasa's second epic has justified itself; for some time +only seven cantos were known; then more were discovered, and we now +have seventeen. Again, there is a rhetorical rule, almost never +disregarded, which requires a literary work to end with an epilogue in +the form of a little prayer for the welfare of readers or auditors. +Kalidasa himself complies with this rule, certainly in five of his +other six books. Once again, Kalidasa has nothing of the tragedian in +his soul; his works, without exception, end happily. In the drama +_Urvashi_ he seriously injures a splendid old tragic story for the +sake of a happy ending. These facts all point to the probability that +the conclusion of the epic has been lost. We may even assign a +natural, though conjectural, reason for this. _The Dynasty of Raghu_ +has been used for centuries as a text-book in India, so that +manuscripts abound, and commentaries are very numerous. Now if the +concluding cantos were unfitted for use as a text-book, they might +very easily be lost during the centuries before the introduction of +printing-presses into India. Indeed, this very unfitness for use as a +school text seems to be the explanation of the temporary loss of +several cantos of Kalidasa's second epic. + +On the other hand, we are met by the fact that numerous commentators, +living in different parts of India, know the text of only nineteen +cantos. Furthermore, it is unlikely that Kalidasa left the poem +incomplete at his death; for it was, without serious question, one of +his earlier works. Apart from evidences of style, there is the +subject-matter of the introductory stanzas, in which the poet presents +himself as an aspirant for literary fame. No writer of established +reputation would be likely to say: + + The fool who seeks a poet's fame, + Must look for ridicule and blame, + Like tiptoe dwarf who fain would try + To pluck the fruit for giants high. + +In only one other of his writings, in the drama which was undoubtedly +written earlier than the other two dramas, does the poet thus present +his feeling of diffidence to his auditors. + +It is of course possible that Kalidasa wrote the first nineteen cantos +when a young man, intending to add more, then turned to other matters, +and never afterwards cared to take up the rather thankless task of +ending a youthful work. + +The question does not admit of final solution. Yet whoever reads and +re-reads _The Dynasty of Raghu_, and the other works of its author, +finds the conviction growing ever stronger that our poem in nineteen +cantos is mutilated. We are thus enabled to clear the author of the +charge of a lame and impotent conclusion. + +Another adverse criticism cannot so readily be disposed of; that of a +lack of unity in the plot. As the poem treats of a kingly dynasty, we +frequently meet the cry: The king is dead. Long live the king! The +story of Rama himself occupies only six cantos; he is not born until +the tenth canto, he is in heaven after the fifteenth. There are in +truth six heroes, each of whom has to die to make room for his +successor. One may go farther and say that it is not possible to give +a brief and accurate title to the poem. It is not a _Ramayana_, or +epic of Rama's deeds, for Rama is on the stage during only a third of +the poem. It is not properly an epic of Raghu's line, for many kings +of this line are unmentioned. Not merely kings who escape notice by +their obscurity, but also several who fill a large place in Indian +story, whose deeds and adventures are splendidly worthy of epic +treatment. _The Dynasty of Raghu_ is rather an epic poem in which Rama +is the central figure, giving it such unity as it possesses, but which +provides Rama with a most generous background in the shape of selected +episodes concerning his ancestors and his descendants. + +Rama is the central figure. Take him away and the poem falls to pieces +like a pearl necklace with a broken string. Yet it may well be doubted +whether the cantos dealing with Rama are the most successful. They are +too compressed, too briefly allusive. Kalidasa attempts to tell the +story in about one-thirtieth of the space given to it by his great +predecessor Valmiki. The result is much loss by omission and much loss +by compression. Many of the best episodes of the _Ramayana_ are quite +omitted by Kalidasa: for example, the story of the jealous humpback +who eggs on Queen Kaikeyi to demand her two boons; the beautiful scene +in which Sita insists on following Rama into the forest; the account +of the somnolent giant Pot-ear, a character quite as good as +Polyphemus. Other fine episodes are so briefly alluded to as to lose +all their charm: for example, the story of the golden deer that +attracts the attention of Rama while Ravana is stealing his wife; the +journey of the monkey Hanumat to Ravana's fortress and his interview +with Sita. + +The Rama-story, as told by Valmiki, is one of the great epic stories +of the world. It has been for two thousand years and more the story +_par excellence_ of the Hindus; and the Hindus may fairly claim to be +the best story-tellers of the world. There is therefore real matter +for regret in the fact that so great a poet as Kalidasa should have +treated it in a way not quite worthy of it and of himself. The reason +is not far to seek, nor can there be any reasonable doubt as to its +truth. Kalidasa did not care to put himself into direct competition +with Valmiki. The younger poet's admiration of his mighty predecessor +is clearly expressed. It is with especial reference to Valmiki that he +says in his introduction: + + Yet I may enter through the door + That mightier poets pierced of yore; + A thread may pierce a jewel, but + Must follow where the diamond cut. + +He introduces Valmiki into his own epic, making him compose the +_Ramayana_ in Rama's lifetime. Kalidasa speaks of Valmiki as "the +poet," and the great epic he calls "the sweet story of Rama," "the +first path shown to poets," which, when sung by the two boys, was +heard with motionless delight by the deer, and, when sung before a +gathering of learned men, made them heedless of the tears that rolled +down their cheeks. + +Bearing these matters in mind, we can see the course of Kalidasa's +thoughts almost as clearly as if he had expressed them directly. He +was irresistibly driven to write the wonderful story of Rama, as any +poet would be who became familiar with it. At the same time, his +modesty prevented him from challenging the old epic directly. He +therefore writes a poem which shall appeal to the hallowed association +that cluster round the great name of Rama, but devotes two-thirds of +it to themes that permit him greater freedom. The result is a formless +plot. + +This is a real weakness, yet not a fatal weakness. In general, +literary critics lay far too much emphasis on plot. Of the elements +that make a great book, two, style and presentation of character, +hardly permit critical analysis. The third, plot, does permit such +analysis. Therefore the analyst overrates its importance. It is fatal +to all claim of greatness in a narrative if it is shown to have a bad +style or to be without interesting characters. It is not fatal if it +is shown that the plot is rambling. In recent literature it is easy to +find truly great narratives in which the plot leaves much to be +desired. We may cite the _Pickwick Papers, Les Miserables, War and +Peace_. + +We must then regard _The Dynasty of Raghu_ as a poem in which single +episodes take a stronger hold upon the reader than does the unfolding +of an ingenious plot. In some degree, this is true of all long poems. +The _AEneid_ itself, the most perfect long poem ever written, has dull +passages. And when this allowance is made, what wonderful passages we +have in Kalidasa's poem! One hardly knows which of them makes the +strongest appeal, so many are they and so varied. There is the +description of the small boy Raghu in the third canto, the choice of +the princess in the sixth, the lament of King Aja in the eighth, the +story of Dasharatha and the hermit youth in the ninth, the account of +the ruined city in the sixteenth. Besides these, the Rama cantos, ten +to fifteen, make an epic within an epic. And if Kalidasa is not seen +at his very best here, yet his second best is of a higher quality than +the best of others. Also, the Rama story is so moving that a mere +allusion to it stirs like a sentimental memory of childhood. It has +the usual qualities of a good epic story: abundance of travel and +fighting and adventure and magic interweaving of human with +superhuman, but it has more than this. In both hero and heroine there +is real development of character. Odysseus and AEneas do not grow; they +go through adventures. But King Rama, torn between love for his wife +and duty to his subjects, is almost a different person from the +handsome, light-hearted prince who won his bride by breaking Shiva's +bow. Sita, faithful to the husband who rejects her, has made a long, +character-forming journey since the day when she left her father's +palace, a youthful bride. Herein lies the unique beauty of the tale of +Rama, that it unites romantic love and moral conflict with a splendid +story of wild adventure. No wonder that the Hindus, connoisseurs of +story-telling, have loved the tale of Rama's deeds better than any +other story. + +If we compare _The Dynasty of Raghu_ with Kalidasa's other books, we +find it inferior to _The Birth of the War-god_ in unity of plot, +inferior to _Shakuntala_ in sustained interest, inferior to _The +Cloud-Messenger_ in perfection of every detail. Yet passages in it are +as high and sweet as anything in these works. And over it is shed the +magic charm of Kalidasa's style. Of that it is vain to speak. It can +be had only at first hand. The final proof that _The Dynasty of Raghu_ +is a very great poem, is this: no one who once reads it can leave it +alone thereafter.{} + + +FOOTNOTES: + +[Footnote 1: If a king aspired to the title of emperor, or king of +kings, he was at liberty to celebrate the horse-sacrifice. A horse was +set free to wander at will for a year, and was escorted by a band of +noble youths who were not permitted to interfere with his movements. +If the horse wandered into the territory of another king, such king +must either submit to be the vassal of the horse's owner, or must +fight him. If the owner of the horse received the submission, with or +without fighting, of all the kings into whose territories the horse +wandered during the year of freedom, he offered the horse in sacrifice +and assumed the imperial title.] + +[Footnote 2: This is not the place to discuss the many interesting +questions of geography and ethnology suggested by the fourth canto. +But it is important to notice that Kalidasa had at least superficial +knowledge of the entire Indian peninsula and of certain outlying +regions.] + +[Footnote 3: A girl of the warrior caste had the privilege of choosing +her husband. The procedure was this. All the eligible youths of the +neighbourhood were invited to her house, and were lavishly +entertained. On the appointed day, they assembled in a hall of the +palace, and the maiden entered with a garland in her hand. The suitors +were presented to her with some account of their claims upon her +attention, after which she threw the garland around the neck of him +whom she preferred.] + +[Footnote 4: See footnote, p. 128.] + + * * * * * + + + + +THE BIRTH OF THE WAR-GOD + + +_The Birth of the War-god_ is an epic poem in seventeen cantos. It +consists of 1096 stanzas, or about 4400 lines of verse. The subject is +the marriage of the god Shiva, the birth of his son, and the victory +of this son over a powerful demon. The story was not invented by +Kalidasa, but taken from old mythology. Yet it had never been told in +so masterly a fashion as had been the story of Rama's deeds by +Valmiki. Kalidasa is therefore under less constraint in writing this +epic than in writing _The Dynasty of Raghu_. I give first a somewhat +detailed analysis of the matter of the poem. + +_First canto. The birth of Parvati_.--The poem begins with a +description of the great Himalaya mountain-range. + + God of the distant north, the Snowy Range + O'er other mountains towers imperially; + Earth's measuring-rod, being great and free from change, + Sinks to the eastern and the western sea. + + Whose countless wealth of natural gems is not + Too deeply blemished by the cruel snow; + One fault for many virtues is forgot, + The moon's one stain for beams that endless flow. + + Where demigods enjoy the shade of clouds + Girding his lower crests, but often seek, + When startled by the sudden rain that shrouds + His waist, some loftier, ever sunlit peak. + + Where bark of birch-trees makes, when torn in strips + And streaked with mountain minerals that blend + To written words 'neath dainty finger-tips, + Such dear love-letters as the fairies send. + + Whose organ-pipes are stems of bamboo, which + Are filled from cavern-winds that know no rest, + As if the mountain strove to set the pitch + For songs that angels sing upon his crest. + + Where magic herbs that glitter in the night + Are lamps that need no oil within them, when + They fill cave-dwellings with their shimmering light + And shine upon the loves of mountain men. + + Who offers roof and refuge in his caves + To timid darkness shrinking from the day; + A lofty soul is generous; he saves + Such honest cowards as for protection pray, + + Who brings to birth the plants of sacrifice; + Who steadies earth, so strong is he and broad. + The great Creator, for this service' price, + Made him the king of mountains, and a god. + +Himalaya marries a wife, to whom in course of time a daughter is born, +as wealth is born when ambition pairs with character. The child is +named Parvati, that is, daughter of the mountain. Her father takes +infinite delight in her, as well he may; for + + She brought him purity and beauty too, + As white flames to the lamp that burns at night; + Or Ganges to the path whereby the true + Reach heaven; or judgment to the erudite. + +She passes through a happy childhood of sand-piles, balls, dolls, and +little girl friends, when all at once young womanhood comes upon her. + + As pictures waken to the painter's brush, + Or lilies open to the morning sun, + Her perfect beauty answered to the flush + Of womanhood when childish days were done. + + Suppose a blossom on a leafy spray; + Suppose a pearl on spotless coral laid: + Such was the smile, pure, radiantly gay, + That round her red, red lips for ever played. + + And when she spoke, the music of her tale + Was sweet, the music of her voice to suit, + Till listeners felt as if the nightingale + Had grown discordant like a jangled lute. + +It is predicted by a heavenly being that she will one day become the +wife of the god Shiva. This prediction awakens her father's pride, and +also his impatience, since Shiva makes no advances. For the destined +bridegroom is at this time leading a life of stern austerity and +self-denial upon a mountain peak. Himalaya therefore bids his daughter +wait upon Shiva. She does so, but without being able to divert him +from his austerities. + + +_Second canto. Brahma's self-revelation_.--At this time, the gods +betake themselves to Brahma, the Creator, and sing a hymn of praise, a +part of which is given here. + + Before creation, thou art one; + Three, when creation's work is done: + All praise and honour unto thee + In this thy mystic trinity. + + Three various forms and functions three + Proclaim thy living majesty; + Thou dost create, and then maintain, + And last, destroyest all again. + + Thy slow recurrent day and night + Bring death to all, or living light. + We live beneath thy waking eye; + Thou sleepest, and thy creatures die. + + Solid and fluid, great and small, + And light and heavy--Thou art all; + Matter and form are both in thee: + Thy powers are past discovery.[] + + Thou art the objects that unroll + Their drama for the passive soul; + Thou art the soul that views the play + Indifferently, day by day. + + Thou art the knower and the known; + Eater and food art thou alone; + The priest and his oblation fair; + The prayerful suppliant and the prayer. + +Brahma receives their worship graciously, and asks the reason of their +coming. The spokesman of the gods explains to Brahma how a great demon +named Taraka is troubling the world, and how helpless they are in +opposing him. They have tried the most extravagant propitiation, and +found it useless. + + The sun in heaven dare not glow + With undiminished heat, but so + As that the lilies may awake + Which blossom in his pleasure-lake. + + The wind blows gently as it can + To serve him as a soothing fan, + And dare not manifest its power, + Lest it should steal a garden flower. + + The seasons have forgotten how + To follow one another now; + They simultaneously bring + Him flowers of autumn, summer, spring. + + Such adoration makes him worse; + He troubles all the universe: + Kindness inflames a rascal's mind; + He should be recompensed in kind. + + And all the means that we have tried + Against the rogue, are brushed aside, + As potent herbs have no avail + When bodily powers begin to fail. + + We seek a leader, O our Lord, + To bring him to his just reward-- + As saints seek evermore to win + Virtue, to end life's woe and sin-- + + That he may guide the heavenly host, + And guard us to the uttermost, + And from our foe lead captive back + The victory which still we lack. + +Brahma answers that the demon's power comes from him, and he does not +feel at liberty to proceed against it; "for it is not fitting to cut +down even a poison-tree that one's own hand has planted." But he +promises that a son shall be born to Shiva and Parvati, who shall lead +the gods to victory. With this answer the gods are perforce content, +and their king, Indra, waits upon the god of love, to secure his +necessary co-operation. + + +_Third canto. The burning of Love_.--Indra waits upon Love, who asks +for his commands. Indra explains the matter, and asks Love to inflame +Shiva with passion for Parvati. Love thereupon sets out, accompanied +by his wife Charm and his friend Spring. When they reach the mountain +where Shiva dwells, Spring shows his power. The snow disappears; the +trees put forth blossoms; bees, deer, and birds waken to new life. The +only living being that is not influenced by the sudden change of +season is Shiva, who continues his meditation, unmoved. Love himself +is discouraged, until he sees the beauty of Parvati, when he takes +heart again. At this moment, Shiva chances to relax his meditation, +and Parvati approaches to do him homage. Love seizes the lucky moment, +and prepares to shoot his bewildering arrow at Shiva. But the great +god sees him, and before the arrow is discharged, darts fire from his +eye, whereby Love is consumed. Charm falls in a swoon, Shiva vanishes, +and the wretched Parvati is carried away by her father. + + +_Fourth canto. The lament of Charm_.--This canto is given entire. + + The wife of Love lay helpless in a swoon, + Till wakened by a fate whose deadliest sting + Was preparation of herself full soon + To taste the youthful widow's sorrowing. + + Her opening eyes were fixed with anxious thought + On every spot where he might be, in vain, + Were gladdened nowhere by the sight she sought, + The lover she should never see again. + + She rose and cried aloud: "Dost thou yet live, + Lord of my life?" And at the last she found + Him whom the wrathful god could not forgive, + Her Love, a trace of ashes on the ground. + + With breaking heart, with lovely bosom stained + By cold embrace of earth, with flying hair, + She wept and to the forest world complained, + As if the forest in her grief might share. + + "Thy beauty slew the pride that maidens cherish; + Perfect its loveliness in every part; + I saw that beauty fade away and perish, + Yet did not die. How hard is woman's heart! + + Where art thou gone? Thy love a moment only + Endured, and I for ever need its power; + Gone like the stream that leaves the lily lonely, + When the dam breaks, to mourn her dying flower. + + Thou never didst a thing to cause me anguish; + I never did a thing to work thee harm; + Why should I thus in vain affliction languish? + Why not return to bless thy grieving Charm? + + Of playful chastisements art thou reminded, + Thy flirtings punished by my girdle-strands, + Thine eyes by flying dust of blossoms blinded, + Held for thy meet correction in these hands? + + I loved to hear the name thou gav'st me often + 'Heart of my heart,' Alas! It was not true, + But lulling phrase, my coming grief to soften: + Else in thy death, my life had ended, too. + + Think not that on the journey thou hast taken + So newly, I should fail to find thy track; + Ah, but the world! The world is quite forsaken, + For life is love; no life, when thee they lack. + + Thou gone, my love, what power can guide the maiden + Through veils of midnight darkness in the town + To the eager heart with loving fancies laden, + And fortify against the storm-cloud's frown? + + The wine that teaches eyes their gladdest dances, + That bids the love-word trippingly to glide, + Is now deception; for if flashing glances + Lead not to love, they lead to naught beside. + + And when he knows thy life is a remembrance, + Thy friend the moon will feel his shining vain, + Will cease to show the world a circle's semblance, + And even in his waxing time, will wane. + + Slowly the mango-blossoms are unfolding + On twigs where pink is struggling with the green, + Greeted by koil-birds sweet concert holding-- + Thou dead, who makes of flowers an arrow keen? + + Or weaves a string of bees with deft invention, + To speed the missile when the bow is bent? + They buzz about me now with kind intention, + And mortify the grief which they lament. + + Arise! Assume again thy radiant beauty! + Rebuke the koil-bird, whom nature taught + Such sweet persuasion; she forgets her duty + As messenger to bosoms passion-fraught. + + Well I remember, Love, thy suppliant motion, + Thy trembling, quick embrace, the moments blest + By fervent, self-surrendering devotion-- + And memories like these deny me rest. + + Well didst thou know thy wife; the springtime garland, + Wrought by thy hands, O charmer of thy Charm! + Remains to bid me grieve, while in a far land + Thy body seeks repose from earthly harm. + + Thy service by the cruel gods demanded, + Meant service to thy wife left incomplete, + My bare feet with coquettish streakings banded-- + Return to end the adorning of my feet. + + No, straight to thee I fly, my body given, + A headlong moth, to quick-consuming fire, + Or e'er my cunning rivals, nymphs in heaven, + Awake in thee an answering desire. + + Yet, dearest, even this short delay is fated + For evermore a deep reproach to prove, + A stain that may not be obliterated, + If Charm has lived one moment far from Love. + + And how can I perform the last adorning + Of thy poor body, as befits a wife? + So strangely on the path that leaves me mourning + Thy body followed still the spirit's life. + + I see thee straighten out thy blossom-arrow, + The bow slung careless on thy breast the while, + Thine eyes in mirthful, sidelong glance grow narrow, + Thy conference with friendly Spring, thy smile. + + But where is Spring? Dear friend, whose art could fashion + The flowery arrow for thee? Has the wrath + Of dreadful Shiva, in excess of passion, + Bade him, too, follow on that fatal path?" + + Heart-smitten by the accents of her grief + Like poisoned darts, soothing her fond alarm, + Incarnate Spring appeared, to bring relief + As friendship can, to sore-lamenting Charm. + + And at the sight of him, she wept the more, + And often clutched her throat, and beat her breast; + For lamentation finds an open door + In the presence of the friends we love the best. + + Stifling, she cried: "Behold the mournful matter! + In place of him thou seekest, what is found? + A something that the winds of heaven scatter, + A trace of dove-grey ashes on the ground. + + Arise, O Love! For Spring knows no estranging, + Thy friend in lucky hap and evil lot; + Man's love for wife is ever doubtful, changing; + Man's love for man abides and changes not. + + With such a friend, thy dart, on dainty pinion + Of blossoms, shot from lotus-fibre string, + Reduced men, giants, gods to thy dominion-- + The triple world has felt that arrow sting. + + But Love is gone, far gone beyond returning, + A candle snuffed by wandering breezes vain; + And see! I am his wick, with Love once burning, + Now blackened by the smoke of nameless pain. + + In slaying Love, fate wrought but half a slaughter, + For I am left. And yet the clinging vine + Must fall, when falls the sturdy tree that taught her + Round him in loving tenderness to twine. + + So then, fulfil for me the final mission + Of him who undertakes a kinsman's part; + Commit me to the flames (my last petition) + And speed the widow to her husband's heart. + + The moonlight wanders not, the moon forsaking; + Where sails the cloud, the lightning is not far; + Wife follows mate, is law of nature's making, + Yes, even among such things as lifeless are. + + My breast is stained; I lay among the ashes + Of him I loved with all a woman's powers; + Now let me lie where death-fire flames and flashes, + As glad as on a bed of budding flowers. + + Sweet Spring, thou camest oft where we lay sleeping + On blossoms, I and he whose life is sped; + Unto the end thy friendly office keeping, + Prepare for me the last, the fiery bed. + + And fan the flame to which I am committed + With southern winds; I would no longer stay; + Thou knowest well how slow the moments flitted + For Love, my love, when I was far away. + + And sprinkle some few drops of water, given + In friendship, on his ashes and on me; + That Love and I may quench our thirst in heaven + As once on earth, in heavenly unity. + + And sometimes seek the grave where Love is lying; + Pause there a moment, gentle Spring, and shower + Sweet mango-clusters to the winds replying; + For he thou lovedst, loved the mango-flower." + + As Charm prepared to end her mortal pain + In fire, she heard a voice from heaven cry, + That showed her mercy, as the early rain + Shows mercy to the fish, when lakes go dry: + + "O wife of Love! Thy lover is not lost + For evermore. This voice shall tell thee why + He perished like the moth, when he had crossed + The dreadful god, in fire from Shiva's eye. + + When darts of Love set Brahma in a flame, + To shame his daughter with impure desire, + He checked the horrid sin without a name, + And cursed the god of love to die by fire. + + But Virtue interceded in behalf + Of Love, and won a softening of the doom: + 'Upon the day when Shiva's heart shall laugh + In wedding joy, for mercy finding room, + + He shall unite Love's body with the soul, + A marriage-present to his mountain bride.' + As clouds hold fire and water in control, + Gods are the fount of wrath, and grace beside. + + So, gentle Charm, preserve thy body sweet + For dear reunion after present pain; + The stream that dwindles in the summer heat, + Is reunited with the autumn rain." + + Invisibly and thus mysteriously + The thoughts of Charm were turned away from death; + And Spring, believing where he might not see, + Comforted her with words of sweetest breath. + + The wife of Love awaited thus the day, + Though racked by grief, when fate should show its power, + As the waning moon laments her darkened ray + And waits impatient for the twilight hour. + + +_Fifth canto. The reward of self-denial_.--Parvati reproaches her own +beauty, for "loveliness is fruitless if it does not bind a lover." She +therefore resolves to lead a life of religious self-denial, hoping +that the merit thus acquired will procure her Shiva's love. Her mother +tries in vain to dissuade her; her father directs her to a fit +mountain peak, and she retires to her devotions. She lays aside all +ornaments, lets her hair hang unkempt, and assumes the hermit's dress +of bark. While she is spending her days in self-denial, she is visited +by a Brahman youth, who compliments her highly upon her rigid +devotion, and declares that her conduct proves the truth of the +proverb: Beauty can do no wrong. Yet he confesses himself bewildered, +for she seems to have everything that heart can desire. He therefore +asks her purpose in performing these austerities, and is told how her +desires are fixed upon the highest of all objects, upon the god Shiva +himself, and how, since Love is dead, she sees no way to win him +except by ascetic religion. The youth tries to dissuade Parvati by +recounting all the dreadful legends that are current about Shiva: how +he wears a coiling snake on his wrist, a bloody elephant-hide upon his +back, how he dwells in a graveyard, how he rides upon an undignified +bull, how poor he is and of unknown birth. Parvati's anger is awakened +by this recital. She frowns and her lip quivers as she defends herself +and the object of her love. + + Shiva, she said, is far beyond the thought + Of such as you: then speak no more to me. + Dull crawlers hate the splendid wonders wrought + By lofty souls untouched by rivalry. + + They search for wealth, whom dreaded evil nears, + Or they who fain would rise a little higher; + The world's sole refuge neither hopes nor fears + Nor seeks the objects of a small desire. + + Yes, he is poor, yet he is riches' source; + This graveyard-haunter rules the world alone; + Dreadful is he, yet all beneficent force: + Think you his inmost nature can be known? + + All forms are his; and he may take or leave + At will, the snake, or gem with lustre white; + The bloody skin, or silk of softest weave; + Dead skulls, or moonbeams radiantly bright. + + For poverty he rides upon a bull, + While Indra, king of heaven, elephant-borne, + Bows low to strew his feet with beautiful, + Unfading blossoms in his chaplet worn. + + Yet in the slander spoken in pure hate + One thing you uttered worthy of his worth: + How could the author of the uncreate + Be born? How could we understand his birth? + + Enough of this! Though every word that you + Have said, be faithful, yet would Shiva please + My eager heart all made of passion true + For him alone. Love sees no blemishes. + +In response to this eloquence, the youth throws off his disguise, +appearing as the god Shiva himself, and declares his love for her. +Parvati immediately discontinues her religious asceticism; for +"successful effort regenerates." + + +_Sixth canto. Parvati is given in marriage_.--While Parvati departs to +inform her father of what has happened, Shiva summons the seven sages, +who are to make the formal proposal of marriage to the bride's +parents. The seven sages appear, flying through the air, and with them +Arundhati, the heavenly model of wifely faith and devotion. On seeing +her, Shiva feels his eagerness for marriage increase, realising that + + All actions of a holy life + Are rooted in a virtuous wife. + +Shiva then explains his purpose, and sends the seven sages to make the +formal request for Parvati's hand. The seven sages fly to the +brilliant city of Himalaya, where they are received by the mountain +god. After a rather portentous interchange of compliments, the seven +sages announce their errand, requesting Parvati's hand in behalf of +Shiva. The father joyfully assents, and it is agreed that the marriage +shall be celebrated after three days. These three days are spent by +Shiva in impatient longing. + + +_Seventh canto. Parvati's wedding_.--The three days are spent in +preparations for the wedding. So great is Parvati's unadorned beauty +that the waiting-women can hardly take their eyes from her to inspect +the wedding-dress. But the preparations are complete at last; and the +bride is beautiful indeed. + + As when the flowers are budding on a vine, + Or white swans rest upon a river's shore, + Or when at night the stars in heaven shine, + Her lovely beauty grew with gems she wore. + + When wide-eyed glances gave her back the same + Bright beauty--and the mirror never lies-- + She waited with impatience till he came: + For women dress to please their lovers' eyes. + +Meanwhile Shiva finishes his preparations, and sets out on his wedding +journey, accompanied by Brahma, Vishnu, and lesser gods. At his +journey's end, he is received by his bride's father, and led through +streets ankle-deep in flowers, where the windows are filled with the +faces of eager and excited women, who gossip together thus: + + For his sake it was well that Parvati + Should mortify her body delicate; + Thrice happy might his serving-woman be, + And infinitely blest his bosom's mate. + +Shiva and his retinue then enter the palace, where he is received with +bashful love by Parvati, and the wedding is celebrated with due pomp. +The nymphs of heaven entertain the company with a play, and Shiva +restores the body of Love. + + +_Eighth canto. The honeymoon_.--The first month of marital bliss is +spent in Himalaya's palace. After this the happy pair wander for a +time among the famous mountain-peaks. One of these they reach at +sunset, and Shiva describes the evening glow to his bride. A few +stanzas are given here. + + See, my beloved, how the sun + With beams that o'er the water shake + From western skies has now begun + A bridge of gold across the lake. + + Upon the very tree-tops sway + The peacocks; even yet they hold + And drink the dying light of day, + Until their fans are molten gold. + + The water-lily closes, but + With wonderful reluctancy; + As if it troubled her to shut + Her door of welcome to the bee. + + The steeds that draw the sun's bright car, + With bended neck and falling plume + And drooping mane, are seen afar + To bury day in ocean's gloom. + + The sun is down, and heaven sleeps: + Thus every path of glory ends; + As high as are the scaled steeps, + The downward way as low descends. + +Shiva then retires for meditation. On his return, he finds that his +bride is peevish at being left alone even for a little time, and to +soothe her, he describes the night which is now advancing. A few +stanzas of this description run as follows. + + The twilight glow is fading far + And stains the west with blood-red light, + As when a reeking scimitar + Slants upward on a field of fight. + + And vision fails above, below, + Around, before us, at our back; + The womb of night envelops slow + The world with darkness vast and black. + + Mute while the world is dazed with light, + The smiling moon begins to rise + And, being teased by eager night, + Betrays the secrets of the skies. + + Moon-fingers move the black, black hair + Of night into its proper place, + Who shuts her eyes, the lilies fair, + As he sets kisses on her face. + +Shiva and Parvati then drink wine brought them by the guardian goddess +of the grove, and in this lovely spot they dwell happily for many +years. + + +_Ninth canto. The journey to Mount Kailasa_.--One day the god of fire +appears as a messenger from the gods before Shiva, to remonstrate with +him for not begetting the son upon whom heaven's welfare depends. +Shiva deposits his seed in Fire, who departs, bent low with the +burden. Shortly afterwards the gods wait upon Shiva and Parvati, who +journey with them to Mount Kailasa, the splendid dwelling-place of the +god of wealth. Here also Shiva and Parvati spend happy days. + + +_Tenth canto. The birth of Kumara_.--To Indra, king of the gods, Fire +betakes himself, tells his story, and begs to be relieved of his +burden. Indra advises him to deposit it in the Ganges. Fire therefore +travels to the Ganges, leaves Shiva's seed in the river, and departs +much relieved. But now it is the turn of Ganges to be distressed, +until at dawn the six Pleiades come to bathe in the river. They find +Shiva's seed and lay it in a nest of reeds, where it becomes a child, +Kumara, the future god of war. + + +_Eleventh canto. The birth of Kumara, continued_.--Ganges suckles the +beautiful infant. But there arises a dispute for the possession of the +child between Fire, Ganges, and the Pleiades. At this point Shiva and +Parvati arrive, and Parvati, wondering at the beauty of the infant and +at the strange quarrel, asks Shiva to whom the child belongs. When +Shiva tells her that Kumara is their own child, her joy is unbounded. + + Because her eyes with happy tears were dim, + 'Twas but by snatches that she saw the boy; + Yet, with her blossom-hand caressing him, + She felt a strange, an unimagined joy. + + The vision of the infant made her seem + A flower unfolding in mysterious bliss; + Or, billowy with her joyful tears, a stream; + Or pure affection, perfect in a kiss. + +Shiva conducts Parvati and the boy back to Mount Kailasa, where gods +and fairies welcome them with music and dancing. Here the divine child +spends the days of a happy infancy, not very different from human +infancy; for he learns to walk, gets dirty in the courtyard, laughs a +good deal, pulls the scanty hair of an old servant, and learns to +count: "One, nine, two, ten, five, seven." These evidences of healthy +development cause Shiva and Parvati the most exquisite joy. + + +_Twelfth canto. Kumara is made general_.--Indra, with the other gods, +waits upon Shiva, to ask that Kumara, now a youth, may be lent to them +as their leader in the campaign against Taraka. The gods are +graciously received by Shiva, who asks their errand. Indra prefers +their request, whereupon Shiva bids his son assume command of the +gods, and slay Taraka. Great is the joy of Kumara himself, of his +mother Parvati, and of Indra. + + +_Thirteenth canto. Kumara is consecrated general_.--Kumara takes an +affectionate farewell of his parents, and sets out with the gods. When +they come to Indra's paradise, the gods are afraid to enter, lest they +find their enemy there. There is an amusing scene in which each +courteously invites the others to precede him, until Kumara ends their +embarrassment by leading the way. Here for the first time Kumara sees +with deep respect the heavenly Ganges, Indra's garden and palace, and +the heavenly city. But he becomes red-eyed with anger on beholding the +devastation wrought by Taraka. + + He saw departed glory, saw the state + Neglected, ruined, sad, of Indra's city, + As of a woman with a cowardly mate: + And all his inmost heart dissolved in pity. + + He saw how crystal floors were gashed and torn + By wanton tusks of elephants, were strewed + With skins that sloughing cobras once had worn: + And sadness overcame him as he viewed. + + He saw beside the bathing-pools the bowers + Defiled by elephants grown overbold, + Strewn with uprooted golden lotus-flowers, + No longer bright with plumage of pure gold, + + Rough with great, jewelled columns overthrown, + Rank with invasion of the untrimmed grass: + Shame strove with sorrow at the ruin shown, + For heaven's foe had brought these things to pass. + +Amid these sorrowful surroundings the gods gather and anoint Kumara, +thus consecrating him as their general. + + +_Fourteenth canto. The march_.--Kumara prepares for battle, and +marshals his army. He is followed by Indra riding on an elephant, Agni +on a ram, Yama on a buffalo, a giant on a ghost, Varuna on a dolphin, +and many other lesser gods. When all is ready, the army sets out on +its dusty march. + + +_Fifteenth canto. The two armies clash_.--The demon Taraka is informed +that the hostile army is approaching, but scorns the often-conquered +Indra and the boy Kumara. Nevertheless, he prepares for battle, +marshals his army, and sets forth to meet the gods. But he is beset by +dreadful omens of evil. + + For foul birds came, a horrid flock to see, + Above the army of the foes of heaven, + And dimmed the sun, awaiting ravenously + The feast of demon corpses to be given. + + And monstrous snakes, as black as powdered soot, + Spitting hot poison high into the air, + Brought terror to the army underfoot, + And crept and coiled and crawled before them there. + + The sun a sickly halo round him had; + Coiling within it frightened eyes could see + Great, writhing serpents, enviously glad + Because the demon's death so soon should be. + + And in the very circle of the sun + Were phantom jackals, snarling to be fed; + And with impatient haste they seemed to run + To drink the demon's blood in battle shed. + + There fell, with darting flame and blinding flash + Lighting the farthest heavens, from on high + A thunderbolt whose agonising crash + Brought fear and shuddering from a cloudless sky. + + There came a pelting rain of blazing coals + With blood and bones of dead men mingled in; + Smoke and weird flashes horrified their souls; + The sky was dusty grey like asses' skin. + + The elephants stumbled and the horses fell, + The footmen jostled, leaving each his post, + The ground beneath them trembled at the swell + Of ocean, when an earthquake shook the host. + + And dogs before them lifted muzzles foul + To see the sun that lit that awful day, + And pierced the ears of listeners with a howl + Dreadful yet pitiful, then slunk away. + +Taraka's counsellors endeavour to persuade him to turn back, but he +refuses; for timidity is not numbered among his faults. As he advances +even worse portents appear, and finally warning voices from heaven +call upon him to desist from his undertaking. The voices assure him of +Kumara's prowess and inevitable victory; they advise him to make his +peace while there is yet time. But Taraka's only answer is a defiance. + + "You mighty gods that flit about in heaven + And take my foeman's part, what would you say? + Have you forgot so soon the torture given + By shafts of mine that never miss their way? + + Why should I fear before a six-days child? + Why should you prowl in heaven and gibber shrill, + Like dogs that in an autumn night run wild, + Like deer that sneak through forests, trembling still? + + The boy whom you have chosen as your chief + In vain upon his hermit-sire shall cry; + The upright die, if taken with a thief: + First you shall perish, then he too shall die." + +And as Taraka emphasises his meaning by brandishing his great sword, +the warning spirits flee, their knees knocking together. Taraka laughs +horribly, then mounts his chariot, and advances against the army of +the gods. On the other side the gods advance, and the two armies +clash. + + +_Sixteenth canto. The battle between gods and demons_.--This canto is +entirely taken up with the struggle between the two armies. A few +stanzas are given here. + + As pairs of champions stood forth + To test each other's fighting worth, + The bards who knew the family fame + Proclaimed aloud each mighty name. + + As ruthless weapons cut their way + Through quilted armour in the fray, + White tufts of cotton flew on high + Like hoary hairs upon the sky. + + Blood-dripping swords reflected bright + The sunbeams in that awful fight; + Fire-darting like the lightning-flash, + They showed how mighty heroes clash. + + The archers' arrows flew so fast, + As through a hostile breast they passed, + That they were buried in the ground, + No stain of blood upon them found. + + The swords that sheaths no longer clasped, + That hands of heroes firmly grasped, + Flashed out in glory through the fight, + As if they laughed in mad delight. + + And many a warrior's eager lance + Shone radiant in the eerie dance, + A curling, lapping tongue of death + To lick away the soldier's breath. + + Some, panting with a bloody thirst, + Fought toward the victim chosen first, + But had a reeking path to hew + Before they had him full in view. + + Great elephants, their drivers gone + And pierced with arrows, struggled on, + But sank at every step in mud + Made liquid by the streams of blood. + + The warriors falling in the fray, + Whose heads the sword had lopped away, + Were able still to fetch a blow + That slew the loud-exulting foe. + + The footmen thrown to Paradise + By elephants of monstrous size, + Were seized upon by nymphs above, + Exchanging battle-scenes for love. + + The lancer, charging at his foe, + Would pierce him through and bring him low, + And would not heed the hostile dart + That found a lodgment in his heart. + + The war-horse, though unguided, stopped + The moment that his rider dropped, + And wept above the lifeless head, + Still faithful to his master dead. + + Two lancers fell with mortal wound + And still they struggled on the ground; + With bristling hair, with brandished knife, + Each strove to end the other's life. + + Two slew each other in the fight; + To Paradise they took their flight; + There with a nymph they fell in love, + And still they fought in heaven above. + + Two souls there were that reached the sky; + From heights of heaven they could spy + Two writhing corpses on the plain, + And knew their headless forms again. + +As the struggle comes to no decisive issue, Taraka seeks out the chief +gods, and charges upon them. + +_Seventeenth canto. Taraka is slain_.--Taraka engages the principal +gods and defeats them with magic weapons. When they are relieved by +Kumara, the demon turns to the youthful god of war, and advises him to +retire from the battle. + + Stripling, you are the only son + Of Shiva and of Parvati. + Go safe and live! Why should you run + On certain death? Why fight with me? + Withdraw! Let sire and mother blest + Clasp living son to joyful breast. + + Flee, son of Shiva, flee the host + Of Indra drowning in the sea + That soon shall close upon his boast + In choking waves of misery. + For Indra is a ship of stone; + Withdraw, and let him sink alone. + +Kumara answers with modest firmness. + + The words you utter in your pride, + O demon-prince, are only fit; + Yet I am minded to abide + The fight, and see the end of it. + The tight-strung bow and brandished sword + Decide, and not the spoken word. + +And with this the duel begins. When Taraka finds his arrows parried by +Kumara, he employs the magic weapon of the god of wind. When this too +is parried, he uses the magic weapon of the god of fire, which Kumara +neutralises with the weapon of the god of water. As they fight on, +Kumara finds an opening, and slays Taraka with his lance, to the +unbounded delight of the universe. + +Here the poem ends, in the form in which it has come down to us. It +has been sometimes thought that we have less than Kalidasa wrote, +partly because of a vague tradition that there were once twenty-three +cantos, partly because the customary prayer is lacking at the end. +These arguments are not very cogent. Though the concluding prayer is +not given in form, yet the stanzas which describe the joy of the +universe fairly fill its place. And one does not see with what matter +further cantos would be concerned. The action promised in the earlier +part is completed in the seventeenth canto. + +It has been somewhat more formidably argued that the concluding cantos +are spurious, that Kalidasa wrote only the first seven or perhaps the +first eight cantos. Yet, after all, what do these arguments amount to? +Hardly more than this, that the first eight cantos are better poetry +than the last nine. As if a poet were always at his best, even when +writing on a kind of subject not calculated to call out his best. +Fighting is not Kalidasa's _forte_; love is. Even so, there is great +vigour in the journey of Taraka, the battle, and the duel. It may not +be the highest kind of poetry, but it is wonderfully vigorous poetry +of its kind. And if we reject the last nine cantos, we fall into a +very much greater difficulty. The poem would be glaringly incomplete, +its early promise obviously disregarded. We should have a _Birth of +the War-god_ in which the poet stopped before the war-god was born. + +There seems then no good reason to doubt that we have the epic +substantially as Kalidasa wrote it. Plainly, it has a unity which is +lacking in Kalidasa's other epic, _The Dynasty_ _of Raghu_, though in +this epic, too, the interest shifts. Parvati's love-affair is the +matter of the first half, Kumara's fight with the demon the matter of +the second half. Further, it must be admitted that the interest runs a +little thin. Even in India, where the world of gods runs insensibly +into the world of men, human beings take more interest in the +adventures of men than of gods. The gods, indeed, can hardly have +adventures; they must be victorious. _The Birth of the War-god_ pays +for its greater unity by a poverty of adventure. + +It would be interesting if we could know whether this epic was written +before or after _The Dynasty of Raghu_. But we have no data for +deciding the question, hardly any for even arguing it. The +introduction to _The Dynasty of Raghu_ seems, indeed, to have been +written by a poet who yet had his spurs to win. But this is all. + +As to the comparative excellence of the two epics, opinions differ. My +own preference is for _The Dynasty of Raghu_, yet there are passages +in _The Birth of the War-god_ of a piercing beauty which the world can +never let die. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE CLOUD-MESSENGER + + +In _The Cloud-Messenger_ Kalidasa created a new _genre_ in Sanskrit +literature. Hindu critics class the poem with _The Dynasty of Raghu_ +and _The Birth of the War-god_ as a _kavya_, or learned epic. This it +obviously is not. It is fair enough to call it an elegiac poem, though +a precisian might object to the term. + +We have already seen, in speaking of _The Dynasty of Raghu_, what +admiration Kalidasa felt for his great predecessor Valmiki, the author +of the _Ramayana_; and it is quite possible that an episode of the +early epic suggested to him the idea which he has exquisitely treated +in _The Cloud-Messenger_. In the _Ramayana_, after the defeat and +death of Ravana, Rama returns with his wife and certain heroes of the +struggle from Ceylon to his home in Northern India. The journey, made +in an aerial car, gives the author an opportunity to describe the +country over which the car must pass in travelling from one end of +India to the other. The hint thus given him was taken by Kalidasa; a +whole canto of _The Dynasty of Raghu_ (the thirteenth) is concerned +with the aerial journey. Now if, as seems not improbable, _The Dynasty +of Raghu_ was the earliest of Kalidasa's more ambitious works, it is +perhaps legitimate to imagine him, as he wrote this canto, suddenly +inspired with the plan of _The Cloud-Messenger_. + +This plan is slight and fanciful. A demigod, in consequence of some +transgression against his master, the god of wealth, is condemned to +leave his home in the Himalayas, and spend a year of exile on a peak +in the Vindhya Mountains, which divide the Deccan from the Ganges +basin. He wishes to comfort and encourage his wife, but has no +messenger to send her. In his despair, he begs a passing cloud to +carry his words. He finds it necessary to describe the long journey +which the cloud must take, and, as the two termini are skilfully +chosen, the journey involves a visit to many of the spots famous in +Indian story. The description of these spots fills the first half of +the poem. The second half is filled with a more minute description of +the heavenly city, of the home and bride of the demigod, and with the +message proper. The proportions of the poem may appear unfortunate to +the Western reader, in whom the proper names of the first half will +wake scanty associations. Indeed, it is no longer possible to identify +all the places mentioned, though the general route followed by the +cloud can be easily traced. The peak from which he starts is probably +one near the modern Nagpore. From this peak he flies a little west of +north to the Nerbudda River, and the city of Ujjain; thence pretty +straight north to the upper Ganges and the Himalaya. The geography of +the magic city of Alaka is quite mythical. + +_The Cloud-Messenger_ contains one hundred and fifteen four-line +stanzas, in a majestic metre called the "slow-stepper." The English +stanza which has been chosen for the translation gives perhaps as fair +a representation of the original movement as may be, where direct +imitation is out of the question. Though the stanza of the translation +has five lines to four for the slow-stepper, it contains fewer +syllables; a constant check on the temptation to padding. + +The analysis which accompanies the poem, and which is inserted in +Italics at the beginning of each stanza, has more than one object. It +saves footnotes; it is intended as a real help to comprehension; and +it is an eminently Hindu device. Indeed, it was my first intention to +translate literally portions of Mallinatha's famous commentary; and +though this did not prove everywhere feasible, there is nothing in the +analysis except matter suggested by the commentary. + +One minor point calls for notice. The word Himalaya has been accented +on the second syllable wherever it occurs. This accent is historically +correct, and has some foothold in English usage; besides, it is more +euphonious and better adapted to the needs of the metre. + + +FORMER CLOUD + + I + +_A Yaksha, or divine attendant on Kubera, god of wealth, is exiled for +a year from his home in the Himalayas. As he dwells on a peak in the +Vindhya range, half India separates him from his young bride_. + + On Rama's shady peak where hermits roam, + Mid streams by Sita's bathing sanctified, + An erring Yaksha made his hapless home, + Doomed by his master humbly to abide, + And spend a long, long year of absence from his bride. + + II + +_After eight months of growing emaciation, the first cloud warns him +of the approach of the rainy season, when neglected brides are wont to +pine and die_. + + Some months were gone; the lonely lover's pain + Had loosed his golden bracelet day by day + Ere he beheld the harbinger of rain, + A cloud that charged the peak in mimic fray, + As an elephant attacks a bank of earth in play. + + III + + Before this cause of lovers' hopes and fears + Long time Kubera's bondman sadly bowed + In meditation, choking down his tears-- + Even happy hearts thrill strangely to the cloud; + To him, poor wretch, the loved embrace was disallowed. + + IV + +_Unable to send tidings otherwise of his health and unchanging love, +he resolves to make the cloud his messenger_. + + Longing to save his darling's life, unblest + With joyous tidings, through the rainy days, + He plucked fresh blossoms for his cloudy guest, + Such homage as a welcoming comrade pays, + And bravely spoke brave words of greeting and of praise. + + V + + Nor did it pass the lovelorn Yaksha's mind + How all unfitly might his message mate + With a cloud, mere fire and water, smoke and wind-- + Ne'er yet was lover could discriminate + 'Twixt life and lifeless things, in his love-blinded state. + + VI + +_He prefers his request_, + + I know, he said, thy far-famed princely line, + Thy state, in heaven's imperial council chief, + Thy changing forms; to thee, such fate is mine, + I come a suppliant in my widowed grief-- + Better thy lordly "no" than meaner souls' relief. + + VII + + O cloud, the parching spirit stirs thy pity; + My bride is far, through royal wrath and might; + Bring her my message to the Yaksha city, + Rich-gardened Alaka, where radiance bright + From Shiva's crescent bathes the palaces in light. + + VIII + +_hinting at the same time that the' cloud will find his kindly labour +rewarded by pleasures on the road_, + + When thou art risen to airy paths of heaven, + Through lifted curls the wanderer's love shall peep + And bless the sight of thee for comfort given; + Who leaves his bride through cloudy days to weep + Except he be like me, whom chains of bondage keep? + + IX + +_and by happy omens_. + + While favouring breezes waft thee gently forth, + And while upon thy left the plover sings + His proud, sweet song, the cranes who know thy worth + Will meet thee in the sky on joyful wings + And for delights anticipated join their rings. + + X + +_He assures the cloud that his bride is neither dead nor faithless_; + + Yet hasten, O my brother, till thou see-- + Counting the days that bring the lonely smart-- + The faithful wife who only lives for me: + A drooping flower is woman's loving heart, + Upheld by the stem of hope when two true lovers part. + + XI + +_further, that there will be no lack of travelling companions_. + + And when they hear thy welcome thunders break, + When mushrooms sprout to greet thy fertile weeks, + The swans who long for the Himalayan lake + Will be thy comrades to Kailasa's peaks, + With juicy bits of lotus-fibre in their beaks. + + XII + + One last embrace upon this mount bestow + Whose flanks were pressed by Rama's holy feet, + Who yearly strives his love for thee to show, + Warmly his well-beloved friend to greet + With the tear of welcome shed when two long-parted meet. + + XIII + +_He then describes the long journey_, + + Learn first, O cloud, the road that thou must go, + Then hear my message ere thou speed away; + Before thee mountains rise and rivers flow: + When thou art weary, on the mountains stay, + And when exhausted, drink the rivers' driven spray. + + XIV + +_beginning with the departure from Rama's peak, where dwells a company +of Siddhas, divine beings of extraordinary sanctity_. + + Elude the heavenly elephants' clumsy spite; + Fly from this peak in richest jungle drest; + And Siddha maids who view thy northward flight + Will upward gaze in simple terror, lest + The wind be carrying quite away the mountain crest. + + XV + + Bright as a heap of flashing gems, there shines + Before thee on the ant-hill, Indra's bow; + Matched with that dazzling rainbow's glittering lines, + Thy sombre form shall find its beauties grow, + Like the dark herdsman Vishnu, with peacock-plumes aglow. + + XVI + + _The Mala plateau_. + + The farmers' wives on Mala's lofty lea, + Though innocent of all coquettish art, + Will give thee loving glances; for on thee + Depends the fragrant furrow's fruitful part; + Thence, barely westering, with lightened burden start. + + XVII + + _The Mango Peak_. + + The Mango Peak whose forest fires were laid + By streams of thine, will soothe thy weariness; + In memory of a former service paid, + Even meaner souls spurn not in time of stress + A suppliant friend; a soul so lofty, much the less. + + XVIII + + With ripened mango-fruits his margins teem; + And thou, like wetted braids, art blackness quite; + When resting on the mountain, thou wilt seem + Like the dark nipple on Earth's bosom white, + For mating gods and goddesses a thrilling sight. + + XIX + + _The Reva, or Nerbudda River, foaming + against the mountain side_, + + His bowers are sweet to forest maidens ever; + Do thou upon his crest a moment bide, + Then fly, rain-quickened, to the Reva river + Which gaily breaks on Vindhya's rocky side, + Like painted streaks upon an elephant's dingy hide. + + XX + +_and flavoured with the ichor which exudes from the temples of +elephants during the mating season_. + + Refresh thyself from thine exhausted state + With ichor-pungent drops that fragrant flow; + Thou shalt not then to every wind vibrate-- + Empty means ever light, and full means added weight. + + XXI + + Spying the madder on the banks, half brown, + Half green with shoots that struggle to the birth, + Nibbling where early plantain-buds hang down, + Scenting the sweet, sweet smell of forest earth, + The deer will trace thy misty track that ends the dearth. + + XXII + + Though thou be pledged to ease my darling's pain, + Yet I foresee delay on every hill + Where jasmines blow, and where the peacock-train + Cries forth with joyful tears a welcome shrill; + Thy sacrifice is great, but haste thy journey still. + + XXIII + +_The Dasharna country_, + + At thine approach, Dasharna land is blest + With hedgerows where gay buds are all aglow, + With village trees alive with many a nest + Abuilding by the old familiar crow, + With lingering swans, with ripe rose-apples' darker show. + + XXIV + +_and its capital Vidisha, on the banks of Reed River_. + + There shalt thou see the royal city, known + Afar, and win the lover's fee complete, + If thou subdue thy thunders to a tone + Of murmurous gentleness, and taste the sweet, + Love-rippling features of the river at thy feet. + + XXV + + A moment rest on Nichais' mountain then, + Where madder-bushes don their blossom coat + As thrilling to thy touch; where city men + O'er youth's unbridled pleasures fondly gloat + In caverns whence the perfumes of gay women float. + + XXVI + + Fly on refreshed; and sprinkle buds that fade + On jasmine-vines in gardens wild and rare + By forest rivers; and with loving shade + Caress the flower-girls' heated faces fair, + Whereon the lotuses droop withering from their hair. + + XXVII + +_The famous old city of Ujjain, the home of the poet, and dearly +beloved by him_; + + Swerve from thy northern path; for westward rise + The palace balconies thou mayst not slight + In fair Ujjain; and if bewitching eyes + That flutter at thy gleams, should not delight + Thine amorous bosom, useless were thy gift of sight. + + XXVIII + +_and the river, personified as a loving woman, whom the cloud will +meet just before he reaches the city_. + + The neighbouring mountain stream that gliding grants + A glimpse of charms in whirling eddies pursed, + While noisy swans accompany her dance + Like a tinkling zone, will slake thy loving thirst-- + A woman always tells her love in gestures first. + + XXIX + + Thou only, happy lover! canst repair + The desolation that thine absence made: + Her shrinking current seems the careless hair + That brides deserted wear in single braid, + And dead leaves falling give her face a paler shade. + + XXX + +_The city of Ujjain is fully described_, + + Sufficed, though fallen from heaven, to bring down heaven on earth! + + XXXI + + Where the river-breeze at dawn, with fragrant gain + From friendly lotus-blossoms, lengthens out + The clear, sweet passion-warbling of the crane, + To cure the women's languishing, and flout + With a lover's coaxing all their hesitating doubt. + + XXXII + + Enriched with odours through the windows drifting + From perfumed hair, and greeted as a friend + By peacock pets their wings in dances lifting, + On flower-sweet balconies thy labour end, + Where prints of dear pink feet an added glory lend. + + XXXIII + +_especially its famous shrine to Shiva, called Mahakala_; + + Black as the neck of Shiva, very God, + Dear therefore to his hosts, thou mayest go + To his dread shrine, round which the gardens nod + When breezes rich with lotus-pollen blow + And ointments that the gaily bathing maidens know. + + XXXIV + + Reaching that temple at another time, + Wait till the sun is lost to human eyes; + For if thou mayest play the part sublime + Of Shiva's drum at evening sacrifice, + Then hast thou in thy thunders grave a priceless prize. + + XXXV + + The women there, whose girdles long have tinkled + In answer to the dance, whose hands yet seize + And wave their fans with lustrous gems besprinkled, + Will feel thine early drops that soothe and please, + And recompense thee from black eyes like clustering bees. + + XXXVI + +_and the black cloud, painted with twilight red, is bidden to serve as +a robe for the god, instead of the bloody elephant hide which he +commonly wears in his wild dance_. + + Clothing thyself in twilight's rose-red glory, + Embrace the dancing Shiva's tree-like arm; + He will prefer thee to his mantle gory + And spare his grateful goddess-bride's alarm, + Whose eager gaze will manifest no fear of harm. + + XXXVII + +_After one night of repose in the city_ + + Where women steal to rendezvous by night + Through darkness that a needle might divide, + Show them the road with lightning-flashes bright + As golden streaks upon the touchstone's side-- + But rain and thunder not, lest they be terrified. + + XXXVIII + + On some rich balcony where sleep the doves, + Through the dark night with thy beloved stay, + The lightning weary with the sport she loves; + But with the sunrise journey on thy way-- + For they that labour for a friend do not delay. + + XXXIX + + The gallant dries his mistress' tears that stream + When he returns at dawn to her embrace-- + Prevent thou not the sun's bright-fingered beam + That wipes the tear-dew from the lotus' face; + His anger else were great, and great were thy disgrace. + + XL + + _the cloud is besought to travel to Deep River_. + + Thy winsome shadow-soul will surely find + An entrance in Deep River's current bright, + As thoughts find entrance in a placid mind; + Then let no rudeness of thine own affright + The darting fish that seem her glances lotus-white. + + XLI + + But steal her sombre veil of mist away, + Although her reeds seem hands that clutch the dress + To hide her charms; thou hast no time to stay, + Yet who that once has known a dear caress + Could bear to leave a woman's unveiled loveliness? + + XLII + +_Thence to Holy Peak_, + + The breeze 'neath which the breathing acre grants + New odours, and the forest figs hang sleek, + With pleasant whistlings drunk by elephants + Through long and hollow trunks, will gently seek + To waft thee onward fragrantly to Holy Peak. + + XLIII + + _the dwelling-place of Skanda, god of war, the + child of Shiva and Gauri, concerning whose + birth more than one quaint tale is told_. + + There change thy form; become a cloud of flowers + With heavenly moisture wet, and pay the meed + Of praise to Skanda with thy blossom showers; + That sun-outshining god is Shiva's seed, + Fire-born to save the heavenly hosts in direst need. + + XLIV + + God Skanda's peacock--he whose eyeballs shine + By Shiva's moon, whose flashing fallen plume + The god's fond mother wears, a gleaming line + Over her ear beside the lotus bloom-- + Will dance to thunders echoing in the caverns' room. + + XLV + +_Thence to Skin River, so called because it flowed forth from a +mountain of cattle carcasses, offered in sacrifice by the pious +emperor Rantideva_. + + Adore the reed-born god and speed away, + While Siddhas flee, lest rain should put to shame + The lutes which they devoutly love to play; + But pause to glorify the stream whose name + Recalls the sacrificing emperor's blessed fame. + + XLVI + + Narrow the river seems from heaven's blue; + And gods above, who see her dainty line + Matched, when thou drinkest, with thy darker hue, + Will think they see a pearly necklace twine + Round Earth, with one great sapphire in its midst ashine. + + XLVII + +_The province of the Ten Cities_. + + Beyond, the province of Ten Cities lies + Whose women, charming with their glances rash, + Will view thine image with bright, eager eyes, + Dark eyes that dance beneath the lifted lash, + As when black bees round nodding jasmine-blossoms flash. + + XLVIII + +_The Hallowed Land, where were fought the awful battles of the ancient +epic time_. + + Then veil the Hallowed Land in cloudy shade; + Visit the field where to this very hour + Lie bones that sank beneath the soldier's blade, + Where Arjuna discharged his arrowy shower + On men, as thou thy rain-jets on the lotus-flower. + + XLIX + +_In these battles, the hero Balarama, whose weapon was a plough-share, +would take no part, because kinsmen of his were fighting in each army. +He preferred to spend the time in drinking from the holy river +Sarasvati, though little accustomed to any other drink than wine_. + + Sweet friend, drink where those holy waters shine + Which the plough-bearing hero--loath to fight + His kinsmen--rather drank than sweetest wine + With a loving bride's reflected eyes alight; + Then, though thy form be black, thine inner soul is bright. + + L + + _The Ganges River, which originates in heaven. + Its fall is broken by the head of Shiva, who + stands on the Himalaya Mountains; + otherwise the shock would be too great for + the earth. But Shiva's goddess-bride is + displeased_. + + Fly then where Ganges o'er the king of mountains + Falls like a flight of stairs from heaven let down + For the sons of men; she hurls her billowy fountains + Like hands to grasp the moon on Shiva's crown + And laughs her foamy laugh at Gauri's jealous frown. + + LI + +_The dark cloud is permitted to mingle with the clear stream of +Ganges, as the muddy Jumna River does near the city now called +Allahabad_. + + If thou, like some great elephant of the sky, + Shouldst wish from heaven's eminence to bend + And taste the crystal stream, her beauties high-- + As thy dark shadows with her whiteness blend-- + Would be what Jumna's waters at Prayaga lend. + + LII + +_The magnificent Himalaya range_. + + Her birth-place is Himalaya's rocky crest + Whereon the scent of musk is never lost, + For deer rest ever there where thou wilt rest + Sombre against the peak with whiteness glossed, + Like dark earth by the snow-white bull of Shiva tossed. + + LIII + + If, born from friction of the deodars, + A scudding fire should prove the mountain's bane, + Singeing the tails of yaks with fiery stars, + Quench thou the flame with countless streams of rain-- + The great have power that they may soothe distress and pain. + + LIV + + If mountain monsters should assail thy path + With angry leaps that of their object fail, + Only to hurt themselves in helpless wrath, + Scatter the creatures with thy pelting hail-- + For who is not despised that strives without avail? + + LV + + Bend lowly down and move in reverent state + Round Shiva's foot-print on the rocky plate + With offerings laden by the saintly great; + The sight means heaven as their eternal fate + When death and sin are past, for them that faithful wait. + + LVI + + The breeze is piping on the bamboo-tree; + And choirs of heaven sing in union sweet + O'er demon foe of Shiva's victory; + If thunders in the caverns drumlike beat, + Then surely Shiva's symphony will be complete. + + LVII + +_The mountain pass called the Swan-gate_. + + Pass by the wonders of the snowy slope; + Through the Swan-gate, through mountain masses rent + To make his fame a path by Bhrigu's hope + In long, dark beauty fly, still northward bent, + Like Vishnu's foot, when he sought the demon's chastisement. + + LVIII + +_And at Mount Kailasa, the long journey is ended_; + + Seek then Kailasa's hospitable care, + With peaks by magic arms asunder riven, + To whom, as mirror, goddesses repair, + So lotus-bright his summits cloud the heaven, + Like form and substance to God's daily laughter given. + + LIX + + Like powder black and soft I seem to see + Thine outline on the mountain slope as bright + As new-sawn tusks of stainless ivory; + No eye could wink before as fair a sight + As dark-blue robes upon the Ploughman's shoulder white. + + LX + + Should Shiva throw his serpent-ring aside + And give Gauri his hand, go thou before + Upon the mount of joy to be their guide; + Conceal within thee all thy watery store + And seem a terraced stairway to the jewelled floor. + + LXI + + I doubt not that celestial maidens sweet + With pointed bracelet gems will prick thee there + To make of thee a shower-bath in the heat; + Frighten the playful girls if they should dare + To keep thee longer, friend, with thunder's harshest blare. + + LXII + + Drink where the golden lotus dots the lake; + Serve Indra's elephant as a veil to hide + His drinking; then the tree of wishing shake, + Whose branches like silk garments flutter wide: + With sports like these, O cloud, enjoy the mountain side. + + LXIII + +_for on this mountain is the city of the Yakshas_. + + Then, in familiar Alaka find rest, + Down whom the Ganges' silken river swirls, + Whose towers cling to her mountain lover's breast, + While clouds adorn her face like glossy curls + And streams of rain like strings of close-inwoven pearls. + + +LATTER CLOUD + + I + + _The splendid heavenly city Alaka_, + + Where palaces in much may rival thee-- + Their ladies gay, thy lightning's dazzling powers-- + Symphonic drums, thy thunder's melody-- + Their bright mosaic floors, thy silver showers-- + Thy rainbow, paintings, and thy height, cloud-licking towers. + + II + +_where the flowers which on earth blossom at different seasons, are +all found in bloom the year round_. + + Where the autumn lotus in dear fingers shines, + And lodh-flowers' April dust on faces rare, + Spring amaranth with winter jasmine twines + In women's braids, and summer siris fair, + The rainy madder in the parting of their hair. + + III + +_Here grows the magic tree which yields whatever is desired_. + + Where men with maids whose charm no blemish mars + Climb to the open crystal balcony + Inlaid with flower-like sparkling of the stars, + And drink the love-wine from the wishing-tree, + And listen to the drums' deep-thundering dignity. + + IV + + Where maidens whom the gods would gladly wed + Are fanned by breezes cool with Ganges' spray + In shadows that the trees of heaven spread; + In golden sands at hunt-the-pearl they play, + Bury their little fists, and draw them void away. + + V + + Where lovers' passion-trembling fingers cling + To silken robes whose sashes flutter wide, + The knots undone; and red-lipped women fling, + Silly with shame, their rouge from side to side. + Hoping in vain the flash of jewelled lamps to hide. + + VI + + Where, brought to balconies' palatial tops + By ever-blowing guides, were clouds before + Like thee who spotted paintings with their drops; + Then, touched with guilty fear, were seen no more, + But scattered smoke-like through the lattice' grated door. + + VII + + _Here are the stones from which drops of water + ooze when the moon shines on them_. + + Where from the moonstones hung in nets of thread + Great drops of water trickle in the night-- + When the moon shines clear and thou, O cloud, art fled-- + To ease the languors of the women's plight + Who lie relaxed and tired in love's embraces tight. + + VIII + + _Here are the magic gardens of heaven_. + + Where lovers, rich with hidden wealth untold, + Wander each day with nymphs for ever young, + Enjoy the wonders that the gardens hold, + The Shining Gardens, where the praise is sung + Of the god of wealth by choirs with love-impassioned tongue. + + IX + + Where sweet nocturnal journeys are betrayed + At sunrise by the fallen flowers from curls + That fluttered as they stole along afraid, + By leaves, by golden lotuses, by pearls, + By broken necklaces that slipped from winsome girls. + + X + + _Here the god of love is not seen, because of + the presence of his great enemy, Shiva. + Yet his absence is not severely felt_. + + Where the god of love neglects his bee-strung bow, + Since Shiva's friendship decks Kubera's reign; + His task is done by clever maids, for lo! + Their frowning missile glances, darting plain + At lover-targets, never pass the mark in vain. + + XI + + _Here the goddesses have all needful ornaments. + For the Mine of Sentiment declares: + "Women everywhere have four kinds of + ornaments--hair-ornaments, jewels, clothes, + cosmetics; anything else is local_." + + Where the wishing-tree yields all that might enhance + The loveliness of maidens young and sweet: + Bright garments, wine that teaches eyes to dance, + And flowering twigs, and rarest gems discrete, + And lac-dye fit to stain their pretty lotus-feet. + + XII + + _And here is the home of the unhappy Yaksha_, + + There, northward from the master's palace, see + Our home, whose rainbow-gateway shines afar; + And near it grows a little coral-tree, + Bending 'neath many a blossom's clustered star, + Loved by my bride as children of adoption are. + + XIII + + _with its artificial pool_; + + A pool is near, to which an emerald stair + Leads down, with blooming lotuses of gold + Whose stalks are polished beryl; resting there, + The wistful swans are glad when they behold + Thine image, and forget the lake they loved of old. + + XIV + + _its hill of sport, girdled by bright hedges, like + the dark cloud girdled by the lightening_; + + And on the bank, a sapphire-crested hill + Round which the golden plantain-hedges fit; + She loves the spot; and while I marvel still + At thee, my friend, as flashing lightnings flit + About thine edge, with restless rapture I remember it. + + XV + + _its two favourite trees, which will not blossom + while their mistress is grieving_; + + The ashoka-tree, with sweetly dancing lines, + The favourite bakul-tree, are near the bower + Of amaranth-engirdled jasmine-vines; + Like me, they wait to feel the winning power + Of her persuasion, ere they blossom into flower. + + XVI + + _its tame peacock_; + + A golden pole is set between the pair, + With crystal perch above its emerald bands + As green as young bamboo; at sunset there + Thy friend, the blue-necked peacock, rises, stands, + And dances when she claps her bracelet-tinkling hands. + + XVII + + _and its painted emblems of the god + of wealth_. + + These are the signs--recall them o'er and o'er, + My clever friend--by which the house is known, + And the Conch and Lotus painted by the door: + Alas! when I am far, the charm is gone-- + The lotus' loveliness is lost with set of sun. + + XVIII + + Small as the elephant cub thou must become + For easy entrance; rest where gems enhance + The glory of the hill beside my home, + And peep into the house with lightning-glance, + But make its brightness dim as fireflies' twinkling dance. + + XIX + + _The Yaksha's bride_. + + The supremest woman from God's workshop gone-- + Young, slender; little teeth and red, red lips, + Slight waist and gentle eyes of timid fawn, + An idly graceful movement, generous hips, + Fair bosom into which the sloping shoulder slips-- + + XX + + Like a bird that mourns her absent mate anew + Passing these heavy days in longings keen, + My girlish wife whose words are sweet and few, + My second life, shall there of thee be seen-- + But changed like winter-blighted lotus-blooms, I ween. + + XXI + + Her eyes are swol'n with tears that stream unchidden; + Her lips turn pale with sorrow's burning sighs; + The face that rests upon her hand is hidden + By hanging curls, as when the glory dies + Of the suffering moon pursued by thee through nightly skies. + + XXII + + _The passion of love passes through ten stages, + eight of which are suggested in this stanza + and the stanzas which follow. The first + stage is not indicated; it is called Exchange + of Glances_. + + Thou first wilt see her when she seeks relief + In worship; or, half fancying, half recalling, + She draws mine image worn by absent grief; + Or asks the caged, sweetly-singing starling: + "Do you remember, dear, our lord? You were his darling." + + XXIII + + _In this stanza and the preceding one is + suggested the second stage: Wistfulness_. + + Or holds a lute on her neglected skirt, + And tries to sing of me, and tries in vain; + For she dries the tear-wet string with hands inert, + And e'er begins, and e'er forgets again, + Though she herself composed it once, the loving strain. + + XXIV + + _Here is suggested the third stage: Desire_. + + Or counts the months of absence yet remaining + With flowers laid near the threshold on the floor, + Or tastes the bliss of hours when love was gaining + The memories recollected o'er and o'er-- + woman's comforts when her lonely heart is sore. + + XXV + + _Here is suggested the fourth stage: Wakefulness_. + + Such daytime labours doubtless ease the ache + Which doubly hurts her in the helpless dark; + With news from me a keener joy to wake, + Stand by her window in the night, and mark + My sleepless darling on her pallet hard and stark. + + XXVI + + _Here is suggested the fifth stage: Emaciation_. + + Resting one side upon that widowed bed, + Like the slender moon upon the Eastern height, + So slender she, now worn with anguish dread, + Passing with stifling tears the long, sad night + Which, spent in love with me, seemed but a moment's flight. + + XXVII + + _Here is suggested the sixth stage: Loss of + Interest in Ordinary Pleasures_. + + On the cool, sweet moon that through the lattice flashes + She looks with the old delight, then turns away + And veils her eyes with water-weighted lashes, + Sad as the flower that blooms in sunlight gay, + But cannot wake nor slumber on a cloudy day. + + XXVIII + + _Here is suggested the seventh stage: Loss of + Youthful Bashfulness_. + + One unanointed curl still frets her cheek + When tossed by sighs that burn her blossom-lip; + And still she yearns, and still her yearnings seek + That we might be united though in sleep-- + Ah! Happy dreams come not to brides that ever weep. + + XXIX + + _Here is suggested the eighth stage: Absent-mindedness. + For if she were not absent-minded, + she would arrange the braid so + as not to be annoyed by it_. + + Her single tight-bound braid she pushes oft-- + With a hand uncared for in her lonely madness-- + So rough it seems, from the cheek that is so soft: + That braid ungarlanded since the first day's sadness, + Which I shall loose again when troubles end in gladness. + + XXX + + _Here is suggested the ninth stage: Prostration. + The tenth stage, Death, is not suggested_. + + The delicate body, weak and suffering, + Quite unadorned and tossing to and fro + In oft-renewing wretchedness, will wring + Even from thee a raindrop-tear, I know-- + Soft breasts like thine are pitiful to others' woe. + + XXXI + + I know her bosom full of love for me, + And therefore fancy how her soul doth grieve + In this our first divorce; it cannot be + Self-flattery that idle boastings weave-- + Soon shalt thou see it all, and seeing, shalt believe. + + XXXII + + _Quivering of the eyelids_ + + Her hanging hair prevents the twinkling shine + Of fawn-eyes that forget their glances sly, + Lost to the friendly aid of rouge and wine-- + Yet the eyelids quiver when thou drawest nigh + As water-lilies do when fish go scurrying by. + + XXXIII + + _and trembling of the limbs are omens of + speedy union with the beloved_. + + And limbs that thrill to thee thy welcome prove, + Limbs fair as stems in some rich plantain-bower, + No longer showing marks of my rough love, + Robbed of their cooling pearls by fatal power, + The limbs which I was wont to soothe in passion's hour. + + XXXIV + + But if she should be lost in happy sleep, + Wait, bear with her, grant her but three hours' grace, + And thunder not, O cloud, but let her keep + The dreaming vision of her lover's face-- + Loose not too soon the imagined knot of that embrace. + + XXXV + + As thou wouldst wake the jasmine's budding wonder, + Wake her with breezes blowing mistily; + Conceal thy lightnings, and with words of thunder + Speak boldly, though she answer haughtily + With eyes that fasten on the lattice and on thee. + + XXXVI + + _The cloud is instructed how to announce himself_ + + "Thou art no widow; for thy husband's friend + Is come to tell thee what himself did say-- + A cloud with low, sweet thunder-tones that send + All weary wanderers hastening on their way, + Eager to loose the braids of wives that lonely stay." + + XXXVII + + _in such a way as to win the favour of his auditor_. + + Say this, and she will welcome thee indeed, + Sweet friend, with a yearning heart's tumultuous beating + And joy-uplifted eyes; and she will heed + The after message: such a friendly greeting + Is hardly less to woman's heart than lovers' meeting. + + XXXVIII + + _The message itself_. + + Thus too, my king, I pray of thee to speak, + Remembering kindness is its own reward; + "Thy lover lives, and from the holy peak + Asks if these absent days good health afford-- + Those born to pain must ever use this opening word. + + XXXIX + + With body worn as thine, with pain as deep, + With tears and ceaseless longings answering thine, + With sighs more burning than the sighs that keep + Thy lips ascorch--doomed far from thee to pine, + He too doth weave the fancies that thy soul entwine. + + XL + + He used to love, when women friends were near, + To whisper things he might have said aloud + That he might touch thy face and kiss thine ear; + Unheard and even unseen, no longer proud, + He now must send this yearning message by a cloud. + + XLI + + _According to the treatise called "Virtues + Banner," a lover has four solaces in separation: + first, looking at objects that remind + him of her he loves_; + + 'I see thy limbs in graceful-creeping vines, + Thy glances in the eyes of gentle deer, + Thine eyebrows in the ripple's dancing lines, + Thy locks in plumes, thy face in moonlight clear-- + Ah, jealous! But the whole sweet image is not here. + + XLII + + _second, painting a picture of her_; + + And when I paint that loving jealousy + With chalk upon the rock, and my caress + As at thy feet I lie, I cannot see + Through tears that to mine eyes unbidden press-- + So stern a fate denies a painted happiness. + + XLIII + + _third, dreaming of her_; + + And when I toss mine arms to clasp thee tight, + Mine own though but in visions of a dream-- + They who behold the oft-repeated sight, + The kind divinities of wood and stream, + Let fall great pearly tears that on the blossoms gleam. + + XLIV + + _fourth, touching something which she + has touched_. + + Himalaya's breeze blows gently from the north, + Unsheathing twigs upon the deodar + And sweet with sap that it entices forth-- + I embrace it lovingly; it came so far, + Perhaps it touched thee first, my life's unchanging star! + + XLV + + Oh, might the long, long night seem short to me! + Oh, might the day his hourly tortures hide! + Such longings for the things that cannot be, + Consume my helpless heart, sweet-glancing bride, + In burning agonies of absence from thy side. + + XLVI + + _The bride is besought not to lose heart at + hearing of her lover's wretchedness_, + + Yet much reflection, dearest, makes me strong, + Strong with an inner strength; nor shouldst thou feel + Despair at what has come to us of wrong; + Who has unending woe or lasting weal? + Our fates move up and down upon a circling wheel. + + XLVII + + _and to remember that the curse has its + appointed end, when the rainy season is + over and the year of exile fulfilled. Vishnu + spends the rainy months in sleep upon the + back of the cosmic serpent Shesha_. + + When Vishnu rises from his serpent bed + The curse is ended; close thine eyelids tight + And wait till only four months more are sped; + Then we shall taste each long-desired delight + Through nights that the full autumn moon illumines bright. + + XLVIII + + _Then is added a secret which, as it could not + possibly be known to a third person, + assures her that the cloud is a true + messenger_. + + And one thing more: thou layest once asleep, + Clasping my neck, then wakening with a scream; + And when I wondered why, thou couldst but weep + A while, and then a smile began to beam: + "Rogue! Rogue! I saw thee with another girl in dream." + + XLIX + + This memory shows me cheerful, gentle wife; + Then let no gossip thy suspicions move: + They say the affections strangely forfeit life + In separation, but in truth they prove + Toward the absent dear, a growing bulk of tenderest love.'" + + L + + _The Yaksha then begs the cloud to return + with a message of comfort_. + + Console her patient heart, to breaking full + In our first separation; having spoken, + Fly from the mountain ploughed by Shiva's bull; + Make strong with message and with tender token + My life, so easily, like morning jasmines, broken. + + LI + + I hope, sweet friend, thou grantest all my suit, + Nor read refusal in thy solemn air; + When thirsty birds complain, thou givest mute + The rain from heaven: such simple hearts are rare, + Whose only answer is fulfilment of the prayer. + + LII + + _and dismisses him, with a prayer for his + welfare_. + + Thus, though I pray unworthy, answer me + For friendship's sake, or pity's, magnified + By the sight of my distress; then wander free + In rainy loveliness, and ne'er abide + One moment's separation from thy lightning bride. + + * * * * * + + + + +THE SEASONS + + +_The Seasons_ is an unpretentious poem, describing in six short cantos +the six seasons into which the Hindus divide the year. The title is +perhaps a little misleading, as the description is not objective, but +deals with the feelings awakened by each season in a pair of young +lovers. Indeed, the poem might be called a Lover's Calendar. +Kalidasa's authorship has been doubted, without very cogent argument. +The question is not of much interest, as _The Seasons_ would neither +add greatly to his reputation nor subtract from it. + +The whole poem contains one hundred and forty-four stanzas, or +something less than six hundred lines of verse. There follow a few +stanzas selected from each canto. + + SUMMER + + Pitiless heat from heaven pours + By day, but nights are cool; + Continual bathing gently lowers + The water in the pool; + The evening brings a charming peace: + For summer-time is here + When love that never knows surcease, + Is less imperious, dear. + + Yet love can never fall asleep; + For he is waked to-day + By songs that all their sweetness keep + And lutes that softly play, + By fans with sandal-water wet + That bring us drowsy rest, + By strings of pearls that gently fret + Full many a lovely breast. + + The sunbeams like the fires are hot + That on the altar wake; + The enmity is quite forgot + Of peacock and of snake; + The peacock spares his ancient foe, + For pluck and hunger fail; + He hides his burning head below + The shadow of his tail. + + Beneath the garland of the rays + That leave no corner cool, + The water vanishes in haze + And leaves a muddy pool; + The cobra does not hunt for food + Nor heed the frog at all + Who finds beneath the serpent's hood + A sheltering parasol. + + Dear maiden of the graceful song, + To you may summer's power + Bring moonbeams clear and garlands long + And breath of trumpet-flower, + Bring lakes that countless lilies dot, + Refreshing water-sprays, + Sweet friends at evening, and a spot + Cool after burning days. + + + THE RAINS + + The rain advances like a king + In awful majesty; + Hear, dearest, how his thunders ring + Like royal drums, and see + His lightning-banners wave; a cloud + For elephant he rides, + And finds his welcome from the crowd + Of lovers and of brides. + + The clouds, a mighty army, march + With drumlike thundering + And stretch upon the rainbow's arch + The lightning's flashing string; + The cruel arrows of the rain + Smite them who love, apart + From whom they love, with stinging pain, + And pierce them to the heart. + + The forest seems to show its glee + In flowering nipa plants; + In waving twigs of many a tree + Wind-swept, it seems to dance; + Its ketak-blossom's opening sheath + Is like a smile put on + To greet the rain's reviving breath, + Now pain and heat are gone. + + To you, dear, may the cloudy time + Bring all that you desire, + Bring every pleasure, perfect, prime, + To set a bride on fire; + May rain whereby life wakes and shines + Where there is power of life, + The unchanging friend of clinging vines, + Shower blessings on my wife. + + + AUTUMN + + The autumn comes, a maiden fair + In slenderness and grace, + With nodding rice-stems in her hair + And lilies in her face. + In flowers of grasses she is clad; + And as she moves along, + Birds greet her with their cooing glad + Like bracelets' tinkling song. + + A diadem adorns the night + Of multitudinous stars; + Her silken robe is white moonlight, + Set free from cloudy bars; + And on her face (the radiant moon) + Bewitching smiles are shown: + She seems a slender maid, who soon + Will be a woman grown. + + Over the rice-fields, laden plants + Are shivering to the breeze; + While in his brisk caresses dance + The blossom-burdened trees; + He ruffles every lily-pond + Where blossoms kiss and part, + And stirs with lover's fancies fond + The young man's eager heart. + + + WINTER + + The bloom of tenderer flowers is past + And lilies droop forlorn, + For winter-time is come at last, + Rich with its ripened corn; + Yet for the wealth of blossoms lost + Some hardier flowers appear + That bid defiance to the frost + Of sterner days, my dear. + + The vines, remembering summer, shiver + In frosty winds, and gain + A fuller life from mere endeavour + To live through all that pain; + Yet in the struggle and acquist + They turn as pale and wan + As lonely women who have missed + Known love, now lost and gone. + + Then may these winter days show forth + To you each known delight, + Bring all that women count as worth + Pure happiness and bright; + While villages, with bustling cry, + Bring home the ripened corn, + And herons wheel through wintry sky, + Forget sad thoughts forlorn. + + + EARLY SPRING + + Now, dearest, lend a heedful ear + And listen while I sing + Delights to every maiden dear, + The charms of early spring: + When earth is dotted with the heaps + Of corn, when heron-scream + Is rare but sweet, when passion leaps + And paints a livelier dream. + + When all must cheerfully applaud + A blazing open fire; + Or if they needs must go abroad, + The sun is their desire; + When everybody hopes to find + The frosty chill allayed + By garments warm, a window-blind + Shut, and a sweet young maid. + + Then may the days of early spring + For you be rich and full + With love's proud, soft philandering + And many a candy-pull, + With sweetest rice and sugar-cane: + And may you float above + The absent grieving and the pain + Of separated love. + + + SPRING + + A stalwart soldier comes, the spring, + Who bears the bow of Love; + And on that bow, the lustrous string + Is made of bees, that move + With malice as they speed the shaft + Of blossoming mango-flower + At us, dear, who have never laughed + At love, nor scorned his power. + + Their blossom-burden weights the trees; + The winds in fragrance move; + The lakes are bright with lotuses, + The women bright with love; + The days are soft, the evenings clear + And charming; everything + That moves and lives and blossoms, dear, + Is sweeter in the spring. + + The groves are beautifully bright + For many and many a mile + With jasmine-flowers that are as white + As loving woman's smile: + The resolution of a saint + Might well be tried by this; + Far more, young hearts that fancies paint + With dreams of loving bliss. + + * * * * * + + + +EVERYMAN'S LIBRARY + +By Ernest Rhys + +MADE AT THE TEMPLE + +PRESS LETCHWORTH IN GREAT BRITAIN + + + + + +Victor Hugo said a Library was "an act of faith," and some unknown +essayist spoke of one so beautiful, so perfect, so harmonious in all +its parts, that he who made it was smitten with a passion. In that +faith the promoters of Everyman's Library planned it out originally on +a large scale; and their idea in so doing was to make it conform as +far as possible to a perfect scheme. However, perfection is a thing to +be aimed at and not to be achieved in this difficult world; and since +the first volumes appeared, now several years ago, there have been +many interruptions. A great war has come and gone; and even the City +of Books has felt something like a world commotion. Only in recent +years is the series getting back into its old stride and looking +forward to complete its original scheme of a Thousand Volumes. One of +the practical expedients in that original plan was to divide the +volumes into sections, as Biography, Fiction, History, Belles Lettres, +Poetry, Romance, and so forth; with a compartment for young people, +and last, and not least, one of Reference Books. Beside the +dictionaries and encyclopaedias to be expected in that section, there +was a special set of literary and historical atlases. One of these +atlases dealing with Europe, we may recall, was directly affected by +the disturbance of frontiers during the war; and the maps had to be +completely revised in consequence, so as to chart the New Europe which +we hope will now preserve its peace under the auspices of the League +of Nations set up at Geneva. That is only one small item, however, in +a library list which runs already to the final centuries of the +Thousand. The largest slice of this huge provision is, as a matter of +course, given to the tyrannous demands of fiction. But in carrying out +the scheme, publishers and editors contrived to keep in mind that +books, like men and women, have their elective affinities. The present +volume, for instance, will be found to have its companion books, both +in the same section and even more significantly in other sections. +With that idea too, novels like Walter Scott's _Ivanhoe_ and _Fortunes +of Nigel_, Lytton's _Harold_ and Dickens's _Tale of Two Cities_, have +been used as pioneers of history and treated as a sort of holiday +history books. For in our day history is tending to grow more +documentary and less literary; and "the historian who is a stylist," +as one of our contributors, the late Thomas Seccombe, said, "will soon +be regarded as a kind of Phoenix." But in this special department of +Everyman's Library we have been eclectic enough to choose our history +men from every school in turn. We have Grote, Gibbon, Finlay, +Macaulay, Motley, Frescott. We have among earlier books the Venerable +Bede and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, have completed a Livy in an +admirable new translation by Canon Roberts, while Caesar, Tacitus, +Thucydides and Herodotus are not forgotten. "You only, O Books," said +Richard de Bury, "are liberal and independent; you give to all who +ask." The delightful variety, the wisdom and the wit which are at the +disposal of Everyman in his own library may well, at times, seem to +him a little embarrassing. He may turn to Dick Steele in _The +Spectator_ and learn how Cleomira dances, when the elegance of her +motion is unimaginable and "her eyes are chastised with the simplicity +and innocence of her thoughts." He may turn to Plato's Phaedrus and +read how every soul is divided into three parts (like Caesar's Gaul). +He may turn to the finest critic of Victorian times, Matthew Arnold, +and find in his essay on Maurice de Guerin the perfect key to what is +there called the "magical power of poetry." It is Shakespeare, with +his + + "daffodils That come before the swallow dares, and take + The winds of March with beauty;" + +it is Wordsworth, with his + + "voice ... heard + In spring-time from the cuckoo-bird, + Breaking the silence of the seas + Among the farthest Hebrides;" + +or Keats, with his + + ".... moving waters at their priest-like task + Of cold ablution round Earth's human shores." + +William Hazlitt's "Table Talk," among the volumes of Essays, may help +to show the relationship of one author to another, which is another +form of the Friendship of Books. His incomparable essay in that +volume, "On Going a Journey," forms a capital prelude to Coleridge's +"Biographia Literaria" and to his and Wordsworth's poems. In the same +way one may turn to the review of Moore's Life of Byron in Macaulay's +_Essays_ as a prelude to the three volumes of Byron's own poems, +remembering that the poet whom Europe loved more than England did was +as Macaulay said: "the beginning, the middle and the end of all his +own poetry." This brings us to the provoking reflection that it is the +obvious authors and the books most easy to reprint which have been the +signal successes out of the many hundreds in the series, for Everyman +is distinctly proverbial in his tastes. He likes best of all an old +author who has worn well or a comparatively new author who has gained +something like newspaper notoriety. In attempting to lead him on from +the good books that are known to those that are less known, the +publishers may have at times been too adventurous. The late _Chief_ +himself was much more than an ordinary book-producer in this critical +enterprise. He threw himself into it with the zeal of a book-lover and +indeed of one who, like Milton, thought that books might be as alive +and productive as dragons' teeth, which, being "sown up and down the +land, might chance to spring up armed men." Mr. Pepys in his _Diary_ +writes about some of his books, "which are come home gilt on the +backs, very handsome to the eye." The pleasure he took in them is that +which Everyman may take in the gilt backs of his favourite books in +his own Library, which after all he has helped to make good and +lasting. + + * * * * * + + Abbott's Rollo at Work, etc., 275 + + Addison's Spectator, 164-167 + + AEschylus' Lyrical Dramas, 62 + + AEsop's and Other Fables, 657 + + Aimard's The Indian Scout, 428 + + Ainsworth's Tower of London, 400 + " Old St. Paul's, 522 + " Windsor Castle, 709 + " The Admirable Crichton, 804 + + A'Kempis' Imitation of Christ, 484 + + Alcott's Little Women, and Good Wives, 248 + " Little Men, 512 + + Alpine Club. Peaks, Passes and Glaciers, 778 + + Andersen's Fairy Tales, 4 + + Anglo-Saxon Poetry, 794 + + Anson's Voyages, 510 + + Aristophanes' The Acharnians, etc., 344 + " The Frogs, etc., 516 + + Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics, 547 + " Politics, 605 + + Arnold's (Matthew) Essays, 115 + " Poems, 334 + " Study of Celtic Literature, etc., 458 + + Augustine's (Saint) Confessions, 200 + + Aurelius' (Marcus) Golden Book, 9 + + Austen's (Jane) Sense and Sensibility, 21 + " Pride and Prejudice, 22 + " Mansfield Park, 23 + " Emma, 24 + " Northanger Abbey, and Persuasion, 25 + + + Bacon's Essays, 10 + " Advancement of Learning, 719 + + Bagehot's Literary Studies, 520, 521 + + Baker's (Sir S.W.) Cast up by the Sea, 539 + + Ballantyne's Coral Island, 245 + " Martin Rattler, 246 + " Ungava, 276 + + Balzac's Wild Ass's Skin, 26 + " Eugenie Grandet, 169 + " Old Goriot, 170 + " Atheist's Mass, etc., 229 + " Christ in Flanders, etc., 284 + " The Chouans, 285 + " Quest of the Absolute, 286 + " Cat and Racket, etc., 349 + " Catherine de Medici, 419 + " Cousin Pons, 463 + " The Country Doctor, 530 + " Rise and Fall of Cesar Birotteau, 596 + " Lost Illusions, 656 + " The Country Parson, 686 + " Ursule Mirouet, 733 + + Barbusse's Under Fire, 798 + + Barca's (Mme. C. de la) Life in Mexico, 664 + + Bates' Naturalist on the Amazons, 446 + + Beaumont and Fletcher's Select Plays, 506 + + Beaumont's (Mary) Joan Seaton, 597 + + Bede's Ecclesiastical History, etc., 479 + + Belt's The Naturalist in Nicaragua, 561 + + Berkeley's (Bishop) Principles of Human Knowledge, New Theory of + Vision, etc., 483 + + Berlioz (Hector), Life of, 602 + + Binns' Life of Abraham Lincoln, 783 + + Bjoernson's Plays, 625, 696 + + Blackmore's Lorna Doone, 304 + " Springhaven, 350 + + Blackwell's Pioneer Work for Women, 667 + + Blake's Poems and Prophecies, 792 + + + Boehme's The Signature of All Things, etc., 569 + + Bonaventura's The Little Flowers, + The Life of St. Francis, etc., 485 + + Borrow's Wild Wales, 49 + " Lavengro, 119 + " Romany Rye, 120 + " Bible in Spain, 151 + " Gypsies in Spain, 697 + + Boswell's Life of Johnson, 1, 2 + " Tour in the Hebrides, etc., 387 + + Boult's Asgard and Norse Heroes, 689 + + Boyle's The Sceptical Chymist, 559 + + Bright's (John) Speeches, 252 + + Bronte's (A.) The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, 685 + + Bronte's (C.) Jane Eyre, 287 + " Shirley, 288 + " Villette, 351 + " The Professor, 417 + + Bronte's (E.) Wuthering Heights, 243 + + Brooke's (Stopford A.) Theology in the English Poets, 493 + + Brown's (Dr. John) Rab and His Friends, etc., 116 + + Browne's (Frances) Grannie's Wonderful Chair, 112 + + Browne's (Sir Thos.) Religio Medici, etc., 92 + + Browning's Poems, 1833-1844, 41 + " " 1844-1864, 42 + " The Ring and the Book, 502 + + Buchanan's Life and Adventures of Audubon, 601 + + Bulfinch's The Age of Fable, 472 + " Legends of Charlemagne, 556 + + Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, 204 + + Burke's American Speeches and Letters, 340 + " Reflections on the French Revolution, etc., 460 + + Burnet's History of His Own Times, 85 + + Burney's Evelina, 352 + + Burns' Poems and Songs, 94 + + Burrell's Volume of Heroic Verse, 574 + + Burton's East Africa, 500 + + Butler's Analogy of Religion, 90 + + Buxton's Memoirs, 773 + + Byron's Complete Poetical and Dramatic Works, 486-488 + + + Caesar's Gallic War, etc., 702 + + Canton's Child's Book of Saints, 61 + " Invisible Playmate, etc., 566 + + Carlyle's French Revolution, 31, 32 + " Letters, etc., of Cromwell, 266-268 + " Sartor Resartus, 278 + " Past and Present, 608 + " Essays, 703, 704 + + Cellini's Autobiography, 51 + + Cervantes' Don Quixote, 385, 386 + + Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, 307 + + Chretien de Troyes' Eric and Enid, 698 + + Cibber's Apology for his Life, 668 + + Cicero's Select Letters and Orations, 345 + + Clarke's Tales from Chaucer, 537 + " Shakespeare's Heroines, 109-111 + + Cobbett's Rural Rides, 638, 639 + + Coleridge's Biographia, 11 + " Golden Book, 43 + " Lectures on Shakespeare, 162 + + Collins' Woman in White, 464 + + Collodi's Pinocchio, 538 + + Converse's Long Will, 328 + + Cook's Voyages, 99 + + Cooper's The Deerslayer, 77 + " The Pathfinder, 78 + " Last of the Mohicans, 79 + " The Pioneer, 171 + " The Prairie, 172 + + Cousin's Biographical Dictionary of English Literature, 449 + + Cowper's Letters, 774 + + Cox's Tales of Ancient Greece, 721 + + Craik's Manual of English Literature, 346 + + Craik (Mrs.). _See_ Mulock. + + Creasy's Fifteen Decisive Battles, 300 + + Crevecoeur's Letters from an American Farmer, 640 + + Curtis's Prue and I, and Lotus, 418 + + + Dana's Two Years Before the Mast, 588 + + Dante's Divine Comedy, 308 + + Darwin's Voyage of the Beagle, 104 + + Dasent's The Story of Burnt Njal, 558 + + Daudet's Tartarin of Tarascon, 423 + + Defoe's Robinson Crusoe, 59 + " Captain Singleton, 74 + " Memoirs of a Cavalier, 283 + " Journal of Plague, 289 + + De Joinville's Memoirs of the Crusades, 333 + + Demosthenes' Select Orations, 546 + + Dennis' Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria, 183, 184 + + De Quincey's Lake Poets, 163 + " Opium-Eater, 223 + " English Mail Coach, etc., 609 + + De Retz (Cardinal), Memoirs of, 735, 736 + + Descartes' Discourse on Method, 570 + + Dickens' Barnaby Rudge, 76 + " Tale of Two Cities, 102 + " Old Curiosity Shop, 173 + " Oliver Twist, 233 + " Great Expectations, 234 + " Pickwick Papers, 235 + " Bleak House, 236 + " Sketches by Boz, 237 + " Nicholas Nickleby, 238 + " Christmas Books, 239 + " Dombey & Son, 240 + " Martin Chuzzlewit, 241 + " David Copperfield, 242 + " American Notes, 290 + " Child's History of England, 291 + " Hard Times, 292 + " Little Dorrit, 293 + " Our Mutual Friend, 294 + " Christmas Stories, 414 + " Uncommercial Traveller, 536 + " Edwin Drood, 725 + " Reprinted Pieces, 744 + + Disraeli's Coningsby, 635 + + Dixon's Fairy Tales from Arabian Nights, 249 + + Dodge's Hans Brinker, or the Silver Skates, 620 + + Dostoieffsky's Crime and Punishment, 501 + " The House of the Dead, or Prison Life in Siberia, 533 + " Letters from the Underworld, etc., 654 + " The Idiot, 682 + " Poor Folk, and The Gambler, 711 + " The Brothers Karamazov, 802, 803 + + Dowden's Life of R. Browning, 701 + + Dryden's Dramatic Essays, 568 + + Dufferin's Letters from High Latitudes, 499 + + Dumas' The Three Musketeers, 81 + " The Black Tulip, 174 + + Dumas' Twenty Years After, 175 + " Marguerite de Valois, 326 + " The Count of Monte Cristo, 393, 394 + " The Forty-Five, 420 + " Chicot the Jester, 421 + " Vicomte de Bragelonne, 593-595 + " Le Chevalier de Maison Rouge, 614 + + Duruy's History of France, 737, 738 + + Edgar's Cressy and Poictiers, 17 + " Runnymede and Lincoln Fair, 320 + " Heroes of England, 471 + + Edgeworth's Castle Rackrent, etc., 410 + + Edwardes' Dictionary of Non-Classical Mythology, 632 + + Eliot's Adam Bede, 27 + " Silas Marner, 121 + " Romola, 231 + " Mill on the Floss, 325 + " Felix Holt, 353 + " Scenes of Clerical Life, 468 + + Elyot's Governour, 227 + + Emerson's Essays, 12 + " Representative Men, 279 + " Nature, Conduct of Life, etc., 322 + " Society and Solitude, etc., 567 + " Poems, 715 + + Epictetus' Moral Discourses, etc., 404 + + Erckmann--Chatrian's The Conscript and Waterloo, 354 + " Story of a Peasant, 706, 707 + + Euripides' Plays, 63, 271 + + Evelyn's Diary, 220, 221 + + Ewing's (Mrs.) Mrs. Overtheway's Remembrances, and other Stories, 730 + " Jackanapes, Daddy Darwin's Dovecot, and The Story of a Short Life, + 731 + + Faraday's Experimental Researches in Electricity, 576 + + Fielding's Tom Jones, 355, 356 + " Joseph Andrews, 467 + + Finlay's Byzantine Empire, 33 + " Greece under the Romans, 185 + + Fletcher's (Beaumont and) Select Plays, 506 + + Ford's Gatherings from Spain, 152 + + Forster's Life of Dickens, 781, 782 + + Fox's Journal, 754 + + Fox's Selected Speeches, 759 + + Franklin's Journey to Polar Sea, 447 + + Freeman's Old English History for Children, 540 + + Froissart's Chronicles, 57 + + Fronde's Short Studies, 13, 705 + " Henry VIII., 372-374 + " Edward VI., 375 + " Mary Tudor, 477 + " History of Queen Elizabeth's Reign, 583-587 + " Life of Benjamin Disraeli, Lord Beaconsfield, 666 + + Gait's Annals of the Parish, 427 + + Galton's Inquiries into Human Faculty, 263 + + Gaskell's Cranford, 83 + " Charlotte Bronte, 318 + " Sylvia's Lovers, 524 + " Mary Barton, 598 + " Cousin Phillis, etc., 615 + " North and South, 680 + + Gatty's Parables from Nature, 158 + + Geoffrey of Monmouth's Histories of the Kings of Britain, 577 + + George's Progress and Poverty, 560 + + Gibbon's Roman Empire, 434-436, 474-476 + " Autobiography, 511 + + Gilfillian's Literary Portraits, 348 + + Giraldus Cambrensis, 272 + + Gleig's Life of Wellington, 341 + " The Subaltern, 708 + + Goethe's Faust (Parts I. and II.), 335 + " Wilhelm Meister, 599, 600 + + Gogol's Dead Souls, 726 + " Taras Bulba, 740 + + Goldsmith's Vicar of Wakefield, 295 + " Poems and Plays, 415 + + Gorki's Through Russia, 741 + + Gosse's Restoration Plays, 604 + + Gotthelf's Ulric the Farm Servant, 228 + + Gray's Poems and Letters, 628 + + Green's Short History of the English People, 727, 728 The cloth + edition is in 2 vols. or 1 vol. All other editions are in 1 vol. + + Grimms' Fairy Tales, 56 + + Grote's History of Greece, 186-197 + + Guest's (Lady) Mabinogion, 97 + + + Hahnemann's The Organon of the Rational Art of Healing, 663 + + Hakluyt's Voyages, 264, 265, 313, 314, 338, 339, 388, 389 + + Hallam's Constitutional History, 621-623 + + Hamilton's The Federalist, 519 + + Harte's Luck of Roaring Camp, 681 + + Harvey's Circulation of Blood, 262 + + Hawthorne's Wonder Book, 5 + " The Scarlet Letter, 122 + " House of Seven Gables, 176 + " The Marble Faun, 424 + " Twice Told Tales, 531 + " Blithedale Romance, 592 + + Hazlitt's Shakespeare's Characters, 65 + " Table Talk, 321 + " Lectures, 411 + " Spirit of the Age and Lectures on English Poets, 459 + + Hebbel's Plays, 694 + + Helps' (Sir Arthur) Life of Columbus, 332 + + Herbert's Temple, 309 + + Herodotus (Rawlinson's), 405, 406 + + Herrick's Hesperides, 310 + + Hobbes' Leviathan, 691 + + Holinshed's Chronicle, 800 + + Holmes' Life of Mozart, 564 + + Holmes' (O.W.) Autocrat, 66 + " Professor, 67 + " Poet, 68 + + Homer's Iliad, 453 " Odyssey, 454 + + Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity, 201, 202 + + Horace's Complete Poetical Works, 515 + + Houghton's Life and Letters of Keats, 801 + + Hughes' Tom Brown's Schooldays, 58 + + Hugo's (Victor) Les Miserables, 363, 364 + " Notre Dame, 422 + " Toilers of the Sea, 509 + + Hume's Treatise of Human Nature, etc., 548, 549 + + Hutchinson's (Col.) Memoirs, 317 + + Hutchinson's (W.M.L.) Muses' Pageant, 581, 606, 671 + + Huxley's Man's Place in Nature, 47 + " Select Lectures and Lay Sermons, 498 + + + Ibsen's The Doll's House, etc., 494 + " Ghosts, etc., 552 + " Pretenders, Pillars of Society, etc., 659 + " Brand, 716 " Lady Inger, etc., 729 + " Peer Gynt, 747 + + Ingelow's Mopsa the Fairy, 619 + + Ingram's Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 624 + + Irving's Sketch Book, 117 + " Conquest of Granada, 478 + " Life of Mahomet, 513 + + + James' (G.P.R.) Richelieu, 357 + + James (Wm.), Selections from, 739 + + Johnson's (Dr.) Lives of the Poets, 770-771 + + Johnson's (R.B.) Book of English Ballads, 572 + + Jonson's (Ben) Plays, 489, 490 + + Josephus' Wars of the Jews, 712 + + + Kalidasa's Shakuntala, 629 + + Keats' Poems, 101 + + Keble's Christian Year, 690 + + King's Life of Mazzini, 562 + + Kinglake's Eothen, 337 + + Kingsley's (Chas.) Westward Ho! 20 + " Heroes, 113 " Hypatia, 230 + " Water Babies and Glaucus, 277 + " Hereward the Wake, 296 + " Alton Locke, 462 + " Yeast, 611 + " Madam How and Lady Why, 777 + " Poems, 793 + + Kingsley's (Henry) Ravenshoe, 28 + " Geoffrey Hamlyn, 416 + + Kingston's Peter the Whaler, 6 + " Three Midshipmen, 7 + + + Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare, 8 + " Essays of Elia, 14 + " Letters, 342, 343 + + Lane's Modern Egyptians, 315 + + Langland's Piers Plowman, 571 + + Latimer's Sermons, 40 + + Law's Serious Call, 91 + + Layamon's (Wace and) Arthurian Chronicles, 578 + + Lear (and others), A Book of Nonsense, 806 + + Le Sage's Gil Blas, 437, 438 + + Leslie's Memoirs of John Constable, 563 + + Lever's Harry Lorrequer, 177 + + Lewes' Life of Goethe, 269 + + Lincoln's Speeches, etc., 206 + + Livy's History of Rome, 603, 669, 670, 749, 755, 756 + + Locke's Civil Government, 751 + + Lockhart's Life of Napoleon, 3 + " Life of Scott, 55 " Burns, 156 + + Longfellow's Poems, 382 + + Loennrott's Kalevala, 259, 260 + + Lover's Handy Andy, 178 + + Lowell's Among My Books, 607 + + Lucretius: Of the Nature of Things, 750 + + Luetzow's History of Bohemia, 432 + + Lyell's Antiquity of Man, 700 + + Lytton's Harold, 15 + " Last of the Barons, 18 + " Last Days of Pompeii, 80 + " Pilgrims of the Rhine, 390 + " Rienzi, 532 + + + Macaulay's England, 34-36 + " Essays, 225, 226 + " Speeches on Politics, etc., 399 + " Miscellaneous Essays, 439 + + MacDonald's Sir Gibbie, 678 + " Phantastes, 732 + + Machiavelli's Prince, 280 " Florence, 376 + + Maine's Ancient Law, 734 + + Malory's Le Morte D'Arthur, 45, 46 + + Malthus on the Principles of Population, 692, 693 + + Manning's Sir Thomas More, 19 + " Mary Powell, and Deborah's Diary, 324 + + Marcus Aurelius' Golden Book, 9 + + Marlowe's Plays and Poems, 383 + + Marryat's Mr. Midshipman Easy, 82 + " Little Savage, 159 + " Masterman Ready, 160 + " Peter Simple, 232 + " Children of New Forest, 247 + " Percival Keene, 358 + " Settlers in Canada, 370 + " King's Own, 580 + " Jacob Faithful, 618 + + Martineau's Feats on the Fjords, 429 + + Martinengo-Cesaresco's Folk-Lore and Other Essays, 673 + + Maurice's Kingdom of Christ, 146, 147 + + Mazzini's Duties of Man, etc., 224 + + Melville's Moby Dick, 179 + " Typee, 180 + " Omoo, 297 + + Merivale's History of Rome, 433 + + Mignet's French Revolution, 713 + + Mill's Utilitarianism, Liberty, Representative Government, 482 + + Miller's Old Red Sandstone, 103 + + Milman's History of the Jews, 377, 378 + + Milton's Areopagitica and other Prose Works, 795 + + Milton's Poems, 384 + + Mommsen's History of Rome, 542-545 + + Montagu's (Lady) Letters, 69 + + Montaigne, Florio's, 440-442 + + More's Utopia, and Dialogue of Comfort against Tribulation, 461 + + Morier's Hajji Baba, 679 + + Morris' (Wm.) Early Romances, 261 " Life and Death of Jason, 575 + + Motley's Dutch Republic, 86-88 + + Mulock's John Halifax, 123 + + + Neale's Fall of Constantinople, 655 + + Newcastle's (Margaret, Duchess of) Life of the First Duke of + Newcastle, etc., 722 + + Newman's Apologia Pro Vita Sua, 636 + " On the Scope and Nature of University Education, and + a Paper on Christianity and Scientific Investigation, 723 + + + Oliphant's Salem Chapel, 244 + + Osborne (Dorothy), Letters of, 674 + + Owen's A New View of Society, etc., 799 + + + Paine's Rights of Man, 718 + + Palgrave's Golden Treasury, 96 + + Paltock's Peter Wilkins, 676 + + Park (Mungo), Travels of, 205 + + Parkman's Conspiracy of Pontiac, 302, 303 + + Parry's Letters of Dorothy Osborne, 674 + + Paston's Letters, 752, 753 + + Paton's Two Morte D'Arthur Romances, 634 + + Peacock's Headlong Hall, 327 + + Penn's The Peace of Europe, Some Fruits of Solitude, etc., 724 + + Pepys' Diary, 53, 54 + + Percy's Reliques, 148, 149 + + Pitt's Orations, 145 + + Plato's Republic, 64 " Dialogues, 456, 457 + + Plutarch's Lives, 407-409 + " Moralia, 565 + + Poe's Tales of Mystery and Imagination, 336 + " Poems and Essays, 791 + + Polo's (Marco) Travels, 306 + + Pope's Complete Poetical Works, 760 + + Prelude to Poetry, 789 + + Prescott's Conquest of Peru, 301 + Conquest of Mexico, 397, 398 + + Procter's Legends and Lyrics, 150 + + + Rawlinson's Herodotus, 405, 406 + + Reade's The Cloister and the Hearth, 29 + " Peg Woffington, 299 + + Reid's (Mayne) Boy Hunters of the Mississippi, 582 + + Reid's (Mayne) The Boy Slaves, 797 + + Renan's Life of Jesus, 805 + + Reynolds' Discourses, 118 + + Rhys' Fairy Gold, 157 + " New Golden Treasury, 695 + " Anthology of British Hitstorical Speeches and Orations, 714 + " Political Liberty, 745 + " Golden Treasury of Longer Poems, 746 + + Ricardo's Principles of Political Economy and Taxation, 590 + + Richardson's Pamela, 683, 684 + + Roberts' (Morley) Western Avernus, 762 + + Robertson's Religion and Life, 37 + " Christian Doctrine, 38 + " Bible Subjects, 39 + + Robinson's (Wade) Sermons, 637 + + Roget's Thesaurus, 630, 631 + + Rossetti's (D.G.) Poems, 627 + + Rousseau's Emile, on Education, 518 + " Social Contract and Other Essays, 660 + + Ruskin's Seven Lamps of Architecture, 207 + " Modern Painters, 208-212 + " Stones of Venice, 213-215 + " Unto this Last, etc., 216 + " Elements of Drawing, etc., 217 + " Pre-Raphaelitism, etc., 218 + " Sesame and Lilies, 219 + + Ruskin's Ethics of the Dust, 282 + " Crown of Wild Olive, and Cestus of Aglaia, 323 + " Time and Tide, with other Essays, 450 + " The Two Boyhoods, 688 + + Russell's Life of Gladstone, 661 + + Russian Short Stories, 758 + + + Sand's (George) The Devil's Pool, and Francois the Waif, 534 + + Scheffel's Ekkehard: A Tale of the 10th Century, 529 + + Scott's (M.) Tom Cringle's Log, 710 + + Scott's (Sir W.) Ivanhoe, 16 + " Fortunes of Nigel, 71 + " Woodstock, 72 + " Waverley, 75 + " The Abbot, 124 + " Anne of Geierstein, 125 + " The Antiquary, 126 + " Highland Widow, and Betrothed, 127 + " Black Dwarf, Legend of Montrose, 123 + " Bride of Lammermoor, 129 + " Castle Dangerous, Surgeon's Daughter, 130 + " Robert of Paris, 131 + " Fair Maid of Perth, 132 + " Guy Mannering, 133 + " Heart of Midlothian, 134 + " Kenilworth, 135 + " The Monastery, 136 + " Old Mortality, 137 + " Peveril of the Peak, 138 + " The Pirate, 139 + " Quentin Durward, 140 + " Redgauntlet, 141 + " Rob Roy, 142 + " St. Ronan's Well, 143 + " The Talisman, 144 + " Lives of the Novelists, 331 + " Poems and Plays, 550, 551 + + Seebohm's Oxford Reformers, 665 + + Seeley's Ecce Homo, 305 + + Sewell's (Anna) Black Beauty, 748 + + Shakespeare's Comedies, 153 + " Histories, etc., 154 + " Tragedies, 155 + + Shelley's Poetical Works, 257, 258 + + Shelley's (Mrs.) Frankenstein, 616 + + Sheppard's Charles Auchester, 505 + + Sheridan's Plays, 95 + + Sismondi's Italian Republics, 250 + + Smeaton's Life of Shakespeare, 514 + + Smith's A Dictionary of Dates, 554 + + Smith's Wealth of Nations, 412, 413 + + Smith's (George) Life of Wm. Carey, 395 + + Smith's (Sir Wm.) Smaller Classical Dictionary, 495 + + Smollett's Roderick Random, 790 + + Sophocles, Young's, 114 + + Southey's Life of Nelson, 52 + + Speke's Source of the Nile, 50 + + Spence's Dictionary of Non-Classical Mythology, 632 + + Spencer's (Herbert) Essays on Education, 504 + + Spenser's Faerie Queene, 443, 444 + + Spinoza's Ethics, etc., 481 + + Spyri's Heidi, 431 + + Stanley's Memorials of Canterbury, 89 + " Eastern Church, 251 + + Steele's The Spectator, 164-167 + + Sterne's Tristram Shandy, 617 + " Sentimental Journey and Journal to Eliza, 796 + + Stevenson's Treasure Island and Kidnapped, 763 + " Master of Ballantrae and the Black Arrow, 764 + " Virginibus Puerisque and Familiar Studies of Men and Books, 765 + " An Inland Voyage, Travels with a Donkey, and Silverado Squatters, 766 + " Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The Merry Men, etc., 767 + " Poems, 768 + " In the South Seas and Island Nights' Entertainments, 769 + + St. Francis, The Little Flowers of, etc., 485 + + Stopford Brooke's Theology in the English Poets, 493 + + Stow's Survey of London, 589 + + Stowe's Uncle Tom's Cabin, 371 + + Strickland's Queen Elizabeth, 100 + + Swedenborg's Heaven and Hell, 379 + " Divine Love and Wisdom, 635 + " Divine Providence, 658 + + Swift's Gulliver's Travels, 60 + " Journal to Stella, 757 + " Tale of a Tub, etc., 347 + + + Tacitus' Annals, 273 + " Agricola and Germania, 274 + + Taylor's Words and Places, 517 + + Tennyson's Poems, 44, 626 + + Thackeray's Esmond, 73 + " Vanity Fair, 298 + " Christmas Books, 359 + " Pendennis, 425, 426 + " Newcomes, 465, 466 + " The Virginians, 507, 508 + " English Humorists, and The Four Georges, 610 + " Roundabout Papers, 687 + + Thierry's Norman Conquest, 198, 199 + + Thoreau's Walden, 281 + + Thucydides' Peloponnesian War, 455 + + Tolstoy's Master and Man, and Other Parables and Tales, 469 + " War and Peace, 525-527 + " Childhood, Boyhood and Youth, 591 + " Anna Karenina, 612, 613 + + Trench's On the Study of Words and English Past and Present, 788 + + Trollope's Barchester Towers, 30 + " Framley Parsonage, 181 + " Golden Lion of Granpere, 761 + " The Warden, 182 + " Dr. Thorne, 360 + " Small House at Allington, 361 + " Last Chronicles of Barset, 391, 392 + + Trotter's The Bayard of India, 396 + " Hodson, of Hodson's Horse, 401 + " Warren Hastings, 452 + + Turgeniev's Virgin Soil, 528 + " Liza, 677 + " Fathers and Sons, 742 + + Tyndall's Glaciers of the Alps, 98 + + Tytler's Principles of Translation, 168 + + + Vasari's Lives of the Painters, 784-7 + + Verne's (Jules) Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea, 319 + " Dropped from the Clouds, 367 + " Abandoned, 368 + " The Secret of the Island, 369 + " Five Weeks in a Balloon and Around the World in Eighty Days, 779 + + Virgil's Aeneid, 161 + " Eclogues and Georgics, 222 + + Voltaire's Life of Charles XII., 270 + " Age of Louis XIV., 780 + + + Wace and Layamon's Arthurian Chronicles, 578 + + Walpole's Letters, 775 + + Walton's Compleat Angler, 70 + + Waterton's Wanderings in South America, 772 + + Wesley's Journal, 105-108 + + White's Selborne, 48 + + Whitman's Leaves of Grass (I.) and Democratic Vistas, etc., 573 + + Whyte-Melville's Gladiators, 523 + + Wood's (Mrs. Henry) The Channings, 84 + + Woolman's Journal, etc., 402 + + Wordsworth's Shorter Poems, 203 + " Longer Poems, 311 + + Wright's An Encyclopaedia of Gardening, 555 + + + Xenophon's Cyropaedia, 672 + + + Yonge's The Dove in the Eagle's Nest, 329 + " The Book of Golden Deeds, 330 + " The Heir of Redclyffe, 362 + " The Little Duke, 470 + " The Lances of Lynwood, 579 + + Young's (Arthur) Travels in France and Italy, 720 + + Young's (Sir George) Sophocles, 114 + + The New Testament, 93. + + Ancient Hebrew Literature, 4 vols., 253-256. + + English Short Stories. An Anthology, 143. + + Everyman's English Dictionary, 776 + + + + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Translations of Shakuntala and Other +Works, by Kaalidaasa + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRANSLATIONS OF SHAKUNTALA *** + +***** This file should be named 16659.txt or 16659.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/6/5/16659/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Jayam Subramanian and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** + diff --git a/old/16659.zip b/old/16659.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6ec96dd --- /dev/null +++ b/old/16659.zip |