{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_41128/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_41128","id":"gutenberg_41128","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/41128","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Reincarnation -- Fiction","Sanskrit fiction -- Translations into English"],"text":"Oriental Translation Fund.\n                              New Series.\n\n                                  II.\n\n                                  The\n                           KADAMBARI OF BANA.\n\n                 Translated, with Occasional Omissions,\n\n                          And Accompanied by a\n            Full Abstract of the Continuation of the Romance\n                  by the Author's Son Bhushanabhatta,\n\n                                   By\n\n                             C. M. RIDDING,\n\n             Formerly Scholar of Girton College, Cambridge.\n\n\n\n              Printed and published under the patronage of\n                       The Royal Asiatic Society,\n                              And sold at\n                     22, Albemarle Street, London.\n\n                                 1896.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                                   To\n\n                              MRS. COWELL,\n                           WHO FIRST TOLD ME\n                        THE STORY OF KADAMBARI,\n                            THIS TRANSLATION\n                      IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.\n\n\n                'Anenakaranavishkritavatsalyena caritena\n                  kasya na bandhutvam adhyaropayasi.'\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION. [1]\n\n\nThe story of Kadambari is interesting for several reasons. It is a\nstandard example of classical prose; it has enjoyed a long popularity\nas a romance; and it is one of the comparatively few Sanskrit works\nwhich can be assigned to a certain date, and so it can serve as a\nlandmark in the history of Indian literature and Indian thought.\n\n\n\nTHE AUTHOR.\n\nBanabhatta, its author, lived in the reign of Harshavardhana of\nThane\u00e7ar, the great king mentioned in many inscriptions, [2] who\nextended his rule over the whole of Northern India, and from whose\nreign (A.D. 606) dates the Harsha era, used in Nepal. Bana, as he\ntells us, both in the 'Harsha-Carita' and in the introductory verses\nof 'Kadambari,' was a Vatsyayana Brahman. His mother died while he\nwas yet young, and his father's tender care of him, recorded in the\n'Harsha-Carita,' [3] was doubtless in his memory as he recorded the\nunselfish love of Vai\u00e7ampayana's father in 'Kadambari' (p. 22). In\nhis youth he travelled much, and for a time 'came into reproach,'\nby reason of his unsettled life; but the experience gained in foreign\nlands turned his thoughts homewards, and he returned to his kin, and\nlived a life of quiet study in their midst. From this he was summoned\nto the court of King Harsha, who at first received him coldly, but\nafterwards attached him to his service; and Bana in the 'Harsha-Carita'\nrelates his own life as a prelude to that of his master.\n\nThe other works attributed to him are the 'Candika\u00e7ataka,' [4] or\nverses in honour of Candika; a drama, 'The Parvatiparinaya'; and\nanother, called 'Mukutataditaka,' the existence of which is inferred\nfrom Gunavinayagani's commentary on the 'Nalacampu.' Professor\nPeterson also mentions that a verse of Bana's ('Subhashitavali,'\n1087) is quoted by Kshemendra in his 'Aucityavicaracarca,' with a\nstatement that it is part of a description of Kadambari's sorrow in\nthe absence of Candrapida, whence, he adds, 'it would seem that Bana\nwrote the story of Kadambari in verse as well as in prose,' and he\ngives some verses which may have come from such a work.\n\nBana himself died, leaving 'Kadambari' unfinished, and his son\nBhushanabhatta took it up in the midst of a speech in which Kadambari's\nsorrows are told, and continued the speech without a break, save for\na few introductory verses in honour of his father, and in apology for\nhis having undertaken the task, 'as its unfinished state was a grief to\nthe good.' He continued the story on the same plan, and with careful,\nand, indeed, exaggerated, imitation of his father's style.\n\n\n\nTHE PLOT OF KADAMBARI.\n\nThe story of 'Kadambari' is a very complex one, dealing as it does\nwith the lives of two heroes, each of whom is reborn twice on earth.\n\n(1-47) A learned parrot, named Vai\u00e7ampayana, was brought by a Candala\nmaiden to King \u00c7udraka, and told him how it was carried from its\nbirthplace in the Vindhya Forest to the hermitage of the sage Jabali,\nfrom whom it learnt the story of its former life.\n\n(47-95) Jabali's story was as follows: Tarapida, King of Ujjayini, won\nby penance a son, Candrapida, who was brought up with Vai\u00e7ampayana,\nson of his minister, \u00c7ukanasa. In due time Candrapida was anointed\nas Crown Prince, and started on an expedition of world-conquest. At\nthe end of it he reached Kailasa, and, while resting there, was\nled one day in a vain chase of a pair of kinnaras to the shores of\nthe Acchoda Lake. (95-141) There he beheld a young ascetic maiden,\nMaha\u00e7veta, who told him how she, being a Gandharva princess, had seen\nand loved a young Brahman Pundarika; how he, returning her feeling,\nhad died from the torments of a love at variance with his vow; how\na divine being had carried his body to the sky, and bidden her not\nto die, for she should be reunited with him; and how she awaited\nthat time in a life of penance. (141-188) But her friend Kadambari,\nanother Gandharva princess, had vowed not to marry while Maha\u00e7veta\nwas in sorrow, and Maha\u00e7veta invited the prince to come to help her\nin dissuading Kadambari from the rash vow. Love sprang up between\nthe prince and Kadambari at first sight; but a sudden summons from\nhis father took him to Ujjayini without farewell, while Kadambari,\nthinking herself deserted, almost died of grief.\n\n(188-195) Meanwhile news came that his friend Vai\u00e7ampayana, whom he had\nleft in command of the army, had been strangely affected by the sight\nof the Acchoda Lake, and refused to leave it. The prince set out to\nfind him, but in vain; and proceeding to the hermitage of Maha\u00e7veta,\nhe found her in despair, because, in invoking on a young Brahman,\nwho had rashly approached her, a curse to the effect that he should\nbecome a parrot, she learnt that she had slain Vai\u00e7ampayana. At her\nwords the prince fell dead from grief, and at that moment Kadambari\ncame to the hermitage.\n\n(195-202) Her resolve to follow him in death was broken by the promise\nof a voice from the sky that she and Maha\u00e7veta should both be reunited\nwith their lovers, and she stayed to tend the prince's body, from\nwhich a divine radiance proceeded; while King Tarapida gave up his\nkingdom, and lived as a hermit near his son.\n\n(202 to end) Such was Jabali's tale; and the parrot went on to say how,\nhearing it, the memory of its former love for Maha\u00e7veta was reawakened,\nand, though bidden to stay in the hermitage, it flew away, only to be\ncaught and taken to the Candala princess. It was now brought by her to\nKing \u00c7udraka, but knew no more. The Candala maiden thereupon declared\nto \u00c7udraka that she was the goddess Lakshmi, mother of Pundarika or\nVai\u00e7ampayana, and announced that the curse for him and \u00c7udraka was\nnow over. Then \u00c7udraka suddenly remembered his love for Kadambari,\nand wasted away in longing for her, while a sudden touch of Kadambari\nrestored to life the Moon concealed in the body of Candrapida, the\nform that he still kept, because in it he had won her love. Now the\nMoon, as Candrapida and \u00c7udraka, and Pundarika, in the human and\nparrot shape of Vai\u00e7ampayana, having both fulfilled the curse of an\nunsuccessful love in two births on earth, were at last set free,\nand, receiving respectively the hands of Kadambari and Maha\u00e7veta,\nlived happily ever afterwards.\n\nThe plot is involved, and consists of stories within each other after\nthe fashion long familiar to Europeans in the 'Arabian Nights'; but\nthe author's skill in construction is shown by the fact that each\nof the minor stories is essential to the development of the plot,\nand it is not till quite the end that we see that \u00c7udraka himself,\nthe hearer of the story, is really the hero, and that his hearing\nthe story is necessary to reawaken his love for Kadambari, and\nso at the same time fulfil the terms of the curse that he should\nlove in vain during two lives, and bring the second life to an end\nby his longing for reunion. It may help to make the plot clear if\nthe threads of it are disentangled. The author in person tells all\nthat happens to \u00c7udraka (pp. 3-16 and pp. 205 to end). The parrot's\ntale (pp. 16-205) includes that of Jabali (pp. 47-202) concerning\nCandrapida, and Vai\u00e7ampayana the Brahman, with the story told by\nMaha\u00e7veta (pp. 101-136) of her love for Pundarika.\n\n\n\nTHE STORY AS TOLD IN THE KATHA-SARIT-SAGARA.\n\nThe story as told in the Katha-Sarit-Sagara of Somadeva [5] differs\nin some respects from this. There a Nishada princess brought to King\nSumanas a learned parrot, which told its life in the forest, ended by\na hunt in which its father was killed, and the story of its past life\nnarrated by the hermit Agastya. In this story a prince, Somaprabha,\nafter an early life resembling that of Candrapida, was led in his\npursuit of kinnaras to an ascetic maiden, Manorathaprabha, whose\nstory is that of Maha\u00e7veta, and she took him, at his own request,\nto see the maiden Makarandika, who had vowed not to marry while\nher friend was unwed. He was borne through the air by a Vidyadhara,\nand beheld Makarandika. They loved each other, and a marriage was\narranged between them. The prince, however, was suddenly recalled\nby his father, and Makarandika's wild grief brought on her from\nher parents a curse that she should be born as a Nishada. Too late\nthey repented, and died of grief; and her father became a parrot,\nkeeping from a former birth as a sage his memory of the \u00c7astras,\nwhile her mother became a sow. Pulastya added that the curse would\nbe over when the story was told in a king's court.\n\nThe parrot's tale reminded King Sumanas of his former birth, and on\nthe arrival of the ascetic maiden, sent by \u00c7iva, 'who is merciful\nto all his worshippers,' he again became the young hermit she had\nloved. Somaprabha, too, at \u00c7iva's bidding, went to the king's court,\nand at the sight of him the Nishada regained the shape of Makarandika,\nand became his wife; while the parrot 'left the body of a bird, and\nwent to the home earned by his asceticism.' 'Thus,' the story ends,\n'the appointed union of human beings certainly takes place in this\nworld, though vast spaces intervene.'\n\nThe main difference between the stories is in the persons affected\nby the curse; and here the artistic superiority of Bana is shown\nin his not attaching the degrading forms of birth to Kadambari or\nher parents. The horse is given as a present to the hero by Indra,\nwho sends him a message, saying: 'You are a Vidyadhara, and I give\nyou the horse in memory of our former friendship. When you mount it\nyou will be invincible.' The hero's marriage is arranged before his\nsudden departure, so that the grief of the heroine is due only to their\nseparation, and not to the doubts on which Bana dwells so long. It\nappears possible that both this story and 'Kadambari' are taken from a\ncommon original now lost, which may be the Brihatkatha of Gunadhya. [6]\nIn that case the greater refinement of Bana's tale would be the result\nof genius giving grace to a story already familiar in a humbler guise.\n\n\n\nREFERENCES TO KADAMBARI IN THE SAHITYA-DARPANA AND ELSEWHERE.\n\nThe author of the Sahitya-Darpana [7] speaks of the Katha as follows:\n'In the Katha (tale), which is one of the species of poetical\ncomposition in prose, a poetical matter is represented in verse,\nand sometimes the Arya, and sometimes the Vaktra and Apavaktraka are\nthe metres employed in it. It begins with stanzas in salutation to\nsome divinity, as also descriptive of the behaviour of bad men and\nothers.' To this the commentary adds: 'The \"Kadambari\" of Banabhatta is\nan example.' Professor Peterson corrects the translation of the words\n'Kathayam sarasam vastu padyair eva vinirmitam,' giving as their sense,\n'A narration in prose, with here and there a stray verse or two,\nof matter already existing in a metrical form.' [8] According to his\nrendering, the Katha is in its essence a story claiming to be based\non previous works in verse, whether in this case the original were\nBana's own metrical version of 'Kadambari,' [9] or the work which\nwas also the original of the Katha-Sarit-Sagara story.\n\nThe story of Pundarika and Maha\u00e7veta receives mention, firstly, for\nthe introduction of death, contrary to the canon; secondly, for the\ndetermination of the nature of their sorrow, and its poetic quality,\nand consequent appeal to the feelings of the reader. Firstly: (\u00a7 215)\n'Death, which is a condition to which one may be brought by love,\nis not described in poetry and the drama, where the other conditions,\nsuch as anxiety, etc., are constantly described, because it, instead\nof enhancing, causes the destruction of \"Flavour.\" [10] But it may be\nspoken of (1) as having nearly taken place, or (2) as being mentally\nwished for; and it is with propriety described (3) if there is to be,\nat no distant date, a restoration to life.' The commentary takes\nthe story of Pundarika as an example of the third condition, and\ndescribes it as a 'case of pathetic separation.' Secondly: (\u00a7 224)\n'Either of two young lovers being dead, and being yet to be regained\nthrough some supernatural interposition, when the one left behind is\nsorrowful, then let it be called the separation of tender sadness'\n(karunavipralamhha). The commentary gives Maha\u00e7veta as the instance,\nand continues: 'But if the lost one be not regainable, or regainable\nonly after transmigration in another body, the flavour is called the\n\"Pathetic\" simply, there being in this case no room for any admixture\nof the \"Erotic\"; but in the case just mentioned--of Pundarika and\nMaha\u00e7veta--immediately on Sarasvati's declaration from the sky that\nthe lovers should be reunited, there is the \"Erotic in its form of\ntender sadness,\" for desire arises on the expectation of reunion,\nbut PREVIOUSLY to Sarasvati's promise there was the \"Pathetic\";\nsuch is the opinion of the competent authorities. And as for what\nsome say in regard to the case of Pundarika and Maha\u00e7veta, that\n\"moreover AFTER the expectation of reunion, excited by Sarasvati's\npromise to that effect, there is merely your honour's variety of\n\"love in absence,\" (\u00a7 222) the one which you call \"being abroad\"\n(\u00a7 221)--others hold it to be distinct, because of the presence of\nthat distinction, DEATH, which is something else than merely being\nabroad.' These are the passages in which direct mention is made of\n'Kadambari,' and in \u00a7 735, which defines special mention (parisamkhya)\nas taking place 'when something is affirmed for the denial, expressed\nor understood, of something else similar to it,' the commentary adds:\n'When founded upon a Paronomasia, it is peculiarly striking, e.g.,\n\"When that king, the conqueror of the world, was protecting the earth,\nthe mixture of colours (or castes) was in painting, etc.,\"--a passage\nfrom the description of \u00c7udraka in \"Kadambari\" (P. 5).'\n\nReferences to Bana in other works are given by Professor Peterson, so\nthat three only need be mentioned here. The first I owe to the kindness\nof Professor C. Bendall. In a collection of manuscripts at the British\nMuseum (Or., 445-447) 'consisting chiefly of law-books transcribed\n(perhaps for some European) on European paper in the Telugu-Canarese\ncharacter,' one, Or., 446 c., the Kamandakiya-Niti-\u00c7astra, contains\non folios 128-131 a passage from 'Kadambari' (pp. 76-84, infra) [11]\non the consecration of a crown-prince, and the duties and dangers of a\nking. It forms part of an introduction to the Kamandakiya-Niti-\u00c7astra\nand occurs without any hint of its being a quotation from another\nwork. The author of the Nalacampu not only writes a verse in honour\nof Bana, [12] but models his whole style upon him. A curious instance\nof the long popularity of 'Kadambari' is that in the 'Durge\u00e7anandini'\nby Chattaji, an historical novel, published in 1871, and treating\nof the time of Akbar, the heroine is represented as reading in her\nboudoir the romance of 'Kadambari.' [13]\n\n\n\nTHE INTEREST OF 'KADAMBARI.'\n\nIt may be asked What is the value of 'Kadambari' for European\nreaders? and to different persons the answer will doubtless\nbe different. Historical interest, so far as that depends on the\nnarration of historical facts, appears to be entirely lacking, though\nit may be that at some future time our knowledge from other sources\nmay be so increased that we may recognise portraits and allusions in\nwhat seems now purely a work of romance. But in the wider sense in\nwhich history claims to deal with the social ideas that belong to\nany epoch, 'Kadambari' will always have value as representing the\nways of thinking and feeling which were either customary or welcome\nat its own time, and which have continued to charm Indian readers. It\nis indeed true that it probably in many ways does not give a picture\nof contemporary manners, just as a medi\u00e6val illuminated manuscript\noften represents the dress and surroundings prior to the time of\nthe illuminator, so as to gain the grace of remoteness bestowed by\nreverence for the past. In India, where change works but slowly,\nthe description of the court and city life, where all the subjects\nshow by outward tokens their sympathy with the joys and sorrows of\ntheir ruler, as in a Greek chorus, is vivid in its fidelity. [14]\nThe quiet yet busy life of the hermits in the forest, where the day\nis spent in worship and in peaceful toils, where at eve the sunbeams\n'linger like birds on the crest of hill and tree,' and where night\n'darkens all save the hearts of the hermits,' is full of charm. [15]\n\nThe coronation of the crown prince, the penances performed by the\nqueen to win a son, the reverence paid to Mahakala, also belong to\nour picture of the time. The description of Ujjayini, surrounded by\nthe Sipra, is too general in its terms to give a vivid notion of what\nit then was. The site of the temple of Mahakala is still shown outside\nthe ruins of the old town. A point of special interest is the argument\nagainst the custom of suicide on the death of a friend. Candrapida\nconsoles Maha\u00e7veta that she has not followed her lover in death\nby saying that one who kills himself at his friend's death makes\nthat friend a sharer in the guilt, and can do no more for him in\nanother world, whereas by living he can give help by sacrifices and\nofferings. Those, too, who die may not be reunited for thousands of\nbirths. In the 'Katha-Ko\u00e7a' [16] a prince is dissuaded from following\nhis wife to death because 'Even the idea of union with your beloved\nwill be impossible when you are dead'; but the occurrence of the\nidea in a romance is more noteworthy than in a work which illustrates\nJain doctrines. The question of food as affected by caste is touched\non also (p. 205), when the Candala maiden tells the parrot that a\nBrahman may, in case of need, receive food of any kind, and that\nwater poured on the ground, and fruit, are pure even when brought by\nthe lowest. Another point to be remarked is the mention of followers\nof many sects as being present at court. \u00c7iva, especially under the\nname of Mahakala at Ujjayini, receives special worship, and Agni and\nthe Matrikas (p. 14) also receive reverence. The zenanas include aged\nascetic women (p. 217); followers of the Arhat, Krishna, Vi\u00e7ravasa,\nAvalokite\u00e7vara, and Viri\u00f1ca (p. 162); and the courtyard of \u00c7ukanasa\nhas \u00c7aivas and followers of \u00c7akyamuni (p. 217), also Kshapanakas\n(explained by the Commentary as Digambaras). The king, [17] however,\nis described as having an urna (the hair meeting between the brows),\nwhich is one of Buddha's marks; but the Commentary describes the urna\nas cakravartiprabhritinam eva nanyasya, so probably it only belongs to\nBuddha as cakravarti, or universal ruler. This shows that the reign of\nHarsha was one of religious tolerance. Hiouen Thsang, indeed, claims\nhim as a Buddhist at heart, and mentions his building Buddhist stupas,\n[18] but he describes himself as a \u00c7aiva in the Madhuban grant, [19]\nand the preeminence yielded in 'Kadambari' to \u00c7iva certainly shows\nthat his was then the popular worship.\n\nAnother source of interest in 'Kadambari' lies in its contribution to\nfolklore. It may perhaps contain nothing not found elsewhere, but the\nfact of its having a date gives it a value. The love of snakes for\nthe breeze and for sandal-trees, the truth of dreams at the end of\nnight, the magic circles, bathing in snake-ponds to gain a son, the\nmustard-seed and ghi put in a baby's mouth, may all be familiar ideas,\nbut we have a date at which they were known and not despised. Does\nthe appeal to the truth of her heart by Maha\u00e7veta in invoking the\ncurse (p. 193) rest on the idea that fidelity to a husband confers\nsupernatural power, [20] or is it like the 'act of truth' by which\nBuddha often performs miracles in the 'Jataka'?\n\n\n\nTHE STYLE OF 'KADAMBARI.'\n\nThe unsettled chronology of Indian literature makes it impossible\nto work out at present Bana's relations with other Sanskrit\nwriters. Professor Peterson, [21] indeed, makes some interesting\nconjectures as to his connection with other authors of his own country,\nand also suggests, from similarity of phrase, that he may have fallen\nindirectly under the influence of Alexandrian literature. Be that\nas it may, he has been for many centuries a model of style, and it\nis therefore worth while to consider briefly the characteristics\nof his style compared with European standards. The first thing\nthat strikes the reader is that the sense of proportion, the very\nfoundation of style as we know it, is entirely absent. No topic is\nlet go till the author can squeeze no more from it. In descriptions\nevery possible minor detail is given in all its fulness; then follows\na series of similes, and then a firework of puns. In speeches, be they\nlamentations or exhortations, grief is not assuaged, nor advice ended,\ntill the same thing has been uttered with every existing variety of\nsynonym. This defect, though it springs from the author's richness of\nresource and readiness of wit, makes the task of rendering in English\nthe merit of the Sanskrit style an impossible one. It gives also a\nfalse impression; for to us a long description, if good, gives the\neffect of 'sweetness long drawn out,' and, if bad, brings drowsiness;\nwhereas in Sanskrit the unending compounds suggest the impetuous rush\nof a torrent, and the similes and puns are like the play of light\nand shade on its waters. Bana, according to Professor Weber, [22]\n'passes for the special representative of the Pa\u00f1cali style,' [23]\nwhich Bhoja, quoted in the commentary of the 'Sahitya-Darpana,' defines\nas 'a sweet and soft style characterized by force (ojas) and elegance\n(kanti), containing compounds of five or six words.' But style,\nwhich is to poetic charm as the body to the soul, varies with the\nsense to be expressed, and Bana in many of his speeches is perfectly\nsimple and direct. Owing to the peacefulness of 'Kadambari,' there is\nlittle opportunity for observing the rule that in the 'Katha' letters\n'ought not to be too rough, even when the flavour is furious.' [24]\nOf the alliteration of initial consonants, the only long passage\nis in the description of \u00c7ukanasa (p. 50), but in its subtler\nforms it constantly occurs. Of shorter passages there are several\nexamples--e.g., Candra Candala (infra, p. 127); Candrapida Candalo\n(Sanskrit text, p. 416); Utkantham sotkantham kanthe jagraha (Ibid.,\np. 367); Kamam sakamam kuryam (Ibid., p. 350); Candrapida pidanaya\n(Ibid., p. 370). The ornament of \u00e7lesha, or paronomasia, which seems\nto arise from the untrained philological instinct of mankind seeking\nthe fundamental identity of like sounds with apparently unlike meaning,\nand which lends dramatic intensity when, as sometimes in Shakespeare,\n[25] a flash of passionate feeling reveals to the speaker an original\nsameness of meaning in words seemingly far apart, is by Bana used\npurely as an adornment. He speaks of pleasant stories interwoven\nwith puns 'as jasmine garlands with campak buds,' and they abound\nin his descriptions. The rasanopama, [26] or girdle of similes,\nis exemplified (p. 115), 'As youth to beauty, love to youth, spring\nto love' so was Kapi\u00f1jala to Pundarika. Vishamam (incongruity) is\nthe figure used in 'the brightness of his glory, free from heat,\nconsumed his foes; constant, ever roamed' (p. 48). It can scarcely\nbe separated from virodha (contradiction)--often used, as in 'I\nwill allay on the funeral pyre the fever which the moon, sandal,\nand all cool things have increased' (p. 195)--or from vicitram [27]\n(strangeness), where an act is contrary to its apparent purpose:\n'There lives not the man whom the virtues of the most courteous lady\nKadambari do not discourteously enslave' (p. 159). Arthapatti [28] (a\nfortiori conclusion) is exemplified in 'Even the senseless trees, robed\nin bark, seem like fellow-ascetics of this holy man. How much more,\nthen, living beings endowed with sense!' (p. 43). Time and space would\nalike fail for analysis of Bana's similes according to the rules of the\n'Sahitya-Darpana.' [29] The author of the 'Raghavapandaviya' considers\nSubandhu and Bana as his only equals in vakrokti, or crooked speech,\nand the fault of a 'meaning to be guessed out' ('Sahitya-Darpana,' \u00a7\n574) is not rare. The 'Kavya-Praka\u00e7a,' in addition to the references\ngiven by Professor Peterson, quotes a stanza describing a horse in the\n'Harsha-Carita' (chap. iii.) as an example of svabhavokti.\n\nThe hero belongs to the division described as the high-spirited,\nbut temperate and firm ('Sahitya-Darpana,' \u00a7 64), i.e., he who\nis 'not given to boasting, placable, very profound, with great\nself-command, resolute, whose self-esteem is concealed, and faithful\nto his engagements,' and who has the 'eight manly qualities' of\n'brilliancy, vivacity, sweetness of temper, depth of character,\nsteadfastness, keen sense of honour, gallantry, and magnanimity'\n(Ibid., \u00a7 89). Kadambari is the type of the youthful heroine who\nfeels love for the first time, is shy, and gentle even in indignation\n(Ibid., \u00a7 98). The companions of each are also those declared in the\nbooks of rhetoric to be appropriate.\n\n\n\nLITERARY PARALLELS.\n\nThe work which most invites comparison with 'Kadambari' is one far\nremoved from it in place and time--Spenser's 'Faerie Queene.' Both\nhave in great measure the same faults and the same virtues. The\nlack of proportion,--due partly to too large a plan, partly to an\nimagination wandering at will--the absence of visualization--which\nin Spenser produces sometimes a line like\n\n\n           'A lovely Ladie rode him faire beside\n            Upon a lowly Asse more white then snow,\n            Yet she much whiter,'\n\n\nand in Bana many a description like that of Maha\u00e7veta's fairness\n(pp. 95-97)--the undiscriminating praise bestowed on those whom they\nwould fain honour, the shadowy nature of many of their personages,\nand the intricacies in which the story loses itself, are faults common\nto both. Both, too, by a strange coincidence, died with their work\nunfinished. But if they have the same faults, they have also many\nof the same virtues. The love of what is beautiful and pure both\nin character and the world around, tenderness of heart, a gentle\nspirit troubled by the disquiet of life, [30] grace and sweetness of\nstyle, and idyllic simplicity, are common to both. Though, however,\nCandrapida may have the chivalry and reverence of the Red Cross Knight,\nand Una share with Kadambari or Rohini 'nobility, tenderness, loftiness\nof soul, devotion and charm,' [31] the English hero and heroine are\nmore real and more strenuous. We are, indeed, told in one hurried\nsentence of the heroic deeds of Candrapida in his world-conquest,\nand his self-control and firmness are often insisted on; but as he\nappears throughout the book, his self-control is constantly broken\ndown by affection or grief, and his firmness destroyed by a timid\nbalancing of conflicting duties, while his real virtue is his unfailing\ngentleness and courtesy. Nor could Kadambari, like Una, bid him, in\nany conflict, 'Add faith unto your force, and be not faint.' She is,\nperhaps, in youth and entire self-surrender, more like Shakespeare's\nJuliet, but she lacks her courage and resolve.\n\n\n\nTHE PURPOSE OF 'KADAMBARI.'\n\nThe likeness of spirit between these two leads to the question, Had\nBana, like Spenser, any purpose, ethical or political, underlying his\nstory? On the surface it is pure romance, and it is hard to believe\nthat he had any motive but the simple delight of self-expression\nand love for the children of his own imagination. He only claims\nto tell a story 'tender with the charm of gracious speech, that\ncomes of itself, like a bride, to the possession of its lord';\n[32] but it may be that he gladly gathered up in old age the fruits\nof his life's experience, and that his own memory of his father's\ntenderness to his childhood, of the temptations of youth, and of the\ndangers of prosperity and flattery that assail the heart of kings,\nwas not used only to adorn a tale, but to be a guide to others on the\nperilous path of life. Be that as it may, the interest of 'Kadambari,'\nlike that of the 'Faerie Queene,' does not depend for us now on any\nunderlying purpose, but on the picture it presents in itself of the\nlife and thought of a world removed in time, but not in sympathy, from\nour own; on the fresh understanding it gives of those who are in the\nwidest sense our fellow-countrymen; and on the charm, to quote the\nbeautiful words of Professor Peterson, 'of a story of human sorrow\nand divine consolation, of death and the passionate longing for a\nunion after death, that goes straight from the heart of one who had\nhimself felt the pang, and nursed the hope, to us who are of like\nframe with him ... the story which from the beginning of time mortal\nears have yearned to hear, but which mortal lips have never spoken.'\n\n\n\nTHE PLAN OF THE TRANSLATION.\n\nThe translation of Bana presents much difficulty from the elaboration\nof his style, and it has been a specially hard task, and sometimes\nan impossible one, to give any rendering of the constant play on\nwords in which he delights. I have sometimes endeavoured to give\nwhat might be an English equivalent, and in such cases I have\nadded in a note the literal meaning of both alternatives; perhaps\ntoo much freedom may have been used, and sometimes also the best\nalternative may not have been chosen to place in the text; but those\nwho have most experience will know how hard it is to do otherwise\nthan fail. Some long descriptions have been omitted, such, e.g.,\nas a passage of several pages describing how the dust rose under\nthe feet of Candrapida's army, and others where there seemed no\nspecial interest or variety to redeem their tediousness. A list of\nthese omissions [33] is given at the end, together with an appendix,\nin which a few passages, chiefly interesting as mentioning religious\nsects, are added. I have acted on Professor Cowell's advice as to the\nprinciple on which omissions are made, as also in giving only a full\nabstract, and not a translation, of the continuation of 'Kadambari'\nby Bhushana. It is so entirely an imitation of his father's work in\nstyle, with all his faults, and without the originality that redeems\nthem, that it would not reward translation. In my abstract I have\nkept the direct narration as more simple, but even when passages are\ngiven rather fully, it does not profess in any case to be more than\na very free rendering; sometimes only the sense of a whole passage\nis summed up. I regret that the system of transliteration approved\nby the Royal Asiatic Society came too late for adoption here.\n\nThe edition of 'Kadambari' to which the references in the text are\ngiven is that of the Nirnaya-Sagara Press (Bombay, 1890), which\nthe full commentary makes indispensable, but I have also throughout\nmade use of Professor Peterson's edition (Bombay Sanskrit Series,\nNo. xxiv.). For the last half of the Second Part [34] I have referred\nto an anonymous literal translation, published by the New Britannia\nPress Depository, 78, Amherst Street, Calcutta.\n\nI have now to offer my grateful thanks to the Secretary of State\nfor India, without whose kind help the volume could not have been\npublished. I have also to thank Miss C. M. Duff for allowing me to use\nthe MS. of her 'Indian Chronology'; Miss E. Dale, of Girton College,\nfor botanical notes, which I regret that want of space prevented my\nprinting in full; Mr. C. Tawney, librarian of the Indian Office, for\ninformation as to the sources of Indian fiction; Mr. F. F. Arbuthnot\nand Professor Rhys-Davids, for valuable advice; Professor C. Bendall,\nfor his description of the Kamandakiya-Niti-\u00c7astra, and his constant\nkindness about my work; Mr. F. W. Thomas, of Trinity College, for\nletting me see the proof-sheets of the translation of the 'Harsha\nCarita'; and others for suggested renderings of difficult phrases,\nand for help of various kinds.\n\nBut especially my thanks are due to Professor Cowell [35] for a\ngenerosity and unwearied helpfulness which all his pupils know,\nand which perhaps few but they could imagine. I read through with\nhim the whole of the First Part before translating it myself, so that\nmistakes in the translation, many as they may be, can arise only from\nmisunderstanding on my part, from too great freedom of rendering,\nor from failing to have recourse to the knowledge he so freely gives.\n\n\n        'Vrihatsahayah karyantam kshodiyanapi gacchati;\n        Sambhuyambodhim abhyeti mahanadya nagapaga.'\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nKADAMBARI.\n\n\n(1) Hail to the Birthless, the cause of creation, continuance, and\ndestruction, triple [36] in form and quality, who shows activity in\nthe birth of things, goodness in their continuance, and darkness in\ntheir destruction.\n\n(2) Glory to the dust of Tryambaka's feet, caressed by the diadem\nof the demon Bana [37]; even that dust that kisses the circle of\nRavana's ten crest-gems, that rests on the crests of the lords of\ngods and demons, and that destroys our transitory life.\n\n(3) Glory to Vishnu, who, resolving to strike from afar, with but\na moment's glance from his wrath-inflamed eye stained the breast of\nhis enemy, as if it had burst of itself in terror.\n\nI salute the lotus feet of Bhatsu, [38] honoured by crowned Maukharis:\nthe feet which have their tawny toes rubbed on a footstool made by\nthe united crowns of neighbouring kings.\n\nWho is there that fears not the wicked, pitiless in causeless enmity;\nin whose mouth calumny hard to bear is always ready as the poison of\na serpent?\n\nThe wicked, like fetters, echo harshly, wound deeply, and leave a\nscar; while the good, like jewelled anklets, ever charm the mind with\nsweet sounds.\n\n(4) In a bad man gentle words sink no deeper than the throat, like\nnectar swallowed by Rahu. The good man bears them constantly on his\nheart, as Hari his pure gem.\n\nA story tender with the charm of gracious speech, creates in the heart\njoy full of fresh interest [39]; and it comes of itself, with native\nfeeling, to its lord's possession, like a fresh bride. [40]\n\nWho is not carried captive by tales fashioned in freshness of\nspeech, all alight with similes, and the lamps of glowing words\n[41]: pleasant tales interwoven with many a contrast of words, [42]\nas jasmine garlands with campak buds?\n\nThere was once a Brahman, Kuvera by name, sprung from the race of\nVatsyayana, sung throughout the world for his virtue, a leader of the\ngood: his lotus feet were worshipped by many a Gupta, and he seemed\na very portion of Brahma.\n\n(5) On his mouth Sarasvati ever dwelt: for in it all evil was stilled\nby the Veda; it had lips purified by sacrificial cake, and a palate\nbitter with soma, and it was pleasant with smriti and \u00e7astra.\n\nIn his house frightened boys, as they repeated verses of the Yajur\nand Sama Veda, were chidden at every word by caged parrots and mainas,\nwho were thoroughly versed in everything belonging to words.\n\nFrom him was born Arthapati, a lord of the twice-born, as Hiranyagarbha\nfrom the world-egg, the moon from the Milky Ocean, or Garuda from\nVinata.\n\nAs he unfolded his spreading discourse day by day at dawn, new troops\nof pupils, intent on listening, [43] gave him a new glory, like fresh\nsandal-shoots fixed on the ear.\n\n(6) With countless sacrifices adorned with gifts duly offered, [44]\nhaving glowing Mahavira fires in their midst, [45] and raising the\nsacrificial posts as their hands, [46] he won easily, as if with a\ntroop of elephants, the abode of the gods.\n\nHe in due course obtained a son, Citrabhanu, who amongst his other\nnoble and glorious sons, all versed in \u00e7ruti and \u00e7astra, shone as\ncrystal, like Kailasa among mountains.\n\nThe virtues of that noble man, reaching far and gleaming bright as a\ndigit of the moon, yet without its spot, pierced deep even into the\nhearts of his foes, like the budding claws of Nrisimha (Vishnu).\n\nThe dark smoke of many a sacrifice rose like curls on the brow of the\ngoddesses of the sky; or like shoots of tamala on the ear of the bride,\nthe Threefold Veda, and only made his own glory shine more bright.\n\nFrom him was born a son, Bana, when the drops that rose from\nthe fatigue of the soma sacrifice were wiped from his brow by the\nfolded lotus hands of Sarasvati, and when the seven worlds had been\nilluminated by the rays of his glory.\n\n(7) By that Brahman, albeit with a mind keeping even in his unspoken\nwords its original dullness blinded by the darkness of its own utter\nfolly, and simple from having never gained the charm of ready wit, this\ntale, surpassing the other two, [47] was fashioned, even Kadambari.\n\n\n\nThere was once upon a time a king named \u00c7udraka. Like a second\nIndra, he had his commands honoured by the bent heads of all kings;\nhe was lord of the earth girt in by the four oceans; he had an army\nof neighbouring chiefs bowed down in loyalty to his majesty; he had\nthe signs of a universal emperor; (8) like Vishnu, his lotus-hand bore\nthe sign of the conch and the quoit; like \u00c7iva, he had overcome Love;\nlike Kartikeya, he was unconquerable in might [48]; like Brahma, he\nhad the circle of great kings humbled [49]; like the ocean, he was\nthe source of Lakshmi; like the stream of Ganges, he followed in the\ncourse of the pious king Bhagiratha; like the sun, he rose daily in\nfresh splendour; like Meru, the brightness of his foot was honoured by\nall the world; like the elephant of the quarters, [50] he constantly\npoured forth a stream of generosity. He was a worker of wonders, an\nofferer of sacrifices, a mirror of moral law, a source of the arts, a\nnative home of virtue; a spring of the ambrosial sweetness of poetry,\na mountain of sunrise to all his friends, [51] and a direful comet to\nall his foes. (9) He was, moreover, a founder of literary societies,\na refuge for men of taste, a rejecter of haughty bowholders, a leader\namong the bold, a chief among the wise. He was a cause of gladness to\nthe humble, as Vainateya [52] was to Vinata. He rooted up with the\npoint of his bow the boundary-mountains of his foes as Prithuraja\ndid the noble mountains. He mocked Krishna, also, for while the\nlatter made his boast of his man-lion form, he himself smote down\nthe hearts of his foes by his very name, and while Krishna wearied\nthe universe with his three steps, he subdued the whole world by one\nheroic effort. Glory long dwelt on the watered edge of his sword, as\nif to wash off the stain of contact with a thousand base chieftains,\nwhich had clung to her too long.\n\nBy the indwelling of Dharma in his mind, Yama in his wrath, Kuvera in\nhis kindness, Agni in his splendour, Earth in his arm, Lakshmi in his\nglance, Sarasvati in his eloquence, (10) the Moon in his face, the Wind\nin his might, Brihaspati in his knowledge, Love in his beauty, the Sun\nin his glory, he resembled holy Narayana, whose nature manifests every\nform, and who is the very essence of deity. Royal glory came to him\nonce for all, like a woman coming to meet her lover, on the nights of\nbattle stormy with the showers of ichor from the elephants' temples,\nand stood by him in the midst of the darkness of thousands of coats of\nmail, loosened from the doors of the breasts of warriors. She seemed\nto be drawn irresistibly by his sword, which was uneven in its edge,\nby reason of the drops of water forced out by the pressure of his\nstrong hand, and which was decked with large pearls clinging to it\nwhen he clove the frontal bones of wild elephants. The flame of his\nmajesty burnt day and night, as if it were a fire within his foes'\nfair wives, albeit reft of their lords, as if he would destroy the\nhusbands now only enshrined in their hearts.\n\n(11) While he, having subdued the earth, was guardian of the world,\nthe only mixing of colour [53] was in painting; the only pulling of\nhair in caresses; the only strict fetters in the laws of poetry; the\nonly care was concerning moral law; the only deception was in dreams;\nthe only golden rods [54] were in umbrellas. Banners alone trembled;\nsongs alone showed variations [55]; elephants alone were rampant; [56]\nbows alone had severed cords; [57] lattice windows alone had ensnaring\nnetwork; lovers' disputes alone caused sending of messengers; dice and\nchessmen alone left empty squares; and his subjects had no deserted\nhomes. Under him, too, there was only fear of the next world, only\ntwisting in the curls of the zenana women, only loquacity in anklets,\nonly taking the hand [58] in marriage, only shedding of tears from\nthe smoke of ceaseless sacrificial fires; the only sound of the lash\nwas for horses, while the only twang of the bow was Love's.\n\n(15) When the thousand-rayed sun, bursting open the young lotus-buds,\nhad not long risen, though it had lost somewhat of the pinkness of\ndawn, a portress approached the king in his hall of audience, and\nhumbly addressed him. Her form was lovely, yet awe-inspiring, and\nwith the scimitar (a weapon rarely worn by women) hanging at her left\nside, was like a sandal-tree girt by a snake. Her bosom glistened with\nrich sandal ointment like the heavenly Ganges when the frontal-bone of\nAiravata rises from its waters. (16) The chiefs bent before her seemed,\nby her reflection on their crests, to bear her on their foreheads as\na royal command in human form. Like autumn, [59] she was robed in\nthe whiteness of hamsas; like the blade of Para\u00e7urama she held the\ncircle of kings in submission; like the forest land of the Vindhyas,\nshe bore her wand, [60] and she seemed the very guardian-goddess of\nthe realm. Placing on the ground her lotus hand and knee, she thus\nspake: 'Sire, there stands at the gate a Candala maiden from the\nSouth, a royal glory of the race of that Tri\u00e7amku [61] who climbed\nthe sky, but fell from it at the murmur of wrathful Indra. She bears\na parrot in a cage, and bids me thus hail your majesty: \"Sire, thou,\nlike the ocean, art alone worthy to receive the treasures of the whole\nearth. In the thought that this bird is a marvel, and the treasure of\nthe whole earth, I bring it to lay at thy feet, and desire to behold\nthee.\" (17) Thou, 0 king, hast heard her message, and must decide!' So\nsaying, she ended her speech. The king, whose curiosity was aroused,\nlooked at the chiefs around him, and with the words 'Why not? Bid\nher enter?' gave his permission.\n\nThen the portress, immediately on the king's order, ushered in the\nCandala maiden. And she entered and beheld the king in the midst of\na thousand chiefs, like golden-peaked Meru in the midst of the noble\nmountains crouching together in fear of Indra's thunderbolt; or,\nin that the brightness of the jewels scattered on his dress almost\nconcealed his form, like a day of storm, whereon the eight quarters of\nthe globe are covered by Indra's thousand bows. He was sitting on a\ncouch studded with moon-stones, beneath a small silken canopy, white\nas the foam of the rivers of heaven, with its four jewel-encrusted\npillars joined by golden chains, and enwreathed with a rope of large\npearls. Many cowries with golden handles waved around him; (18) his\nleft foot rested on a footstool of crystal that was like the moon\nbent in humiliation before the flashing beauty of his countenance,\nand was adorned by the brightness of his feet, which yet were tinged\nwith blue from the light rays of the sapphire pavement, as though\ndarkened by the sighs of his conquered foes. His breast, crimsoned by\nthe rubies which shone on his throne, recalled Krishna, red with blood\nfrom the fresh slaughter of Madhukaitabha; his two silken garments,\nwhite as the foam of ambrosia, with pairs of hamsas painted in yellow\non their hem, waved in the wind raised by the cowries; the fragrant\nsandal unguent with which his chest was whitened, besprinkled with\nsaffron ointment, was like snowy Kailasa with the early sunshine upon\nit; his face was encircled by pearls like stars mistaking it for the\nmoon; the sapphire bracelets that clasped his arms were as a threat of\nchains to bind fickle fortune, or as snakes attracted by the smell of\nsandal-wood; (19) the lotus in his ear hung down slightly; his nose\nwas aquiline, his eyes were like lotuses in full blossom, the hair\ngrew in a circle between his brows, and was purified by the waters\nthat inaugurated his possession of universal rule; his forehead was\nlike a piece of the eighth-day moon made into a block of pure gold,\ngarlanded with sweet jasmine, like the Western Mountain in the dawn\nwith the stars growing pale on its brow. He was like the God of Love\nwhen struck by \u00c7iva's fire, for his body was tawny from the colour\nof his ornaments. His hand-maidens surrounded him, as if they were\nthe goddesses of the quarters of the globe come to worship him; the\nearth bore him, as on her heart, through loyalty, in the reflection\nof his image in her clear mosaic pavement; fortune seemed his alone,\nthough by him she was given to all to enjoy. (20) He was without a\nsecond, though his followers were without number; he trusted only\nto his own sword, though he had countless elephants and horses in\nhis retinue; he filled the whole earth, though he stood in a small\nspace of ground; he rested only on his bow, and yet was seated on his\nthrone; he shone with the flame of majesty, though all the fuel of\nhis enemies was uprooted; he had large eyes, and yet saw the smallest\nthings; he was the home of all virtues, and yet was overreaching;\n[62] he was beloved of his wives, and yet was a despotic lord; he was\nfree from intoxication, though he had an unfailing stream of bounty;\nhe was fair in nature, yet in conduct a Krishna; [63] he laid no heavy\nhand [64] on his subjects, and yet the whole world rested in his grasp.\n\nSuch was this king. And she yet afar beholding him, with a hand soft\nas the petal of a red lotus, and surrounded by a tinkling bracelet,\nand clasping the bamboo with its end jagged, (21) struck once on the\nmosaic floor to arouse the king; and at the sound, in a moment the\nwhole assemblage of chiefs turned their eyes from the king to her,\nlike a herd of wild elephants at the falling of the cocoanut. Then the\nking, with the words, 'Look yonder,' to his suite, gazed steadily upon\nthe Candala maiden, as she was pointed out by the portress. Before\nher went a man, whose hair was hoary with age, whose eyes were the\ncolour of the red lotus, whose joints, despite the loss of youth,\nwere firm from incessant labour, whose form, though that of a Matanga,\nwas not to be despised, and who wore the white raiment meet for a\ncourt. Behind her went a Candala boy, with locks falling on either\nshoulder, bearing a cage, the bars of which, though of gold, shone\nlike emerald from the reflection of the parrot's plumage. (22) She\nherself seemed by the darkness of her hue to imitate Krishna when he\nguilefully assumed a woman's attire to take away the amrita seized by\nthe demons. She was, as it were, a doll of sapphire walking alone;\nand over the blue garment, which reached to her ankle, there fell a\nveil of red silk, like evening sunshine falling on blue lotuses. The\ncircle of her cheek was whitened by the earring that hung from one\near, like the face of night inlaid with the rays of the rising moon;\nshe had a tawny tilaka of gorocana, as if it were a third eye, like\nParvati in mountaineer's attire, after the fashion of the garb of \u00c7iva.\n\nShe was like \u00c7ri, darkened by the sapphire glory of Narayana reflected\non the robe on her breast; or like Rati, stained by smoke which rose as\nMadana was burnt by the fire of wrathful \u00c7iva; or like Yamuna, fleeing\nin fear of being drawn along by the ploughshare of wild Balarama;\nor, from the rich lac that turned her lotus feet into budding shoots,\nlike Durga, with her feet crimsoned by the blood of the Asura Mahisha\nshe had just trampled upon.\n\n(23) Her nails were rosy from the pink glow of her fingers; the\nmosaic pavement seemed too hard for her touch, and she came forward,\nplacing her feet like tender twigs upon the ground.\n\nThe rays of her anklets, rising in flame-colour, seemed to encircle\nher as with the arms of Agni, as though, by his love for her beauty, he\nwould purify the stain of her birth, and so set the Creator at naught.\n\nHer girdle was like the stars wreathed on the brow of the elephant\nof Love; and her necklace was a rope of large bright pearls, like\nthe stream of Ganga just tinged by Yamuna.\n\nLike autumn, she opened her lotus eyes; like the rainy season, she had\ncloudy tresses; like the circle of the Malaya Hills, she was wreathed\nwith sandal; (24) like the zodiac, she was decked with starry gems;\n[65] like \u00c7ri, she had the fairness of a lotus in her hand; like a\nswoon, she entranced the heart; like a forest, she was endowed with\nliving [66] beauty; like the child of a goddess, she was claimed by\nno tribe; [67] like sleep, she charmed the eyes; as a lotus-pool in\na wood is troubled by elephants, so was she dimmed by her Matanga\n[68] birth; like a spirit, she might not be touched; like a letter,\nshe gladdened the eyes alone; like the blossoms of spring, she lacked\nthe jati flower; [69] her slender waist, like the line of Love's bow,\ncould be spanned by the hands; with her curly hair, she was like the\nLakshmi of the Yaksha king in Alaka. [70] She had but reached the\nflower of her youth, and was beautiful exceedingly. And the king was\namazed; and the thought arose in his mind, (25) 'Ill-placed was the\nlabour of the Creator in producing this beauty! For if she has been\ncreated as though in mockery of her Candala form, such that all the\nworld's wealth of loveliness is laughed to scorn by her own, why was\nshe born in a race with which none can mate? Surely by thought alone\ndid Prajapati create her, fearing the penalties of contact with the\nMatanga race, else whence this unsullied radiance, a grace that belongs\nnot to limbs sullied by touch? Moreover, though fair in form, by the\nbaseness of her birth, whereby she, like a Lakshmi of the lower world,\nis a perpetual reproach to the gods, [71] she, lovely as she is, causes\nfear in Brahma, the maker of so strange a union.' While the king was\nthus thinking the maiden, garlanded with flowers, that fell over her\nears, bowed herself before him with a confidence beyond her years. And\nwhen she had made her reverence and stepped on to the mosaic floor,\nher attendant, taking the parrot, which had just entered the cage,\nadvanced a few steps, and, showing it to the king, said: 'Sire, this\nparrot, by name Vai\u00e7ampayana, knows the meaning of all the \u00e7astras,\nis expert in the practice of royal policy, (26) skilled in tales,\nhistory, and Puranas, and acquainted with songs and with musical\nintervals. He recites, and himself composes graceful and incomparable\nmodern romances, love-stories, plays, and poems, and the like; he\nis versed in witticisms, and is an unrivalled disciple of the vina,\nflute, and drum. He is skilled in displaying the different movements of\ndancing, dextrous in painting, very bold in play, ready in resources\nto calm a maiden angered in a lover's quarrel, and familiar with the\ncharacteristics of elephants, horses, men, and women. He is the gem\nof the whole earth; and in the thought that treasures belong to thee,\nas pearls to the ocean, the daughter of my lord has brought him hither\nto thy feet, O king! Let him be accepted as thine.'\n\nHaving thus said, he laid the cage before the king and retired. (27)\nAnd when he was gone, the king of birds, standing before the king, and\nraising his right foot, having uttered the words, 'All hail!' recited\nto the king, in a song perfect in the enunciation of each syllable\nand accent, a verse [72] to this effect:\n\n\n    'The bosoms of your foemen's queens now mourn,\n    Keeping a fast of widowed solitude,\n    Bathed in salt tears, of pearl-wreaths all forlorn,\n    Scorched by their sad hearts' too close neighbourhood.'\n\n\nAnd the king, having heard it, was amazed, and joyfully addressed\nhis minister Kumarapalita, who sat close to him on a costly golden\nthrone, like Brihaspati in his mastery of political philosophy, aged,\nof noble birth, first in the circle of wise councillors: 'Thou hast\nheard the bird's clear enunciation of consonants, and the sweetness\nof his intonation. This, in the first place, is a great marvel, that\nhe should raise a song in which the syllables are clearly separated;\nand there is a combination of correctness with clearness in the vowels\nand anunasikas. (28) Then, again, we had something more than that:\nfor in him, though a lower creation, are found the accomplishments,\nas it were, of a man, in a pleasurable art, and the course of his\nsong is inspired by knowledge. For it was he who, with the cry, \"All\nhail!\" straightened his right foot and sang this song concerning me,\nwhereas, generally, birds and beasts are only skilled in the science of\nfearing, eating, pairing, and sleeping. This is most wonderful.' And\nwhen the king had said this, Kumarapalita, with a slight smile,\nreplied: 'Where is the wonder? For all kinds of birds, beginning with\nthe parrot and the maina, repeat a sound once heard, as thou, O king,\nknowest; so it is no wonder that exceeding skill is produced either\nby the efforts of men, or in consequence of perfection gained in a\nformer birth. Moreover, they formerly possessed a voice like that of\nmen, with clear utterance. The indistinct speech of parrots, as well\nas the change in elephants' tongues, arose from a curse of Agni.'\n\nHardly had he thus spoken when there arose the blast of the mid-day\nconch, following the roar of the drum distinctly struck at the\ncompletion of the hour, and announcing that the sun had reached\nthe zenith. (29) And, hearing this, the king dismissed his band of\nchiefs, as the hour for bathing was at hand, and arose from his hall\nof audience.\n\nThen, as he started, the great chiefs thronged together as they rose,\ntearing their silk raiment with the leaf-work of their bracelets,\nas it fell from its place in the hurried movement. Their necklaces\nwere swinging with the shock; the quarters of space were made\ntawny by showers of fragrant sandal-powder and saffron scattered\nfrom their limbs in their restlessness; the bees arose in swarms\nfrom their garlands of malati flowers, all quivering; their cheeks\nwere caressed by the lotuses in their ears, half hanging down; their\nstrings of pearls were trembling on their bosoms--each longed in his\nself-consciousness to pay his respects to the king as he departed.\n\nThe hall of audience was astir on all sides with the sound of the\nanklets of the cowrie bearers as they disappeared in all directions,\nbearing the cowries on their shoulders, their gems tinkling at every\nstep, broken by the cry of the kalahamsas, eager to drink the lotus\nhoney; (30) with the pleasant music of the jewelled girdles and\nwreaths of the dancing-girls coming to pay their respects as they\nstruck their breast and sides; with the cries of the kalahamsas\nof the palace lake, which, charmed by the sound of the anklets,\nwhitened the broad steps of the hall of audience; with the voices of\nthe tame cranes, eager for the sound of the girdles, screaming more\nand more with a prolonged outcry, like the scratching of bell-metal;\nwith the heavy tramp on the floor of the hall of audience struck\nby the feet of a hundred neighbouring chiefs suddenly departing,\nwhich seemed to shake the earth like a hurricane; with the cry of\n'Look!' from the wand-bearing ushers, who were driving the people\nin confusion before them, and shouting loudly, yet good-naturedly,\n'Behold!' long and shrill, resounding far by its echo in the bowers\nof the palace; (31) with the ringing of the pavement as it was\nscratched by the points of diadems with their projecting aigrettes,\nas the kings swiftly bent till their trembling crest-gems touched\nthe ground; with the tinkling of the earrings as they rang on the\nhard mosaic in their owners' obeisance; with the space-pervading din\nof the bards reciting auspicious verses, and coming forward with the\npleasant continuous cry, 'Long life and victory to our king!'; with\nthe hum of the bees as they rose up leaving the flowers, by reason\nof the turmoil of the hundreds of departing feet; with the clash of\nthe jewelled pillars on which the gems were set jangling from being\nstruck by the points of the bracelets as the chieftains fell hastily\nprostrate in their confusion. The king then dismissed the assembled\nchiefs, saying, 'Rest awhile'; and after saying to the Candala maiden,\n'Let Vai\u00e7ampayana be taken into the inner apartments,' and giving the\norder to his betel-nut bearer, he went, accompanied by a few favourite\nprinces, to his private apartments. There, laying aside his adornments,\nlike the sun divested of his rays, or the sky bare of moon and stars,\nhe entered the hall of exercise, where all was duly prepared. Having\ntaken pleasant exercise therein with the princes of his own age, (32)\nhe then entered the bathing-place, which was covered with a white\ncanopy, surrounded by the verses of many a bard. It had a gold bath,\nfilled with scented water in its midst, with a crystal bathing-seat\nplaced by it, and was adorned with pitchers placed on one side,\nfull of most fragrant waters, having their mouths darkened by bees\nattracted by the odour, as if they were covered with blue cloths,\nfrom fear of the heat. (33) Then the hand-maidens, some darkened by\nthe reflection of their emerald jars, like embodied lotuses with\ntheir leafy cups, some holding silver pitchers, like night with a\nstream of light shed by the full moon, duly besprinkled the king. (34)\nStraightway there arose a blare of the trumpets sounded for bathing,\npenetrating all the hollows of the universe, accompanied by the din\nof song, lute, flute, drum, cymbal, and tabor, resounding shrilly\nin diverse tones, mingled with the uproar of a multitude of bards,\nand cleaving the path of hearing. Then, in due order, the king put\nupon him two white garments, light as a shed snake-skin, and wearing\na turban, with an edge of fine silk, pure as a fleck of white cloud,\nlike Himalaya with the stream of the heavenly river falling upon it,\nhe made his libation to the Pitris with a handful of water, consecrated\nby a hymn, and then, prostrating himself before the sun, proceeded to\nthe temple. When he had worshipped \u00c7iva, and made an offering to Agni,\n(35) his limbs were anointed in the perfuming-room with sandal-wood,\nsweetened with the fragrance of saffron, camphor, and musk, the\nscent of which was followed by murmuring bees; he put on a chaplet\nof scented malati flowers, changed his garb, and, with no adornment\nsave his jewelled earrings, he, together with the kings, for whom a\nfitting meal was prepared, broke his fast, with the pleasure that\narises from the enjoyment of viands of sweet savour. Then, having\ndrunk of a fragrant drug, rinsed his mouth, and taken his betel, he\narose from his da\u00efs, with its bright mosaic pavement. The portress,\nwho was close by, hastened to him, and leaning on her arm, he went\nto the hall of audience, followed by the attendants worthy to enter\nthe inner apartments, whose palms were like boughs, very hard from\ntheir firm grasp of their wands.\n\nThe hall showed as though walled with crystal by reason of the\nwhite silk that draped its ends; the jewelled floor was watered to\ncoolness with sandal-water, to which was added very fragrant musk;\nthe pure mosaic was ceaselessly strewn with masses of blossoms,\nas the sky with its bevy of stars; (36) many a golden pillar shone\nforth, purified with scented water, and decked with countless images,\nas though with the household gods in their niches; aloe spread its\nfragrance richly; the whole was dominated by an alcove, which held a\ncouch white as a cloud after storm, with a flower-scented covering,\na pillow of fine linen at the head, castors encrusted with gems, and\na jewelled footstool by its side, like the peak of Himalaya to behold.\n\nReclining on this couch, while a maiden, seated on the ground, having\nplaced in her bosom the dagger she was wont to bear, gently rubbed his\nfeet with a palm soft as the leaves of fresh lotuses, the king rested\nfor a short time, and held converse on many a theme with the kings,\nministers, and friends whose presence was meet for that hour.\n\nHe then bade the portress, who was at hand, to fetch Vai\u00e7ampayana\nfrom the women's apartments, for he had become curious to learn his\nstory. And she, bending hand and knee to the ground, with the words\n'Thy will shall be done!' taking the command on her head, fulfilled\nhis bidding. (37) Soon Vai\u00e7ampayana approached the king, having his\ncage borne by the portress, under the escort of a herald, leaning on\na gold staff, slightly bent, white robed, wearing a top-knot silvered\nwith age, slow in gait, and tremulous in speech, like an aged flamingo\nin his love for the race of birds, who, placing his palm on the ground,\nthus delivered his message: 'Sire, the queens send thee word that by\nthy command this Vai\u00e7ampayana has been bathed and fed, and is now\nbrought by the portress to thy feet.' Thus speaking, he retired,\nand the king asked Vai\u00e7ampayana: 'Hast thou in the interval eaten\nfood sufficient and to thy taste?' 'Sire,' replied he, 'what have\nI not eaten? I have drunk my fill of the juice of the jambu fruit,\naromatically sweet, pink and blue as a cuckoo's eye in the gladness\nof spring; I have cracked the pomegranate seeds, bright as pearls\nwet with blood, which lions' claws have torn from the frontal bones\nof elephants. I have torn at my will old myrobalans, green as lotus\nleaves, and sweet as grapes. (38) But what need of further words? For\neverything brought by the queens with their own hands turns to\nambrosia.' And the king, rebuking his talk, said: 'Let all this\ncease for a while, and do thou remove our curiosity. Tell us from\nthe very beginning the whole history of thy birth--in what country,\nand how wert thou born, and by whom was thy name given? Who were thy\nfather and mother? How came thine attainment of the Vedas, and thine\nacquaintance with the \u00c7astras, and thy skill in the fine arts? What\ncaused thy remembrance of a former birth? Was it a special boon given\nthee? Or dost thou dwell in disguise, wearing the form only of a bird,\nand where didst thou formerly dwell? How old art thou, and how came\nthis bondage of a cage, and the falling into the hands of a Candala\nmaiden, and thy coming hither?' Thus respectfully questioned by the\nking, whose curiosity was kindled, Vai\u00e7ampayana thought a moment,\nand reverently replied, 'Sire, the tale is long; but if it is thy\npleasure, let it be heard.'\n\n\n\n'There is a forest, by name Vindhya, that embraces the shores of the\neastern and western ocean, and decks the central region as though\nit were the earth's zone. (39) It is beauteous with trees watered\nwith the ichor of wild elephants, and bearing on their crests masses\nof white blossom that rise to the sky and vie with the stars; in\nit the pepper-trees, bitten by ospreys in their spring gladness,\nspread their boughs; tamala branches trampled by young elephants\nfill it with fragrance; shoots in hue like the wine-flushed cheeks\nof Malabaris, as though roseate with lac from the feet of wandering\nwood-nymphs, overshadow it. Bowers there are, too, wet with drippings\nfrom parrot-pierced pomegranates; bowers in which the ground is covered\nwith torn fruit and leaves shaken down by restless monkeys from the\nkakkola trees, or sprinkled with pollen from ever-falling blossoms,\nor strewn with couches of clove-branches by travellers, or hemmed\nin by fine cocoanuts, ketakis, kariras, and bakulas; bowers so fair\nthat with their areca trees girt about with betel vines, they make\na fitting home for a woodland Lakshmi. Thickly growing elas make\nthe wood dark and fragrant, as with the ichor of wild elephants;\n(40) hundreds of lions, who meet their death from barbaric leaders\neager to seize the pearls of the elephants' frontal-bones still\nclinging to their mouth and claws, roam therein; it is fearful as\nthe haunt of death, like the citadel of Yama, and filled with the\nbuffaloes dear to him; like an army ready for battle, it has bees\nresting on its arrow-trees, as the points on arrows, and the roar of\nthe lion is clear as the lion-cry of onset; it has rhinoceros tusks\ndreadful as the dagger of Durga, and like her is adorned with red\nsandal-wood; like the story of Karnisuta, it has its Vipula, Acala\nand \u00c7a\u00e7a in the wide mountains haunted by hares, [73] that lie near\nit; as the twilight of the last eve of an aeon has the frantic dance\nof blue-necked \u00c7iva, so has it the dances of blue-necked peacocks,\nand bursts into crimson; as the time of churning the ocean had the\nglory of \u00c7ri and the tree which grants all desires, and was surrounded\nby sweet draughts of Varuna, [74] so is it adorned by \u00c7ri trees and\nVaruna2 trees. It is densely dark, as the rainy season with clouds,\nand decked with pools in countless hundreds; [75] like the moon, it\nis always the haunt of the bears, and is the home of the deer. [76]\n(41) Like a king's palace, it is adorned by the tails of cowrie deer,\n[77] and protected by troops of fierce elephants. Like Durga, it is\nstrong of nature, [78] and haunted by the lion. Like Sita, it has\nits Ku\u00e7a, and is held by the wanderer of night. [79] Like a maiden\nin love, it wears the scent of sandal and musk, and is adorned with\na tilaka of bright aloes; [80] like a lady in her lover's absence,\nit is fanned with the wind of many a bough, and possessed of Madana;\n[81] like a child's neck, it is bright with rows of tiger's-claws,\n[82] and adorned with a rhinoceros; [83] like a hall of revelry with\nits honeyed draughts, it has hundreds of beehives [84] visible, and\nis strewn with flowers. In parts it has a circle of earth torn up by\nthe tusks of large boars, like the end of the world when the circle\nof the earth was lifted up by the tusks of Mahavaraha; here, like\nthe city of Ravana, it is filled with lofty \u00e7alas [85] inhabited by\nrestless monkeys; (42) here it is, like the scene of a recent wedding,\nbright with fresh ku\u00e7a grass, fuel, flowers, acacia, and pala\u00e7a; here,\nit seems to bristle in terror at the lions' roar; here, it is vocal\nwith cuckoos wild for joy; here it is, as if in excitement, resonant\nwith the sound of palms [86] in the strong wind; here, it drops its\npalm-leaves like a widow giving up her earrings; here, like a field of\nbattle, it is filled with arrowy reeds; [87] here, like Indra's body,\nit has a thousand netras; [88] here, like Vishnu's form, it has the\ndarkness of tamalas; [89] here, like the banner of Arjuna's chariot,\nit is blazoned with monkeys; here, like the court of an earthly king,\nit is hard of access, through the bamboos; here, like the city of\nKing Virata, it is guarded by a Kicaka; [90] here, like the Lakshmi of\nthe sky, it has the tremulous eyes of its deer pursued by the hunter;\n[91] here, like an ascetic, it has bark, bushes, and ragged strips and\ngrass. [92] (43) Though adorned with Saptaparna, [93] it yet possesses\nleaves innumerable; though honoured by ascetics, it is yet very savage;\n[94] though in its season of blossom, it is yet most pure.\n\n'In that forest there is a hermitage, famed throughout the world--a\nvery birthplace of Dharma. It is adorned with trees tended by\nLopamudra as her own children, fed with water sprinkled by her own\nhands, and trenched round by herself. She was the wife of the great\nascetic Agastya; he it was who at the prayer of Indra drank up the\nwaters of ocean, and who, when the Vindhya mountains, by a thousand\nwide peaks stretching to the sky in rivalry of Meru, were striving to\nstop the course of the sun's chariot, and were despising the prayers\nof all the gods, yet had his commands obeyed by them; who digested the\ndemon Vatapi by his inward fire; who had the dust of his feet kissed\nby the tips of the gold ornaments on the crests of gods and demons; who\nadorned the brow of the Southern Region; and who manifested his majesty\nby casting Nahusha down from heaven by the mere force of his murmur.\n\n(44) 'The hermitage is also hallowed by Lopamudra's son Dridhadasyu,\nan ascetic, bearing his staff of pala\u00e7a, [95] wearing a sectarial\nmark made of purifying ashes, clothed in strips of ku\u00e7a grass,\ngirt with mu\u00f1ja, holding a cup of green leaves in his roaming from\nhut to hut to ask alms. From the large supply of fuel he brought,\nhe was surnamed by his father Fuelbearer.\n\n'The place is also darkened in many a spot by green parrots and by\nplantain groves, and is girt by the river Godaveri, which, like a\ndutiful wife, followed the path of the ocean when drunk by Agastya.\n\n'There, too, Rama, when he gave up his kingdom to keep his father's\npromise, dwelt happily for some time at Pa\u00f1cavati with Sita, following\nthe great ascetic Agastya, living in a pleasant hut made by Lakshmana,\neven Rama, the vexer of the triumphs of Ravana's glory. [96]\n\n'There, even now, the trees, though the hermitage has long been empty,\nshow, as it were, in the lines of white doves softly nestling in the\nboughs, the hermits' pure lines of sacrificial smoke clinging to them;\nand there a glow bursts forth on the shoots of creepers, as if it had\npassed to them from Sita's hand as she offered flowers of oblation;\n(45) there the water of ocean drunk and sent forth by the ascetic\nseems to have been wholly distributed among the great lakes round the\nhermitage; there the wood, with its fresh foliage, shines as if its\nroots had been watered with the blood of countless hosts of demons\nstruck down by Rama's many keen shafts, and as if now its palaa\u00e7as\nwere stained with their crimson hue; there, even yet, the old deer\nnurtured by Sita, when they hear the deep roar of fresh clouds in the\nrainy season, think on the twang of Rama's bow penetrating all the\nhollows of the universe, and refuse their mouthfuls of fresh grass,\nwhile their eyes are dimmed by ceaseless tears, as they see a deserted\nworld, and their own horns crumbling from age; there, too, the golden\ndeer, as if it had been incited by the rest of the forest deer slain\nin the ceaseless chase, deceived Sita, and led the son of Raghu\nfar astray; there, too, in their grief for the bitter loss of Sita,\nRama and Lakshmana seized by Kabandha, like an eclipse of sun and moon\nheralding the death of Ravana, filled the universe with a mighty dread;\n(46) there, too, the arm of Yojanabahu, struck off by Rama's arrow,\ncaused fear in the saints as it lay on the ground, lest it should be\nthe serpent form of Nahusha, brought back by Agastya's curse; there,\neven now, foresters behold Sita painted inside the hut by her husband\nto solace his bereavement, as if she were again rising from the ground\nin her longing to see her husband's home.\n\n'Not far from that hermitage of Agastya, of which the ancient history\nis yet clearly to be seen, is a lotus lake called Pampa. It stands\nnear that hermitage, as if it were a second ocean made by the Creator\nin rivalry with Agastya, at the prompting of Varuna, wrathful at\nthe drinking of ocean; it is like the sky fallen on earth to bind\ntogether the fragments of the eight quarters when severed in the\nday of doom. [97] (48) It is, indeed, a peerless home of waters,\nand its depth and extent none can tell. There, even now, the wanderer\nmay see pairs of cakravakas, with their wings turned to blue by the\ngleam of the blossoming lotuses, as if they were swallowed up by the\nimpersonate curse of Rama.\n\n'On the left bank of that lake, and near a clump of palms broken\nby Rama's arrows, was a large old \u00e7almali tree. [98] It shows as\nthough it were enclosed in a large trench, because its roots are\nalways encircled by an old snake, like the trunk of the elephants\nof the quarters; (49) it seems to be mantled with the slough of\nserpents, which hangs on its lofty trunk and waves in the wind;\nit strives to compass the measurement of the circle of space by its\nmany boughs spreading through the firmament, and so to imitate \u00c7iva,\nwhose thousand arms are outstretched in his wild dance at the day\nof doom, and who wears the moon on his crest. Through its weight of\nyears, it clings for support even to the shoulder of the wind; it is\ngirt with creepers that cover its whole trunk, and stand out like the\nthick veins of old age. Thorns have gathered on its surface like the\nmoles of old age; not even the thick clouds by which its foliage is\nbedewed can behold its top, when, after drinking the waters of ocean,\nthey return from all sides to the sky, and pause for a moment, weary\nwith their load of water, like birds amongst its boughs. From its\ngreat height, it seems to be on tiptoe to look [99] at the glory of\nthe Nandana [100] Wood; its topmost branches are whitened by cotton,\nwhich men might mistake for foam dropped from the corners of their\nmouths by the sun's steeds as, beset with weariness of their path\nthrough the sky, they come near it in their course overhead; (50)\nit has a root that will last for an aeon, for, with the garland\nof drunken bees sticking to the ichor which clings to it where the\ncheeks of woodland elephants are rubbed against it, it seems to be\nheld motionless by iron chains; it seems alive with swarms of bees,\nflashing in and out of its hollow trunk. It beholds the alighting of\nthe wings of birds, as Duryodhana receives proofs of \u00c7akuni's [101]\npartizanship; like Krishna, it is encircled by a woodland chaplet;\n[102] like a mass of fresh clouds its rising is seen in the sky. It\nis a temple whence woodland goddesses can look out upon the whole\nworld. It is the king of the Dandaka Wood, the leader of the lordly\ntrees, the friend of the Vindhya Mountains, and it seems to embrace\nwith the arms of its boughs the whole Vindhya Forest. There, on the\nedge of the boughs, in the centre of the crevices, amongst the twigs,\nin the joints of the trunks, in the holes of the rotten bark, flocks\nof parrots have taken their abode. From its spaciousness, they have\nconfidently built in it their thousand nests; from its steepness,\nthey have come to it fearlessly from every quarter. Though its\nleaves are thin with age, this lord of the forest still looks green\nwith dense foliage, as they rest upon it day and night. (51) In it\nthey spend the nights in their own nests, and daily, as they rise,\nthey form lines in the sky; they show in heaven like Yamuna with her\nwide streams scattered by the tossing of Bala's ploughshare in his\npassion; they suggest a lotus-bed of the heavenly Ganges flowing away,\nuprooted by the elephant of heaven; they show forth a sky streaked,\nas it were, with the brightness of the steeds of the sun's chariot;\nthey wear the semblance of a moving floor of emerald; they stretch\nout in the lake of heaven like long twines of Vallisneria; they fan\nthe faces of the quarters wearied with the mass of the sun's keen\nrays, with their wings spread against the sky like plantain leaves;\nthey form a grassy path stretching through the heaven, and as they\nroam they grace the firmament with a rainbow. After their meal they\nreturn to the young birds which stay in the nest, and give them,\nfrom beaks pink as tiger's claws reddened with the blood of slain\ndeer, the juice of fruits and many a dainty morsel of rice-clusters,\nfor by their deep love to their children all their other likings are\nsubdued; (52) then they spend the night in this same tree with their\nyoung under their wings.\n\n'Now my father, who by reason of his great age barely dragged on his\nlife, dwelt with my mother in a certain old hollow, and to him I was,\nby the decree of Fate, born as his only son. My mother, overcome by\nthe pains of child-birth when I was born, went to another world, and,\nin spite of his grief for the death of his loved wife, my father, from\nlove to his child, checked the keen onrush of his sorrow, and devoted\nhimself in his loneliness wholly to my nurture. From his great age,\nthe wide wings he raised had lost their power of flight, and hung\nloose from his shoulders, so that when he shook them he seemed to\nbe trying to shake off the painful old age that clung to his body,\nwhile his few remaining tail feathers were broken like a tatter of\nku\u00e7a grass; and yet, though he was unable to wander far, he gathered\nup bits of fruit torn down by parrots and fallen at the foot of the\ntree, and picked up grains of rice from rice-stalks that had fallen\nfrom other nests, with a beak the point of which was broken and the\nedge worn away and rubbed by breaking rice-clusters, and pink as the\nstalk of the sephalika flower when still hard, and he daily made his\nown meal on what I left.\n\n(53) 'But one day I heard a sound of the tumult of the chase. The\nmoon, reddened by the glow of dawn, was descending to the shore\nof the Western Ocean, from the island of the heavenly Ganges, like\nan old hamsa with its wings reddened by the honey of the heavenly\nlotus-bed; the circle of space was widening, and was white as the\nhair of a ranku deer; the throng of stars, like flowers strewn on\nthe pavement of heaven, were being cast away by the sun's long rays,\nas if they were brooms of rubies, for they were red as a lion's\nmane dyed in elephant's blood, or pink as sticks of burning lac; the\ncluster of the Seven Sages was, as it were, descending the bank of the\nManasa Lake, and rested on the northern quarter to worship the dawn;\nthe Western Ocean was lifting a mass of pearls, scattered from open\nshells on its shore, as though the stars, melted by the sun's rays,\nhad fallen on it, whitening the surface of its alluvial islands. The\nwood was dropping dew; its peacocks were awake; its lions were yawning;\n(54) its wild elephants were wakened by herds of she-elephants, and\nit, with its boughs raised like reverential hands, sent up towards\nthe sun, as he rested on the peak of the Eastern Mountain, a mass of\nflowers, the filaments of which were heavy with the night dews. The\nlines of sacrificial smoke from the hermitages, gray as the hair\nof an ass, were gleaming like banners of holiness, and rested like\ndoves on the tree-tops whereon the wood-nymphs dwelt. The morning\nbreeze was blowing, and roamed softly, for it was weary at the end\nof night; it gladdened swarms of bees by the flowers' perfume; it\nrained showers of honey dew from the opened lotuses; it was eager\nto teach the dancing creepers with their waving boughs; it carried\ndrops of foam from the rumination of woodland buffaloes; it removed\nthe perspiration of the weary mountaineers; it shook the lotuses, and\nbore with it the dewdrops. The bees, who ought to be the drums on the\nelephant's frontal-bones to recite auspicious songs for the wakening\nof the day lotus-groves, now sent up their hum from the hearts of the\nnight-lotuses, as their wings were clogged in the closing petals;\n(55) the deer of the wood had the markings on their breast, gray\nwith resting on the salt ground, and slowly opened eyes, the pupils\nof which were still squinting with the remains of sleep, and were\ncaught by the cool morning breeze as if their eyelashes were held\ntogether by heated lac; foresters were hastening hither and thither;\nthe din of the kalahamsas on the Pampa Lake, sweet to the ear, was\nnow beginning; the pleasant flapping of the wild elephant's ears\nbreaking forth caused the peacocks to dance; in time the sun himself\nslowly arose, and wandered among the tree-tops round the Pampa Lake,\nand haunted the mountain peaks, with rays of madder, like a mass of\ncowries bending downwards from the sun's elephant as he plunges into\nthe sky; the fresh light sprung from the sun banished the stars,\nfalling on the wood like the monkey king who had again lost Tara;\n[103] the morning twilight became visible quickly, occupying the\neighth part of the day, and the sun's light became clear.\n\n'The troops of parrots had all started to the places they desired;\nthat tree seemed empty by reason of the great stillness, though it had\nall the young parrots resting quietly in their nests. (56) My father\nwas still in his own nest, and I, as from my youth my wings were\nhardly fledged and had no strength, was close to him in the hollow,\nwhen I suddenly heard in that forest the sound of the tumult of the\nchase. It terrified every woodland creature; it was drawn out by a\nsound of birds' wings flying hastily up; it was mingled with cries\nfrom the frightened young elephants; it was increased by the hum of\ndrunken bees, disturbed on the shaken creepers; it was loud with the\nnoise of wild boars roaming with raised snouts; it was swollen by the\nroar of lions wakened from their sleep in mountain caves; it seemed to\nshake the trees, and was great as the noise of the torrents of Ganges,\nwhen brought down by Bhagiratha; and the woodland nymphs listened to\nit in terror.\n\n'When I heard this strange sound I began to tremble in my childishness;\nthe cavity of my ear was almost broken; I shook for fear, and thinking\nthat my father, who was close by, could help me, I crept within his\nwings, loosened as they were by age.\n\n'Straightway I heard an outcry of \"Hence comes the scent of the\nlotus beds the leaders of the elephants have trampled! Hence the\nperfume of rushes the boars have chewed! Hence the keen fragrance\nof gum-olibanum the young elephants have divided! Hence the rustling\nof dry leaves shaken down! (57) Hence the dust of antheaps that the\nhorns of wild buffaloes have cleft like thunderbolts! Hence came a\nherd of deer! Hence a troop of wild elephants! Hence a band of wild\nboars! Hence a multitude of wild buffaloes! Hence the shriek of a\ncircle of peacocks! Hence the murmur of partridges! Hence the cry of\nospreys! Hence the groan of elephants with their frontal bones torn\nby lion's claws! This is a boar's path stained with fresh mud! This\na mass of foam from the rumination of deer, darkened by the juice\nof mouthfuls of grass just eaten! This the hum of bees garrulous as\nthey cling to the scent left by the rubbing of elephants' foreheads\nwith ichor flowing! That the path of the ruru deer pink with withered\nleaves bedewed with blood that has been shed. That is a mass of shoots\non the trees crushed by the feet of elephants! Those are the gambols\nof rhinoceroses; that is the lion's track jagged with pieces of the\nelephant's pearls, pink with blood, and engraved with a monstrous\ndevice by their claws; that is the earth crimsoned with the blood of\nthe newly born offspring of the does; that is the path, like a widow's\nbraid, darkened with the ichor of the lord of the herd wandering at his\nwill! Follow this row of yaks straight before us! Quickly occupy this\npart of the wood where the dung of the deer is dried! (58) Climb the\ntree-top! Look out in this direction! Listen to this sound! Take the\nbow! Stand in your places! Let slip the hounds!\" The wood trembled\nat the tumult of the hosts of men intent on the chase shouting to\neach other and concealed in the hollows of the trees.\n\n'Then that wood was soon shaken on all sides by the roar of lions\nstruck by the \u00c7abaras' arrows, deepened by its echo rebounding from\nthe hollows of the mountains, and strong as the sound of a drum newly\noiled; by the roar from the throats of the elephants that led the herd,\nlike the growl of thunder, and mixed with the ceaseless lashing of\ntheir trunks, as they came on alone, separated from the frightened\nherd; by the piteous cry of the deer, with their tremulous, terrified\neyes, when the hounds suddenly tore their limbs; by the yell of\nshe-elephants lengthening in grief for the death of their lord and\nleader, as they wandered every way with ears raised, ever pausing\nto listen to the din, bereft of their slain leaders and followed by\ntheir young; (59) by the bellowing of she-rhinoceroses seeking with\noutstretched necks their young, only born a few days before, and now\nlost in the panic; by the outcry of birds flying from the tree-tops,\nand wandering in confusion; by the tramp of herds of deer with all\nthe haste of limbs made for speed, seeming to make the earth quake\nas it was struck simultaneously by their hurrying feet; by the twang\nof bows drawn to the ear, mingled, as they rained their arrows, with\nthe cry from the throats of the loving she-ospreys; by the clash of\nswords with their blades whizzing against the wind and falling on the\nstrong shoulders of buffaloes; and by the baying of the hounds which,\nas it was suddenly sent forth, penetrated all the recesses of the wood.\n\n'When soon afterwards the noise of the chase was stilled and the\nwood had become quiet, like the ocean when its water was stilled by\nthe ceasing of the churning, or like a mass of clouds silent after\nthe rainy season, I felt less of fear and became curious, and so,\nmoving a little from my father's embrace, (60) I stood in the hollow,\nstretched out my neck, and with eyes that, from my childishness, were\nyet tremulous with fear, in my eagerness to see what this thing was,\nI cast my glance in that direction.\n\n'Before me I saw the \u00c7abara [104] army come out from the wood like\nthe stream of Narmada tossed by Arjuna's [105] thousand arms; like a\nwood of tamalas stirred by the wind; like all the nights of the dark\nfortnight rolled into one; like a solid pillar of antimony shaken by\nan earthquake; like a grove of darkness disturbed by sunbeams; like\nthe followers of death roaming; like the demon world that had burst\nopen hell and risen up; like a crowd of evil deeds come together;\nlike a caravan of curses of the many hermits dwelling in the Dandaka\nForest; like all the hosts of Dushana [106] and Khara struck by\nRama as he rained his ceaseless shafts, and they turned into demons\nfor their hatred to him; like the whole confraternity of the Iron\nAge come together; like a band of buffaloes prepared for a plunge\ninto the water; like a mass of black clouds broken by a blow from a\nlion's paw as he stands on the mountain peak; [107] like a throng of\nmeteors risen for the destruction of all form; it darkened the wood;\nit numbered many thousands; it inspired great dread; it was like a\nmultitude of demons portending disasters.\n\n(61) 'And in the midst of that great host of \u00c7abaras I beheld the\n\u00c7abara leader, Matanga by name. He was yet in early youth; from his\ngreat hardness he seemed made of iron; he was like Ekalavya [108]\nin another birth; from his growing beard, he was like a young royal\nelephant with its temples encircled by its first line of ichor;\nhe filled the wood with beauty that streamed from him sombre as\ndark lotuses, like the waters of Yamuna; he had thick locks curled\nat the ends and hanging on his shoulders, like a lion with its\nmane stained by elephant's ichor; his brow was broad; his nose was\nstern and aquiline; his left side shone reddened by the faint pink\nrays of a jewelled snake's hood that was made the ornament for one\nof his ears, like the glow of shoots that had clung to him from\nhis resting on a leafy couch; he was perfumed with fragrant ichor,\nbearing the scent of saptacchada blossoms torn from the cheeks of an\nelephant freshly slain, like a stain of black aloes; (62) he had the\nheat warded off by a swarm of bees, like a peacock-feather parasol,\nflying about blinded by the scent, as if they were a branch of tamala;\nhe was marked with lines of perspiration on his cheek rubbed by his\nhand, as if Vindhya Forest, being conquered by his strong arm, were\ntimidly offering homage under the guise of its slender waving twigs,\nand he seemed to tinge space by his eye somewhat pink, as if it were\nbloodshot, and shedding a twilight of the night of doom for the deer;\nhe had mighty arms reaching to his knees, as if the measure of an\nelephant's trunk had been taken in making them, and his shoulders were\nrough with scars from keen weapons often used to make an offering of\nblood to Kali; the space round his eyes was bright and broad as the\nVindhya Mountain, and with the drops of dried deer's blood clinging\non it, and the marking of drops of perspiration, as if they were\nadorned by large pearls from an elephant's frontal bone mixed with\ngu\u00f1ja fruit; his chest was scarred by constant and ceaseless fatigue;\nhe was clad in a silk dress red with cochineal, and with his strong\nlegs he mocked a pair of elephants' posts stained with elephants'\nichor; he seemed from his causeless fierceness to have been marked\non his dread brow by a frown that formed three banners, as if Durga,\npropitiated by his great devotion, had marked him with a trident to\ndenote that he was her servant. (63) He was accompanied by hounds\nof every colour, which were his familiar friends; they showed their\nweariness by tongues that, dry as they were, seemed by their natural\npinkness to drip deer's blood, and which hung down far from tiredness;\nas their mouths were open they raised the corners of their lips and\nshowed their flashing teeth clearly, like a lion's mane caught between\nthe teeth; their throats were covered with strings of cowries, and they\nwere hacked by blows from the large boars' tusks; though but small,\nfrom their great strength they were like lions' cubs with their manes\nungrown; they were skilled in initiating the does in widowhood; with\nthem came their wives, very large, like lionesses coming to beg an\namnesty for the lions. He was surrounded by troops of \u00c7abaras of all\nkinds: some had seized elephants' tusks and the long hair of yaks;\nsome had vessels for honey made of leaves closely bound; some, like\nlions, had hands filled with many a pearl from the frontal bones of\nelephants; some, like demons, had pieces of raw flesh; some, like\ngoblins, were carrying the skins of lions; some, like Jain ascetics,\nheld peacocks' tails; some, like children, wore crows' feathers; [109]\nsome represented Krishna's [110] exploits by bearing the elephants'\ntusks they had torn out; (64) some, like the days of the rainy season,\nhad garments dark as clouds. [111] He had his sword-sheath, as a\nwood its rhinoceroses; [112] like a fresh cloud, he held a bow [113]\nbright as peacocks' tails; like the demon Vaka, [114] he possessed a\npeerless army; like Garuda, he had torn out the teeth of many large\nnagas; [115] he was hostile to peacocks, as Bhishma to \u00c7ikhandi; [116]\nlike a summer day, he always showed a thirst for deer; [117] like a\nheavenly genius, he was impetuous in pride; [118] as Vyasa followed\nYojanagandha, [119] so did he follow the musk deer; like Ghatotkaca,\nhe was dreadful in form; [120] as the locks of Uma were decked with\n\u00c7iva's moon, so was he adorned with the eyes in the peacocks' tails;\n[121] as the demon Hiranyaka\u00e7ipu [122] by Mahavaraha, so he had his\nbreast torn by the teeth of a great boar; (65) like an ambitious\nman, [123] he had a train of captives around him; like a demon,\nhe loved [124] the hunters; like the gamut of song, he was closed\nin by Nishadas; [125] like the trident of Durga, he was wet with the\nblood of buffaloes; though quite young, he had seen many lives pass;\n[126] though he had many hounds, [127] he lived on roots and fruits;\nthough of Krishna's hue, [128] he was not good to look on; though\nhe wandered at will, his mountain fort [129] was his only refuge;\nthough he always lived at the foot of a lord of earth, [130] he was\nunskilled in the service of a king.\n\n'He was as the child of the Vindhya Mountains, the partial avatar of\ndeath; the born brother of wickedness, the essence of the Iron Age;\nhorrible as he was, he yet inspired awe by reason of his natural\ngreatness, [131] and his form could not be surpassed. [132] His name I\nafterwards learnt. In my mind was this thought: \"Ah, the life of these\nmen is full of folly, and their career is blamed by the good. (66)\nFor their one religion is offering human flesh to Durga; their meat,\nmead, and so forth, is a meal loathed by the good; their exercise is\nthe chase; their \u00e7astra [133] is the cry of the jackal; their teachers\nof good and evil are owls; [134] their knowledge is skill in birds;\n[135] their bosom friends are dogs; their kingdom is in deserted\nwoods; their feast is a drinking bout; their friends are the bows\nthat work their cruel deeds, and arrows, with their heads smeared,\nlike snakes, with poison, are their helpers; their song is what draws\non bewildered deer; their wives are the wives of others taken captive;\ntheir dwelling is with savage tigers; their worship of the gods is with\nthe blood of beasts, their sacrifice with flesh, their livelihood by\ntheft; the snakes' hood is their ornament; their cosmetic, elephants'\nichor; and the very wood wherein they may dwell is utterly destroyed\nroot and branch.\"\n\n'As I was thus thinking, the \u00c7abara leader, desiring to rest after\nhis wandering through the forest, approached, and, laying his bow\nin the shade beneath that very cotton-tree, sat down on a seat of\ntwigs gathered hastily by his suite. (67) Another youthful \u00c7abara,\ncoming down hastily, brought to him from the lake, when he had stirred\nits waters with his hand, some water aromatic with lotus-pollen, and\nfreshly-plucked bright lotus-fibres with their mud washed off; the\nwater was like liquid lapis lazuli, or showed as if it were painted\nwith a piece of sky fallen from the heat of the sun's rays in the day\nof doom, or had dropped from the moon's orb, or were a mass of melted\npearl, or as if in its great purity it was frozen into ice, and could\nonly be distinguished from it by touch. After drinking it, the \u00c7abara\nin turn devoured the lotus-fibres, as Rahu does the moon's digits;\nwhen he was rested he rose, and, followed by all his host, who had\nsatisfied their thirst, he went slowly to his desired goal. But one\nold \u00c7abara from that barbarous troop had got no deer's flesh, and,\nwith a demoniac [136] expression coming into his face in his desire\nfor meat, he lingered a short time by that tree. (68) As soon as the\n\u00c7abara leader had vanished, that old \u00c7abara, with eyes pink as drops\nof blood and terrible with their overhanging tawny brows, drank in, as\nit were, our lives; he seemed to reckon up the number in the parrots'\nnests like a falcon eager to taste bird's flesh, and looked up the\ntree from its foot, wishing to climb it. The parrots seemed to have\ndrawn their last breath at that very moment in their terror at the\nsight of him. For what is hard for the pitiless? So he climbed the\ntree easily and without effort, as if by ladders, though it was as\nhigh as many palms, and the tops of its boughs swept the clouds,\nand plucked the young parrots from among its boughs one by one,\nas if they were its fruit, for some were not yet strong for flight;\nsome were only a few days old, and were pink with the down of their\nbirth, so that they might almost be taken for cotton-flowers; [137]\nsome, with their wings just sprouting, were like fresh lotus-leaves;\nsome were like the Asclepias fruit; some, with their beaks growing\nred, had the grace of lotus-buds with their heads rising pink from\nslowly unfolding leaves; while some, under the guise of the ceaseless\nmotion of their heads, seemed to try to forbid him, though they could\nnot stop him, for he slew them and cast them on the ground.\n\n(69) 'But my father, seeing on a sudden this great, destructive,\nremediless, overwhelming calamity that had come on us, trembled doubly,\nand, with pupils quivering and wandering from fear of death, cast\nall round a glance that grief had made vacant and tears had dimmed;\nhis palate was dry, and he could not help himself, but he covered me\nwith his wing, though its joints were relaxed by fear, and bethought\nhimself of what help could avail at such a moment. Swayed wholly by\nlove, bewildered how to save me, and puzzled what to do, he stood,\nholding me to his breast. That miscreant, however, wandering among\nthe boughs, came to the entrance of the hollow, and stretched out\nhis left arm, dreadful as the body of an old black snake, with its\nhand redolent of the raw fat of many boars, and its forearm marked\nwith weals from ceaseless drawing of the bowstrings, like the wand of\ndeath; and though my father gave many a blow with his beak, and moaned\npiteously, that murderous wretch dragged him down and slew him. (70)\nMe, however, he somehow did not notice, though I was within the wings,\nfrom my being small and curled into a ball from fear, and from my\nnot having lived my fated life, but he wrung my father's neck and\nthrew him dead upon the ground. Meanwhile I, with my neck between my\nfather's feet, clinging quietly to his breast, fell with him, and,\nfrom my having some fated life yet to live, I found that I had fallen\non a large mass of dry leaves, heaped together by the wind, so that\nmy limbs were not broken. While the \u00c7abara was getting down from the\ntree-top, I left my father, like a heartless wretch, though I should\nhave died with him; but, from my extreme youth, I knew not the love\nthat belongs to a later age, and was wholly swayed by the fear that\ndwells in us from birth; I could hardly be seen from the likeness of\nmy colour to the fallen leaves; I tottered along with the help of my\nwings, which were just beginning to grow, thinking that I had escaped\nfrom the jaws of death, and came to the foot of a very large tamala\ntree close by. Its shoots were fitted to be the earrings of \u00c7abara\nwomen, as if it mocked the beauty of Vishnu's body by the colour of\nBalarama's dark-blue robe, (71) or as if it were clad in pure strips\nof the water of Yamuna; its twigs were watered by the ichor of wild\nelephants; it bore the beauty of the tresses of the Vindhya Forest;\nthe space between its boughs was dark even by day; [138] the ground\nround its root was hollow, and unpierced by the sun's rays; and I\nentered it as if it were the bosom of my noble father. Then the \u00c7abara\ncame down and gathered up the tiny parrots scattered on the ground;\nhe bound them hastily in a basket of leaves with a coil of creepers,\nand going off with hasty steps by the path trodden by his leader,\nhe made for that region. I meanwhile had begun to hope for life,\nbut my heart was dried up with grief for my father's recent death; my\nbody was in pain from my long fall, and I was possessed by a violent\nthirst, caused by fright, which tortured all my limbs. Then I thought,\n\"The villain has now gone some way,\" so I lifted my head a little and\ngazed around with eyes tremulous with fear, thinking even when a blade\nof grass moved that the wretch was coming back. I watched him go step\nby step, and then, leaving the root of the tamala tree, I made a great\neffort to creep near the water. (72) My steps were feeble, because\nmy wings were not yet grown, and again and again I fell on my face;\nI supported myself on one wing; I was weak with the weariness [139]\nof creeping along the ground, and from my want of practice; after\neach step I always lifted my head and panted hard, and as I crept\nalong I became gray with dust. \"Truly even in the hardest trials,\"\nI reflected, \"living creatures never become careless of life. Nothing\nin this world is dearer to all created beings than life, seeing that\nwhen my honoured father, of well-chosen name, is dead, I still live\nwith senses unimpaired! Shame on me that I should be so pitiless,\ncruel, and ungrateful! For my life goes on shamefully in that the\ngrief of my father's death is so easily borne. I regard no kindness;\ntruly my heart is vile! I have even forgotten how, when my mother died,\nmy father restrained his bitter grief, and from the day of my birth,\nold as he was, reckoned lightly in his deep love the great toil of\nbringing me up with every care. And yet in a moment I have forgotten\nhow I was watched over by him! (73) Most vile is this breath of mine\nwhich goes not straightway forth to follow my father on his path,\nmy father, that was so good to me! Surely there is none that thirst\nof life does not harden, if the longing for water can make me take\ntrouble in my present plight. Methinks this idea of drinking water\nis purely hardness of heart, because I think lightly of the grief\nof my father's death. Even now the lake is still far off. For the\ncry of the kalahamsas, like the anklets of a water-nymph, is still\nfar away; the cranes' notes are yet dim; the scent of the lotus-bed\ncomes rarely through the space it creeps through, because the distance\nis great; noontide is hard to bear, for the sun is in the midst of\nheaven, and scatters with his rays a blazing heat, unceasing, like\nfiery dust, and makes my thirst worse; the earth with its hot thick\ndust is hard to tread; my limbs are unable to go even a little way,\nfor they are weary with excessive thirst; I am not master of myself;\n(74) my heart sinks; my eyes are darkened. O that pitiless fate would\nnow bring that death which yet I desire not!\" Thus I thought; but\na great ascetic named Jabali dwelt in a hermitage not far from the\nlake, and his son Harita, a youthful hermit, was coming down to the\nlotus-lake to bathe. He, like the son of Brahma, had a mind purified\nwith all knowledge; he was coming by the very path where I was with\nmany holy youths of his own age; like a second sun, his form was hard\nto see from its great brightness; he seemed to have dropped [140]\nfrom the rising sun, and to have limbs fashioned from lightning and\na shape painted with molten gold; he showed the beauty of a wood on\nfire, or of day with its early sunlight, by reason of the clear tawny\nsplendour of his form flashing out; he had thick matted locks hanging\non his shoulders red as heated iron, and pure with sprinkling from\nmany a sacred pool; his top-knot was bound as if he were Agni in the\nfalse guise of a young Brahman in his desire to burn the Khandava Wood;\n[141] he carried a bright crystal rosary hanging from his right ear,\nlike the anklets of the goddesses of the hermitage, and resembling the\ncircle of Dharma's commandments, made to turn aside all earthly joys;\n(75) he adorned his brow with a tripundraka [142] mark in ashes, as if\nwith threefold truth; [143] he laid his left hand on a crystal pitcher\nwith its neck held ever upwards as if to look at the path to heaven,\nlike a crane gazing upwards to the sky; he was covered by a black\nantelope skin hanging from his shoulders, like thick smoke that was\ncoming out again after being swallowed [144] in thirst for penance,\nwith pale-blue [145] lustre; he wore on his left shoulder a sacrificial\nthread, which seemed from its lightness to be fashioned from very young\nlotus-fibres, and wavered in the wind as if counting the framework of\nhis fleshless ribs; he held in his right hand an ashadha [146] staff,\nhaving on its top a leafy basket full of creeper-blossoms gathered\nfor the worship of \u00c7iva; he was followed by a deer from the hermitage,\nstill bearing the clay of the bathing-place dug up by its horns, quite\nat home with the hermits, fed on mouthfuls of rice, and letting its\neyes wander on all sides to the ku\u00e7a grass flowers and creepers. Like\na tree, he was covered with soft bark; [147] like a mountain, he was\nsurrounded by a girdle; [148] like Rahu, he had often tasted Soma;\n[149] like a day lotus-bed, he drank the sun's rays; (76) like a\ntree by the river's side, his tangled locks were pure with ceaseless\nwashing; like a young elephant, his teeth were white as [150] pieces\nof moon-lotus petals; like Drauni, he had Kripa [151] ever with him;\nlike the zodiac, he was adorned by having the hide [152] of the\ndappled deer; like a summer day, he was free from darkness; [153]\nlike the rainy season, he had allayed the blinding dust of passion;\n[154] like Varuna, he dwelt on the waters; [155] like Krishna, he had\nbanished the fear of hell; [156] like the beginning of twilight,\nhe had eyes tawny as the glow of dawn; [157] like early morn,\nhe was gilded with fresh sunlight; like the chariot of the sun,\nhe was controlled in his course; [158] like a good king, he brought\nto nought the secret guiles of the foe; [159] (77) like the ocean,\nhis temples were cavernous with meditation; [160] like Bhagiratha,\nhe had often beheld the descent of Ganges; [161] like a bee, he had\noften tasted life in a water-engirt wood; [162] though a woodsman,\nhe yet entered a great home; [163] though unrestrained, he longed\nfor release; [164] though intent on works of peace, he bore the\nrod; [165] though asleep, he was yet awake; [166] though with two\nwell-placed eyes, he had his sinister eye abolished. [167] Such was\nhe who approached the lotus-lake to bathe.\n\n'Now the mind of the good is ever wont to be compassionate and kind\ninstinctively. Wherefore he, seeing my plight, was filled with pity,\nand said to another young ascetic standing near: (78) \"This little\nhalf-fledged parrot has somehow fallen from the top of that tree,\nor perhaps from a hawk's mouth. For, owing to his long fall, he has\nhardly any life left; his eyes are closed, and he ever falls on his\nface and pants violently, and opens his beak, nor can he hold up his\nneck. Come, then, take him before his breath deserts him. Carry him\nto the water.\" So saying, he had me taken to the edge of the lake;\nand, coming there, he laid down his staff and pitcher near the water,\nand, taking me himself, just when I had given up all effort, he lifted\nup my head, and with his finger made me drink a few drops of water;\nand when I had been sprinkled with water and had gained fresh breath,\nhe placed me in the cool wet shade of a fresh lotus-leaf growing on\nthe bank, and went through the wonted rites of bathing. After that,\nhe purified himself by often holding his breath, and murmuring the\ncleansing aghamarshana [168], and then he arose and, with upraised\nface, made an offering to the sun with freshly-plucked red lotuses\nin a cup of lotus-leaves. Having taken a pure white robe, so that\nhe was like the glow of evening sunlight accompanied by the moon's\nradiance, he rubbed his hair with his hands till it shone, and, (79)\nfollowed by the band of ascetic youths, with their hair yet wet from\nrecent bathing, he took me and went slowly towards the penance grove.\n\n'And after going but a short way, I beheld the penance grove, hidden\nin thick woods rich in flowers and fruit.\n\n(80) 'Its precincts were filled by munis entering on all sides,\nfollowed by pupils murmuring the Vedas, and bearing fuel, ku\u00e7a grass,\nflowers, and earth. There the sound of the filling of the pitchers\nwas eagerly heard by the peacocks; there appeared, as it were,\na bridge to heaven under the guise of smoke waving to exalt to the\ngods the muni race while yet in the body by fires satisfied with the\nceaseless offering of ghee; all round were tanks with their waves\ntraversed by lines of sunbeams stainless as though from contact with\nthe hermits they rested upon, plunged into by the circle of the Seven\nRishis who had come to see their penance, and lifting by night an open\nmoon-lotus-bed, like a cluster of constellations descending to honour\nthe rishis; the hermitage received homage from woodland creepers with\ntheir tops bent by the wind, and from trees with their ever-falling\nblossoms, and was worshipped by trees with the a\u00f1jali of interlaced\nboughs; parched grain was scattered in the yards round the huts,\nand the fruit of the myrobalan, lavali, jujube, banana, bread-tree,\nmango, panasa, [169] and palm pressed on each other; (81) the young\nBrahmans were eloquent in reciting the Vedas; the parrot-race was\ngarrulous with the prayer of oblation that they learnt by hearing it\nincessantly; the subrahmanya [170] was recited by many a maina; the\nballs of rice offered to the deities were devoured by the cocks of the\nforest, and the offering of wild rice was eaten by the young kalahamsas\nof the tanks close by. The eating-places of the sages were protected\nfrom pollution by ashes cast round them. (82) The fire for the munis'\nhoma sacrifice was fanned by the tails of their friends the peacocks;\nthe sweet scent of the oblation prepared with nectar, the fragrance of\nthe half-cooked sacrificial cake was spread around; the crackling of\nflames in the offering of a stream of unbroken libations made the place\nresonant; a host of guests was waited upon; the Pitris were honoured;\nVishnu, \u00c7iva, and Brahma were worshipped. The performance of \u00e7raddha\nrites was taught; the science of sacrifice explained; the \u00e7astras\nof right conduct examined; good books of every kind recited; and the\nmeaning of the \u00e7astras pondered. Leafy huts were being begun; courts\nsmeared with paste, and the inside of the huts scrubbed. Meditation\nwas being firmly grasped, mantras duly carried out, yoga practised,\nand offerings made to woodland deities. Brahmanical girdles of\nmu\u00f1ja grass were being made, bark garments washed, fuel brought,\ndeer-skins decked, grass gathered, lotus-seed dried, rosaries strung,\nand bamboos laid in order for future need. [171] Wandering ascetics\nreceived hospitality, and pitchers were filled.\n\n(84) 'There defilement is found in the smoke of the oblations, not in\nevil conduct; redness of face in parrots, not in angry men; sharpness\nin blades of grass, not in dispositions; wavering in plantain-leaves,\nnot in minds; red eyes [172] in cuckoos alone; clasping of necks\nwith pitchers only; binding of girdles in vows, not in quarrels;\npakshapata [173] in cocks, not in scientific discussions; wandering\nin making the sunwise turn round the soma fire, but not error in the\n\u00e7astras; mention of the Vasus in legends, but not longing for wealth;\ncounting of beads for Rudra, but no account made of the body; loss of\nlocks by the saints in the practice of sacrifice, but not loss of their\nchildren [174] by death; propitiation of Rama by reciting the Ramayana,\nnot of women [175] by youth; wrinkles brought on by old age, not by\npride of riches; the death of a \u00c7akuni [176] in the Mahabharata only;\nonly in the Purana windy talk; [177] in old age only loss of teeth;\n[178] coldness only in the park sandal-trees; [179] (85) in fires only\nturning to ashes; [180] only deer love to hear song; only peacocks care\nfor dancing; only snakes wear hoods; [181] only monkeys desire fruit;\n[182] only roots have a downward tendency.\n\n(85-89, condensed) 'There, beneath the shade of a red a\u00e7oka-tree,\nbeauteous with new oblations of flowers, purified with ointment of\nfresh gomaya, garlanded with ku\u00e7a grass and strips of bark tied on\nby the hermitage maidens, I saw the holy Jabali surrounded by most\nascetic sages, like time by \u00e6ons, the last day by suns, the sacrifice\nby bearers of the three fires, [183] the golden mountain by the noble\nhills, or the earth by the oceans.\n\n(89) 'And as I looked on him I thought: \"Ah! how great is the power of\npenance! His form, calm as it is, yet pure as molten gold, overpowers,\nlike lightning, the brightness of the eye with its brilliance. Though\never tranquil, it inspires fear at first approach by its inherent\nmajesty. The splendour of even those ascetics who have practised but\nlittle asceticism is wont to be easily provoked, like fire swiftly\nfalling on dry reeds, ka\u00e7a grass, or flowers. (90) How much more, then,\nthat of holy men like these, whose feet are honoured by the whole\nworld, whose stains are worn away by penance, who look with divine\ninsight on the whole earth as if it were a myrobalan [184] in the hand,\nand who purge away all sin. For even the mention of a great sage has\nits reward; much more, then, the sight of him! Happy is the hermitage\nwhere dwells this king of Brahmans! Nay, rather, happy is the whole\nworld in being trodden by him who is the very Brahma of earth! Truly\nthese sages enjoy the reward of their good deeds in that they attend\nhim day and night with no other duty, hearing holy stories and ever\nfixing on him their steady gaze, as if he were another Brahma. Happy\nis Sarasvati, who, encircled by his shining teeth, and ever enjoying\nthe nearness of his lotus-mouth, dwells in his serene mind, with\nits unfathomable depths and its full stream of tenderness, like a\nhamsa on the Manasa lake. The four Vedas, that have long dwelt in the\nfour lotus-mouths of Brahma, find here their best and most fitting\nhome. (91) All the sciences, which became turbid in the rainy season\nof the Iron Age, become pure when they reach him, as rivers coming\nto autumn. Of a surety, holy Dharma, having taken up his abode here\nafter quelling the riot of the Iron Age, no longer cares to recall\nthe Golden Age. Heaven, seeing earth trodden by him, no longer takes\npride in being dwelt in by the Seven Rishis. How bold is old age,\nwhich fears not to fall on his thick matted locks, moonbeam-pale as\nthey are, and hard to gaze on as the rays of the sun of doom. [185]\nFor it falls on him as Ganges, white with flecks of foam, on \u00c7iva,\nor as an offering of milk on Agni. Even the sun's rays keep far from\nthe penance-grove, as if terrified by the greatness of the saint whose\nhermitage is darkened by the thick smoke of many an oblation. These\nfires, too, for love of him, receive oblations purified by hymns, for\ntheir flames are pressed together by the wind, like hands reverently\nraised. (92) The wind itself approaches him timidly, just stirring the\nlinen and bark dresses, fragrant with the sweet creeper blossoms of the\nhermitage, and gentle in motion. Yet the glorious might of the elements\nis wont to be beyond our resistance! But this man towers above [186]\nthe mightiest! The earth shines as if with two suns, being trodden by\nthis noble man. In his support the world stands firm. He is the stream\nof sympathy, the bridge over the ocean of transient existence, and the\nhome of the waters of patience; the axe for the glades of the creepers\nof desire, the ocean of the nectar of content, the guide in the path\nof perfection, the mountain behind which sets the planet of ill, [187]\nthe root of the tree of endurance, the nave of the wheel of wisdom,\nthe staff of the banner of righteousness, the holy place for the\ndescent of all knowledge, the submarine fire of the ocean of craving,\nthe touch-stone of the jewels of the \u00e7astras, the consuming flame of\nthe buds of passion, the charm against the snake of wrath, the sun\nto dispel the darkness of delusion, the binder of the bolts of hell's\ngates, the native home of noble deeds, the temple of propitious rites,\nthe forbidden ground for the degradation of passion, the sign-post\nto the paths of good, the birthplace of holiness, the felly of the\nwheel of effort, the abode of strength, the foe of the Iron Age, the\ntreasury of penance, the friend of truth, the native soil of sincerity,\nthe source of the heaping up of merit, the closed gate for envy, the\nfoe of calamity. (93) Truly he is one in whom disrespect can find no\nplace; for he is averse from pride, unclaimed by meanness, unenslaved\nby wrath, and unattracted by pleasure. Purely by the grace of this\nholy man the hermitage is free from envy and calm from enmity. Great\nis the power of a noble soul. Here, ceasing their constant feud, the\nvery animals are quiet, and learn the joy of a hermitage life. For\nhere a snake, wearied by the sun, fearlessly enters, as if into\nfresh grass, into the peacock's tail, like an interwoven grove\nof open lotuses, with its hundred beauteous eyes, changing in hue\nas the eyes of a deer. Here a young antelope, leaving his mother,\nmakes friends with the lion-cubs whose manes are not yet grown, and\ndrinks at the bounteous breast of the lioness. Here a lion closes his\neyes, and is pleased to have his moon-white mane pulled by the young\nelephants that mistake it for lotus-fibres. Here the monkey-tribe loses\nits capriciousness and brings fruit to the young munis after their\nbath. There the elephants, too, though excited, are tender-hearted,\nand do not drive away by their flapping the bees that dwell round their\nfrontal bones, and stay motionless to drink their ichor. (94) But what\nneed of more? There even the senseless trees, with roots and fruits,\nclad in bark, and adorned with outer garments of black antelope skin\nperpetually made for them by the upward creeping lines of sacrificial\nsmoke, seem like fellow ascetics of this holy man. How much more,\nthen, living beings, endowed with sense!\"\n\n'And while I was thus thinking, Harita placed me somewhere in the shade\nof the a\u00e7oka tree, and embracing his father's feet and saluting him,\nsat down not far from him on a seat of ku\u00e7a grass.\n\n'But the hermits, looking on me, asked him as he rested: \"Whence was\nthis little parrot brought?\" \"When I went hence to bathe,\" replied he,\n\"I found this little parrot fallen from its nest in a tree on the\nbank of the lotus-lake, faint with the heat, lying in hot dust, and\nshaken by the fall, with little life left in him. And as I could not\nreplace him in his nest (for that tree was too hard for an ascetic\nto climb), I brought him hither in pity. So, while his wings are not\ngrown, and he cannot fly into the sky, let him live in the hollow of\nsome hermitage tree, (95) fed on the juice of fruits and on handfuls\nof rice brought to him by us and by the young hermits. For it is the\nlaw of our order to protect the weak. But when his wings are grown,\nand he can fly into the sky, he shall go where he likes. Or perhaps,\nwhen he knows us well, he will stay here.\" The holy Jabali, hearing\nthis and other remarks about me, with some curiosity bent his head\nslightly, and, with a very calm glance that seemed to purify me with\nholy waters, he gazed long upon me, and then, looking again and again\nas if he were beginning to recognise me, said: \"He is reaping the fruit\nof his own ill-conduct.\" For by the potency of penance the saint with\ndivine insight beholds the past, present, and future, and sees the\nwhole world as though placed on the palm of his hand. He knows past\nbirths. He tells things yet to come. He declares the length of days\nof beings within his sight.\n\n'At these words the whole assemblage of hermits, aware of his power,\nbecame curious to know what was my crime, and why committed, and where,\nand who I was in a former birth; and implored the saint, saying: (96)\n\"Vouchsafe, sir, to tell us of what kind of misconduct he is reaping\nthe fruits. Who was he in a former birth, and how was he born in\nthe form of a bird? How is he named? Do thou satisfy our curiosity,\nfor thou art the fountain-head of all marvels.\"\n\n'Thus urged by the assemblage, the great saint replied: \"The story of\nthis wonder is very long, the day is almost spent, our bathing-time\nis near, while the hour for worshipping the gods is passing. Arise,\ntherefore; let each perform his duties as is meet. In the afternoon,\nafter your meal of roots and fruits, when you are resting quietly,\nI will tell you the whole story from beginning to end--who he is, what\nhe did in another birth, and how he was born in this world. Meanwhile,\nlet him be refreshed with food. He will certainly recall, as it\nwere, the vision of a dream when I tell the whole story of his former\nbirth.\" So saying, he arose, and with the hermits bathed and performed\ntheir other daily duties.\n\n(97) 'The day was now drawing to a close. When the hermits rose\nfrom their bathing, and were offering a sacrifice, the sun in the\nsky seemed to bear upwards before our eyes the offering cast on the\nground, with its unguent of red sandal-wood. Then his glow faded and\nvanished; the effluence of his glory was drunk by the Ushmapas [188]\nwith faces raised and eyes fixed on his orb, as if they were ascetics;\nand he glided from the sky pink as a dove's foot, drawing in his rays\nas though to avoid touching the Seven Rishis as they rose. His orb,\nwith its network of crimson rays reflected on the Western Ocean,\nwas like the lotus of Vishnu on his couch of waters pouring forth\nnectar; his beams, forsaking the sky and deserting the lotus-groves,\nlingered at eve like birds on the crest of hill and tree; the splashes\nof crimson light seemed for a moment to deck the trees with the red\nbark garments hung up by the ascetics. And when the thousand-rayed sun\nhad gone to rest, twilight sprang up like rosy coral from the Western\nOcean. (98) Then the hermitage became the home of quiet thought, as\nthe pleasant sound of milking the sacred cows arose in one quarter,\nand the fresh ku\u00e7a grass was scattered on the altar of Agni, and the\nrice and oblations to the goddesses of space were tossed hither and\nthither by the hermitage maidens. And red-starred eve seemed to the\nhermits as the red-eyed cow of the hermitage roaming about, tawny\nin the fall of day. And when the sun had vanished, the lotus-bed,\nin the grief of bereavement, seemed to perform a vow in the hopes of\nrejoining the lord of day, for she lifted the goblets of her buds,\nand wore the fine white vesture of her hamsas, and was girt with the\nsacrificial thread of white filaments, and bore a circle of bees as\nher rosary. And the starry host leapt up and filled the sky, like a\nsplash of spray when the sun fell into the Western Ocean; and for a\nbrief space the star-bespangled sky shone as though inlaid with flowers\noffered by the daughters of the Siddhas [189] in honour of twilight;\nbut in a moment the whole glory of the gloaming vanished as though\nwashed away by the libations which the hermits, with faces upraised,\ncast towards the sky; (99) and at its departure, night, as sorrowing\nfor its loss, wore a deeper darkness, like a black antelope's skin--a\nblackness which darkened all save the hearts of the hermits.\n\n'Learning that the sun had gone to rest, the lord of rays ambrosial, in\npure severity of light, arrayed in the whiteness of clear gossamer,\ndwelling in the palace of his wives with Tara, [190] mounted the\nsky which, in that it was outlined with the darkness of tamala-trees,\npresided over by the circle of Seven Rishis, purified by the wanderings\nof Arundhati, [191] surrounded by Ashadha, [192] showing its Mula\n[193] with its soft-eyed white deer, [194] was a very hermitage of\nheaven. White as a hamsa, moonlight fell on the earth, filling the\nseas; falling, as Ganges from the head of \u00c7iva, from the sky which\nwas decked with the moon, and inlaid with the shattered potsherds\nof the stars. (100) And in the moon-lake, white as an opening lotus,\nwas seen the motionless deer, which went down in eagerness to drink\nthe water of the moonbeams, and was caught, as it were, in the mud\nof ambrosia. The lakes of the night-lotus were fondly visited by\nthe moonbeams, like hamsas, falling on the ocean white as sinduvara\nflowers in their fresh purity after the rains. At that moment the\nglobe of the moon lost all the glow of its rising, like the frontal\nbone of the elephant Airavata when its red lead is washed away by\nplunging into the heavenly stream; and his highness the cold-shedder\nhad gradually risen high in the sky, and by his light had whitened\nthe earth as with lime-dust; the breezes of early night were blowing,\nslackened in their course by the cold dew, aromatic with the scent\nof opening moon-lotuses, (101) and gladly welcomed by the deer, who,\nwith eyes weighed down by the approach of sleep, and eyelashes clinging\ntogether, were beginning to ruminate and rest in quiet.\n\n'Only half a watch of the night was spent, when Harita took me after\nmy meal and went with the other holy hermits to his father, who,\nin a moonlit spot of the hermitage, was sitting on a bamboo stool,\ngently fanned by a pupil named Jalapada, who held a fan of antelope\nskin white as dharba grass, and he spake, saying: \"Father, the whole\nassemblage of hermits is in a circle round thee, with hearts eager\nto hear this wonder; the little bird, too, has rested. Tell us,\ntherefore, what he has done, who was he, and who will he be in\nanother birth?\" Thus addressed, the great saint, looking at me,\nand seeing the hermits before him intently listening, slowly spake:\n\"Let the tale be told, if ye care to hear it.\n\n'\"(102) There is a city named Ujjayini, the proudest gem of earth,\nthe very home of the golden age, created by Mahakala, [195] creator,\npreserver, and destroyer of the three worlds, and lord of Pramathas,\nas a habitation meet for himself, as it were a second earth. There\nthe sun is daily seen paying homage to Mahakala, for his steeds vail\ntheir heads at the charm of the sweet chant of the women singing in\nconcert in the lofty white palace, and his pennon droops before him.\n\n(109) '\"There darkness never falls, and the nights bring no separation\nto the pairs of cakravakas; nor need they any lamps, for they pass\ngolden as with morning sunshine, from the bright jewels of women,\nas though the world were on fire with the flame of love. (110) There\nthe only unending life is in jewelled lamps, the only wavering in\npearl necklaces, the only variations in the sound of drum and song,\nthe only disunion of pairs in cakravakas, the only testing of colour\n[196] in gold pieces, the only unsteadiness in banners, the only\nhatred of the sun [197] in night-lotuses, the only concealment of\nmetal in the sheathing of the sword. (111) Why should I say more? For\nhe whose bright feet are kissed by the rays of the jewelled crests\nof gods and demons, who hath the river of heaven wandering lost in\nhis locks tawny with a wreath of flame for the burning of the world;\nhe the foe of Andhaka; he the holy one; he who hath given up his\nlove for his home on Kailasa; even he whose name is Mahakala hath\nthere made a habitation for himself. And in this city was a king\nnamed Tarapida. He was like unto the great kings Nala, Nahusha,\nYayati, Dundhumara, Bharata, Bhagiratha, and Da\u00e7aratha; by the might\nof his arm he conquered the whole world; he reaped the fruits of the\nthree powers; [198] wise and resolute, with an intellect unwearied in\npolitical science, and a deep study of the law books, he made in light\nand glory a third with the sun and moon. (112) His form was purified\nby many a sacrifice; by him the calamities of the whole world were\nset at rest; to him Lakshmi openly clung, deserting her lotus-woods\nand despising the happiness of her home in the breast of Narayana,\nshe the lotus-handed, who ever joys in the contest of heroes. He was\nthe source of truth, ever honoured by the race of saints, as the foot\nof Vishnu was of the stream of the heavenly Ganges.\n\n'\"From him arose glory, as from the ocean of the moon, for his\nbrightness, free from heat, consumed his foes; constant, ever roamed;\nstainless, darkened the brightness of the lotus-faced widows of his\nfoes; white, made all things gay. (113) He was the incarnation of\njustice, the very representative of Vishnu and the destroyer of all\nthe sorrows of his people.\n\n(115) '\"When he approached the throne that blossomed with the rays of\nmany gems and was hung with clusters of pearls, like the elephant of\nspace approaching the tree of desire, all the wide quarters of space,\nlike creepers weighed down by bees, bowed down before his majesty;\nand of him, I think, even Indra was envious. From him, too, proceeded a\nhost of virtues, like a flock of hamsas from Mount Krau\u00f1ca, brightening\nthe earth's surface, and gladdening the hearts of all mankind. His\nfame wandered, so that the world echoed with it throughout the ten\nregions, making fair the world of gods and demons, like a streak of\nfoam of the stream of milk tossed by Mandara, ambrosial sweet. His\nroyal glory never for a moment laid aside the shade of her umbrella,\nas though scorched by the heat of a splendour hard to bear. (116)\nHis achievements were heard by the people like news of good fortune,\nwere received like the teaching of a guru, were valued like a good\nomen, were murmured like a hymn, and were remembered like a sacred\ntext. And while he was king, though the flight of the mountains was\nstayed, the flight of thought was free; suffixes alone were dependent,\nand the people feared no foe; nought dared to face him but his mirror;\nthe pressure of Durga [199] was given to \u00c7iva's image alone; the bow\nwas only borne by the clouds; there was no uprising save of banners, no\nbending save of bows, no shaft sped home save the bee's on the bamboo,\nno enforced wandering save of the images of gods in a procession,\nno imprisonment save of flowers in their calyx, no restraint save of\nthe senses; wild elephants entered the pale, but none paled before\nthe water-ordeal; the only sharpness was in the edge of the sword;\nthe only endurance of the flame [200] was by ascetics; the only passing\nthe Balance [201] was by the stars; the only clearing of baneful [202]\nwaters was in the rising of Agastya; the only cutting short was of\nhair and nails; the only stained garb was of the sky on stormy days;\nthe only laying bare was of gems, and not of secret counsels; the only\nmysteries [203] were those of religion; (117) none ceased to behold\nthe light save slaughtered Taraka [204] in the praises of Kumara; none\ndreaded eclipse save the sun; none passed over the First-born [205]\nsave the moon; none heard of the Disobedient save in the Mahabharata;\nnone grasped the rod [206] save in the decline of life; none clung\nto a sinister object save the sword-sheath; no stream of liberality\nwas interrupted save the elephant's ichor; no squares were deserted\nsave those on the dice-board.\n\n'\"That king had a minister, by name \u00c7ukanasa, a Brahman, whose\nintelligence was fixed on all the affairs of the kingdom, whose\nmind had plunged deeply into the arts and \u00e7astras, and whose strong\naffection for the king had grown up in him from childhood. Skilled in\nthe precepts of political science, pilot of the world's government,\nunshaken in resolve by the greatest difficulties, he was the castle of\nconstancy, the station of steadfastness, the bridge of bright truth,\nthe guide to all goodness, the conductor in conduct, the ordainer\nof all ordered life. Like the serpent \u00c7esha, enduring the weight of\nthe world; like the ocean, full of life; like Jarasandha, shaping\nwar and peace; [207] (118) like \u00c7iva, at home with Durga [208];\nlike Yuddhishthira, a dayspring of Dharma, he knew all the Vedas\nand Vedangas, and was the essence of the kingdom's prosperity. He\nwas like Brihaspati [209] to Sunasira; like \u00c7ukra to Vrishaparvan;\nlike Va\u00e7ishtha to Da\u00e7aratha; like Vi\u00e7vamitra to Rama; like Dhaumya to\nAjata\u00e7atru; like Damanaka to Nala. He, by the force of his knowledge,\nthought that Lakshmi was not hard to win, resting though she were on\nthe breast of Narayana, terrible with the scars of the weapons of the\ndemons of hell, and a strong shoulder hardened by the pitiless pressure\nof Mount Mandara as it moved to and fro. Near him knowledge spread\nwide, thick with many a tendril, and showed the fruits gained from\nconquered realms like a creeper near a tree. (119) To him throughout\nthe earth's surface, measured by the circumference of the four oceans,\nand filled with the goings to and fro of many thousands of spies, every\nwhisper of the kings was known as though uttered in his own palace.\n\n'\"Now, Tarapida while yet a child had conquered the whole earth ringed\nby the seven Dvipas by the might of his arm, thick as the trunk of\nIndra's elephant, and he devolved the weight of the empire on that\ncouncillor named \u00c7ukanasa, and having made his subjects perfectly\ncontented, he searched for anything else that remained to be done.\n\n'\"And as he had crushed his enemies and had lost all cause for fear,\nand as the strain of the world's affairs had become a little relaxed,\nfor the most part he began to pursue the ordinary pleasures of youth.\n\n(124) '\"And some time passed while the king pursued the pleasures of\nyouth, and entrusted the affairs of state to his minister; and after\na time he came to the end of all the other pleasures of life, and the\nonly one he did not get was the sight of a son born to him; so that\nhis zenana was like reeds showing only flowers without fruit; and as\nyouth went by there arose in him a regret produced by childlessness,\nand his mind was turned away from the desire of the pleasures of sense,\nand he felt himself alone, though surrounded by a thousand princes;\nblind, though possessed of sight; without support, though supporting\nthe world.\n\n(125) '\"But the fairest ornament of this king was his queen Vilasavati;\nas the moon's digit to the braided hair of \u00c7iva, as the splendour\nof the Kaustubha gem to the breast of the foe [210] of Kaitabha,\nas the woodland garland to Balarama, as the shore to the ocean, as\nthe creeper to the tree, as the outburst of flowers to the spring,\nas the moonlight to the moon, as the lotus-bed to the lake, as the\narray of stars to the sky, as the circling of hamsas to Lake Manasa,\nas the line of sandal-woods to Mount Malaya, as the jewelled crest to\n\u00c7esha, so was she to her lord; she reigned peerless in the zenana,\nand created wonder in the three worlds, as though she were the very\nsource of all womanly grace.\n\n'\"And it chanced once that, going to her dwelling, he beheld her\nseated on a stately [211] couch, weeping bitterly, surrounded by\nher household mute in grief, their glances fixed in meditation, and\nattended by her chamberlains, who waited afar with eyes motionless\nin anxious thought, while the old women of the zenana were trying\nto console her. Her silken robes were wet with ceaseless tears; her\nornaments were laid aside; her lotus-face rested on her left hand; and\nher tresses were unbound and in disorder. As she arose to welcome him,\nthe king placed her on the couch again, and sitting there himself,\nignorant of the cause of her weeping, and in great alarm, wiped away\nwith his hand the tears from her cheeks, saying: (126) 'My queen,\nwhat means this weeping, voiceless and low with the weight of the\nheavy sorrow concealed in thy heart? For these eyelashes of thine are\nstringing, as it were, a network of pearls of dropping tears. Why,\nslender one, art thou unadorned? and why has not the stream of lac\nfallen on thy feet like early sunlight on rosy lotus-buds? And why\nare thy jewelled anklets, with their murmur like teals on the lake\nof love, not graced with the touch of thy lotus-feet? And why is\nthis waist of thine bereft of the music of the girdle thou hast laid\naside? And why is there no device painted on thy breast like the deer\non the moon? and why is that slender neck of thine, fair-limbed queen,\nnot adorned with a rope of pearls as the crescent on \u00c7iva's brow by\nthe heavenly stream? And why dost thou, erst so gay, wear in vain\na face whose adornment is washed away with flowing tears? And why\nis this hand, with its petal-like cluster of soft fingers, exalted\ninto an ear-jewel, as though it were a rosy lotus? (127) And why,\nfroward lady, dost thou raise thy straight brow undecked with the\nmark of yellow pigment, and surrounded by the mass of thine unbound\ntresses? For these flowing locks of thine, bereft of flowers, grieve\nmy eyes, like the loss of the moon in the dark fortnight, clouded in\nmasses of thickest gloom. Be kind, and tell me, my queen, the cause\nof thy grief. For this storm of sighs with which the robe on thy\nbreast is quivering bows my loving heart like a ruddy tendril. Has\nany wrong been done by me, or by any in thy service? Closely as I\nexamine myself, I can truly see no failure of mine towards thee. For\nmy life and my kingdom are wholly thine. Let the cause of thy woe,\nfair queen, be told.' But Vilasavati, thus addressed, made no reply,\nand turning to her attendants, he asked the cause of her exceeding\ngrief. Then her betel-nut bearer, Makarika, who was always near her,\nsaid to the king: 'My lord, how could any fault, however slight,\nbe committed by thee? (128) And how in thy presence could any of thy\nfollowers, or anyone else, offend? The sorrow of the queen is that her\nunion with the king is fruitless, as though she were seized by Rahu,\nand for a long time she has been suffering. For at first our lady\nwas like one in heavy grief, was only occupied with difficulty by\nthe persuasion of her attendants in the ordinary duties of the day,\nhowever fitting they might be, such as sleeping, bathing, eating,\nputting on of ornaments, and the like, and, like a Lakshmi of the lower\nworld, ceaselessly upbraided divine love. [212] But in her longing\nto take away the grief of my lord's heart, she did not show her sad\nchange. Now, however, as it was the fourteenth day of the month,\nshe went to worship holy Mahakala, and heard in a recitation of the\nMahabharata, \"No bright abodes await the childless, for a son is he\nwho delivers from the sunless shades\"; and when she heard this, she\nreturned to her palace, and now, though reverently entreated thereto\nby her attendants, she takes no pleasure in food, nor does she busy\nherself in putting on her jewels, nor does she vouchsafe to answer\nus; (129) she only weeps, and her face is clouded with a storm of\never-flowing tears. My lord has heard, and must judge.' So saying,\nshe ceased; and, with a long and passionate sigh, the king spoke thus:\n\n'\"'My queen, what can be done in a matter decreed by fate? Enough of\nthis weeping beyond measure! For it is not on us that the gods are\nwont to bestow their favours. In truth, our heart is not destined to\nhold the bliss of that ambrosial draught, the embrace of a child of\nour own. In a former life no glorious deed was done; for a deed done\nin a former life brings forth fruit in man's life on earth; even the\nwisest man cannot change destiny. Let all be done that may be done in\nthis mortal life. Do more honour to the gurus; redouble thy worship of\nthe gods; let thy good works be seen in thy reverence to the rishis;\nfor the rishis are a powerful deity, and if we serve them with all our\nmight, they will give boons that fulfil our heart's desire, hard though\nit be to gain. (130) For the tale is an old one how King Brihadratha\nin Magadha won by the power of Candakau\u00e7ika a son Jarasandha, victor\nof Vishnu, peerless in prowess, fatal to his foes. Da\u00e7aratha, too,\nwhen very old, received by the favour of Rishya\u00e7ringa, son of the great\nsaint Vibhandaka, four sons, unconquerable as the arms of Narayana,\nand unshaken as the depths of the oceans. [213] And many other royal\nsages, having conciliated ascetics, have enjoyed the happiness of\ntasting the ambrosia of the sight of a son. For the honour paid to\nsaints is never without its reward.\n\n'\"'And for me, when shall I behold my queen ready to bear a child,\npale as the fourteenth night when the rising of the full moon is at\nhand; and when will her attendants, hardly able to bear the joy of\nthe great festival of the birth of my son, carry the full basket of\ngifts? When will my queen gladden me wearing yellow robes, and holding\na son in her arms, like the sky with the newly-risen sun and the early\nsunlight; and when will a son give me joy of heart, with his curly\nhair yellow with many a plant, a few ashes mixed with mustard-seed\non his palate, which has a drop of ghi on it as a talisman, (131)\nand a thread bright with yellow dye round his neck, as he lies on his\nback and smiles with a little toothless mouth; when will this baby\ndestroy all the darkness of sorrow in my eyes like an auspicious lamp\nwelcomed by all the people, handed from one to another by the zenana\nattendants, shining tawny with yellow dye; and when will he adorn the\ncourtyard, as he toddles round it, followed by my heart and my eyes,\nand gray with the dust of the court; and when will he walk from one\nplace to another and the power of motion be formed in his knees,\nso that, like a young lion, he may try to catch the young tame deer\nscreened behind the crystal walls? And when, running about at will\nin the courtyard, will he run after the tame geese, accompanied\nby the tinkling of the anklets of the zenana, and weary his nurse,\nwho will hasten after him, following the sound of the bells of his\ngolden girdle; (132) and when will he imitate the antics of a wild\nelephant, and have his cheeks adorned with a line of ichor painted in\nblack aloe, full of joy at the sound of the bell held in his mouth,\ngray with the dust of sandal-wood scattered by his uplifted hand,\nshaking his head at the beckoning of the hooked finger; and when\nwill he disguise the faces of the old chamberlains with the juice of\nhandfuls of lac left after being used to colour his mother's feet;\nand when, with eyes restless in curiosity, will he bend his glance\non the inlaid floors, and with tottering steps pursue his own shadow;\nand when will he creep about during the audience in front of me as I\nstand in my audience-hall, with his eyes wandering bewildered by the\nrays of the gems, and have his coming welcomed by the outstretched\narms of a thousand kings? Thinking on a hundred such desires, I pass\nmy nights in suffering. Me, too, the grief arising from our want of\nchildren burns like a fire day and night. The world seems empty;\nI look on my kingdom as without fruit. But what can I do towards\nBrahma, from whom there is no appeal? Therefore, my queen, cease\nthy continual grief. Let thy heart be devoted to endurance and to\nduty. For increase of blessings is ever nigh at hand for those who\nset their thoughts on duty.' (133) Thus saying, with a hand like\na fresh tendril, he took water and wiped her tear-stained face,\nwhich showed as an opening lotus; and having comforted her again and\nagain with many a speech sweet with a hundred endearments, skilled to\ndrive away grief, and full of instruction about duty, he at last left\nher. And when he was gone, Vilasavati's sorrow was a little soothed,\nand she went about her usual daily duties, such as putting on of her\nadornments. And from that time forth she was more and more devoted to\npropitiating the gods, honouring Brahmans, and paying reverence to\nall holy persons; whatever recommendation she heard from any source\nshe practised in her longing for a child, nor did she count the\nfatigue, however great; she slept within the temples of Durga, dark\nwith smoke of bdellium ceaselessly burnt, on a bed of clubs covered\nwith green grass, fasting, her pure form clothed in white raiment;\n(134) she bathed under cows endued with auspicious marks, adorned for\nthe occasion by the wives of the old cowherds in the herd-stations,\nwith golden pitchers laden with all sorts of jewels, decorated with\nbranches of the pipal, decked with divers fruits and flowers and\nfilled with holy water; every day she would rise and give to Brahmans\ngolden mustard-leaves adorned with every gem; she stood in the midst\nof a circle drawn by the king himself, in a place where four roads\nmeet, on the fourteenth night of the dark fortnight, and performed\nauspicious rites of bathing, in which the gods of the quarters were\ngladdened by the various oblations offered; she honoured the shrines\nof the siddhas and sought the houses of neighbouring Matrikas, [214]\nin which faith was displayed by the people; she bathed in all the\ncelebrated snake-ponds; with a sun-wise turn, she worshipped the pipal\nand other trees to which honour was wont to be shown; after bathing,\nwith hands circled by swaying bracelets, she herself gave to the\nbirds an offering of curds and boiled rice placed in a silver cup;\nshe offered daily to the goddess Durga a sacrifice consisting of\nparched grain of oblation, boiled rice, sesamum sweetmeats, cakes,\nunguents, incense, and flowers, in abundance; (135) she besought,\nwith a mind prostrate in adoration, the naked wandering ascetics,\nbearing the name of siddhas, and carrying their begging-bowls filled\nby her; she greatly honoured the directions of fortune-tellers;\nshe frequented all the soothsayers learned in signs; she showed all\nrespect to those who understood the omens of birds; she accepted all\nthe secrets handed down in the tradition of a succession of venerable\nsages; in her longing for the sight of a son, she made the Brahmans\nwho came into her presence chant the Veda; she heard sacred stories\nincessantly repeated; she carried about little caskets of mantras\nfilled with birch-leaves written over in yellow letters; she tied\nstrings of medicinal plants as amulets; even her attendants went\nout to hear passing sounds and grasped the omens arising from them;\nshe daily threw out lumps of flesh in the evening for the jackals;\nshe told the pandits the wonders of her dreams, and at the cross-roads\nshe offered oblation to \u00c7iva.\n\n'\"And as time went on, it chanced once that near the end of night,\nwhen the sky was gray as an old pigeon's wing, and but few stars\nwere left, the king saw in a dream the full moon entering the mouth\nof Vilasavati, as she rested on the roof of her white palace, like a\nball of lotus-fibres into the mouth of an elephant. (136) Thereupon\nhe woke, and arising, shedding brightness through his dwelling by\nthe joyous dilation of his eyes, he straightway called \u00c7ukanasa\nand told him the dream; whereto the latter, filled with sudden joy,\nreplied: 'Sire, our wishes and those of thy subjects are at length\nfulfilled. After a few days my lord will doubtless experience the\nhappiness of beholding the lotus-face of a son; for I, too, this night\nin a dream saw a white-robed Brahman, of godlike bearing and calm\naspect, place in Manorama's [215] lap a lotus that rained drops of\nhoney, with a hundred outspread white petals, like the moon's digits,\nand a thousand quivering stamens forming its matted locks. Now,\nall auspicious omens which come to us foretell the near approach of\njoy; and what other cause of joy can there be than this? for dreams\nseen at the close of night are wont to bear fruit in truth. (137)\nCertainly ere long the queen shall bear a son that, like Mandhatri,\nshall be a leader among all royal sages, and a cause of joy to all the\nworld; and he shall gladden thy heart, O king, as the lotus-pool in\nautumn with its burst of fresh lotuses gladdens the royal elephant;\nby him thy kingly line shall become strong to bear the weight of\nthe world, and shall be unbroken in its succession as the stream of\na wild elephant's ichor.' As he thus spoke, the king, taking him by\nthe hand, entered the inner apartments and gladdened the queen, with\nboth their dreams. And after some days, by the grace of the gods,\nthe hope of a child came to Vilasavati, like the moon's image on a\nlake, and she became thereby yet more glorious, like the line of the\nNandana wood with the tree of Paradise, or the breast of Vishnu with\nthe Kaustubha gem.\n\n(138) '\"On one memorable day the king had gone at evening to an inner\npavilion, where, encircled by a thousand lamps, burning bright with\nabundance of scented oil, he was like the full moon in the midst of\nstars, or like Narayana seated among the thousand jewelled hoods of\nthe king of snakes; he was surrounded only by a few great kings who\nhad received the sprinkling of coronation; his own attendants stood\nat some distance; close by \u00c7ukanasa was sitting on a high stool, clad\nin white silk, with little adornment, a statesman profound as the\ndepths of ocean; and with him the king was holding a conversation on\nmany topics, full of the confidence that had grown with their growth,\nwhen he was approached by the handmaiden Kulavardhana, the queen's\nchief attendant, always skilled in the ways of a court, well trained\nby nearness to royalty, and versed in all auspicious ceremonies,\nwho whispered in his ear the news about Vilasavati. (139) At her\nwords, so fresh to his ears, the king's limbs were bedewed as if\nwith ambrosia, a thrill passed through his whole body, and he was\nbewildered with the draught of joy; his cheeks burst into a smile;\nunder the guise of the bright flash of his teeth he scattered abroad\nthe happiness that overflowed his heart, and his eye, with its pupil\nquivering, and its lashes wet with tears of gladness, fell on the face\nof \u00c7ukanasa. And when \u00c7ukanasa saw the king's exceeding joy, such as he\nhad never seen before, and beheld the approach of Kulavardhana with a\nradiant smile on her face, though he had not heard the tidings, yet,\nfrom constantly revolving the matter in his mind, he saw no other\ncause befitting the time of this excess of gladness; (140) he saw\nall, and bringing his seat closer to the king, said in a low voice:\n'My lord, there is some truth in that dream; for Kulavardhana has\nher eyes radiant, and thy twin eyes announce a cause of great joy,\nfor they are dilated, their pupils are tremulous, and they are bathed\nin tears of joy, and as they seem to creep to the lobes of thy ears\nin their eagerness to hear the good tidings, they produce, as it were,\nthe beauty of an ear-pendant of blue lotuses. My longing heart yearns\nto hear the festival that has sprung up for it. Therefore let my lord\ntell me what is this news.' When he had thus said, the king replied\nwith a smile: 'If it is true as she says, then all our dream is true;\nbut I cannot believe it. How should so great a happiness fall to\nour lot? For we are no fitting vessel for the bearing of such good\ntidings. Kulavardhana is always truthful, and yet when I consider\nhow unworthy I am of such joy, I look upon her as having changed her\nnature. Rise, therefore; I myself will go and ask the queen if it is\ntrue, and then I shall know.' (141) So saying, he dismissed all the\nkings, and taking off his ornaments, gave them to Kulavardhana, and\nwhen, on his gracious dismissal of her with gifts, he received her\nhomage paid with a deep reverence as she touched the earth with her\nstraight brow, he rose with \u00c7ukanasa and went to the inner apartments,\nhurried on by a mind filled with exceeding happiness, and gladdened\nby the throbbing of his right eye, which seemed to mimic the play of\na blue lotus-petal stirred by the wind. He was followed by a scanty\nretinue, as befitted so late a visit, and had the thick darkness of\nthe courtyard dispelled by the brightness of the lamps of the women\nwho went before him, though their steady flame flickered in the wind.\"'\n\n\n\n[Bana then describes the birth of Tarapida's son, who is named\nCandrapida, from the king's dream about the moon, and also that of\n\u00c7ukanasa's son Vai\u00e7ampayana. [216]]\n\n\n\n(155) '\"And as Candrapida underwent in due course all the circle of\nceremonies, beginning with the tying of his top-knot, his childhood\npassed away; and to prevent distraction, Tarapida had built for him\na palace of learning outside the city, stretching half a league along\nthe Sipra river, surrounded by a wall of white bricks like the circle\nof peaks of a snow-mountain, girt with a great moat running along\nthe walls, guarded by very strong gates, having one door kept open\nfor ingress, with stables for horses and palanquins close by, and\na gymnasium constructed beneath--a fit palace for the immortals. He\ntook infinite pains in gathering there teachers of every science, and\nhaving placed the boy there, like a young lion in a cage, forbidding\nall egress, surrounding him with a suite composed mainly of the sons\nof his teachers, removing every allurement to the sports of boyhood,\nand keeping his mind free from distraction, on an auspicious day (156)\nhe entrusted him, together with Vai\u00e7ampayana, to masters, that they\nmight acquire all knowledge. Every day when he rose, the king, with\nVilasavati and a small retinue, went to watch him, and Candrapida,\nundisturbed in mind and kept to his work by the king, quickly grasped\nall the sciences taught him by teachers, whose efforts were quickened\nby his great powers, as they brought to light his natural abilities;\nthe whole range of arts assembled in his mind as in a pure jewelled\nmirror. He gained the highest skill in word, sentence, proof, law,\nand royal policy; in gymnastics; in all kinds of weapons, such as\nthe bow, quoit, shield, scimitar, dart, mace, battle-axe, and club;\nin driving and elephant-riding; in musical instruments, such as the\nlute, fife, drum, cymbal, and pipe; in the laws of dancing laid down\nby Bharata and others, and the science of music, such as that of\nNarada; in the management of elephants, the knowledge of a horse's\nage, and the marks of men; in painting, leaf-cutting, the use of\nbooks, and writing; in all the arts of gambling, knowledge of the\ncries of birds, and astronomy; in testing of jewels, (157) carpentry,\nthe working of ivory; in architecture, physic, mechanics, antidotes,\nmining, crossing of rivers, leaping and jumping, and sleight of hand;\nin stories, dramas, romances, poems; in the Mahabharata, the Puranas,\nthe Itihasas, and the Ramayana; in all kinds of writing, all foreign\nlanguages, all technicalities, all mechanical arts; in metre, and\nin every other art. And while he ceaselessly studied, even in his\nchildhood an inborn vigour like that of Bhima shone forth in him\nand stirred the world to wonder. For when he was but in play the\nyoung elephants, who had attacked him as if he were a lion's whelp,\nhad their limbs bowed down by his grasp on their ears, and could not\nmove; with one stroke of his scimitar he cut down palm-trees as if\nthey were lotus-stalks; his shafts, like those of Para\u00e7urama when\nhe blazed to consume the forest of earth's royal stems, cleft only\nthe loftiest peaks; he exercised himself with an iron club which\nten men were needed to lift; and, except in bodily strength, he was\nfollowed close in all his accomplishments by Vai\u00e7ampayana, (158)\nwho, by reason of the honour Candrapida felt for his deep learning,\nand of his reverence due to \u00c7ukanasa, and because they had played in\nthe dust and grown up together, was the prince's chief friend, and,\nas it were, his second heart, and the home of all his confidences. He\nwould not be without Vai\u00e7ampayana for a moment, while Vai\u00e7ampayana\nnever for an instant ceased to follow him, any more than the day\nwould cease to follow the sun.\n\n'\"And while Candrapida was thus pursuing his acquaintance with all\nknowledge, the spring of youth, loved of the three worlds as the amrita\ndraught of the ocean, gladdening the hearts of men as moonrise gladdens\nthe gloaming; transient in change of iridescent glow, like the full\narch of Indra's bow to the rainy season; weapon of love, like the\noutburst of flowers to the tree of desire; beautiful in ever freshly\nrevealed glow, like sunrise to the lotus-grove; ready for all play\nof graceful motion, like the plumes of the peacock, became manifest\nand brought to flower in him, fair as he was, a double beauty; love,\nlord of the hour, stood ever nigh, as if to do his bidding; his chest\nexpanded like his beauty; his limbs won fulness, like the wishes of his\nfriends; his waist became slender, like the host of his foes; (159)\nhis form broadened, like his liberality; his majesty grew, like his\nhair; his arms hung down more and more, like the plaits of his enemies'\nwives; his eyes became brighter, like his conduct; his shoulders broad,\nlike his knowledge; and his heart deep, like his voice.\n\n'\"And so in due course the king, learning that Candrapida had grown to\nyouth, and had completed his knowledge of all the arts, studied all the\nsciences, and won great praise from his teachers, summoned Balahaka,\na mighty warrior, and, with a large escort of cavalry and infantry,\nsent him on a very auspicious day to fetch the prince. And Balahaka,\ngoing to the palace of learning, entered, announced by the porters,\nand bending his head till its crest-jewels rested on the ground,\nsat down, by the prince's permission, on a seat befitting his office,\nas reverently as though in the king's presence; after a short pause\nhe approached Candrapida and respectfully gave the king's message:\n'Prince, the king bids me say: \"Our desires are fulfilled; the \u00e7astras\nhave been studied; all the arts have been learnt; thou hast gained\nthe highest skill in all the martial sciences. (160) All thy teachers\ngive thee permission to leave the house of learning. Let the people\nsee that thou hast received thy training, like a young royal elephant\ncome out from the enclosure, having in thy mind the whole orb of\nthe arts, like the full moon newly risen. Let the eyes of the world,\nlong eager to behold thee, fulfil their true function; for all the\nzenanas are yearning for thy sight. This is now the tenth year of\nthine abode in the school, and thou didst enter it having reached\nthe experience of thy sixth year. This year, then, so reckoned, is\nthe sixteenth of thy life. Now, therefore, when thou hast come forth\nand shown thyself to all the mothers longing to see thee, and hast\nsaluted those who deserve thy honour, do thou lay aside thy early\ndiscipline, and experience at thy will the pleasures of the court\nand the delights of fresh youth. Pay thy respects to the chiefs;\nhonour the Brahmans; protect thy people; gladden thy kinsfolk. There\nstands at the door, sent by the king, this horse, named Indrayudha,\nswift as Garuda or as the wind, the chief jewel of the three worlds;\n(161) for in truth the monarch of Persia, who esteemed him the wonder\nof the universe, sent him with this message: 'This noble steed, sprung\nstraight from the waters of ocean, was found by me, and is worthy for\nthee, O king, to mount;' and when he was shown to those skilled in a\nhorse's points, they said: 'He has all the marks of which men tell us\nas belonging to Uccaih\u00e7ravas; there never has been nor will be a steed\nlike him.' Therefore let him be honoured by thy mounting him. These\nthousand princes, all sons of anointed kings, highly-trained, heroic,\nwise, and accomplished, and of long descent, sent for thine escort,\nwait on horseback, all eager to salute thee.\"' Having thus said,\nBalahaka paused, and Candrapida, laying his father's command on his\nhead, in a voice deep as a new cloud gave the order, 'Let Indrayudha\nbe brought,' for he desired to mount him.\n\n'\"Immediately on his command Indrayudha was brought, and he beheld that\nwondrous steed, led by two men on each side grasping the circle of\nthe bit, and using all their efforts to curb him. He was very large,\nhis back being just within reach of a man's uplifted hand; he seemed\nto drink the sky, which was on a level with his mouth; with a neigh\nwhich shook the cavity of his belly, and filled the hollows of the\nthree worlds, he, as it were, upbraided Garuda for his vain trust\nin his fabled speed; (162) with a nostril snorting in wrath at any\nhindrance to his course, he, in his pride, examined the three worlds,\nthat he might leap over them; his body was variegated with streaks\nof black, yellow, green, and pink, like Indra's bow; he was like a\nyoung elephant, with a many-hued rug spread over him; like \u00c7iva's\nbull, pink with metallic dust from butting at Kailasa's peaks; like\nParvati's lion, with his mane crimsoned with the red streak of the\ndemon's clotted blood; and like the very incarnation of all energy,\nwith a sound emitted from his ever-quivering nostrils, he seemed\nto pour forth the wind inhaled in his swift course; he scattered\nthe foam-flakes that frothed from his lips from the champing of\nthe points of the bit which rattled as he rolled it in his mouth,\nas if they were mouthfuls of ambrosia drunk in his ocean home. (164)\nAnd, beholding this steed, whose like was never before seen, in form\nfit for the gods, meet for the kingdom of the whole universe, (165)\npossessed of all the favourable marks, the perfection of a horse's\nshape, the heart of Candrapida, though of a nature not easily moved,\nwas touched with amazement, and the thought arose in his mind: 'What\njewel, if not this wondrous horse, was brought up by the Suras and\nAsuras when they churned the waters of ocean and whirled round Mount\nMandara with the serpent Vasuki revolving in ceaseless gyration? And\nwhat has Indra gained by his lordship of the three worlds if he did not\nmount this back, broad as Mount Meru? Surely Indra was cheated by the\nocean when his heart was gladdened by Uccaih\u00e7ravas! And I think that\nso far he has not crossed the sight of holy Narayana, who even now\ndoes not give up his infatuation for riding Garuda. My father's royal\nglory surpasses the riches of the kingdom of heaven, in that treasures\nsuch as this, which can hardly be gained in the whole universe, come\nhere into servitude. From its magnificence and energy, this form of\nhis seems the shrine of a god, and the truth of this makes me fear to\nmount him. For forms like this, fit for the gods and the wonder of\nthe universe, belong to no common horse. Even deities, subject to a\nmuni's curse, have been known to leave their own bodies and inhabit\nother bodies brought to them by the terms of the curse. (166) For\nthere is a story of old how Sthula\u00e7iras, a muni of great austerity,\ncursed an Apsaras named Rambha, the ornament of the three worlds; and\nshe, leaving heaven, entered the heart of a horse, and thus, as the\nstory goes, dwelt for a long time on earth as a mare, in the service of\nKing \u00c7atadhanvan, at Mrittikavati; and many other great-souled beings,\nhaving had their glory destroyed by the curse of munis, have roamed the\nworld in various forms. Surely this must be some noble being subject\nto a curse! My heart declares his divinity.' Thus thinking, he rose,\nwishing to mount; and in mind only approaching the steed, he prayed\nthus: 'Noble charger, thou art that thou art! All hail to thee! Yet\nlet my audacity in mounting thee be forgiven! for even deities whose\npresence is unknown taste of a contumely all unmeet for them.'\n\n'\"As if knowing his thought, Indrayudha looked at him with eye\naskance, the pupil turned and partly closed by the lashing of his\ntossing mane, (167) and repeatedly struck the ground with his right\nhoof, till the hair on his chest was gray with the dust it cast up,\nas though summoning the prince to mount, with a pleasant whinnying\nlong drawn out into a gentle soft murmur blent with the snorting of\nhis quivering nostrils. Whereupon Candrapida mounted Indrayudha,\nas though invited thereunto by his pleasant neighing; and, having\nmounted, he passed out, thinking the whole universe but a span long,\nand beheld a cavalcade of which the furthest limits could not be seen;\nit deafened the hollows of the three worlds with the clatter of hoofs\nbreaking up the earth, fierce as a shower of stones let fall from the\nclouds, and with a neighing sounding the fiercer from nostrils choked\nwith dust; it decked the sky with a forest of lances all horrent,\nwhose shafts gleamed bright when touched by the sun, like a lake half\nhidden in a grove of blue lotus-buds upborne on their stalks; from its\ndarkening the eight quarters with its thousand umbrellas all raised,\nit was like a mass of clouds iridescent with the full arch of Indra's\nbow shining on them; (168) while from the horses' mouths being white\nwith foam-flakes cast abroad, and from the undulating line of their\nceaseless curvetting, it rose to sight like a mass of ocean billows\nin the flood of final destruction; all the horses were in motion at\nCandrapida's approach, as the waves of ocean at the moon's rising;\nand the princes, each wishing to be first in their eagerness to pay\ntheir homage, having their heads unprotected by the hasty removal of\ntheir umbrellas, and weary with trying to curb their horses, which\nwere wild with trampling on each other, drew around the prince. As\nBalahaka presented each by name, they bowed, bending low their heads,\nwhich showed the glow of loyalty under the guise of the rays uprising\nfrom the rubies in their waving crests, and which, from their having\nbuds held up in adoration, were like lotuses resting on the water\nin the pitchers of coronation. Having saluted them, Candrapida,\naccompanied by Vai\u00e7ampayana, also mounted, straightway set out for\nthe city. (169) He was shaded by a very large umbrella with a gold\nstick, borne above him, formed like the lotus on which royal glory\nmight dwell, like the moon's orb to the moon-lotus grove of royal\nraces, like an island being formed by the flow of the cavalcade,\nin hue like the circle of Vasuki's hood whitened by the sea of milk,\ngarlanded with many a rope of pearls, bearing the device of a lion\ndesigned above. The flowers in his ears were set dancing by the wind\nof the cowries waved on either side, and his praises were sung by many\nthousands of retainers running before him, young, for the most part,\nand brave, and by the bards, who ceaselessly recited aloud auspicious\nverses, with a soft cry of 'Long life and victory.'\n\n'\"And as he passed on his way to the city, like a manifestation\nof the god of love no longer bodiless, [217] all the people, like\na lotus-grove awakened by the moon's rising, left their work and\ngathered to behold him.\n\n'\"'Kartikeya scorns the name of Kumara, [218] since his own form is\nlooked on with scorn by the throng of lotus-faces when this prince is\nby. Surely we reap the reward of great virtue in that we behold that\ngodlike form with eyes wide with the overflow of love sprung up within\nus, and upraised in eager curiosity. (170) Our birth in this world\nhas now brought forth its fruit. Nevertheless, all hail to blessed\nKrishna, who in the guise of Candrapida has assumed a new form!' With\nsuch words the city folk folded their hands in adoration and bowed\nbefore him. And from the thousand windows which were unclosed from\ncuriosity to behold Candrapida, the city itself became as it were a\nmass of open eyes; for straightway on hearing that he had left the\npalace of learning filled with all knowledge, women eager to see\nhim mounted the roofs hastily throughout the city, leaving their\nhalf-done work; some with mirrors in their left hand were like the\nnights of the full moon, when the moon's whole orb is gleaming; some,\nwith feet roseate with fresh lac, were like lotus-buds whose flowers\nhad drunk the early sunlight; some, with their tender feet enmeshed in\nthe bells of their girdle, fallen to the ground in their haste, were\nlike elephants moving very slowly, checked by their chain; some were\nrobed in rainbow hues, like the beauty of a day in the rainy season;\nsome raised feet that blossomed into the white rays of their nails,\nlike tame kalahamsas drawn by the sound of the anklets; (171) some\nheld strings of large pearls in their hands, as if in imitation of\nRati with her crystal rosary grasped in grief for the death of Love;\nsome, with wreaths of pearls falling between their breasts, were like\nthe glory of evening when the pairs of cakravakas are separated by a\npure slender stream; some, with rainbow flashes rising from the gems of\ntheir anklets, shone as if lovingly accompanied by tame peacocks; some,\nwith their jewelled cups half drunk, distilled, as it were, from their\nrosy flower-like lips a sweet nectar. Others, too, with their orbed\nfaces appearing at the interstices of the emerald lattices, presented\nto the eyes a lotus-grove with its opening buds traversing the sky,\nas they gazed on the prince. On a sudden there arose a tinkling of\nornaments born of hasty motion, with many a sound of lutes struck\nsweetly on their chords, blended with the cry of cranes summoned by\nthe clanging of the girdles, accompanied by the noise of peacocks\nshut up in the zenana and rejoicing in the thunder caused by the\nstairs being struck by stumbling feet, (172) soft with the murmur of\nkalahamsas fluttering in fear of the clash of fresh clouds, imitating\nthe triumphant cry of Love, taking captive the ears of lovely women\nwith their ropes of jewels resounding shrilly as they touched one\nanother, and re-echoing through all the corners of the houses. In\na moment the dense throng of maidens made the palaces seem walled\nwith women; the ground seemed to blossom by the laying on it of their\nlac-strewn lotus-feet; the city seemed girt with grace by the stream\nof fair forms; the sky seemed all moon by the throng of orbed faces;\nthe circle of space seemed a lotus-grove by reason of the hands all\nraised to ward off the heat; the sunshine seemed robed in rainbows\nby the mass of rays from the jewels, and the day seemed formed of\nblue lotus-petals by the long line of bright glances. As the women\ngazed on him with eyes fixed and widened in curiosity, the form of\nCandrapida entered into their hearts as though they were mirrors or\nwater or crystal; and as the glow of love manifested itself there,\ntheir graceful speech became straightway mirthful, confidential,\nconfused, envious, scornful, derisive, coquettish, loving, or full\nof longing. (173) As, for instance: 'Hasty one, wait for me! Drunk\nwith gazing, hold thy mantle! Simpleton, lift up the long tresses\nthat hang about thy face! Remove thy moon-digit ornament! Blinded\nwith love, thy feet are caught in the flowers of thine offering, and\nthou wilt fall! Love-distraught, tie up thy hair! Intent on the sight\nof Candrapida, raise thy girdle! Naughty one, lift up the ear-flower\nwaving on thy cheek! Heartless one, pick up thine earring! Eager in\nyouth, thou art being watched! Cover thy bosom! Shameless one, gather\nup thy loosened robe! Artfully artless, go on quicker! Inquisitive\ngirl, take another look at the king! Insatiable, how long wilt thou\nlook? Fickle-hearted, think of thine own people! Impish girl, thy\nmantle has fallen, and thou art mocked! Thou whose eyes art filled\nwith love, seest thou not thy friends? Maiden full of guile, thou wilt\nlive in sorrow with thy heart in causeless torment! Thou who feignest\ncoyness, what mean thy crafty glances? (174) look boldly! Bright with\nyouth, why rest thy weight against us? Angry one, go in front! Envious\ngirl, why block up the window? Slave of love, thou bringest my outer\nrobe to utter ruin! Drunk with love's breath, restrain thyself! Devoid\nof self-control, why run before thine elders? Bright in strength, why\nso confused? Silly girl, hide the thrill of love's fever! Ill-behaved\ngirl, why thus weary thyself? Changeful one, thy girdle presseth thee,\nand thou sufferest vainly! Absent-minded, thou heedest not thyself,\nthough outside thy house! Lost in curiosity, thou hast forgotten how\nto breathe! Thou whose eyes art closed in the happy imagination of\nunion with thy beloved, open them! He is passing! Bereft of sense by\nthe stroke of love's arrow, place the end of thy silken robe on thy\nhead to keep off the sun's rays! Thou who hast taken the vow of Sati,\nthou lettest thine eyes wander, not seeing what is to be seen! Wretched\none, thou art cast down by the vow not to gaze on other men! Vouchsafe\nto rise, dear friend, and to look at the blessed fish-bannered god,\n[219] without his banner and bereft of Rati, visibly present. (175)\nHis crest of malati flowers under his umbrella looks like a mass\nof moonbeams fallen in under the idea that night has set in, on\nhis head dark with swarms of bees. His cheek is fair as a garland\nof open \u00e7irisha flowers touched with green by the splendour of his\nemerald earring. Our youthful glow of love, under the guise of rich\nruby rays among the pearl necklaces, shines out eager to enter his\nheart. It is so seen by him among the cowries. Moreover, what is he\nlaughing at as he talks to Vai\u00e7ampayana, so that the circle of space\nis whitened with his bright teeth? Balahaka, with the edge of his\nsilken mantle green as a parrot's plumage, is removing from the tips\nof his hair the dust raised by the horses' hoofs. His bough-like foot,\nsoft as Lakshmi's lotus-hand, is raised and sportively cast athwart\nhis horse's shoulder. His hand, with tapering fingers and bright\nas pink lotus-buds, is outstretched to its full length to ask for\nbetel-nut, just as an elephant's trunk in eagerness for mouthfuls\nof vallisneria. (176) Happy is she who, a fellow-bride with earth,\nshall, like Lakshmi, win that hand outvying the lotus! Happy, too,\nis Queen Vilasavati, by whom he who is able to bear the whole earth\nwas nourished in birth, as the elephant of the quarters by Space!'\n\n'\"And as they uttered these and other sayings of the same kind,\nCandrapida, drunk in by their eyes, summoned by the tinkling of their\nornaments, followed by their hearts, bound by the ropes of the rays\nof their jewels, honoured with the offering of their fresh youth,\nbestrewn with flowers and rice in salutation like a marriage fire,\nadvancing step by step on a mass of white bracelets slipping from\ntheir languid arms, reached the palace.\"'\n\n\n\n[Dismounting and leaning on Vai\u00e7ampayana, he entered the court,\npreceded by Balahaka, and passing through the crowd of attendant\nkings, beheld his father seated on a white couch and attended by his\nguards. [220]]\n\n\n\n'\"(189) And on the chamberlain's saying 'Behold him!' the prince,\nwith his head bent low, and its crest shaking, while yet afar off\nmade his salutation, and his father, crying from afar, 'Come, come\nhither!' stretched forth both arms, raised himself slightly from his\ncouch, while his eyes filled with tears of joy and a thrill passed over\nhis body, and embraced his reverently-bent son as though he would bind\nhim fast [221] and absorb him, and drink him in. And after the embrace,\nCandrapida sat down on the bare ground by his father's footstool,\nkicking away the cloak which had been rolled up and hastily made into\na seat by his own betel-nut bearer, and softly bidding her take it\naway; (190) and then Vai\u00e7ampayana, being embraced by the king like his\nown son, sat down on a seat placed for him. When he had been there a\nshort time, assailed, as it were, by glances from the women who stood\nmotionless, with the waving of the cowries forgotten, glances of love,\nlong as strings of lotus stirred by the wind, from fine eyes tremulous\nand askant, he was dismissed with the words, 'Go, my son, salute thy\nloving mother, who longs to see thee, and then in turn gladden all\nwho nurtured thee by thy sight.' Respectfully rising, and stopping\nhis suite from following him, he went with Vai\u00e7ampayana to the zenana,\nled by the royal servants meet to enter therein, and approaching his\nmother, saluted her\"' [as she sat surrounded by her attendants and\nby aged ascetic women, who read and recited legends to her [222]].\n\n'\"(191) She raised him, while her attendants, skilled in doing her\ncommands, stood around her, and, with a loving caress, held him in\na long embrace, as though thinking inwardly of a hundred auspicious\nwords to say, and straightway, when the claims of affection had been\nsatisfied, and she had embraced Vai\u00e7ampayana, she sat down, and drew\nCandrapida, who was reverently seated on the ground, forcibly and\nagainst his will to rest in her arms; (192) and when Vai\u00e7ampayana\nwas seated on a stool quickly brought by the attendants, she embraced\nCandrapida again and again on brow, breast, and shoulders, and said,\nwith many a caressing touch: 'Hard-hearted, my child, was thy father,\nby whom so fair a form, meet to be cherished by the whole universe,\nwas made to undergo great fatigue for so long! How didst thou endure\nthe tedious restraint of thy gurus? Indeed, young as thou art, thou\nhast a strong man's fortitude! Thy heart, even in childhood, has lost\nall idle liking for childish amusement and play. Ah well, all devotion\nto natural and spiritual parents is something apart; and as I now see\nthee endowed, by thy father's favour, with all knowledge, so I shall\nsoon see thee endowed with worthy wives.' Having thus said as he bent\nhis head, smiling half in shame, she kissed him on the cheek, which was\na full reflection of her own, and garlanded with open lotuses; and he,\nwhen he had stayed a short time, gladdened in turn by his presence the\nwhole zenana. Then, departing by the royal door, he mounted Indrayudha,\nwho was standing outside, and, followed by the princes, went to see\n\u00c7ukanasa,\"' [and at the gate of an outer court, filled with priests\nof many sects, he dismounted [223]] '\"(194) and entered the palace\nof \u00c7ukanasa, which resembled a second royal court. On entering he\nsaluted \u00c7ukanasa like a second father as he stood in the midst of\nthousands of kings, showing him all respect, with his crest bent\nlow even from afar. \u00c7ukanasa, quickly rising, while the kings rose\none after another, and respectfully advancing straight to him, with\ntears of joy falling from eyes wide with gladness, heartily, and with\ngreat affection, embraced him, together with Vai\u00e7ampayana. Then the\nprince, rejecting the jewelled seat respectfully brought, sat on the\nbare ground, and next to him sat Vai\u00e7ampayana; and when he sat on the\nground, the whole circle of kings, except \u00c7ukanasa, leaving their own\nseats, sat also on the ground. \u00c7ukanasa stood silent for a moment,\nshowing his extreme joy by the thrill that passed over his limbs,\nand then said to the prince: 'Truly, my child, now that King Tarapida\nhas seen thee grown to youth and possessed of knowledge, he has at\nlength gained the fruit of his rule over the universe. Now all the\nblessings of thy parents have been fulfilled. Now the merit acquired\nin many other births has borne fruit. Now the gods of thy race are\ncontent. (195) For they who, like thee, astonish the three worlds,\ndo not become the sons of the unworthy. For where is thy age? and\nwhere thy superhuman power and thy capacity of reaching boundless\nknowledge? Yea, blessed are those subjects who have thee for their\nprotector, one like unto Bharata and Bhagiratha. What bright deed\nof merit was done by Earth that she has won thee as lord? Surely,\nLakshmi is destroyed by persisting in the caprice of dwelling in\nVishnu's bosom, that she does not approach thee in mortal form! But,\nnevertheless, do thou with thine arm, as the Great Boar with his\ncircle of tusks, bear up for myriads of ages the weight of the earth,\nhelping thy father.' Thus saying, and offering homage with ornaments,\ndresses, flowers, and unguents, he dismissed him. Thereupon the\nprince, rising, and entering the zenana, visited Vai\u00e7ampayana's\nmother, by name Manorama, and, departing, mounted Indrayudha, and\nwent to his palace. It had been previously arranged by his father,\nand had white jars filled and placed on the gates, like an image of\nthe royal palace; it had garlands of green sandal boughs, thousands of\nwhite flags flying, and filled the air with the sound of auspicious\ninstruments of music; open lotuses were strewn in it. A sacrifice to\nAgni had just been performed, every attendant was in bright apparel,\nevery auspicious ceremony for entering a house had been prepared. On\nhis arrival he sat for a short time on a couch placed in the hall,\nand then, together with his princely retinue, performed the day's\nduties, beginning with bathing and ending with a banquet; (196) and\nmeanwhile he arranged that Indrayudha should dwell in his own chamber.\n\n'\"And in these doings of his the day came to a close; the sun's orb\nfell with lifted rays like the ruby anklet--its interstices veiled in\nits own light--of the Glory of Day, as she hastens from the sky. (198)\nAnd when evening had begun, Candrapida, encircled by a fence of lighted\nlamps, went on foot to the king's palace, (199) and having stayed a\nshort time with his father, and seen Vilasavati, he returned to his\nown house and lay down on a couch, many-hued with the radiance of\nvarious gems, like Krishna on the circle of \u00c7esha's hoods.\n\n'\"And when night had turned to dawn, he, with his father's leave,\nrose before sunrise, in eagerness for the new delight of hunting, and,\nmounting Indrayudha, went to the wood with a great retinue of runners,\nhorses, and elephants. His eagerness was doubled by huntsmen leading\nin a golden leash hounds large as asses. With arrows whose shafts\nwere bright as the leaves of a blossoming lotus, and fit to cleave\nthe frontal bones of young wild elephants, he slew wild boars, lions,\n\u00e7arabhas, [224] yaks, and many other kinds of deer by thousands,\n(200) while the woodland goddesses looked at him with half-closed\neyes, fluttered by fear of the twanging of his bow. Other animals by\nhis great energy he took alive. And when the sun reached the zenith,\nhe rode home from the wood (201) with but a few princes who were well\nmounted, going over the events of the chase, saying: 'Thus I killed\na lion, thus a bear, thus a buffalo, thus a \u00e7arabha, thus a stag.'\n\n'\"On dismounting, he sat down on a seat brought hastily by his\nattendants, took off his corselet, and removed the rest of his riding\napparel; he then rested a short time, till his weariness was removed\nby the wind of waving fans; having rested, he went to the bathroom,\nprovided with a hundred pitchers of gold, silver, and jewels, and\nhaving a gold seat placed in its midst. And when the bath was over,\nand he had been rubbed in a separate room with cloths, his head\nwas covered with a strip of pure linen, his raiment was put on,\nand he performed his homage to the gods; and when he entered the\nperfuming-room, there approached him the court women attendants,\nappointed by the grand chamberlain and sent by the king, slaves of\nVilasavati, with Kulavardhana, and zenana women sent from the whole\nzenana, bearing in baskets different ornaments, wreaths, unguents,\nand robes, which they presented to him. Having taken them in due order\nfrom the women, he first himself anointed Vai\u00e7ampayana. When his own\nanointing was done, and giving to those around him flowers, perfumes,\nrobes, and jewels, as was meet, (202) he went to the banquet-hall,\nrich in a thousand jewelled vessels, like the autumn sky gleaming with\nstars. He there sat on a doubled rug, with Vai\u00e7ampayana next him,\neagerly employed, as was fitting, in praising his virtues, and the\nhost of princes, placed each in order of seniority on the ground,\nfelt the pleasure of their service increased by seeing the great\ncourtesy with which the prince said: 'Let this be given to him,\nand that to him!' And so he duly partook of his morning meal.\n\n'\"After rinsing his mouth and taking betel, he stayed there a short\ntime, and then went to Indrayudha, and there, without sitting down,\nwhile his attendants stood behind him, with upraised faces, awaiting\nhis commands, and talking mostly about Indrayudha's points, he himself,\nwith heart uplifted by Indrayudha's merits, scattered the fodder\nbefore him, and departing, visited the court; and in the same order\nof routine he saw the king, and, returning home, spent the night\nthere. Next day, at dawn, he beheld approaching a chamberlain, by\nname Kailasa, the chief of the zenana, greatly trusted by the king,\naccompanied by a maiden of noble form, in her first youth, from\nher life at court self-possessed, yet not devoid of modesty, (203)\ngrowing to maidenhood, and in her veil of silk red with cochineal,\nresembling the Eastern quarter clothed in early sunshine. (204) And\nKailasa, bowing and approaching, with his right hand placed on the\nground, spoke as follows:\n\n'\"'Prince, Queen Vilasavati bids me say: \"This maiden, by name\nPatralekha, daughter of the King of Kuluta, was brought with the\ncaptives by the great king on his conquest of the royal city of\nKuluta while she was yet a little child, and was placed among the\nzenana women. And tenderness grew up in me towards her, seeing she\nwas a king's daughter and without a protector, and she was long\ncared for and brought up by me just like a daughter. Therefore,\nI now send her to thee, thinking her fit to be thy betel-bearer;\nbut she must not be looked on by thee, great prince of many days,\nas thine other attendants. She must be cared for as a young maiden;\nshe must be shielded from the thoughtless like thine own nature;\nshe must be looked on as a pupil. (205) Like a friend, she must\nbe admitted to all thy confidences. By reason of the love that has\nlong grown up in me, my heart rests on her as on my own daughter;\nand being sprung from a great race, she is fitted for such duties;\nin truth, she herself will in a few days charm the prince by her\nperfect gentleness. My love for her is of long growth, and therefore\nstrong; but as the prince does not yet know her character, this is\ntold to him. Thou must in all ways strive, happy prince, that she may\nlong be thy fitting companion.\"' When Kailasa had thus spoken and was\nsilent, Candrapida looked long and steadily at Patralekha as she made\na courteous obeisance, and with the words, 'As my mother wishes,'\ndismissed the chamberlain. And Patralekha, from her first sight of\nhim, was filled with devotion to him, and never left the prince's\nside either by night or day, whether he was sleeping, or sitting,\nor standing, or walking, or going to the court, just as if she were\nhis shadow; while he felt for her a great affection, beginning from\nhis first glance at her, and constantly growing; he daily showed\nmore favour to her, and counted her in all his secrets as part of\nhis own heart.\n\n'\"As the days thus passed on, the king, eager for the anointing of\nCandrapida as crown prince, (206) appointed chamberlains to gather\ntogether all things needful for it; and when it was at hand, \u00c7ukanasa,\ndesirous of increasing the prince's modesty, great as it already was,\nspoke to him at length during one of his visits: 'Dear Candrapida,\nthough thou hast learnt what is to be known, and read all the \u00e7astras,\nno little remains for thee to learn. For truly the darkness arising\nfrom youth is by nature very thick, nor can it be pierced by the sun,\nnor cleft by the radiance of jewels, nor dispelled by the brightness\nof lamps. The intoxication of Lakshmi is terrible, and does not cease\neven in old age. There is, too, another blindness of power, evil, not\nto be cured by any salve. The fever of pride runs very high, and no\ncooling appliances can allay it. The madness that rises from tasting\nthe poison of the senses is violent, and not to be counteracted by\nroots or charms. The defilement of the stain of passion is never\ndestroyed by bathing or purification. The sleep of the multitude\nof royal pleasures is ever terrible, and the end of night brings no\nwaking. Thus thou must often be told at length. Lordship inherited even\nfrom birth, fresh youth, peerless beauty, superhuman talent, all this\nis a long succession of ills. (207) Each of these separately is a home\nof insolence; how much more the assemblage of them! For in early youth\nthe mind often loses its purity, though it be cleansed with the pure\nwaters of the \u00e7astras. The eyes of the young become inflamed, though\ntheir clearness is not quite lost. Nature, too, when the whirlwind of\npassion arises, carries a man far in youth at its own will, like a dry\nleaf borne on the wind. This mirage of pleasure, which captivates the\nsenses as if they were deer, always ends in sorrow. When the mind has\nits consciousness dulled by early youth, the characteristics of the\nouter world fall on it like water, all the more sweetly for being\nbut just tasted. Extreme clinging to the things of sense destroys\na man, misleading him like ignorance of his bearings. But men such\nas thou art the fitting vessels for instruction. For on a mind free\nfrom stain the virtue of good counsel enters easily, as the moon's\nrays on a moon crystal. The words of a guru, though pure, yet cause\ngreat pain when they enter the ears of the bad, as water does; (208)\nwhile in others they produce a nobler beauty, like the ear-jewel on\nan elephant. They remove the thick darkness of many sins, like the\nmoon in the gloaming. [225] The teaching of a guru is calming, and\nbrings to an end the faults of youth by turning them to virtue, just\nas old age takes away the dark stain of the locks by turning them to\ngray. This is the time to teach thee, while thou hast not yet tasted\nthe pleasures of sense. For teaching pours away like water in a heart\nshattered by the stroke of love's arrow. Family and sacred tradition\nare unavailing to the froward and undisciplined. Does a fire not burn\nwhen fed on sandal-wood? Is not the submarine fire the fiercer in\nthe water that is wont to quench fire? But the words of a guru are a\nbathing without water, able to cleanse all the stains of man; they are\na maturity that changes not the locks to gray; they give weight without\nincrease of bulk; though not wrought of gold, they are an ear-jewel\nof no common order; without light they shine; without startling they\nawaken. They are specially needed for kings, for the admonishers of\nkings are few. (209) For from fear, men follow like an echo the words\nof kings, and so, being unbridled in their pride, and having the cavity\nof their ears wholly stopped, they do not hear good advice even when\noffered; and when they do hear, by closing their eyes like an elephant,\nthey show their contempt, and pain the teachers who offer them good\ncounsel. For the nature of kings, being darkened by the madness of\npride's fever, is perturbed; their wealth causes arrogance and false\nself-esteem; their royal glory causes the torpor brought about by the\npoison of kingly power. First, let one who strives after happiness\nlook at Lakshmi. For this Lakshmi, who now rests like a bee on the\nlotus-grove of a circle of naked swords, has risen from the milk ocean,\nhas taken her glow from the buds of the coral-tree, her crookedness\nfrom the moon's digit, her restlessness from the steed Uccaih\u00e7rava,\nher witchery from Kalakuta poison, her intoxication from nectar, and\nfrom the Kaustubha gem her hardness. (210) All these she has taken\nas keepsakes to relieve her longing with memory of her companions'\nfriendship. There is nothing so little understood here in the world\nas this base Lakshmi. When won, she is hard to keep; when bound fast\nby the firm cords of heroism, she vanishes; when held by a cage of\nswords brandished by a thousand fierce champions, she yet escapes;\nwhen guarded by a thick band of elephants, dark with a storm of ichor,\nshe yet flees away. She keeps not friendships; she regards not race;\nshe recks not of beauty; she follows not the fortunes of a family;\nshe looks not on character; she counts not cleverness; she hears\nnot sacred learning; she courts not righteousness; she honours not\nliberality; she values not discrimination; she guards not conduct;\nshe understands not truth; she makes not auspicious marks her guide;\nlike the outline of an a\u00ebrial city, she vanishes even as we look on\nher. She is still dizzy with the feeling produced by the eddying of\nthe whirlpool made by Mount Mandara. As if she were the tip of a\nlotus-stalk bound to the varying motion of a lotus-bed, she gives\nno firm foothold anywhere. Even when held fast with great effort\nin palaces, she totters as if drunk with the ichor of their many\nwild elephants. (211) She dwells on the sword's edge as if to learn\ncruelty. She clings to the form of Narayana as if to learn constant\nchange of form. Full of fickleness, she leaves even a king, richly\nendowed with friends, judicial power, treasure, and territory, as she\nleaves a lotus at the end of day, though it have root, stalk, bud, and\nwide-spreading petals. Like a creeper, she is ever a parasite. [226]\nLike Ganga, though producing wealth, she is all astir with bubbles;\nlike the sun's ray, she alights on one thing after another; like the\ncavity of hell, she is full of dense darkness. Like the demon Hidamba,\nher heart is only won by the courage of a Bhima; like the rainy season,\nshe sends forth but a momentary flash; like an evil demon, she, with\nthe height of many men, [227] crazes the feeble mind. As if jealous,\nshe embraces not him whom learning has favoured; she touches not\nthe virtuous man, as being impure; she despises a lofty nature as\nunpropitious; she regards not the gently-born, as useless. She leaps\nover a courteous man as a snake; (212) she avoids a hero as a thorn;\nshe forgets a giver as a nightmare; she keeps far from a temperate man\nas a villain; she mocks at the wise as a fool; she manifests her ways\nin the world as if in a jugglery that unites contradictions. For,\nthough creating constant fever, [228] she produces a chill; [229]\nthough exalting men, she shows lowness of soul; though rising from\nwater, she augments thirst; though bestowing lordship, [230] she\nshows an unlordly [231] nature; though loading men with power, she\ndeprives them of weight; [232] though sister of nectar, she leaves a\nbitter taste; though of earthly mould, [233] she is invisible; though\nattached to the highest, [234] she loves the base; like a creature of\ndust, she soils even the pure. Moreover, let this wavering one shine\nas she may, she yet, like lamplight, only sends forth lamp-black. For\nshe is the fostering rain of the poison-plants of desire, the hunter's\nluring song to the deer of the senses, the polluting smoke to the\npictures of virtue, the luxurious couch of infatuation's long sleep,\nthe ancient watch-tower of the demons of pride and wealth. (213) She is\nthe cataract gathering over eyes lighted by the \u00e7astras, the banner of\nthe reckless, the native stream of the alligators of wrath, the tavern\nof the mead of the senses, the music-hall of alluring dances, the lair\nof the serpents of sin, the rod to drive out good practices. She is\nthe untimely rain to the kalahamsas [235] of the virtues, the hotbed\nof the pustules of scandal, the prologue of the drama of fraud, the\nroar of the elephant of passion, the slaughter-house of goodness,\nthe tongue of Rahu for the moon of holiness. Nor see I any who has\nnot been violently embraced by her while she was yet unknown to him,\nand whom she has not deceived. Truly, even in a picture she moves;\neven in a book she practises magic; even cut in a gem she deceives;\neven when heard she misleads; even when thought on she betrays.\n\n'\"'When this wretched evil creature wins kings after great toil by\nthe will of destiny, they become helpless, and the abode of every\nshameful deed. For at the very moment of coronation their graciousness\nis washed away as if by the auspicious water-jars; (214) their heart\nis darkened as by the smoke of the sacrificial fire; their patience is\nswept away as by the ku\u00e7a brooms of the priest; their remembrance of\nadvancing age is concealed as by the donning of the turban; the sight\nof the next world is kept afar as by the umbrella's circle; truth is\nremoved as by the wind of the cowries; virtue is driven out as by the\nwands of office; the voices of the good are drowned as by cries of\n\"All hail!\" and glory is flouted as by the streamers of the banners.\n\n'\"'For some kings are deceived by successes which are uncertain as the\ntremulous beaks of birds when loose from weariness, and which, though\npleasant for a moment as a firefly's flash, are contemned by the wise;\nthey forget their origin in the pride of amassing a little wealth,\nand are troubled by the onrush of passion as by a blood-poisoning\nbrought on by accumulated diseases; they are tortured by the senses,\nwhich though but five, in their eagerness to taste every pleasure,\nturn to a thousand; they are bewildered by the mind, which, in\nnative fickleness, follows its own impulses, and, being but one,\ngets the force of a hundred thousand in its changes. Thus they fall\ninto utter helplessness. They are seized by demons, conquered by imps,\n(215) possessed by enchantments, held by monsters, mocked by the wind,\nswallowed by ogres. Pierced by the arrows of Kama, they make a thousand\ncontortions; scorched by covetousness, they writhe; struck down by\nfierce blows, they sink down. [236] Like crabs, they sidle; like\ncripples, with steps broken by sin, they are led helpless by others;\nlike stammerers from former sins of falsehood, they can scarce babble;\nlike saptacchada [237] trees, they produce headache in those near them;\nlike dying men, they know not even their kin; like purblind [238] men,\nthey cannot see the brightest virtue; like men bitten in a fatal hour,\nthey are not waked even by mighty charms; like lac-ornaments, they\ncannot endure strong heat; [239] like rogue elephants, being firmly\nfixed to the pillar of self-conceit, they refuse teaching; bewildered\nby the poison of covetousness, they see everything as golden; like\narrows sharpened by polishing, [240] when in the hands of others they\ncause destruction; (216) with their rods [241] they strike down great\nfamilies, like high-growing fruit; like untimely blossoms, though\nfair outwardly, they cause destruction; they are terrible of nature,\nlike the ashes of a funeral pyre; like men with cataract, they can\nsee no distance; like men possessed, they have their houses ruled by\ncourt jesters; when but heard of, they terrify, like funeral drums;\nwhen but thought of, like a resolve to commit mortal sin, they bring\nabout great calamity; being daily filled with sin, they become wholly\npuffed up. In this state, having allied themselves to a hundred sins,\nthey are like drops of water hanging on the tip of the grass on an\nanthill, and have fallen without perceiving it.\n\n'\"'But others are deceived by rogues intent on their own\nends, greedy of the flesh-pots of wealth, cranes of the palace\nlotus-beds! \"Gambling,\" say these, \"is a relaxation; adultery a sign\nof cleverness; hunting, exercise; drinking, delight; recklessness,\nheroism; neglect of a wife, freedom from infatuation; (217) contempt\nof a guru's words, a claim to others' submission; unruliness of\nservants, the ensuring of pleasant service; devotion to dance, song,\nmusic, and bad company, is knowledge of the world; hearkening to\nshameful crimes is greatness of mind; tame endurance of contempt is\npatience; self-will is lordship; disregard of the gods is high spirit;\nthe praise of bards is glory; restlessness is enterprise; lack of\ndiscernment is impartiality.\" Thus are kings deceived with more than\nmortal praises by men ready to raise faults to the grade of virtues,\npractised in deception, laughing in their hearts, utterly villainous;\nand thus these monarchs, by reason of their senselessness, have their\nminds intoxicated by the pride of wealth, and have a settled false\nconceit in them that these things are really so; though subject to\nmortal conditions, they look on themselves as having alighted on\nearth as divine beings with a superhuman destiny; they employ a pomp\nin their undertakings only fit for gods (218) and win the contempt\nof all mankind. They welcome this deception of themselves by their\nfollowers. From the delusion as to their own divinity established in\ntheir minds, they are overthrown by false ideas, and they think their\nown pair of arms have received another pair; [242] they imagine their\nforehead has a third eye buried in the skin. [243] They consider the\nsight of themselves a favour; they esteem their glance a benefit; they\nregard their words as a present; they hold their command a glorious\nboon; they deem their touch a purification. Weighed down by the\npride of their false greatness, they neither do homage to the gods,\nnor reverence Brahmans, nor honour the honourable, nor salute those\nto whom salutes are due, nor address those who should be addressed,\nnor rise to greet their gurus. They laugh at the learned as losing\nin useless labour all the enjoyment of pleasure; they look on the\nteaching of the old as the wandering talk of dotage; they abuse the\nadvice of their councillors as an insult to their own wisdom; they\nare wroth with the giver of good counsel.\n\n'\"'At all events, the man they welcome, with whom they converse,\nwhom they place by their side, advance, (219) take as companion of\ntheir pleasure and recipient of their gifts, choose as a friend,\nthe man to whose voice they listen, on whom they rain favours, of\nwhom they think highly, in whom they trust, is he who does nothing\nday and night but ceaselessly salute them, praise them as divine,\nand exalt their greatness.\n\n'\"'What can we expect of those kings whose standard is a law of\ndeceit, pitiless in the cruelty of its maxims; whose gurus are family\npriests, with natures made merciless by magic rites; whose teachers\nare councillors skilled to deceive others; whose hearts are set on a\npower that hundreds of kings before them have gained and lost; whose\nskill in weapons is only to inflict death; whose brothers, tender as\ntheir hearts may be with natural affection, are only to be slaughtered.\n\n'\"'Therefore, my Prince, in this post of empire which is terrible in\nthe hundreds of evil and perverse impulses which attend it, and in this\nseason of youth which leads to utter infatuation, thou must strive\nearnestly not to be scorned by thy people, nor blamed by the good,\nnor cursed by thy gurus, nor reproached by thy friends, nor grieved\nover by the wise. Strive, too, that thou be not exposed by knaves,\n(220) deceived by sharpers, preyed upon by villains, torn to pieces\nby wolvish courtiers, misled by rascals, deluded by women, cheated by\nfortune, led a wild dance by pride, maddened by desire, assailed by the\nthings of sense, dragged headlong by passion, carried away by pleasure.\n\n'\"'Granted that by nature thou art steadfast, and that by thy father's\ncare thou art trained in goodness, and moreover, that wealth only\nintoxicates the light of nature, and the thoughtless, yet my very\ndelight in thy virtues makes me speak thus at length.\n\n'\"'Let this saying be ever ringing in thine ears: There is none so\nwise, so prudent, so magnanimous, so gracious, so steadfast, and\nso earnest, that the shameless wretch Fortune cannot grind him to\npowder. Yet now mayest thou enjoy the consecration of thy youth to\nkinghood by thy father under happy auspices. Bear the yoke handed down\nto thee that thy forefathers have borne. Bow the heads of thy foes;\nraise the host of thy friends; after thy coronation wander round the\nworld for conquest; and bring under thy sway the earth with its seven\ncontinents subdued of yore by thy father.\n\n'\"'This is the time to crown thyself with glory. (221) A glorious\nking has his commands fulfilled as swiftly as a great ascetic.'\n\n'\"Having said thus much, he was silent, and by his words Candrapida\nwas, as it were, washed, wakened, purified, brightened, bedewed,\nanointed, adorned, cleansed, and made radiant, and with glad heart\nhe returned after a short time to his own palace.\n\n'\"Some days later, on an auspicious day, the king, surrounded by a\nthousand chiefs, raised aloft, with \u00c7ukanasa's help, the vessel of\nconsecration, and himself anointed his son, while the rest of the\nrites were performed by the family priest. The water of consecration\nwas brought from every sacred pool, river and ocean, encircled by\nevery plant, fruit, earth, and gem, mingled with tears of joy, and\npurified by mantras. At that very moment, while the prince was yet wet\nwith the water of consecration, royal glory passed on to him without\nleaving Tarapida, as a creeper still clasping its own tree passes\nto another. (222) Straightway he was anointed from head to foot by\nVilasavati, attended by all the zenana, and full of tender love, with\nsweet sandal white as moonbeams. He was garlanded with fresh white\nflowers; decked [244] with lines of gorocana; adorned with an earring\nof durva grass; clad in two new silken robes with long fringes, white\nas the moon; bound with an amulet round his hand, tied by the family\npriest; and had his breast encircled by a pearl-necklace, like the\ncircle of the Seven Rishis come down to see his coronation, strung\non filaments from the lotus-pool of the royal fortune of young royalty.\n\n'\"From the complete concealment of his body by wreaths of white flowers\ninterwoven and hanging to his knees, soft as moonbeams, and from his\nwearing snowy robes he was like Narasimha, shaking his thick mane,\n[245] or like Kailasa, with its flowing streams, or Airavata, rough\nwith the tangled lotus-fibres of the heavenly Ganges, or the Milky\nOcean, all covered with flakes of bright foam.\n\n(223) '\"Then his father himself for that time took the chamberlain's\nwand to make way for him, and he went to the hall of assembly and\nmounted the royal throne, like the moon on Meru's peak. Then, when he\nhad received due homage from the kings, after a short pause the great\ndrum that heralded his setting out on his triumphal course resounded\ndeeply, under the stroke of golden drum-sticks. Its sound was as the\nnoise of clouds gathering at the day of doom; or the ocean struck by\nMandara; or the foundations of earth by the earthquakes that close an\naeon; or a portent-cloud, with its flashes of lightning; or the hollow\nof hell by the blows of the snout of the Great Boar. And by its sound\nthe spaces of the world were inflated, opened, separated, outspread,\nfilled, turned sunwise, and deepened, and the bonds that held the\nsky were unloosed. The echo of it wandered through the three worlds;\nfor it was embraced in the lower world by \u00c7esha, with his thousand\nhoods raised and bristling in fear; it was challenged in space by the\nelephants of the quarters tossing their tusks in opposition; it was\nhonoured with sunwise turns in the sky by the sun's steeds, tossing\n[246] their heads in their snort of terror; (224) it was wondrously\nanswered on Kailasa's peak by \u00c7iva's bull, with a roar of joy in the\nbelief that it was his master's loudest laugh; it was met in Meru by\nAiravata, with deep trumpeting; it was reverenced in the hall of the\ngods by Yama's bull, with his curved horns turned sideways in wrath\nat so strange a sound; and it was heard in terror by the guardian\ngods of the world.\n\n'\"Then, at the roar of the drum, followed by an outcry of 'All\nhail!' from all sides, Candrapida came down from the throne, and\nwith him went the glory of his foes. He left the hall of assembly,\nfollowed by a thousand chiefs, who rose hastily around him, strewing\non all sides the large pearls that fell from the strings of their\nnecklaces as they struck against each other, like rice sportively\nthrown as a good omen for their setting off to conquer the world. He\nshowed like the coral-tree amid the white buds of the kalpa-trees;\n[247] or Airavata amid the elephants of the quarters bedewing him with\nwater from their trunks; or heaven, with the firmament showering stars;\nor the rainy season with clouds ever pouring heavy drops.\n\n(225) '\"Then an elephant was hastily brought by the mahout, adorned\nwith all auspicious signs for the journey, and on the inner seat\nPatralekha was placed. The prince then mounted, and under the shade of\nan umbrella with a hundred wires enmeshed with pearls, beauteous as\nKailasa standing on the arms of Ravana, and white as the whirlpools\nof the Milky Ocean under the tossing of the mountain, he started on\nhis journey. And as he paused in his departure he saw the ten quarters\ntawny with the rich sunlight, surpassing molten lac, of the flashing\ncrest-jewels of the kings who watched him with faces hidden behind the\nramparts, as if the light were the fire of his own majesty, flashing\nforth after his coronation. He saw the earth bright as if with his own\nglow of loyalty when anointed as heir-apparent, and the sky crimson\nas with the flame that heralded the swift destruction of his foes,\nand daylight roseate as with lac-juice from the feet of the Lakshmi\nof earth coming to greet him.\n\n'\"On the way hosts of kings, with their thousand elephants swaying\nin confusion, their umbrellas broken by the pressure of the crowd,\ntheir crest-jewels falling low as their diadems bent in homage, (226)\ntheir earrings hanging down, and the jewels falling on their cheeks,\nbowed low before him, as a trusted general recited their names. The\nelephant Gandhamadana followed the prince, pink with much red lead,\ndangling to the ground his ear-ornaments of pearls, having his head\noutlined with many a wreath of white flowers, like Meru with evening\nsunlight resting on it, the white stream of Ganges falling across it,\nand the spangled roughness of a bevy of stars on its peak. Before\nCandrapida went Indrayudha, led by his groom, perfumed with saffron\nand many-hued, with the flash of golden trappings on his limbs. And\nso the expedition slowly started towards the Eastern Quarter. [248]\n\n'\"Then the whole army set forth with wondrous turmoil, with its forest\nof umbrellas stirred by the elephants' movements, like an ocean\nof destruction reflecting on its advancing waves a thousand moons,\nflooding the earth.\n\n(227) '\"When the prince left his palace Vai\u00e7ampayana performed every\nauspicious rite, and then, clothed in white, anointed with an ointment\nof white flowers, accompanied by a great host of powerful kings, shaded\nby a white umbrella, followed close on the prince, mounted on a swift\nelephant, like a second Crown Prince, and drew near to him like the\nmoon to the sun. Straightway the earth heard on all sides the cry:\n'The Crown Prince has started!' and shook with the weight of the\nadvancing army.\n\n(228) '\"In an instant the earth seemed as it were made of horses;\nthe horizon, of elephants; the atmosphere, of umbrellas; the sky,\nof forests of pennons; the wind, of the scent of ichor; the human\nrace, of kings; the eye, of the rays of jewels; the day, of crests;\nthe universe, of cries of 'All hail!'\n\n(228-234 condensed) '\"The dust rose at the advance of the army like\na herd of elephants to tear up the lotuses of the sunbeams, or a\nveil to cover the Lakshmi of the three worlds. Day became earthy;\nthe quarters were modelled in clay; the sky was, as it were, resolved\nin dust, and the whole universe appeared to consist of but one element.\n\n(234) '\"When the horizon became clear again, Vai\u00e7ampayana, looking at\nthe mighty host which seemed to rise from the ocean, was filled with\nwonder, and, turning his glance on every side, said to Candrapida:\n'What, prince, has been left unconquered by the mighty King\nTarapida, for thee to conquer? What regions unsubdued, for thee\nto subdue? (235) What fortresses untaken, for thee to take? What\ncontinents unappropriated, for thee to appropriate? What treasures\nungained, for thee to gain? What kings have not been humbled? By whom\nhave the raised hands of salutation, soft as young lotuses, not been\nplaced on the head? By whose brows, encircled with golden bands,\nhave the floors of his halls not been polished? Whose crest-jewels\nhave not scraped his footstool? Who have not accepted his staff of\noffice? Who have not waved his cowries? Who have not raised the cry of\n\"Hail!\"? Who have not drunk in with the crocodiles of their crests,\nthe radiance of his feet, like pure streams? For all these princes,\nthough they are imbued with the pride of armies, ready in their rough\nplay to plunge into the four oceans; though they are the peers of\nthe great kings Da\u00e7aratha, Bhagiratha, Bharata, Dilipa, Alarka, and\nMandhatri; though they are anointed princes, soma-drinkers, haughty in\nthe pride of birth, yet they bear on the sprays of crests purified with\nthe shower of the water of consecration the dust of thy feet of happy\nomen, like an amulet of ashes. By them as by fresh noble mountains,\nthe earth is upheld. These their armies that have entered the heart of\nthe ten regions follow thee alone. (236) For lo! wherever thy glance\nis cast, hell seems to vomit forth armies, the earth to bear them, the\nquarters to discharge them, the sky to rain them, the day to create\nthem. And methinks the earth, trampled by the weight of boundless\nhosts, recalls to-day the confusion of the battles of the Mahabharata.\n\n'\"'Here the sun wanders in the groves of pennons, with his orb\nstumbling over their tops, as if he were trying, out of curiosity,\nto count the banners. The earth is ceaselessly submerged under\nichor sweet as cardamons, and flowing like a plait of hair, from the\nelephants who scatter it all round, and thick, too, with the murmur\nof the bees settling on it, so that it shines as if filled with the\nwaves of Yamuna. The lines of moon-white flags hide the horizon, like\nrivers that in fear of being made turbid by the heavy host have fled\nto the sky. It is a wonder that the earth has not to-day been split\ninto a thousand pieces by the weight of the army; and that the bonds\nof its joints, the noble mountains, are not burst asunder; and that\nthe hoods of \u00c7esha, the lord of serpents, in distress at the burden\nof earth pressed down under the load of troops, do not give way.'\n\n(237) '\"While he was thus speaking, the prince reached his palace. It\nwas adorned with many lofty triumphal arches; dotted with a thousand\npavilions enclosed in grassy ramparts, and bright with many a tent\nof shining white cloth. Here he dismounted, and performed in kingly\nwise all due rites; and though the kings and ministers who had come\ntogether sought to divert him with various tales, he spent the rest\nof the day in sorrow, for his heart was tortured with bitter grief for\nhis fresh separation from his father. When day was brought to a close\nhe passed the night, too, mostly in sleeplessness, with Vai\u00e7ampayana\nresting on a couch not far from his own, and Patralekha sleeping hard\nby on a blanket placed on the ground; his talk was now of his father,\nnow of his mother, now of \u00c7ukanasa, and he rested but little. At dawn\nhe arose, and with an army that grew at every march, as it advanced\nin unchanged order, he hollowed the earth, shook the mountains, dried\nthe rivers, emptied the lakes, (238) crushed the woods to powder,\nlevelled the crooked places, tore down the fortresses, filled up the\nhollows, and hollowed the solid ground.\n\n'\"By degrees, as he wandered at will, he bowed the haughty, exalted\nthe humble, encouraged the fearful, protected the suppliant, rooted\nout the vicious, and drove out the hostile. He anointed princes in\ndifferent places, gathered treasures, accepted gifts, took tribute,\ntaught local regulations, established monuments of his visit,\nmade hymns of worship, and inscribed edicts. He honoured Brahmans,\nreverenced saints, protected hermitages, and showed a prowess that won\nhis people's love. He exalted his majesty, heaped up his glory, showed\nhis virtues far and wide, and won renown for his good deeds. Thus\ntrampling down the woods on the shore, and turning the whole expanse\nof ocean to gray with the dust of his army, he wandered over the earth.\n\n'\"The East was his first conquest, then the Southern Quarter, marked\nby Tri\u00e7anku, then the Western Quarter, which has Varuna for its sign,\nand immediately afterwards the Northern Quarter adorned by the Seven\nRishis. Within the three years that he roamed over the world he had\nsubdued the whole earth, with its continents, bounded only by the\nmoat of four oceans.\n\n(239) '\"He then, wandering sunwise, conquered and occupied Suvarnapura,\nnot far from the Eastern Ocean, the abode of those Kiratas who dwell\nnear Kailasa, and are called Hemajakutas, and as his army was weary\nfrom its worldwide wandering, he encamped there for a few days to rest.\n\n'\"One day during his sojourn there he mounted Indrayudha to hunt, and\nas he roamed through the wood he beheld a pair of Kinnaras wandering\ndown at will from the mountains. Wondering at the strange sight,\nand eager to take them, he brought up his horse respectfully near\nthem and approached them. But they hurried on, fearing the unknown\nsight of a man, and fleeing from him, while he pursued them, doubling\nIndrayudha's speed by frequent pats on his neck, and went on alone,\nleaving his army far behind. Led on by the idea that he was just\ncatching them, he was borne in an instant fifteen leagues from his\nown quarters by Indrayudha's speed as it were at one bound, and was\nleft companionless. (240) The pair of Kinnaras he was pursuing were\nclimbing a steep hill in front of him. He at length turned away his\nglance, which was following their progress, and, checked by the\nsteepness of the ascent, reined in Indrayudha. Then, seeing that\nboth his horse and himself were tired and heated by their toils,\nhe considered for a moment, and laughed at himself as he thought:\n'Why have I thus wearied myself for nothing, like a child? What\nmatters it whether I catch the pair of Kinnaras or not? If caught,\nwhat is the good? if missed, what is the harm? What a folly this is\nof mine! What a love of busying myself in any trifle! What a passion\nfor aimless toil! What a clinging to childish pleasure! The good\nwork I was doing has been begun in vain. The needful rite I had begun\nhas been rendered fruitless. The duty of friendship I undertook has\nnot been performed. The royal office I was employed in has not been\nfulfilled. The great task I had entered on has not been completed. My\nearnest labour in a worthy ambition has been brought to nought. Why\nhave I been so mad as to leave my followers behind and come so\nfar? (241) and why have I earned for myself the ridicule I should\nbestow on another, when I think how aimlessly I have followed these\nmonsters with their horses' heads? I know not how far off is the army\nthat follows me. For the swiftness of Indrayudha traverses a vast\nspace in a moment, and his speed prevented my noticing as I came by\nwhat path I should turn back, for my eyes were fixed on the Kinnaras;\nand now I am in a great forest, spread underfoot with dry leaves,\nwith a dense growth of creepers, underwood, and branching trees. Roam\nas I may here I cannot light on any mortal who can show me the way\nto Suvarnapura. I have often heard that Suvarnapura is the farthest\nbound of earth to the north, and that beyond it lies a supernatural\nforest, and beyond that again is Kailasa. This then is Kailasa; so\nI must turn back now, and resolutely seek to make my way unaided to\nthe south. For a man must bear the fruit of his own faults.'\n\n'\"With this purpose he shook the reins in his left hand, and turned\nthe horse's head. Then he again reflected: (242) 'The blessed sun\nwith glowing light now adorns the south, as if he were the zone-gem\nof the glory of day. Indrayudha is tired; I will just let him eat\na few mouthfuls of grass, and then let him bathe and drink in some\nmountain rill or river; and when he is refreshed I will myself drink\nsome water, and after resting a short time under the shade of a tree,\nI will set out again.'\n\n'\"So thinking, constantly turning his eyes on every side for water, he\nwandered till at length he saw a track wet with masses of mud raised\nby the feet of a large troop of mountain elephants, who had lately\ncome up from bathing in a lotus-pool. (243) Inferring thence that\nthere was water near, he went straight on along the slope of Kailasa,\nthe trees of which, closely crowded as they were, seemed, from their\nlack of boughs, to be far apart, for they were mostly pines, \u00e7al, and\ngum olibanum trees, and were lofty, and like a circle of umbrellas,\nto be gazed at with upraised head. There was thick yellow sand,\nand by reason of the stony soil the grass and shrubs were but scanty.\n\n(244) '\"At length he beheld, on the north-east of Kailasa, a very\nlofty clump of trees, rising like a mass of clouds, heavy with its\nweight of rain, and massed as if with the darkness of a night in the\ndark fortnight.\n\n'\"The wind from the waves, soft as sandal, dewy, cool from passing\nover the water, aromatic with flowers, met him, and seemed to woo him;\nand the cries of kalahamsas drunk with lotus-honey, charming his ear,\nsummoned him to enter. So he went into that clump, and in its midst\nbeheld the Acchoda Lake, as if it were the mirror of the Lakshmi of the\nthree worlds, the crystal chamber of the goddess of earth, the path\nby which the waters of ocean escape, the oozing of the quarters, the\navatar of part of the sky, Kailasa taught to flow, Himavat liquefied,\nmoonlight melted, \u00c7iva's smile turned to water, (245) the merit of\nthe three worlds abiding in the shape of a lake, a range of hills of\nlapis lazuli changed into water, or a mass of autumn clouds poured\ndown in one spot. From its clearness it might be Varuna's mirror;\nit seemed to be fashioned of the hearts of ascetics, the virtues of\ngood men, the bright eyes of deer, or the rays of pearls.\n\n(247) '\"Like the person of a great man, it showed clearly the\nsigns of fish, crocodile, tortoise, and cakra; [249] like the\nstory of Kartikeya, the lamentations of the wives of Krau\u00f1ca [250]\nresounded in it; it was shaken by the wings of white Dhartarashtras,\nas the Mahabharata by the rivalry of Pandavas and Dhartarashtras;\nand the drinking of poison by \u00c7iva was represented by the drinking\nof its water by peacocks, as if it were the time of the churning of\nocean. It was fair, like a god, with a gaze that never wavers. (248)\nLike a futile argument, it seemed to have no end; and was a lake most\nfair and gladdening to the eyes.\n\n'\"The very sight of it seemed to remove Candrapida's weariness,\nand as he gazed he thought:\n\n'\"'Though my pursuit of the horse-faced pair was fruitless, yet now\nthat I see this lake it has gained its reward. My eyes' reward in\nbeholding all that is to be seen has now been won, the furthest point\nof all fair things seen, the limit of all that gladdens us gazed upon,\nthe boundary line of all that charms us descried, the perfection of all\nthat causes joy made manifest, and the vanishing-point of all worthy\nof sight beheld. (249) By creating this lake water, sweet as nectar,\nthe Creator has made his own labour of creation superfluous. For this,\ntoo, like the nectar that gladdens all the senses, produces joy to\nthe eye by its purity, offers the pleasure of touch by its coolness,\ngladdens the sense of smell by the fragrance of its lotuses, pleases\nthe ear with the ceaseless murmur of its hamsas, and delights the\ntaste with its sweetness. Truly it is from eagerness to behold this\nthat \u00c7iva leaves not his infatuation for dwelling on Kailasa. Surely\nKrishna no longer follows his own natural desire as to a watery couch,\nfor he sleeps on the ocean, with its water bitter with salt, and leaves\nthis water sweet as nectar! Nor is this, in sooth, the prim\u00e6val lake;\nfor the earth, when fearing the blows of the tusks of the boar of\ndestruction, entered the ocean, all the waters of which were designed\nbut to be a draught for Agastya; whereas, if it had plunged into this\nmighty lake, deep as many deep hells, it could not have been reached,\nI say not by one, but not even by a thousand boars. (250) Verily it\nis from this lake that the clouds of doom at the seasons of final\ndestruction draw little by little their water when they overwhelm the\ninterstices of the universe, and darken all the quarters with their\ndestroying storm. And methinks that the world, Brahma's egg, which in\nthe beginning of creation was made of water, was massed together and\nplaced here under the guise of a lake.' So thinking, he reached the\nsouth bank, dismounted and took off Indrayudha's harness; (251) and\nthe latter rolled on the ground, arose, ate some mouthfuls of grass,\nand then the prince took him down to the lake, and let him drink and\nbathe at will. After that, the prince took off his bridle, bound two\nof his feet by a golden chain to the lower bough of a tree hard by,\nand, cutting off with his dagger some durva grass from the bank of\nthe lake, threw it before the horse, and went back himself to the\nwater. He washed his hands, and feasted, like the cataka, on water;\nlike the cakravaka, he tasted pieces of lotus-fibre; like the moon\nwith its beams, he touched the moon-lotuses with his finger-tips;\nlike a snake, he welcomed the breeze of the waves; [251] like one\nwounded with Love's arrows, he placed a covering of lotus-leaves on\nhis breast; like a mountain elephant, when the tip of his trunk is wet\nwith spray, he adorned his hands with spray-washed lotuses. Then with\ndewy lotus-leaves, with freshly-broken fibres, he made a couch on a\nrock embowered in creepers, and rolling up his cloak for a pillow,\nlay down to sleep. After a short rest, he heard on the north bank\nof the lake a sweet sound of unearthly music, borne on the ear, and\nblent with the chords of the vina. (252) Indrayudha heard it first,\nand letting fall the grass he was eating, with ears fixed and neck\narched, turned towards the voice. The prince, as he heard it, rose\nfrom his lotus-couch in curiosity to see whence this song could arise\nin a place deserted by men, and cast his glance towards the region;\nbut, from the great distance, he was unable, though he strained his\neyes to the utmost, to discern anything, although he ceaselessly\nheard the sound. Desiring in his eagerness to know its source,\nhe determined to depart, and saddling and mounting Indrayudha, he\nset forth by the western forest path, making the song his goal; the\ndeer, albeit unasked, were his guides, as they rushed on in front,\ndelighting in the music. [252]\n\n(253-256 condensed) '\"Welcomed by the breezes of Kailasa, he went\ntowards that spot, which was surrounded by trees on all sides, and\nat the foot of the slope of Kailasa, on the left bank of the lake,\ncalled Candraprabha, which whitened the whole region with a splendour\nas of moonlight, he beheld an empty temple of \u00c7iva.\n\n(257) '\"As he entered the temple he was whitened by the falling on\nhim of ketaki pollen, tossed by the wind, as if for the sake of seeing\n\u00c7iva he had been forcibly made to perform a vow of putting on ashes,\nor as if he were robed in the pure merits of entering the temple;\nand, in a crystal shrine resting on four pillars, he beheld \u00c7iva, the\nfour-faced, teacher of the world, the god whose feet are honoured by\nthe universe, with his emblem, the linga, made of pure pearl. Homage\nhad been paid to the deity by shining lotuses of the heavenly Ganges,\nthat might be mistaken for crests of pearls, freshly-plucked and wet,\nwith drops falling from the ends of their leaves, like fragments of\nthe moon's disc split and set upright, or like parts of \u00c7iva's own\nsmile, or scraps of \u00c7esha's hood, or brothers of Krishna's conch,\nor the heart of the Milky Ocean.\n\n(258) '\"But, seated in a posture of meditation, to the right of the\ngod, facing him, Candrapida beheld a maiden vowed to the service of\n\u00c7iva, who turned the region with its mountains and woods to ivory by\nthe brightness of her beauty. For its lustre shone far, spreading\nthrough space, white as the tide of the Milky Ocean, overwhelming\nall things at the day of doom, or like a store of penance gathered\nin long years and flowing out, streaming forth massed together\nlike Ganges between the trees, giving a fresh whiteness to Kailasa,\nand purifying the gazer's soul, though it but entered his eye. The\nexceeding whiteness of her form concealed her limbs as though she had\nentered a crystal shrine, or had plunged into a sea of milk, or were\nhidden in spotless silk, or were caught on the surface of a mirror,\nor were veiled in autumn clouds. She seemed to be fashioned from the\nquintessence of whiteness, without the bevy of helps for the creation\nof the body that consist of matter formed of the five gross elements.\n\n(259) She was like sacrifice impersonate, come to worship \u00c7iva, in\nfear of being seized by the unworthy; or Rati, undertaking a rite\nof propitiation to conciliate him, for the sake of Kama's body;\nor Lakshmi, goddess of the Milky Ocean, longing for a digit of\n\u00c7iva's moon, her familiar friend of yore when they dwelt together\nin the deep; or the embodied moon seeking \u00c7iva's protection from\nRahu; or the beauty of Airavata, [253] come to fulfil \u00c7iva's wish\nto wear an elephant's skin; or the brightness of the smile on the\nright face of \u00c7iva become manifest and taking a separate abode; or\nthe white ash with which \u00c7iva besprinkles himself, in bodily shape;\nor moonlight made manifest to dispel the darkness of \u00c7iva's neck;\nor the embodied purity of Gauri's mind; or the impersonate chastity\nof Kartikeya; or the brightness of \u00c7iva's bull, dwelling apart from\nhis body; (260) or the wealth of flowers on the temple trees come of\nthemselves to worship \u00c7iva; or the fulness of Brahma's penance come\ndown to earth; or the glory of the Prajapatis of the Golden Age,\nresting after the fatigue of wandering through the seven worlds;\nor the Three Vedas, dwelling in the woods in grief at the overthrow\nof righteousness in the Kali Age; or the germ of a future Golden Age,\nin the form of a maiden; or the fulness of a muni's contemplation, in\nhuman shape; or a troop of heavenly elephants, falling into confusion\non reaching the heavenly Ganges; or the beauty of Kailasa, fallen in\ndread of being uprooted by Ravana; or the Lakshmi of the \u00c7vetadvipa\n[254] come to behold another continent; or the grace of an opening\nka\u00e7a-blossom looking for the autumn; or the brightness of \u00c7esha's\nbody leaving hell and come to earth; or the brilliance of Balarama,\nwhich had left him in weariness of his intoxication; or a succession\nof bright fortnights massed together.\n\n'\"She seemed from her whiteness to have taken a share from all the\nhamsas; (261) or to have come from the heart of righteousness; or to\nhave been fashioned from a shell; or drawn from a pearl; or formed\nfrom lotus-fibres; or made of flakes of ivory; or purified by brushes\nof moonbeams; or inlaid with lime; or whitened with foam-balls of\nambrosia; or laved in streams of quicksilver; or rubbed with melted\nsilver; or dug out from the moon's orb; or decked with the hues of\nkutaja, jasmine, and sinduvara flowers. She seemed, in truth, to be\nthe very furthest bound of whiteness. Her head was bright with matted\nlocks hanging on her shoulders, made, as it were, of the brightness of\nmorning rays taken from the sun on the Eastern Mountain, tawny like\nthe quivering splendour of flashing lightning, and, being wet from\nrecent bathing, marked with the dust of \u00c7iva's feet clasped in her\ndevotion; she bore \u00c7iva's feet marked with his name in jewels on her\nhead, fastened with a band of hair; (262) and her brow had a sectarial\nmark of ashes pure as the dust of stars ground by the heels of the\nsun's horses. (266) She was a goddess, and her age could not be known\nby earthly reckoning, but she resembled a maiden of eighteen summers.\n\n'\"Having beheld her, Candrapida dismounted, tied his horse to a\nbough, and then, reverently bowing before the blessed \u00c7iva, gazed\nagain on that heavenly maiden with a steady unswerving glance. And\nas her beauty, grace, and serenity stirred his wonder, the thought\narose in him: 'How in this world each matter in its turn becomes of\nno value! For when I was pursuing the pair of Kinnaras wantonly and\nvainly I beheld this most beautiful place, inaccessible to men, and\nhaunted by the immortals. (267) Then in my search for water I saw\nthis delightful lake sought by the Siddhas. While I rested on its\nbank I heard a divine song; and as I followed the sound, this divine\nmaiden, too fair for mortal sight, met my eyes. For I cannot doubt\nher divinity. Her very beauty proclaims her a goddess. And whence\nin the world of men could there arise such harmonies of heavenly\nminstrelsy? If, therefore, she vanishes not from my sight, nor mounts\nthe summit of Kailasa, nor flies to the sky, I will draw near and ask\nher, \"Who art thou, and what is thy name, and why hast thou in the\ndawn of life undertaken this vow?\" This is all full of wonder.' With\nthis resolve he approached another pillar of the crystal shrine,\nand sat there, awaiting the end of the song.\n\n'\"Then when she had stilled her lute, like a moon-lotus bed when\nthe pleasant hum of the bees is silenced, (268) the maiden rose,\nmade a sunwise turn and an obeisance to \u00c7iva, and then turning round,\nwith a glance by nature clear, and by the power of penance confident,\nshe, as it were, gave courage to Candrapida, as if thereby she were\nsprinkling him with merits, laving him with holy water, purifying him\nwith penance, freeing him from stain, giving him his heart's desire,\nand leading him to purity.\n\n'\"'Hail to my guest!' said she. 'How has my lord reached this\nplace? Rise, draw near, and receive a guest's due welcome.' So she\nspake; and he, deeming himself honoured even by her deigning to speak\nwith him, reverently arose and bowed before her. 'As thou biddest,\nlady,' he replied, and showed his courtesy by following in her steps\nlike a pupil. And on the way he thought: 'Lo, even when she beheld me\nshe did not vanish! Truly a hope of asking her questions has taken hold\nof my heart. And when I see the courteous welcome, rich in kindness,\nof this maiden, fair though she be with a beauty rare in ascetics,\nI surely trust that at my petition she will tell me all her story.'\n\n(269) '\"Having gone about a hundred paces, he beheld a cave, with\nits entrance veiled by dense tamalas, showing even by day a night of\ntheir own; its edge was vocal with the glad bees' deep murmur on the\nbowers of creepers with their opening blossoms; it was bedewed with\ntorrents that in their sheer descent fell in foam, dashing against\nthe white rock, and cleft by the axe-like points of the jagged\ncliff, with a shrill crash as the cold spray rose up and broke;\nit was like a mass of waving cowries hanging from a door, from the\ncascades streaming down on either side, white as \u00c7iva's smile, or as\npearly frost. Within was a circle of jewelled pitchers; on one side\nhung a veil worn in sacred meditation; a clean pair of shoes made of\ncocoanut matting hung on a peg; one corner held a bark bed gray with\ndust scattered by the ashes the maiden wore; the place of honour was\nfilled by a bowl of shell carved with a chisel, like the orb of the\nmoon; and close by there stood a gourd of ashes.\n\n'\"On the rock at the entrance Candrapida took his seat, and when the\nmaiden, having laid her lute on the pillow of the bark bed, took in\na leafy cup some water from the cascade to offer to her guest, and he\nsaid as she approached (270): 'Enough of these thy great toils. Cease\nthis excess of grace. Be persuaded, lady. Let this too great honour\nbe abandoned. The very sight of thee, like the aghamarshana hymn,\nstills all evil and sufficeth for purification. Deign to take thy\nseat!' Yet being urged by her, he reverently, with head bent low,\naccepted all the homage she gave to her guest. When her cares for\nher guest were over, she sat down on another rock, and after a short\nsilence he told, at her request, the whole story of his coming in\npursuit of the pair of Kinnaras, beginning with his expedition of\nconquest. The maiden then rose, and, taking a begging bowl, wandered\namong the trees round the temple; and ere long her bowl was filled\nwith fruits that had fallen of their own accord. As she invited\nCandrapida to the enjoyment of them, the thought arose in his heart:\n'Of a truth, there is nought beyond the power of penance. For it is\na great marvel how the lords of the forest, albeit devoid of sense,\nyet, like beings endowed with sense, gain honour for themselves by\ncasting down their fruits for this maiden. A wondrous sight is this,\nand one never seen before.'\n\n'\"So, marvelling yet more, he brought Indrayudha to that spot,\nunsaddled him, and tied him up hard by. (271) Then, having bathed in\nthe torrent, he partook of the fruits, sweet as ambrosia, and drank\nthe cool water of the cascade, and having rinsed his mouth, he waited\napart while the maiden enjoyed her repast of water, roots, and fruit.\n\n'\"When her meal was ended and she had said her evening prayer, and\ntaken her seat fearlessly on the rock, the Prince quietly approached\nher, and sitting down near her, paused awhile and then respectfully\nsaid:\n\n'\"'Lady, the folly that besets mankind impels me even against my\nwill to question thee, for I am bewildered by a curiosity that has\ntaken courage from thy kindness. For even the slightest grace of\na lord emboldens a weak nature: even a short time spent together\ncreates intimacy. Even a slight acceptance of homage produces\naffection. Therefore, if it weary thee not, I pray thee to honour me\nwith thy story. For from my first sight of thee a great eagerness has\npossessed me as to this matter. Is the race honoured by thy birth,\nlady, that of the Maruts, or Rishis, or Gandharvas, or Guhyakas,\nor Apsarases? And wherefore in thy fresh youth, tender as a flower,\nhas this vow been taken? (272) For how far apart would seem thy youth,\nthy beauty, and thine exceeding grace, from this thy peace from all\nthoughts of earth! This is marvellous in mine eyes! And wherefore\nhast thou left the heavenly hermitages that gods may win, and that\nhold all things needful for the highest saints, to dwell alone in\nthis deserted wood? And whereby hath thy body, though formed of the\nfive gross elements, put on this pure whiteness? Never have I heard\nor seen aught such as this. I pray thee dispel my curiosity, and tell\nme all I ask.'\n\n'\"For a little time she pondered his request in silence, and then she\nbegan to weep noiselessly, and her eyes were blinded by tears which\nfell in large drops, carrying with them the purity of her heart,\nshowering down the innocence of her senses, distilling the essence\nof asceticism, dropping in a liquid form the brightness of her eyes,\nmost pure, falling on her white cheeks like a broken string of pearls,\nunceasing, splashing on her bosom covered by the bark robe.\n\n(273) '\"And as he beheld her weeping Candrapida reflected: 'How hardly\ncan misfortune be warded off, if it takes for its own a beauty like\nthis, which one might have deemed beyond its might! Of a truth there\nis none whom the sorrows of life in the body leave untouched. Strong\nindeed is the working of the opposed powers of pleasure and pain. [255]\nThese her tears have created in me a further curiosity, even greater\nthan before. It is no slight grief that can take its abode in a\nform like hers. For it is not a feeble blow that causes the earth\nto tremble.'\n\n'\"While his curiosity was thus increased he felt himself guilty of\nrecalling her grief, and rising, brought in his folded hand from the\ntorrent some water to bathe her face. But she, though the torrent of\nher tears was in nowise checked by his gentleness, yet bathed her\nreddened eyes, and drying her face with the edge of her bark robe,\nslowly said with a long and bitter sigh:\n\n(274) '\"'Wherefore, Prince, wilt thou hear the story of my ascetic\nlife, all unfit for thy ears? for cruel has been my heart, hard my\ndestiny, and evil my condition, even from my birth. Still, if thy\ndesire to know be great, hearken. It has come within the range of\nour hearing, usually directed to auspicious knowledge, that there\nare in the abode of the gods maidens called Apsarases. Of these\nthere are fourteen families: one sprung from the mind of Brahma,\nanother from the Vedas, another from fire, another from the wind,\nanother from nectar when it was churned, another from water, another\nfrom the sun's rays, another from the moon's beams, another from\nearth, and another from lightning; one was fashioned by Death, and\nanother created by Love; besides, Daksha, father of all, had among\nhis many daughters two, Muni and Arishta, and from their union with\nthe Gandharvas were sprung the other two families. These are, in sum,\nthe fourteen races. But from the Gandharvas and the daughters of\nDaksha sprang these two families. Here Muni bore a sixteenth son, by\nname Citraratha, who excelled in virtues Sena and all the rest of his\nfifteen brothers. For his heroism was famed through the three worlds;\nhis dignity was increased by the name of Friend, bestowed by Indra,\nwhose lotus feet are caressed by the crests of the gods cast down\nbefore him; and even in childhood he gained the sovereignty of all the\nGandharvas by a right arm tinged with the flashing of his sword. (275)\nNot far hence, north of the land of Bharata, is his dwelling, Hemakuta,\na boundary mountain in the Kimpurusha country. There, protected by\nhis arm, dwell innumerable Gandharvas. By him this pleasant wood,\nCaitraratha, was made, this great lake Acchoda was dug out, and this\nimage of \u00c7iva was fashioned. But the son of Arishta, in the second\nGandharva family, was as a child anointed king by Citraratha, lord of\nthe Gandharvas, and now holds royal rank, and with a countless retinue\nof Gandharvas dwells likewise on this mountain. Now, from that family\nof Apsarases which sprang from the moon's nectar was born a maiden,\nfashioned as though by the grace of all the moon's digits poured in\none stream, gladdening the eyes of the universe, moonbeam-fair, in\nname and nature a second Gauri. [256] (276) Her Hamsa, lord of the\nsecond family, wooed, as the Milky Ocean the Ganges; with him she\nwas united, as Rati with Kama, or the lotus-bed with the autumn;\nand enjoying the great happiness of such a union she became the\nqueen of his zenana. To this noble pair I was born as only daughter,\nill-omened, a prey for grief, and a vessel for countless sorrows;\nmy father, however, having no other child, greeted my birth with a\ngreat festival, surpassing that for a son, and on the tenth day, with\nthe customary rites he gave me the fitting name of Maha\u00e7veta. In his\npalace I spent my childhood, passed from lap to lap of the Gandharva\ndames, like a lute, as I murmured the prattle of babyhood, ignorant as\nyet of the sorrows of love; but in time fresh youth came to me as the\nhoney-month to the spring, fresh shoots to the honey-month, flowers\nto the fresh shoots, bees to the flowers, and honey to the bees.\n\n'\"' [257]And one day in the month of honey I went down with my mother\nto the Acchoda lake to bathe, when its beauties were spread wide in\nthe spring, and all its lotuses were in flower.\n\n(278) '\"'I worshipped the pictures of \u00c7iva, attended by Bringiriti,\nwhich were carved on the rocks of the bank by Parvati when she came\ndown to bathe, and which had the reverential attendance of ascetics\nportrayed by the thin footprints left in the dust. \"How beautiful!\" I\ncried, \"is this bower of creepers, with its clusters of flowers of\nwhich the bees' weight has broken the centre and bowed the filaments;\nthis mango is fully in flower, and the honey pours through the holes in\nthe stalks of its buds, which the cuckoo's sharp claws have pierced;\nhow cool this sandal avenue, which the serpents, terrified at the\nmurmur of hosts of wild peacocks, have deserted; how delightful the\nwaving creepers, which betray by their fallen blossoms the swinging of\nthe wood-nymphs upon them; how pleasant the foot of the trees on the\nbank where the kalahamsas have left the line of their steps imprinted\nin the pollen of many a flower!\" Drawn on thus by the ever-growing\ncharms of the wood, I wandered with my companions. (279) And at a\ncertain spot I smelt the fragrance of a flower strongly borne on the\nwind, overpowering that of all the rest, though the wood was in full\nblossom; it drew near, and by its great sweetness seemed to anoint, to\ndelight, and to fill the sense of smell. Bees followed it, seeking to\nmake it their own: it was truly a perfume unknown heretofore, and fit\nfor the gods. I, too, eager to learn whence it came, with eyes turned\ninto buds, and drawn on like a bee by that scent, and attracting to\nme the kalahamsas of the lake by the jangling of my anklets loudly\nclashed in the tremulous speed of my curiosity, advanced a few steps\nand beheld a graceful youthful ascetic coming down to bathe. He was\nlike Spring doing penance in grief for Love made the fuel of \u00c7iva's\nfire, or the crescent on \u00c7iva's brow performing a vow to win a full\norb, or Love restrained in his eagerness to conquer \u00c7iva: by his great\nsplendour he appeared to be girt by a cage of quivering lightning,\nembosomed in the globe of the summer sun, or encircled in the flames\nof a furnace: (280) by the brightness of his form, flashing forth ever\nmore and more, yellow as lamplight, he made the grove a tawny gold;\nhis locks were yellow and soft like an amulet dyed in gorocana. The\nline of ashes on his brow made him like Ganges with the line of a\nfresh sandbank, as though it were a sandal-mark to win Sarasvati,\n[258] and played the part of a banner of holiness; his eyebrows were\nan arch rising high over the abode of men's curses; his eyes were\nso long that he seemed to wear them as a chaplet; he shared with\nthe deer the beauty of their glance; his nose was long and aquiline;\nthe citron of his lower lip was rosy as with the glow of youth, which\nwas refused an entrance to his heart; with his beardless cheek he was\nlike a fresh lotus, the filaments of which have not yet been tossed\nby the bees in their sport; he was adorned with a sacrificial thread\nlike the bent string of Love's bow, or a filament from the lotus grove\nof the pool of penance; in one hand he bore a pitcher like a kesara\nfruit with its stalk; in the other a crystal rosary, strung as it were\nwith the tears of Rati wailing in grief for Love's death. (281) His\nloins were girt with a mu\u00f1ja-grass girdle, as though he had assumed\na halo, having outvied the sun by his innate splendour; the office\nof vesture was performed by the bark of the heavenly coral-tree,\n[259] bright as the pink eyelid of an old partridge, and washed in\nthe waves of the heavenly Ganges; he was the ornament of ascetic\nlife, the youthful grace of holiness, the delight of Sarasvati, the\nchosen lord of all the sciences, and the meeting-place of all divine\ntradition. He had, like the summer season, [260] his ashadha [261];\nhe had, like a winter wood, the brightness of opening millet, and he\nhad like the month of honey, a face adorned with white tilaka. [262]\nWith him there was a youthful ascetic gathering flowers to worship\nthe gods, his equal in age and a friend worthy of himself.\n\n(282) '\"'Then I saw a wondrous spray of flowers which decked his ear,\nlike the bright smile of woodland \u00c7ri joying in the sight of spring,\nor the grain-offering of the honey-month welcoming the Malaya winds, or\nthe youth of the Lakshmi of flowers, or the cowrie that adorns Love's\nelephant; it was wooed by the bees; the Pleiads lent it their grace;\nand its honey was nectar. \"Surely,\" I decided, \"this is the fragrance\nwhich makes all other flowers scentless,\" and gazing at the youthful\nascetic, the thought arose in my mind: \"Ah, how lavish is the Creator\nwho has skill [263] to produce the highest perfection of form, for he\nhas compounded Kama of all miraculous beauty, excelling the universe,\nand yet has created this ascetic even more fair, surpassing him, like a\nsecond love-god, born of enchantment. (283) Methinks that when Brahma\n[264] made the moon's orb to gladden the world, and the lotuses to be\nLakshmi's palace of delight, he was but practising to gain skill for\nthe creation of this ascetic's face; why else should such things be\ncreated? Surely it is false that the sun with its ray Sushumna [265]\ndrinks all the digits of the moon as it wanes in the dark fortnight,\nfor their beams are cast down to enter this fair form. How otherwise\ncould there be such grace in one who lives in weary penance, beauty's\ndestroyer?\" As I thus thought, Love, beauty's firm adherent, who knows\nnot good from ill, and who is ever at hand to the young, enthralled\nme, together with my sighs, as the madness of spring takes captive\nthe bee. Then with a right eye gazing steadily, the eyelashes half\nclosed, the iris darkened by the pupil's tremulous sidelong glance,\nI looked long on him. With this glance I, as it were, drank him in,\nbesought him, told him I was wholly his, offered my heart, tried\nto enter into him with my whole soul, sought to be absorbed in him,\nimplored his protection to save Love's victim, showed my suppliant\nstate that asked for a place in his heart; (284) and though I asked\nmyself, \"What is this shameful feeling that has arisen in me, unseemly\nand unworthy a noble maiden?\" yet knowing this, I could not master\nmyself, but with great difficulty stood firm, gazing at him. For\nI seemed to be paralyzed, or in a picture, or scattered abroad, or\nbound, or in a trance, and yet in wondrous wise upheld, as though\nwhen my limbs were failing, support was at the same moment given;\nfor I know not how one can be certain in a matter that can neither\nbe told nor taught, and that is not capable of being told, for it\nis only learnt from within. Can it be ascertained as presented by\nhis beauty, or by my own mind, or by love, or by youth or affection,\nor by any other causes? I cannot tell. Lifted up and dragged towards\nhim by my senses, led forward by my heart, urged from behind by Love,\nI yet by a strong effort restrained my impulse. (285) Straightway\na storm of sighs went forth unceasingly, prompted by Love as he\nstrove to find a place within me; and my bosom heaved as longing to\nspeak earnestly to my heart, and then I thought to myself: \"What an\nunworthy action is this of vile Kama, who surrenders me to this cold\nascetic free from all thoughts of love! Truly, the heart of woman\nis foolish exceedingly, since it cannot weigh the fitness of that\nwhich it loves. For what has this bright home of glory and penance\nto do with the stirrings of love that meaner men welcome? Surely\nin his heart he scorns me for being thus deceived by Kama! Strange\nit is that I who know this cannot restrain my feeling! (286) Other\nmaidens, indeed, laying shame aside, have of their own accord gone\nto their lords; others have been maddened by that reckless love-god;\nbut not as I am here alone! How in that one moment has my heart been\nthrown into turmoil by the mere sight of his form, and passed from my\ncontrol! for time for knowledge and good qualities always make Love\ninvincible. It is best for me to leave this place while I yet have\nmy senses, and while he does not clearly see this my hateful folly\nof love. Perchance if he sees in me the effects of a love he cannot\napprove, he will in wrath make me feel his curse. For ascetics are\never prone to wrath.\" Thus having resolved, I was eager to depart,\nbut, remembering that holy men should be reverenced by all, I made an\nobeisance to him with eyes turned to his face, eyelashes motionless,\nnot glancing downwards, my cheek uncaressed by the flowers dancing\nin my ears, my garland tossing on my waving hair, and my jewelled\nearrings swinging on my shoulders.\n\n'\"'As I thus bent, the irresistible command of love, the inspiration\nof the spring, the charm of the place, the frowardness of youth, the\nunsteadiness of the senses, (287) the impatient longing for earthly\ngoods, the fickleness of the mind, the destiny that rules events--in\na word, my own cruel fate, and the fact that all my trouble was\ncaused by him, were the means by which Love destroyed his firmness\nby the sight of my feeling, and made him waver towards me like a\nflame in the wind. He too was visibly thrilled, as if to welcome the\nnewly-entering Love; his sighs went before him to show the way to his\nmind which was hastening towards me; the rosary in his hand trembled\nand shook, fearing the breaking of his vow; drops rose on his cheek,\nlike a second garland hanging from his ear; his eyes, as his pupils\ndilated and his glance widened in the joy of beholding me, turned\nthe spot to a very lotus-grove, so that the ten regions were filled\nby the long rays coming forth like masses of open lotuses that had\nof their own accord left the Acchoda lake and were rising to the sky.\n\n'\"'By the manifest change in him my love was redoubled, and I fell\nthat moment into a state I cannot describe, all unworthy of my\ncaste. \"Surely,\" I reflected, \"Kama himself teaches this play of the\neye, though generally after a long happy love, else whence comes this\nascetic's gaze? (288) For his mind is unversed in the mingled feelings\nof earthly joys, and yet his eyes, though they have never learnt the\nart, pour forth the stream of love's sweetness, rain nectar, are half\nclosed by joy, are slow with distress, heavy with sleep, roaming with\npupils tremulous and languid with the weight of gladness, and yet\nbright with the play of his eyebrows. Whence comes this exceeding\nskill that tells the heart's longing wordlessly by a glance alone?\"\n\n'\"'Impelled by these thoughts I advanced, and bowing to the second\nyoung ascetic, his companion, I asked: \"What is the name of his\nReverence? Of what ascetic is he the son? From what tree is this\ngarland woven? For its scent, hitherto unknown, and of rare sweetness,\nkindles great curiosity in me.\"\n\n'\"'With a slight smile, he replied: \"Maiden, what needs this\nquestion? But I will enlighten thy curiosity. Listen!\n\n'\"'\"There dwells in the world of gods a great sage, \u00c7vetaketu; his\nnoble character is famed through the universe; his feet are honoured by\nbands of siddhas, gods, and demons; (289) his beauty, exceeding that\nof Nalakubara, [266] is dear to the three worlds, and gladdens the\nhearts of goddesses. Once upon a time, when seeking lotuses for the\nworship of the gods, he went down to the Heavenly Ganges, which lay\nwhite as \u00c7iva's smile, while its water was studded as with peacocks'\neyes by the ichor of Airavata. Straightway Lakshmi, enthroned on\na thousand-petalled white lotus close by, beheld him coming down\namong the flowers, and looking on him, she drank in his beauty with\neyes half closed by love, and quivering with weight of joyous tears,\nand with her slender fingers laid on her softly-opening lips; and\nher heart was disturbed by Love; by her glance alone she won his\naffection. A son was born, and taking him in her arms with the words,\n'Take him, for he is thine,' she gave him to \u00c7vetaketu, who performed\nall the rites of a son's birth, and called him Pundarika, because he\nwas born in a pundarika lotus. Moreover, after initiation, he led him\nthrough the whole circle of the arts. (290) This is Pundarika whom you\nsee. And this spray comes from the parijata tree, [267] which rose\nwhen the Milky Ocean was churned by gods and demons. How it gained\na place in his ear contrary to his vow, I will now tell. This being\nthe fourteenth day of the month, he started with me from heaven to\nworship \u00c7iva, who had gone to Kailasa. On the way, near the Nandana\nWood, a nymph, drunk with the juice of flowers, wearing fresh mango\nshoots in her ear, veiled completely by garlands falling to the knees,\ngirt with kesara flowers, and resting on the fair hand lent her by the\nLakshmi of spring, took this spray of parijata, and bending low, thus\naddressed Pundarika: 'Sir, let, I pray, this thy form, that gladdens\nthe eyes of the universe, have this spray as its fitting adornment;\nlet it be placed on the tip of thy ear, for it has but the playfulness\nthat belongs to a garland; let the birth of the parijata now reap\nits full blessing!' At her words, his eyes were cast down in modesty\nat the praise he so well deserved, and he turned to depart without\nregarding her; but as I saw her following us, I said, 'What is the\nharm, friend. Let her courteous gift be accepted!' and so by force,\nagainst his will, the spray adorns his ear. Now all has been told:\nwho he is, whose son, and what this flower is, and how it has been\nraised to his ear.\" (291) When he had thus spoken, Pundarika said to\nme with a slight smile: \"Ah, curious maiden, why didst thou take the\ntrouble to ask this? If the flower, with its sweet scent, please thee,\ndo thou accept it,\" and advancing, he took it from his own ear and\nplaced it in mine, as though, with the soft murmur of the bees on it,\nit were a prayer for love. At once, in my eagerness to touch his hand,\na thrill arose in me, like a second parijata flower, where the garland\nlay; while he, in the pleasure of touching my cheek, did not see that\nfrom his tremulous fingers he had dropped his rosary at the same time\nas his timidity; but before it reached the ground I seized it, and\nplayfully placed it on my neck, where it wore the grace of a necklace\nunlike all others, while I learnt the joy of having my neck clasped,\nas it were, by his arm.\n\n'\"'As our hearts were thus occupied with each other, my umbrella-bearer\naddressed me: \"Princess, the Queen has bathed. It is nearly time\nto go home. Do thou, therefore, also bathe.\" At her words, like a\nnewly-caught elephant, rebellious at the first touch of the new hook,\nI was unwillingly dragged away, and as I went down to bathe, I could\nhardly withdraw my eyes, for they seemed to be drowned in the ambrosial\nbeauty of his face, or caught in the thicket of my thrilling cheek,\nor pinned down by Love's shafts, or sewn fast by the cords [268]\nof his charms.\n\n(292) '\"'Meanwhile, the second young ascetic, seeing that he was\nlosing his self-control, gently upbraided him: \"Dear Pundarika, this\nis unworthy of thee. This is the way trodden by common men. For the\ngood are rich in self-control. Why dost thou, like a man of low caste,\nfail to restrain the turmoil of thy soul? Whence comes this hitherto\nunknown assault of the senses, which so transforms thee? Where is\nthine old firmness? Where thy conquest of the senses? Where thy\nself-control? Where thy calm of mind, thine inherited holiness,\nthy carelessness of earthly things? Where the teaching of thy guru,\nthy learning of the Vedas, thy resolves of asceticism, thy hatred of\npleasure, thine aversion to vain delights, thy passion for penance, thy\ndistaste for enjoyments, thy rule over the impulses of youth? Verily\nall knowledge is fruitless, study of holy books is useless, initiation\nhas lost its meaning, pondering the teaching of gurus avails not,\nproficiency is worthless, learning leads to nought, since even men like\nthee are stained by the touch of passion, and overcome by folly. (293)\nThou dost not even see that thy rosary has fallen from thy hand,\nand has been carried away. Alas! how good sense fails in men thus\nstruck down. Hold back this heart of thine, for this worthless girl\nis seeking to carry it away.\"\n\n'\"'To these words he replied, with some shame: \"Dear Kapi\u00f1jala,\nwhy dost thou thus misunderstand me? I am not one to endure this\nreckless girl's offence in taking my rosary!\" and with his moonlike\nface beautiful in its feigned wrath, and adorned the more by the dread\nfrown he tried to assume, while his lip trembled with longing to kiss\nme, he said to me, \"Playful maiden, thou shalt not move a step from\nthis place without giving back my rosary.\" Thereupon I loosed from\nmy neck a single row of pearls as the flower-offering that begins\na dance in Kama's honour, and placed it in his outstretched hand,\nwhile his eyes were fixed on my face, and his mind was far away. I\nstarted to bathe, but how I started I know not, for my mother and my\ncompanions could hardly lead me away by force, like a river driven\nbackwards, and I went home thinking only of him.\n\n(294) '\"'And entering the maidens' dwelling, I began straightway to ask\nmyself in my grief at his loss: \"Am I really back, or still there? Am\nI alone, or with my maidens? Am I silent, or beginning to speak? Am\nI awake or asleep? Do I weep or hold back my tears? Is this joy or\nsorrow, longing or despair, misfortune or gladness, day or night? Are\nthese things pleasures or pains?\" All this I understood not. In my\nignorance of Love's course, I knew not whither to go, what to do,\nhear, see, or speak, whom to tell, nor what remedy to seek. Entering\nthe maidens' palace, I dismissed my friends at the door, and shut\nout my attendants, and then, putting aside all my occupations, I\nstood alone with my face against the jewelled window. I gazed at the\nregion which, in its possession of him, was richly decked, endowed\nwith great treasure, overflowed by the ocean of nectar, adorned with\nthe rising of the full moon, and most fair to behold, I longed to ask\nhis doings even of the breeze wafted from thence, or of the scent of\nthe woodland flowers, or of the song of the birds. (295) I envied even\nthe toils of penance for his devotion to them. For his sake, in the\nblind adherence of love, I took a vow of silence. I attributed grace\nto the ascetic garb, because he accepted it, beauty to youth because\nhe owned it, charm to the parijata flower because it touched his ear,\ndelight to heaven because he dwelt there, and invincible power to\nlove because he was so fair. Though far away, I turned towards him\nas the lotus-bed to the sun, the tide to the moon, or the peacock\nto the cloud. I bore on my neck his rosary, like a charm against the\nloss of the life stricken by his absence. I stood motionless, though\na thrill made the down on my cheek like a kadamba flower ear-ring,\nas it rose from the joy of being touched by his hand, and from the\nparijata spray in my ear, which spoke sweetly to me of him.\n\n'\"'Now my betel-bearer, Taralika, had been with me to bathe; she came\nback after me rather late, and softly addressed me in my sadness:\n\"Princess, one of those godlike ascetics we saw on the bank of Lake\nAcchoda--(296) he by whom this spray of the heavenly tree was placed\nin thy ear--as I was following thee, eluded the glance of his other\nself, and approaching me with soft steps between the branches of a\nflowering creeper, asked me concerning thee, saying, 'Damsel, who is\nthis maiden? Whose daughter is she? What is her name? And whither goes\nshe?' I replied: 'She is sprung from Gauri, an Apsaras of the moon\nrace, and her father Hamsa is king of all the Gandharvas; the nails of\nhis feet are burnished by the tips of the jewelled aigrettes on the\nturbans of all the Gandharvas; his tree-like arms are marked by the\ncosmetics on the cheeks of his Gandharva wives, and the lotus-hand of\nLakshmi forms his footstool. The princess is named Maha\u00e7veta, and she\nhas set out now for the hill of Hemakuta, the abode of the Gandharvas.'\n\n'\"'\"When this tale had been told by me, he thought silently for a\nmoment, and then looking long at me with a steady gaze, as if gently\nentreating me, he said: 'Damsel, thy form, young as thou art, is of\nfair promise, and augurs truth and steadfastness. Grant me, therefore,\none request.' Courteously raising my hands, I reverently replied:\n(297) 'Wherefore say this? Who am I? When great-souled men such as\nthou, meet for the honour of the whole universe, deign to cast even\ntheir sin-removing glance on one like me, their act wins merit--much\nmore if they give a command. Say, therefore, freely what is to be\ndone. Let me be honoured by thy bidding.'\n\n'\"'\"Thus addressed, he saluted me with a kindly glance, as a friend,\na helper, or a giver of life; and taking a shoot from a tamala-tree\nhard by, he crushed it on the stones of the bank, broke off a piece\nfrom his upper bark garment as a tablet, and with the tamala-juice,\nsweet as the ichor of a gandha elephant, wrote with the nail of the\nlittle finger of his lotus-hand, and placed it in my hand, saying, 'Let\nthis letter be secretly given by thee to that maiden when alone.'\" With\nthese words she drew it from the betel-box and showed it to me.\n\n'\"'As I took from her hand that bark letter, I was filled with this\ntalk about him, which, though but a sound, produced the joy of contact,\nand though for the ears alone, had its pervading presence in all my\nlimbs manifested by a thrill, as if it were a spell to invoke Love;\nand in his letter I beheld these lines: [269]\n\n\n    A hamsa on the Manas lake, lured by a creeper's treacherous shine,\n    My heart is led a weary chase, lured by that pearly wreath of\n        thine. [270]\n\n\n(298) '\"'By the reading of this, an even greater change for the worse\nwas wrought in my lovesick mind, as in one who has lost his way,\nby also losing his bearings; as in a blind man, by a night of the\ndark fortnight; as in a dumb man, by cutting out the tongue; as in an\nignorant man, by a conjuror's waving fan; as in a confused talker,\nby the delirium of fever; as in one poisoned, by the fatal sleep;\nas in a wicked man, by atheistic philosophy; as in one distraught, by\nstrong drink; or as in one possessed, by the action of the possessing\ndemon; so that in the turmoil it created in me, I was tossed like a\nriver in flood. I honoured Taralika for having seen him again, as one\nwho had acquired great merit, or who had tasted the joys of heaven,\nor had been visited by a god, or had her highest boon granted, or\nhad drunk nectar, or had been anointed queen of the three worlds. I\nspoke to her reverently, as if, though always by me, she were a\nrare visitant, and though my familiar friend, she were hitherto\nunknown. I looked on her, though behind me, as above the world;\nI tenderly caressed the curls on her cheek, and entirely set at\nnought the condition of mistress and maid, again and again asking,\n(299) \"How was he seen by thee? What did he say to thee? How long\nwert thou there? How far did he follow us?\" And shutting out all my\nattendants, I spent the whole day with her in the palace, listening to\nthat tale. The sun's orb hanging in the sky became crimson, sharing\nmy heart's glow; the Lakshmi of sunlight longing for the sight of\nthe flushed sun, and preparing her lotus-couch, turned pale as though\nfaint with love; the sunbeams, rosy as they fell on waters dyed with\nred chalk, rose from the lotus-beds clustering like herds of woodland\nelephants; the day, with an echo of the joyous neighing of the steeds\nof the sun's chariot longing to rest after their descent of the sky,\nentered the caves of Mount Meru; the lotus-beds, as the bees entered\nthe folded leaves of the red lilies, seemed to close their eyes as\nthough their hearts were darkened by a swoon at the sun's departure;\nthe pairs of cakravakas, each taking the other's heart, safely hidden\nin the hollow lotus-stalks whereof they had eaten together, were\nnow parted; and my umbrella-bearer approaching me, said as follows:\n(300) \"Princess, one of those youthful hermits is at the door, and\nsays he has come to beg for a rosary.\" At the hermit's name, though\nmotionless, I seemed to approach the door, and suspecting the reason of\nhis coming, I summoned another chamberlain, whom I sent, saying, \"Go\nand admit him.\" A moment later I beheld the young ascetic Kapi\u00f1jala,\nwho is to Pundarika as youth to beauty, love to youth, spring to love,\nsouthern breezes to spring, and who is indeed a friend worthy of him;\nhe followed the hoary chamberlain as sunlight after moonlight. As he\ndrew near his appearance betrayed to me trouble, sadness, distraction,\nentreaty, and a yearning unfulfilled. With a reverence I rose and\nrespectfully brought him a seat; and when he was reluctantly forced\nto accept it, I washed his feet and dried them on the silken edge of\nmy upper robe; and then sat by him on the bare ground. For a moment\nhe waited, as if eager to speak, when he cast his eyes on Taralika\nclose by. Knowing his desire at a glance, I said, \"Sir, she is one\nwith me. (301) Speak fearlessly.\" At my words Kapi\u00f1jala replied:\n\"Princess, what can I say? for through shame my voice does not reach\nthe sphere of utterance. How far is the passionless ascetic who\nlives on roots in the woods from the illusion of passion that finds\nits home in restless souls, and is stained with longing for earthly\npleasures, and filled with the manifold sports of the Love God. See how\nunseemly all this is! What has fate begun? God easily turns us into\na laughing-stock! I know not if this be fitting with bark garments,\nor seemly for matted locks, or meet for penance, or consonant with the\nteaching of holiness! Such a mockery was never known! I needs must\ntell you the story. No other course is visible; no other remedy is\nperceived; no other refuge is at hand; no other way is before me. If\nit remains untold, even greater trouble will arise. A friend's life\nmust be saved even at the loss of our own; so I will tell the tale:\n\n'\"'\"It was in thy presence that I sternly rebuked Pundarika, and after\nthat speech I left him in anger and went to another place, leaving\nmy task of gathering flowers. After thy departure, I remained apart a\nshort time, (302) and then, becoming anxious as to what he was doing,\nI turned back and examined the spot from behind a tree. As I did not\nsee him there, the thought arose within me, 'His mind was enslaved\nby love, and perchance he followed her; and now that she is gone,\nhe has regained his senses, and is ashamed to come within my sight;\nor he has gone from me in wrath, or departed hence to another place\nin search of me.' Thus thinking, I waited some time, but, troubled by\nan absence I had never since my birth suffered for a moment, I again\nthought, 'It may be that, in shame at his failure in firmness, he will\ncome to some harm; for shame makes everything possible; he must not,\nthen, be left alone.' With this resolve, I earnestly made search for\nhim. But as I could not see him, though I sought on all sides, made\nanxious by love for my friend, I pictured this or that misfortune,\nand wandered long, examining glades of trees, creeper bowers among the\nsandal avenues, and the banks of lakes, carefully glancing on every\nside. (303) At length I beheld him in a thicket of creepers near\na lake, a very birthplace for spring, most fair, and in its close\ngrowth appearing to be made wholly of flowers, of bees, of cuckoos,\nand of peacocks. From his entire absence of employment, he was as one\npainted, or engraved, or paralyzed, or dead, or asleep, or in a trance\nof meditation; he was motionless, yet wandering from his right course;\nalone, yet possessed by Love; all aglow, yet raising a pallid face;\nabsent-minded, yet giving his love a place within him; silent, and yet\ntelling a tale of Love's great woe; seated on a stone, yet standing\nin face of death. He was tormented by Kama, who yet, in fear of many\na curse, remained unseen. By his great stillness he appeared to be\ndeserted by the senses which had entered into him to behold the love\nthat dwelt in his heart, and had fainted in fear at its unbearable\nheat, or had left him in wrath at the tossing of his mind. From eyes\nsteadily closed, and dimmed within by the smoke of Love's keen fire,\nhe ceaselessly poured forth a storm of tears trickling down through\nhis eyelashes. (304) The filaments of the creepers near trembled in\nthe sighs which rushed out, bearing the redness of his lips like the\nupstarting ruddy flame of Kama burning his heart. As his hand rested\non his left cheek, his brow, from the clear rays of his nails rising\nupwards, seemed to have a fresh mark of sandal very pure; from the late\nremoval of his earring, the parijata flower, his ear was endowed with\na tamala shoot or a blue lotus by the bees that murmured a charm to\nbewitch love, under the guise of their soft hum as they crept up in\nlonging for what remained of that fragrance. Under the guise of his\nhair rising in a passionate thrill he seemed to bear on his limbs a\nmass of broken points of the flowery darts of Love's arrows discharged\ninto his pores. With his right hand he bore on his breast a string of\npearls that, by being interlaced with the flashing rays of his nails,\nseemed bristling in joy at the pleasure of touching his palm, and that\nwas, as it were, a banner of recklessness. He was pelted by the trees\nwith pollen, like a powder to subdue Love; he was caressed by a\u00e7oka\nshoots tossed by the wind, and transferring to him their rosy glow;\nhe was besprinkled by woodland Lakshmi with honey-dew from clusters\nof fresh flowers, like waters to crown Love; he was struck by Love\nwith campak buds, which, as their fragrance was drunk in by bees, were\nlike fiery barbs all smoking; (305) he was rebuked by the south wind,\nas if by the hum of the bees maddened by the many scents of the wood;\nhe was bewildered by the honey-month, as by cries of 'All hail!' to\nSpring raised by the cuckoos in their melodious ecstasy. Like the\nrisen moon, he was robed in paleness; like the stream of Ganges in\nsummer, he had dwindled to meagreness; like a sandal-tree with a\nfire at its heart, he was fading away. He seemed to have entered\non another birth, and was as another man, strange and unfamiliar;\nhe was changed into another shape. As one entered by an evil spirit,\nruled by a great demon, possessed by a strong devil, drunk, deluded,\nblind, deaf, dumb, all merged in joy and love, he had reached the\nclimax of the mind's slavery when possessed by Love, and his old self\ncould no longer be known.\n\n'\"'\"As with a steady glance I long examined his sad state, I became\ndespondent, and thought in my trembling heart: 'This is of a truth\nthat Love whose force none can resist; for by him Pundarika has\nbeen in a moment brought to a state for which there is no cure. For\nhow else could such a storehouse of learning become straightway\nunavailing? (306) It is, alas! a miracle in him who from childhood has\nbeen firm of nature and unswerving in conduct, and whose life was the\nenvy of myself and the other young ascetics. Here, like a mean man,\ndespising knowledge, contemning the power of penance, he has rooted\nup his deep steadfastness, and is paralyzed by Love. A youth which has\nnever swerved is indeed rare!' I went forward, and sitting down by him\non the same stone, with my hand resting on his shoulder, I asked him,\nthough his eyes were still closed: 'Dear Pundarika, tell me what this\nmeans.' Then with great difficulty and effort he opened his eyes,\nwhich seemed fastened together by their long closing, and which were\nred from incessant weeping and overflowing with tears as if shaken\nand in pain, while their colour was that of a red lotus-bed veiled in\nwhite silk. He looked at me long with a very languid glance, and then,\ndeeply sighing, in accents broken by shame, he slowly and with pain\nmurmured: 'Dear Kapi\u00f1jala, why ask me what thou knowest?' Hearing this,\nand thinking that Pundarika was suffering in this way a cureless ill,\nbut that still, as far as possible, a friend who is entering a wrong\ncourse should be held back to the utmost by those who love him,\nI replied: 'Dear Pundarika, I know it well. (307) I will only ask\nthis question: Is this course you have begun taught by your gurus,\nor read in the holy books? or is this a way of winning holiness,\nor a fresh form of penance, or a path to heaven, or a mystic vow,\nor a means of salvation, or any other kind of discipline? Is this\nfitting for thee even to imagine, much less to see or tell? Like a\nfool, thou seest not that thou art made a laughing-stock by that\nmiscreant Love. For it is the fool who is tormented by Love. For\nwhat is thy hope of happiness in such things as are honoured by the\nbase, but blamed by the good? He truly waters a poison tree under\nthe idea of duty, or embraces the sword plant for a lotus-wreath, or\nlays hold on a black snake, taking it for a line of smoke of black\naloes, or touches a burning coal for a jewel, or tries to pull out\nthe club-like tusk of a wild elephant, thinking it a lotus-fibre; he\nis a fool who places happiness in the pleasures of sense which end\nin sorrow. And thou, though knowing the real nature of the senses,\nwhy dost thou carry thy knowledge as the firefly his light, [271]\nonly to be concealed, in that thou restrainest not thy senses when they\nstart out of their course like streams turbid [272] in their passionate\nonrush? Nor dost thou curb thy tossing mind. (308) Who, forsooth, is\nthis Love-god? Relying on thy firmness, do thou revile this miscreant.'\n\n'\"'\"As I thus spoke he wiped with his hand his eyes streaming with\ntears poured through his eyelashes, and while he yet leant on me,\nreplied, rebuking my speech: 'Friend, what need of many words? Thou\nat least art untouched! Thou hast not fallen within the range of\nLove's shafts, cruel with the poison of snakes! It is easy to teach\nanother! and when that other has his senses and his mind, and sees,\nhears, and knows what he has heard, and can discern good and evil,\nhe is then fit for advice. But all this is far from me; all talk of\nstability, judgment, firmness, reflection, has come to an end. How\ndo I even breathe but by strong effort? The time for advice is long\npast. The opportunity for firmness has been let slip; the hour for\nreflection is gone; the season for stability and judgment has passed\naway. Who but thee could give advice at this time, or could attempt\nto restrain my wandering? To whom but thee should I listen? or who\nelse in the world is a friend like thee? What ails me that I cannot\nrestrain myself? Thou sawest in a moment my wretched plight. The\ntime, then, for advice is now past. (309) While I breathe, I long\nfor some cure for the fever of love, violent as the rays of twelve\nsuns [273] at the end of the world. My limbs are baked, my heart is\nseething, my eyes are burning, and my body on fire. Do, therefore,\nwhat the time demands.' He then became silent, and after this speech\nI tried again and again to rouse him; but as he did not listen even\nwhen tenderly and affectionately exhorted in the words of the pure\nteaching of the \u00e7astras full of cases like his own, together with\nthe legendary histories, I thought, 'He is gone too far; he cannot\nbe turned back. Advice is now useless, so I will make an effort\njust to preserve his life.' With this resolve I rose and went, and\ntore up some juicy lotus-fibres from the lake; then, taking some\nlotus-petals marked by water, I plucked lotuses of all kinds, sweet\nwith the fragrance of the aromatic pollen within, and prepared a\ncouch on that same rock in the bower. And as he rested there at ease\n(310), I crushed soft twigs of the sandal-trees hard by, and with\nits juice, naturally sweet and cold as ice, made a mark on his brow,\nand anointed him from head to foot. I allayed the perspiration by\ncamphor-dust powdered in my hand, broken from the interstices of the\nsplit bark of the trees near, and fanned him with a plantain-leaf\ndripping with pure water, while the bark robe he wore was moist with\nthe sandal placed on his breast; and as I again and again strewed\nfresh lotus couches, and anointed him with sandal, and removed the\nperspiration, and constantly fanned him, the thought arose in my mind,\n'Surely nothing is too hard for Love! For how far apart would seem\nPundarika, by nature simple and content with his woodland home, like\na fawn, and Maha\u00e7veta, the Gandharva princess, a galaxy of graces:\nsurely there is nothing for Love in the world hard, or difficult, or\nunsubdued, or impossible. He scornfully attempts the hardest tasks,\nnor can any resist him. For why speak of beings endowed with sense\nwhen, if it so please him, he can bring together even things without\nsense? For the night lotus-bed falls in love with the sun's ray,\nand the day-lotus leaves her hatred of the moon, and night is joined\nto day, (311) and moonlight waits on darkness, and shade stands in\nthe face of light, and lightning stays firm in the cloud, and old age\naccompanies youth; and what more difficult thing can there be than that\none like Pundarika, who is an ocean of unfathomable depth, should thus\nbe brought to the lightness of grass? Where is his former penance, and\nwhere his present state? Truly it is a cureless ill that has befallen\nhim! What must I now do or attempt, or whither go, or what refuge or\nresource, or help or remedy, or plan, or recourse, is there by which\nhis life may be sustained? Or by what skill, or device, or means,\nor support, or thought, or solace, may he yet live?' These and other\nsuch thoughts arose in my downcast heart. But again I thought, 'What\navails dwelling on this useless thought? His life must be preserved\nby any means, good or bad, (312) and there is no other way to save it\nbut by her union with him; and as he is timid by reason of his youth,\nand moreover thinks the affairs of love contrary to his vow, unseemly,\nand a mockery in himself, he certainly, even at his last breath, will\nnot gratify his longing by himself approaching her. This his disease\nof love admits no delay. Good men always hold that a friend's life\nmust be saved even by a blameworthy deed; so that though this is a\nshameful and wrong action, it has yet become imperative for me. What\nelse can be done? What other course is there? I will certainly go to\nher. I will tell her his state.' Thus thinking, I left the place on\nsome pretext, and came hither without telling him, lest perchance\nhe should feel that I was engaged in an unseemly employment, and\nshould in shame hold me back. This being the state of affairs,\nthou, lady, art the judge of what action is needful for the time,\nworthy of so great a love, fitting for my coming, and right for\nthyself.\" With these words he became silent, fixing his eyes on my\nface to see what I should say. But I, having heard him, was plunged,\nas it were, into a lake of ambrosial joy, or immersed in an ocean\nof the sweets of love, floating above all joys, mounting to the\npinnacle of all desires, resting at the utmost bound of gladness. I\nshowed my happiness by joyful tears pouring clear, large, and heavy,\nbecause my eyelashes were not closed, strung like a garland by their\nunceasing succession, and not touching my cheek, because my face was\nsomewhat bent in sudden shame; (313) and I thought at once: \"0 joy,\nthat Love entangles him as well as me, so that even while tormenting\nme, he has in part showed me kindness; and if Pundarika is indeed in\nsuch a plight, what help has not Love given me, or what has he not\ndone for me, or what friend is like him, or how could a false tale,\neven in sleep, pass the lips of the calm-souled Kapi\u00f1jala? And if this\nbe so, what must I do, and what must I say in his presence?\" While\nI was thus deliberating, a portress hastily entered, and said to me:\n\"Princess, the Queen has learnt from her attendants that thou art ill,\nand is now coming.\" On hearing this, Kapi\u00f1jala, fearing the contact\nof a great throng, quickly rose, saying: \"Princess, a cause of great\ndelay has arisen. The sun, the crest-jewel of the three worlds, is\nnow sinking, so I will depart. But I raise my hands in salutation as\na slight offering for the saving of my dear friend's life; that is\nmy greatest treasure.\" (314) Then, without awaiting my reply, he with\ndifficulty departed, for the door was blocked by the entrance of the\nattendants that heralded my Lady Mother. There were the portresses\nbearing golden staves; the chamberlains with unguents, cosmetics,\nflowers, and betel, holding waving cowries; and in their train were\nhumpbacks, barbarians, deaf men, eunuchs, dwarfs, and deaf mutes.\n\n'\"'Then the Queen came to me, and after a long visit, went home;\nbut I observed nothing of what she did, said, or attempted while\nwith me, for my heart was far away. When she went the sun, with his\nsteeds bright as haritala pigeons, lord of life to the lotuses, and\nfriend of the cakravakas, had sunk to rest, and the face of the West\nwas growing crimson, and the lotus-beds were turning green, and the\nEast was darkening to blue; and the world of mortals was overcome\nby a blackness like a wave of the ocean of final destruction turbid\nwith the mud of hell. I knew not what to do, and asked Taralika,\n\"Seest thou not, Taralika, how confused is my mind? My senses are\nbewildered with uncertainty, and I am unable myself to see in the\nleast what I should do. (315) Do thou tell me what is right to do, for\nKapi\u00f1jala is now gone, and he told his tale in thy presence. What if,\nlike a base-born maiden, I cast away shame, relinquish self-control,\ndesert modesty, contemn the reproach of men, transgress good behaviour,\ntrample on conduct, despise noble birth, accept the disgrace of a\ncourse blinded by love, and without my father's leave, or my mother's\napproval, I were to go to him myself and offer him my hand? This\ntransgression against my parents would be a great wrong. But if,\ntaking the other alternative, I follow duty, I shall in the first\nplace accept death, and even so I shall break the heart of his\nreverence Kapi\u00f1jala, who loved him first, and who came hither of\nhis own accord. And again, if perchance that man's death is brought\nabout by my deed in destroying his hopes, then causing the death of\nan ascetic would be a grave sin.\" While I thus considered, the East\nbecame gray with the glimmering light of moonrise, like a line of\nwoods in spring with the pollen of flowers. And in the moonlight the\neastern quarter showed white as if with the powdered pearls from the\nfrontal bone of the elephant of darkness torn open by the lion-moon,\n(316) or pale with sandal-dust falling from the breast of the nymphs\nof the eastern mountain, or light with the rising of sand in an\nisland left by the tide, stirred by the wind on the waves of the\never-moving ocean. Slowly the moonlight glided down, and made bright\nthe face of night, as if it were the flash of her teeth as she softly\nsmiled at the sight of the moon; then evening shone with the moon's\norb, as if it were the circle of \u00c7esha's hoods breaking through the\nearth as it rose from hell; after that, night became fair with the\nmoon, the gladdener of the world of mortals, the delight of lovers,\nnow leaving its childhood behind and becoming the ally of Love,\nwith a youthful glow arising within it, the only fitting light for\nthe enjoyment of Love's pleasures, ambrosial, climbing the sky like\nyouth impersonate. Then I beheld the risen moon as if flushed with\nthe coral of the ocean it had just left, crimsoned with the blood\nof its deer struck by the paw of the lion of the Eastern Mountain,\nmarked with the lac of Rohini's [274] feet, as she spurned her lord\nin a love quarrel, (317) and ruddy with his newly-kindled glow. And\nI, though the fire of Love burnt within me, had my heart darkened;\nthough my body rested on the lap of Taralika, I was a captive in the\nhands of Love; though my eyes were fixed on the moon, I was looking\non death, and I straightway thought, \"There are the honey-month, the\nMalaya winds, and all other such things brought together, and in the\nsame place to have this evil miscreant moon cannot be endured. My\nheart cannot bear it. Its rising now is like a shower of coals to\none consumed by fever, or a fall of snow to one ill from cold, or the\nbite of a black snake to one faint with the swelling of poison.\" And\nas I thus thought, a swoon closed my eyes, like the sleep brought\nby moonlight that withers the lotuses of the day. Soon, however, I\nregained consciousness by means of the fanning and sandal unguents\nof the bewildered Taralika, and I saw her weeping, her face dimmed\nwith ceaseless tears, pressing the point of a moist moonstone to my\nbrow, and seeming possessed by despair impersonate. As I opened my\neyes, she fell at my feet, and said, raising hands yet wet with the\nthick sandal ointment: \"Princess, why think of shame or disrespect to\nparents? Be kind; send me, and I will fetch the beloved of thy heart;\n(318) rise, or go thither thyself. Henceforth thou canst not bear\nthis Love that is an ocean whose manifold passionate waves [275]\nare swelling at the rise of a strong moon.\" To this speech I replied:\n\"Mad girl, what is love to me? The moon it is, even the lord of the\nnight lotuses, who removes all scruples, undermines all search for\nmeans of escape, conceals all difficulties, takes away all doubts,\ncontemns all fears, roots out all shame, veils the sinful levity of\ngoing myself to my lover, avoids all delay, and has come merely to\nlead me either to Pundarika or to death. Rise, therefore; for while I\nhave life I will follow him and honour him who, dear as he is, tortures\nmy heart.\" Thus saying, I rose, leaning on her, for my limbs were yet\nunsteady with the weakness of the swoon caused by Love, and as I rose\nmy right eye throbbed, presaging ill, and in sudden terror I thought:\n\"What new thing is this threatened by Destiny?\"\n\n(319) '\"'The firmament was now flooded with moonlight, as if the\nmoon's orb, which had not yet risen far, was, like the waterpipe\nof the temple of the universe, discharging a thousand streams of\nthe heavenly Ganges, pouring forth the waves of an ambrosial ocean,\nshedding many a cascade of sandal-juice, and bearing floods of nectar;\nthe world seemed to learn what life was in the White Continent,\nand the pleasures of seeing the land of Soma; the round earth was\nbeing poured out from the depths of a Milky Ocean by the moon, which\nwas like the rounded tusk of the Great Boar; the moonrise offerings\nwere being presented in every house by the women with sandal-water\nfragrant with open lotuses; the highways were crowded with thousands\nof women-messengers sent by fair ladies; girls going to meet their\nlovers ran hither and thither, veiled in blue silk and fluttered\nby the dread of the bright moonlight as if they were the nymphs of\nthe white day lotus groves concealed in the splendours of the blue\nlotuses; the sky became an alluvial island in the river of night, with\nits centre whitened by the thick pollen of the groves of open night\nlotuses; while the night lotus-beds in the house-tanks were waking,\nencircled by bees which clung to every blossom; (320) the world of\nmortals was, like the ocean, unable to contain the joy of moonrise,\nand seemed made of love, of festivity, of mirth, and of tenderness:\nevening was pleasant with the murmur of peacocks garrulous in gladness\nat the cascade that fell from the waterpipes of moonstone.\n\n'\"'Taralika accompanied me, holding powders, perfumes, unguents,\nbetel, and various flowers, and I had also that napkin, wet with\nthe sandal ointment which had been applied in my swoon, and which\nhad its nap slightly disordered and gray with the partly-dried\nmark of sandalwood clinging to it; the rosary was on my neck; the\nparijata spray was kissing the tip of my ear; veiled in red silk\nthat seemed fashioned from rays of rubies, I went down from the top\nof that palace, unseen by any of my devoted attendants. On my way I\nwas pursued by a swarm of bees, which hastened, leaving lotus-beds\nand deserting gardens, drawn by the scent of the parijata spray,\nsportively forming a blue veil round me. I departed through the door\nof the pleasure-grove and set out to meet Pundarika. (321) As I went,\nI thought, seeing myself attended by Taralika only: \"What needs pomp\nof retinue when we seek our dearest! Surely our servants then but\nplay a mockery of attendance, for Love follows me with shaft fitted\nto the strung bow; the moon, stretching out a long ray, [276] draws\nme on like a hand; passion supports me at every step from fear of\na fall; my heart rushes on with the senses, leaving shame behind;\nlonging has gained certainty, and leads me on.\" Aloud I said: \"Oh,\nTaralika, would that this miscreant moon would with its beams seize\nhim by the hair and draw him forward like myself!\" As I thus spoke,\nshe smilingly replied: \"Thou art foolish, my princess! What does\nthe moon want with Pundarika? Nay, rather, he himself, as though\nwounded by Love, does all these things for thee; for under the guise\nof his image he kisses thy cheeks marked with drops of perspiration;\nwith trembling ray he falls on thy fair breast; he touches the gems\nof thy girdle; entangled in thy bright nails, he falls at thy feet;\nmoreover, the form of this lovesick moon wears the pallor of a sandal\nunguent dried by fever; (322) he stretches out his rays [277] white\nas lotus-fibres; under the guise of his reflection he falls on crystal\npavements; with rays [278] gray as the dust from the filaments inside\nthe ketaki, he plunges into lotus-pools; he touches with his beams\n[279] the moonstones wet with spray; he hates the day lotus-groves\nwith their pairs of cakravakas once severed.\" With such discourse\nfitting for the time I approached that spot in her company. I then\nbathed my feet, gray with pollen from the creeper flowers on our path,\nin a spot near Kapi\u00f1jala's abode which had a stream of moonstone,\nliquefied by moonrise, flowing from Kailasa's slope; and there,\non the left bank of the lake, I heard the sound of a man's weeping,\nsoftened by distance. Some fear had arisen within me at first, from\nthe quivering of my right eye, and now that my heart was yet more\ntorn by this cry, as if my downcast mind were telling some dreadful\ntidings within, I cried in terror: \"Taralika, what means this?\" And\nwith trembling limbs I breathlessly hastened on.\n\n'\"'Then I heard afar a bitter cry, clear in the calm of night: \"Alas,\nI am undone! I am consumed! I am deceived! What is this that has\nbefallen me? What has happened? I am uprooted! (323) Cruel demon Love,\nevil and pitiless, what shameful deed hast thou brought to pass? Ah,\nwicked, evil, wanton Maha\u00e7veta, how had he harmed thee? Ah, evil,\nwanton, monstrous [280] moon, thou hast gained thy desire. Cruel\nsoft breeze of the South, thy softness is gone, and thy will is\nfulfilled. That which was to be done is done. Go now as thou wilt! Ah,\nvenerable \u00c7vetaketu, tender to thy son, thou knowest not that thy\nlife is stolen from thee! Dharma, thou art dispossessed! Penance,\nthou art protectorless! Eloquence, thou art widowed! Truth, thou art\nlordless! Heaven, thou art void! Friend, protect me! Yet I will follow\nthee! I cannot remain even a moment without thee, alone! How canst thou\nnow suddenly leave me, and go thy way like a stranger on whom my eyes\nhad never rested? Whence comes this thy great hardness? Say, whither,\nwithout thee, shall I go? Whom shall I implore? What refuge shall I\nseek? I am blinded! For me space is empty! Life is aimless, penance\nvain, the world void of joy! With whom shall I wander, to whom speak,\nwith whom hold converse? Do thou arise! Grant me an answer. Friend,\nwhere is thine old love to me? Where that smiling welcome that never\nfailed me?\"\n\n(324) '\"'Such were the words I heard Kapi\u00f1jala utter; and as I heard\nthem I uttered a loud cry, while yet far off, as if my life had fallen;\nand with my silk cloak torn as it clung to the creepers by the lake's\nbank, and my feet placed on the ground regardless of its being rough\nor even, and as hastily as I could, I went on to that place, stumbling\nat every step, and yet as if led on by one who lifted me up again.\n\n'\"'There I beheld Pundarika lying on a couch made on a slab of\nmoonstone wet with showers of cool spray, close to the lake; it\nwas made of lotus-fibres like a garland of tender flowers from\nall lilies, and seemed to be formed wholly of the points of Love's\narrows. Pundarika seemed from his great stillness to be listening for\nthe sound of my step. He seemed to have gained a moment's happiness in\nsleep, as if Love's pain had been quenched by inward wrath; he seemed\nengaged in a yoga penance of holding his breath, as an atonement\nfor his breach of ascetic duty; he seemed to murmur, with bright yet\ntrembling lip: \"By thy deed am I come to this pass.\" He seemed pierced\nby the moonbeams which, under the guise of his bright finger-nails\nplaced on a heart throbbing with Love's fire, fell on his back as he\nlay averted in hatred of the moon. (325) He bore a mark on his brow\nof a line of sandal, which, by its being pale from dryness, was like\na digit of Love's waning moon portending his own destruction. Life\nseemed to leave him in anger, saying: \"Fool, another is dearer to thee\nthan I!\" His eyes were not wholly closed; their pupils were slightly\nturned to look; they were red with ceaseless weeping; they seemed to\ndrop blood, since by failure of breath his tears were exhausted; and\nthey were partly curved in pain at Love's darts. He now experienced\nthe pain of unconsciousness, as if together with the torment of love he\nwere also yielding life itself; he seemed to meditate a new version of\nLove's mystery, and to practise an unwonted retention of breath. His\nlife seemed to be carried off as a prize [281] by Love, who had in\nkindness arranged my coming. On his brow was a sandal tripundraka mark;\nhe wore a sacrificial thread of juicy lotus-fibre; his dress clung\nto his shoulder beautiful as the leaf that ensheathes a plantain;\nhis rosary had only the thickness of a single row; [282] the ashes on\nhis brow were of abundant white camphor-powder; he was fair with the\nstring of lotus-fibre, bound on his arm as an amulet; he seemed to wear\nthe garb of Love's vow, as if completing a charm for my coming. With\nhis eye he tenderly uttered the reproach: \"Hard-hearted! I was but\nfollowed by one glance, and never again received thy favour.\" (326)\nHis lips were slightly open, so that his form gleamed white in the\nrays of his teeth, which came forth as if they were moonbeams that\nhad entered him to take away his life; with his left hand placed on\na heart breaking with the pain of love, he seemed to say: \"Be kind,\ndepart not with my life, thou that art dear as life!\" and so to hold\nme firmly in his heart; his right hand, which from the uneven rays\nof his nails jutting forth seemed to drop sandal, was raised as if to\nward off the moonlight; near him stood his pitcher, the friend of his\npenance, with neck upright, as if it gazed at the path by which his\nlife was just rising; the garland of lotus-fibres which adorned his\nneck bound him as if with a rope of moonbeams to lead him to another\nworld; and when, at the sight of me, Kapi\u00f1jala, with a cry of \"Help,\nhelp!\" raised his hands, and crying aloud with redoubled tears, fell\non his neck, at that very moment I, wicked and ill-fated as I was,\nbeheld that noble youth yield up his life. The darkness of a swoon came\nupon me, and I descended into hell; nor knew I anything of whither\nI then went, or what I did or said. Neither knew I why my life did\nnot at that moment leave me; (327) whether from the utter hardness\nof my stupefied heart, or from the callousness to bear thousands\nof troubles of my wretched body, or from being fated to endure a\nlong grief, or from being a vessel of evil earned in another birth,\nor from the skill of my cruel destiny in bestowing sorrow, or from\nthe singular perversity of malign accursed love. Only this I know:\nthat when at length in my misery I regained consciousness, I found\nmyself writhing on the ground, tortured, as if I had fallen on a fire,\nby a grief too hard to bear. I could not believe aught so impossible\nas that he should die and I yet live, and rising with a bitter cry of\n\"Alas, what is this--mother, father, friends?\" I exclaimed: \"Ah, my\nLord, thou who upholdest my life, speak to me! Whither goest thou,\npitilessly leaving me alone and protectorless? Ask Taralika what I\nhave suffered for thy sake. Hardly have I been able to pass the day,\ndrawn out into a thousand ages. Be gracious! Utter but one word! Show\ntenderness to her that loves thee! Look but a little on me! Fulfil\nmy longing! I am wretched! I am loyal! I am thine in heart! I am\nlordless! I am young! I am helpless! I am unhappy! I am bereft of\nother refuge! I am vanquished by Love! Why showest thou no pity? Say\nwhat I have done or left undone, what command I have neglected,\nor in what thing pleasing to thee I have not shown affection, that\nthou art wroth. (328) Fearest thou not the reproach of men in that\nthou goest, deserting me, thy handmaid, without cause? Yet why think\nof me, perverse and wicked, and skilled to deceive by false shows of\nlove! Alas, I yet live! Alas, I am accursed and undone! For why? I\nhave neither thee, nor honour, nor kinsfolk, nor heaven. Shame on\nme, a worker of evil deeds, for whose sake this fate hath befallen\nthee. There is none of so murderous a heart as I who went home,\nleaving one so peerless as thou. What to me were home, mother,\nfather, kinsfolk, followers? Alas, to what refuge shall I flee? Fate,\nshow pity to me! I entreat thee. Lady of destiny, give me a boon of\nmercy! Show compassion! Protect a lordless lady! Ye woodland goddesses,\nbe kind! Give back his life! Help, Earth, that bringest favours to\nall! Night, showest thou no mercy? Father Kailasa, thy protection\nI implore. Show thy wonted pity!\" Such were my laments, so far as\nI remember, and I murmured incoherently as one held by a demon,\nor possessed or mad, or struck down by an evil spirit. In the tears\nthat fell in torrents upon me I was turned to water, I melted away,\nI took upon me a shape of water; my laments, followed by the sharp\nrays of my teeth, fell as if with showers of tears; (329) my hair,\nwith its flowers ever falling, seemed to shed teardrops, and my\nvery ornaments by the tears of pure gemlight that sprang from them\nseemed to raise their lament. I longed for my own death as for his\nlife; I yearned to enter his heart with my whole soul, dead though\nhe were; with my hand I touched his cheeks, and his brow with the\nroots of his hair, white with dry sandal, and his shoulders with the\nlotus-fibres on them, and his heart covered with lotus-leaves and\nflecks of sandal-juice. With the tender reproach, \"Thou art cruel,\nPundarika! Thou carest nought that I am thus wretched!\" I again\nsought to win him back. I again embraced him, I again clasped his\nneck, and wept aloud. Then I rebuked that string of pearls, saying:\n\"Ah, wicked one, couldst not even thou have preserved his life till\nmy coming?\" Then again I fell at Kapi\u00f1jala's feet with the prayer,\n\"Be kind, my lord; restore him to life!\" and again, clinging to\nTaralika's neck, I wept. Even now, when I think of it, I know\nnot how these piteous, tender words came forth from my ill-fated\nheart--words all unthought, unlearnt, untaught, unseen before;\nnor whence these utterances arose; nor whence these heart-rending\ncries of despair. My whole being was changed. (330) For there rose a\ndeluge wave of inward tears, the springs of weeping were set loose,\nthe buds of wailing came forth, the peaks of sorrow grew lofty and\na long line of madness was begun.' And so, as she thus told her own\ntale, she seemed again to taste the bitterness of that former plight,\nso cruel, and so hardly endured, and a swoon bereft her of sense. In\nthe force of her swoon she fell on the rock, and Candrapida hastily\nstretched out his hand, like her servant, and supported her, full of\nsorrow. At length he brought her back to consciousness by fanning\nher with the edge of her own bark garment, wet with tears. Filled\nwith pity, and with his cheeks bathed in tears, he said to her,\nas she came to life: 'Lady, it is by my fault that thy grief has\nbeen brought back to its first freshness, and that thou hast come to\nthis pass. Therefore no more of this tale. Let it be ended. Even I\ncannot bear to hear it. For the story even of past sorrow endured by\na friend pains us as if we ourselves were living through it. [283]\nThou wilt not therefore surely place on the fire of grief that life\nso precious and so hardly preserved?' (331) Thus addressed, with a\nlong, hot sigh and eyes dissolved in tears, she despairingly replied:\n'Prince, even in that dreadful night my hated life did not desert me;\n[284] it is not likely that it will leave me now. Even blessed Death\nturns away his eyes from one so ill-fated and wicked. Whence could\none so hard-hearted feel grief? all this can be but feigned in a\nnature so vile. But be that as it may, that shameless heart has\nmade me chief among the shameless. For to one so adamantine as to\nhave seen love in all his power, and yet to have lived through this,\nwhat can mere speaking of it matter?\n\n'\"'Or what could there be harder to tell than this very thing, which\nis supposed to be impossible to hear or say? I will at least briefly\ntell the marvel that followed on that thunderbolt, and I will tell,\ntoo, what came as a tiny dim cause of my prolonging my life, which by\nits mirage so deludes me that I bear about a hated body, almost dead,\nalien to me, burdensome, unfitted to my needs, and thankless for my\ncare. That shall suffice. Afterwards, in a sudden change [285] of\nfeeling, with resolve firmly set on death, lamenting bitterly, I cried\nto Taralika: \"Rise, cruel-hearted girl; how long wilt thou weep? Bring\ntogether wood and make a pile. I will follow the lord of my life.\"\n\n(332) '\"'Straightway a being swiftly left the moon's orb and descended\nfrom the sky. Behind him he trailed a silken vesture hanging from\nhis crest, white as the foam of nectar, and waving in the wind;\nhis cheeks were reddened with the bright gems that swayed in his\nears; on his breast he bore a radiant necklace, from the size of its\npearls like a cluster of stars; his turban was tied with strips of\nwhite silk; his head was thick with curling locks, and dark as bees;\nhis earring was an open moon lotus; on his shoulder was the impress\nof the saffron lines that adorned his wives; he was white as a moon\nlotus, lofty in stature, endowed with all the marks of greatness, and\ngodlike in form; he seemed to purify space by the light shed round him\nclear as pure water, and to anoint it as by a thick frost with a dewy\nambrosial shower that created a chill as he shed it from his limbs,\ncool and fragrant, and to besprinkle it with a rich store of go\u00e7irsha\n[286] sandal-juice.\n\n'\"'With arms sturdy as the trunk of Airavata, and fingers white as\nlotus-fibres and cool to the touch, he lifted my dead lord, (333)\nand, in a voice deep as a drum, he said to me: \"Maha\u00e7veta, my child,\nthou must not die; for thou shalt again be united with him!\" And with\nthese words, tender as a father's, he flew into the sky with Pundarika.\n\n'\"'But this sudden event filled me with fear, dismay, and eager\nanxiety, and with upraised face I asked Kapi\u00f1jala what it might\nmean. He, however, started up hastily without replying, and with the\ncry, \"Monster, whither goest thou with my friend?\" with uplifted eyes\nand sudden wrath he hastily girt up his loins, and following him in\nhis flight, in hot pursuit he rose into the sky; and while I yet gazed\nthey all entered amongst the stars. But the departure of Kapi\u00f1jala was\nto me like a second death of my beloved, and it redoubled my grief,\nso that my heart was rent asunder. Bewildered what to do, I cried\nto Taralika: \"Knowest thou not? Tell me what this means!\" But she,\nwith all a woman's timidity at the sight, was at that very moment\ntrembling in all her limbs, overcome by a fear stronger than her grief,\nand was frightened, moreover, by the dread of my death; and so with\ndowncast heart she piteously replied: \"Princess, wretch that I am,\nI know not! Yet this is a great miracle. The man is of no mortal\nmould, and thou wert pityingly comforted by him in his flight as by a\nfather. Such godlike beings are not wont to deceive us, even in sleep,\nmuch less face to face; and when I think it over I cannot see the\nleast cause for his speaking falsely. (334) It is meet, therefore,\nthat thou shouldst weigh it, and restrain thy longing for death. In\nthy present state it is in truth a great ground for comfort. Moreover,\nKapi\u00f1jala has gone in pursuit of Pundarika. From him thou canst learn\nwhence and who this being is, and why Pundarika on his death was by\nhim raised and carried off, and whither he is carried, and wherefore\nthou wert consoled by him with the boon of a hope of reunion that\nexceeds thought; then thou canst devote thyself either to life or\ndeath. For when death is resolved upon, it is easy to compass. But\nthis can wait; for Kapi\u00f1jala, if he lives, will certainly not rest\nwithout seeing thee; therefore let thy life be preserved till his\nreturn.\" Thus saying, she fell at my feet. And I, from the thirst\nfor life that mortals find so hard to overcome, and from the weakness\nof woman's nature, and from the illusion his words had created, and\nfrom my anxiety for Kapi\u00f1jala's return, thought that that plan was\nbest for the time, and did not die. For what will not hope achieve?\n\n'\"'That night I spent in Taralika's company on the bank of the lake. To\nmy wretchedness it was like a night of doom, [287] drawn out to a\nthousand years, all torment, all grief, all hell, all fire. (335)\nSleep was rooted out, and I tossed on the ground; my face was hidden\nby the loosened and dishevelled tresses that clung to my cheeks,\nwet with tears and gray with dust, and my throat was weak, for my\nvoice failed, broken with piteous weeping.\n\n'\"'At dawn I arose and bathed in the lake, and having formed my\nresolve, I took, for love of Pundarika, his pitcher and his bark\ngarments and his rosary; for I clearly knew the worthlessness of the\nworld. I perceived my own lack of merit; I pictured to myself the\nremediless cruelty of the blows of fate; I pondered the inevitableness\nof grief; I beheld the harshness of destiny; I meditated the course\nof love, rich in sorrow; I learnt the inconstancy of earthly things;\nI considered the frailness of all joys. Father and mother were\ndisregarded; kinsfolk and followers abandoned; the joys of earth were\nbanished from my mind; the senses held in firm restraint.\n\n'\"'I took the ascetic vow, and sought the protection of \u00c7iva, lord\nof the three worlds and helper of the helpless. Next day my father\ncame, having somehow learnt my story, bringing with him my mother and\nkinsfolk. Long he wept, and strove with all his might and by every\nmeans--prayers, admonitions, and tender words of every kind--to lead\nme home. (336) And when he understood my firm resolve, and knew that I\ncould not be turned from that infatuation, he could not, even though\nwithout hope, part with his love for his child; and though I often\nbade him go, he stayed for some days, and went home at length full\nof grief, and with his heart hot within him.\n\n'\"'After his going, it was only by empty tears that I could show\nmy gratitude to my lord; by many a penance I wasted my hated body,\nworn away by love of him, rich in ill, devoid of shame, ill-omened,\nand the home of a thousand tortures of grief; I lived but on water\nand the roots and fruits of the wood; under the guise of telling\nmy beads I counted his virtues; thrice a day I bathed in the lake;\nI daily worshipped \u00c7iva, and in this cell I dwelt with Taralika,\ntasting the bitterness of a long grief. Such am I, evil, ill-omened,\nshameless, cruel, cold, murderous, contemptible, useless, fruitless,\nhelpless, and joyless. (337) Why should one so noble as thou deign\nto look on or speak with me, the doer of that monstrous crime, the\nslaughter of a Brahman?' Thus saying, she covered her face with the\nwhite edge of her bark garment, as if veiling the moon with a fleck\nof autumn cloud, and, unable to quell the irresistible torrent of\nher tears, she gave way to her sobs, and began to weep loud and long.\n\n'\"From the very first Candrapida had been filled with reverence\nby her beauty, modesty, and courtesy; by the charm of her speech,\nher unselfishness and her austerity; and by her serenity, humility,\ndignity, and purity. But now he was carried away both by the story of\nher life, which showed her noble character, and by her devoted spirit,\nand a fresh tenderness arose in him. With softened heart he gently\nsaid: 'Lady, those may weep who fear pain, and are devoid of gratitude,\nand love pleasure, for they are unable to do anything worthy of love,\nand show their affection merely by vain tears. But thou who hast\ndone all rightly, what duty of love hast thou left undone, that thou\nweepest? For Pundarika's sake, thy kinsfolk who from thy birth have\nbeen around thee, dear as they were, have been forsaken as if they\nwere strangers. (338) Earthly pleasures, though at thy feet, have\nbeen despised and reckoned light as grass. The joys of power, though\ntheir riches excelled the empire of Indra, have been resigned. Thy\nform has been emaciated by dread penances, even though by nature it\nwas slender as a lotus-stalk. Thou hast taken the ascetic vow. Thy\nsoul has been devoted to great penance. Thou hast dwelt in the woods,\nhard though it be for a woman. Moreover, life is easily resigned by\nthose whom sorrow has overwhelmed, but it needs a greater effort not\nto throw away life in heavy grief. This following another to death is\nmost vain! It is a path followed by the ignorant! It is a mere freak\nof madness, a path of ignorance, an enterprise of recklessness, a view\nof baseness, a sign of utter thoughtlessness, and a blunder of folly,\nthat one should resign life on the death of father, brother, friend,\nor husband. If life leaves us not of itself, we must not resign\nit. For this leaving of life, if we examine it, is merely for our\nown interest, because we cannot bear our own cureless pain. To the\ndead man it brings no good whatever. For it is no means of bringing\nhim back to life, or heaping up merit, or gaining heaven for him,\nor saving him from hell, or seeing him again, or being reunited with\nhim. (339) For he is led helplessly, irresistibly to another state\nmeet for the fruits of his own deeds. And yet he shares in the guilt\nof the friend who has killed himself. But a man who lives on can help\ngreatly, by offerings of water and the like, both the dead man and\nhimself; but by dying he helps neither. Remember how Rati, the sole\nand beloved wife of Love, when her noble husband, who won the hearts\nof all women, was burnt up by the fire of \u00c7iva, yet did not yield\nher life; and remember also Kunti, of the race of Vrishni, daughter\nof Surasena, for her lord was Pandu the wise; his seat was perfumed\nby the flowers in the crests of all the kings whom he had conquered\nwithout an effort, and he received the tribute of the whole earth,\nand yet when he was consumed by Kindama's curse she still remained\nalive. Uttara, too, the young daughter of Virata, on the death of\nAbhimanyu, gentle and heroic, and joyful to the eyes as the young\nmoon, yet lived on. And Duh\u00e7alya, too, daughter of Dhritarashtra,\ntenderly cared for by her hundred brothers; when Jayadratha, king of\nSindhu, was slain by Arjuna, fair as he was and great as he had become\nby \u00c7iva's [288] gift, yet made no resignation of her life. (340)\nAnd others are told of by thousands, daughters of Rakshasas, gods,\ndemons, ascetics, mortals, siddhas and Gandharvas, who when bereft\nof their husbands yet preserved their lives. Still, where reunion\nis doubtful, life might be yielded. But for thee, thou hast heard\nfrom that great being a promise of reunion. What doubt can there be\nin a matter of thine own experience, and how could falsehood find\na place in the words of such noble truth-speaking saints, even when\nthere might be greater cause? And what union could there be between\nthe dead and the living? Therefore of a surety that wondrous being\nwas filled with pity and carried away Pundarika to heaven solely\nto bring him back to life. For the power of great men transcends\nthought. Life has many aspects. Destiny is manifold. Those skilled in\npenance are fitted for wondrous miracles. Many are the forms of power\ngained by previous actions. Moreover, however subtly we may consider\nthe matter, what other cause can we imagine for Pundarika's being\ntaken away, but the gift of fresh life. And this, thou must know,\nis not impossible. It is a path often trodden. (341) For Pramadvara,\ndaughter of Vi\u00e7vavasu, king of the Gandharvas and Menaka, lost her\nlife through a poisonous snake at the hermitage of Sthulake\u00e7a, and\nthe young ascetic Ruru, son of Pramati and grandson of the Bhrigu\nCyavana, provided her with half his own life. And when Arjuna was\nfollowing the A\u00e7vamedha steed, he was pierced in the van of the\nbattle by an arrow from his own son Babhruvahana, and a Naga maiden,\nUlupa, brought him back to life. When Parikshit, Abhimanyu's son,\nwas consumed by A\u00e7vatthama's fiery dart, though he had already died\nat birth, Krishna, filled with pity by Uttara's lament, restored\nhis precious life. And at Ujjayini, he whose steps are honoured\nby the three worlds, carried off from the city of death the son of\nSandipani the Brahman, and brought him back. [289] And in thy case,\ntoo, the same will somehow come to pass. For by thy present grief,\nwhat is effected or what won? Fate is all-powerful. Destiny is\nstrong. We cannot even draw a breath at our own will. The freaks of\nthat accursed and most harsh destiny are exceeding cruel. A love fair\nin its sincerity is not allowed long to endure; for joys are wont to\nbe in their essence frail and unlasting, while sorrows by their nature\nare long-lived. (342) For how hardly are mortals united in one life,\nwhile in a thousand lives they are separated. Thou canst not surely\nthen blame thyself, all undeserving of blame. For these things often\nhappen to those who enter the tangled path of transmigration, and it\nis the brave who conquer misfortune.' With such gentle and soothing\nwords he consoled her, and made her, albeit reluctantly, bathe her\nface with water brought in his joined hands from the cascade.\n\n'\"Straightway the sun began to sink, as if he were leaving the day's\nduties from grief at hearing Maha\u00e7veta's story. Then day faded away;\nthe sun hung shining red as the pollen of a cluster of priyangu in full\nblossom; the quarters of space were losing the glow of sunset soft\nas silk dyed in the juice of many lotuses; (343) the sky was tinged\nwith red, glowing like the pupils of a partridge, [290] while its\nblue was hidden; twilight was reddening and lighting up the earth,\ntawny as a pigeon's eye; the clusters of stars shone forth, vying\nwith each other; the darkness of night was deepening into black,\nand stealing away the broad path of the stars with its form dark as a\nforest buffalo; the woodland avenues seemed massed together as their\ngreen was hidden by deep gloom; the wind wandered cooled by night-dew,\nwith its path tracked by the perfume of the wild flowers as it stirred\nthe tangle of trees and creepers; and when night had its birds all\nstill in sleep Maha\u00e7veta slowly rose, and saying her evening prayers,\nwashed her feet with water from the pitcher and sat down with a hot,\nsorrowful sigh on her bark couch. Candrapida, too, rose and poured a\nlibation of water strewn with flowers, said his evening prayer, and\nmade a couch on the other rock with soft creeper boughs. As he rested\nupon it he went over Maha\u00e7veta's story again in his mind. 'This evil\nLove,' thought he, 'has a power hard alike to cure and to endure. For\neven great men, when overcome by him, regard not the course of time,\nbut suddenly lose all courage and surrender life. Yet all hail to\nLove, whose rule is honoured throughout the three worlds!' (344)\nAnd again he asked her: 'She that was thy handmaiden, thy friend in\nthe resolve to dwell in the woods, and the sharer of the ascetic vow\ntaken in thy sorrow--Taralika, where is she?' 'Noble sir,' she replied,\n'from the race of Apsarases sprung from ambrosia of which I told you,\nthere was born a fair-eyed daughter named Madira, [291] who married\nKing Citraratha, the king whose footstool was formed of the buds in\nthe crests of all the Gandharvas. Charmed by her countless virtues,\nhe showed his favour by giving her the title of Chief Queen, bearing\nwith it cowrie, sceptre and umbrella, marked by a golden throne,\nand placing all the zenana below her--a woman's rarest glory! And,\nas they pursued together the joys of youth in their utter devotion\nto each other, a priceless daughter was in due time born to them,\nby name Kadambari, most wondrous, the very life of her parents, and\nof the whole Gandharva race, and even of all living beings. From her\nbirth she was the friend of my childhood, and shared with me seat,\ncouch, meat and drink; on her my deepest love was set, and she was\nthe home of all my confidence, and like my other heart. Together we\nlearnt to dance and sing, and our childhood passed away free from\nrestraint in the sports that belong to it. (345) From sorrow at my\nunhappy story she made a resolve that she would in nowise accept a\nhusband while I was still in grief, and before her girl friends she\ntook an oath, saying: \"If my father should in anywise or at any time\nwish to marry me against my will and by force, I will end my life\nby hunger, fire, cord, or poison.\" Citraratha himself heard all the\nresolution of his daughter, spoken of positively in the repeated\ngossip of her attendants, and as time went on, seeing that she was\ngrowing to full youth, he became prey to great vexation, and for a\ntime took pleasure in nothing, and yet, as she was his only child and\nhe dearly loved her, he could say nothing to her, though he saw no\nother resource. But as he deemed the time now ripe, he considered the\nmatter with Queen Madira, and sent the herald Kshiroda to me at early\ndawn with the message: \"Dear Maha\u00e7veta, our hearts were already burnt\nup by thy sad fate, and now this new thing has come upon us. To thee\nwe look to win back Kadambari.\" Thereupon, in reverence to the words\nof one so respected, and in love to my friend, I sent Taralika with\nKshiroda to bid Kadambari not add grief to one already sad enough;\n(346) for if she wished me to live she must fulfil her father's words;\nand ere Taralika had been long gone, thou, noble sir, camest to this\nspot.' So saying she was silent.\n\n'\"Then the moon arose, simulating by his mark the heart of Maha\u00e7veta,\nburnt through by the fire of grief, bearing the great crime of\nthe young ascetic's death, showing the long ingrained scar of the\nburning of Daksha's curse, [292] white with thick ashes, and half\ncovered by black antelope skin, like the left breast of Durga, the\ncrest-jewel of \u00c7iva's thick locks. (347) Then at length Candrapida\nbeheld Maha\u00e7veta asleep, and quietly lay down himself on his leafy\ncouch and fell asleep while thinking what Vai\u00e7ampayana and sorrowing\nPatralekha and his princely compeers would then be imagining about him.\n\n'\"Then at dawn, when Maha\u00e7veta had honoured the twilight and was\nmurmuring the aghamarshana, and Candrapida had said his morning\nprayer, Taralika was seen coming with a Gandharva boy named Keyuraka\n(348). As she drew near, she looked long at Candrapida, wondering\nwho he might be, and approaching Maha\u00e7veta, she bowed low and sat\nrespectfully by her. Then Keyuraka, with head low bent even from\nafar, took his place on a rock some way off, assigned to him by a\nglance from Maha\u00e7veta, and was filled with wonder at the sight of\nCandrapida's marvellous beauty, rare, mocking that of gods, demons,\nGandharvas, and Vidyadharas, and surpassing even the god of love.\n\n(349) '\"When she had finished her prayers, Maha\u00e7veta asked Taralika,\n'Didst thou see my dear Kadambari well? and will she do as I\nsaid?' 'Princess,' said Taralika, in a very sweet voice, with\nhead respectfully inclined, 'I saw Princess Kadambari well in all\nrespects, and told her all thine advice; and what was her reply,\nwhen with a continuous stream of thick tears she had heard it, that\nher lute-player Keyuraka, whom she has sent, shall tell thee;' and\nas she ceased Keyuraka said, 'Princess Maha\u00e7veta, my lady Kadambari,\nwith a close embrace, sends this message, \"Is this, that Taralika\nhas been sent to tell me, said to please my parents or to test my\nfeelings, or to subtly reproach me for my crime in dwelling at home;\nor is it a desire to break our friendship, or a device to desert\none who loves her, or is it simply anger? Thou knowest that my heart\noverflows with a love that was inborn in me. How wert thou not ashamed\nto send so cruel a message? Thou, erst so soft of speech, from whom\nhast thou learnt to speak unkindness and utter reproach? Who in his\nsenses would, even if happy, make up his mind to undertake even a\nslight matter that would end in pain? how much less one like me,\nwhose heart is struck down by deep grief? For in a heart worn by a\nfriend's sorrow, what hope is there of joy, what contentment, what\npleasures or what mirth? (350) How should I fulfil the desire of Love,\npoisonous, pitiless, unkind, who has brought my dear friend to so\nsad a plight? Even the hen cakravaka, when the lotus-beds are widowed\nby the sun's setting, renounces from the friendship that arises from\ndwelling among them, the joys of union with her lord; how much more,\nthen, should women! While my friend dwells day and night sorrowing\nfor the loss of her lord and avoiding the sight of mankind, how\ncould anyone else enter my heart; and while my friend in her sorrow\ntortures herself with penances and suffers great pain, how could I\nthink so lightly of that as to seek my own happiness and accept a\nhusband, or how could any happiness befall me? For from love of thee\nI have in this matter accepted disgrace by embracing an independent\nlife contrary to the wont of maidens. I have despised noble breeding,\ntransgressed my parent's commands, set at nought the gossip of mankind,\nthrown away modesty, a woman's inborn grace; how, tell me, should such\na one go back? Therefore I salute thee, I bow before thee, I embrace\nthy feet; be gracious to me. As thou hast gone hence into the forest,\ntaking my life with thee, make not this request in thy mind, even in\na dream.\"' (351) Thus having said, he became silent, and Maha\u00e7veta\nthought long, and then dismissed Keyuraka, saying, 'Do thou depart;\nI will go to her and do what is fitting.' On his departure she said\nto Candrapida, 'Prince, Hemakuta is pleasant and the royal city of\nCitraratha marvellous; the Kinnara country is curious, the Gandharva\nworld beautiful, and Kadambari is noble and generous of heart. If\nthou deemest not the journey too tedious, if no serious business is\nhindered, if thy mind is curious to behold rare sights, if thou art\nencouraged by my words, if the sight of wonders gives thee joy, if\nthou wilt deign to grant my request, if thou thinkest me worthy of\nnot being denied, if any friendship has grown up between us, or if\nI am deserving of thy favour, then thou canst not disdain to fulfil\nthis prayer. Thou canst go hence with me, and see not only Hemakuta,\nthat treasure of beauty, but my second self, Kadambari; and having\nremoved this foolish freak of hers, thou canst rest for one day,\nand return hither the next morn. For by the sight of thy kindness so\nfreely [293] given, my grief has become bearable, since I have told\nthee my story, breathed out as it was from a heart long overwhelmed\nwith the darkness of grief. (352) For the presence of the good gives\njoy even to those who are sad at heart, and a virtue springs from\nsuch as thou art that wholly tends to make others happy.'\n\n'\"'Lady,' replied Candrapida, 'from the first moment of seeing thee\nI have been devoted to thy service. Let thy will be imposed without\nhesitation'; so saying, he started in her company.\n\n'\"In due time he reached Hemakuta, the royal city of the Gandharvas,\nand passing through the seven inner courts with their golden arches,\nthe prince approached the door of the maidens' dwelling. Escorted\nby porters, who ran forward at the sight of Maha\u00e7veta, bowing while\nyet far off, and holding their golden staves, he entered and beheld\nthe inside of the maidens' palace. It seemed a new woman's world,\nconsisting wholly of women in countless numbers, as if the womankind\nof the three worlds had been gathered together to make such a total;\nor it might be a fresh manless creation, a yet unborn continent of\ngirls, a fifth women's era, a fresh race created by Prajapati out of\nhatred for men, or a treasury of women prepared for the making of many\nyugas. The wave of girlish beauty which surrounded it on all sides,\nwhich flooded space, sprinkled nectar on the day, rained splendour on\nthe interstices of the world, and shone lustrous as an emerald, made\nthe place all aglow as if with thousands of moons; (353) it seemed\nmodelled in moonlight; jewels made another sky; service was done by\nbright glances; every part was made for youthful pleasures; here was\nan assemblage for Rati's sports, a material for Love's practice; here\nthe entrance of all was made smooth by Love; here all was affection,\nbeauty, the supreme deity of passion, the arrows of Love, here all\nwas wonder, marvel, and tenderness of youth. (356) When he had gone a\nlittle way in he heard the pleasant talk of the maidens round Kadambari\nas they wandered hither and thither. Such as 'Lavalika, deck the\nlavali trenches with ketaki pollen. Sagarika, sprinkle jewelled dust\nin the tanks of scented water. Mrinalika, inlay with saffron dust the\npairs of toy [294] cakravakas in the artificial lotus-beds. Makarika,\nscent the pot-pourri with camphor-juice. Rajanika, place jewelled\nlamps in the dark tamala avenues. Kumudika, cover the pomegranates\nwith pearly nets to keep off the birds. Nipunika, draw saffron\nlines on the breasts of the jewelled dolls. Utpalika, sweep with\ngolden brooms the emerald arbour in the plaintain house. Kesarika,\nsprinkle with wine the houses of bakul flowers. Malatika, redden with\nred lead the ivory roof of Kama's shrine. Nalinika, give the tame\nkalahamsas lotus-honey to drink. Kadalika, take the tame peacocks to\nthe shower-bath. Kamalinika, give some sap from the lotus-fibres to\nthe young cakravakas. Cutalatika, give the caged pigeons their meal\nof mango-buds. Pallavika, distribute to the tame haritala pigeons\nsome topmost leaves of the pepper-tree. Lavangika, throw some pieces\nof pippali leaves into the partridges' cages. Madhukarika, make some\nflowery ornaments. Mayurika, dismiss the pairs of kinnaras in the\nsinging-room. Kandalika, bring up the pairs of partridges to the top\nof the playing hill. Harinika, give the caged parrots and mainas\ntheir lesson.'\n\n(358) '\"Then he beheld Kadambari herself in the midst of her pavilion\nencircled by a bevy of maidens sitting by her, whose glittering gems\nmade them like a cluster of kalpa trees. [295] (359) She was resting\non her bent arms, which lay on a white pillow placed on a small couch\ncovered with blue silk; she was fanned by cowrie-bearers, that in the\nmotion of their waving arms were like swimmers in the wide-flowing\nstream of her beauty, as if it covered the earth, which was only held\nup by the tusks of Mahavaraha.\n\n'\"And as her reflection fell, she seemed on the jewelled pavement\nbelow to be borne away by serpents; on the walls hard by to be led\nby the guardians of space; on the roof above to be cast upwards by\nthe gods; to be received by the pillars into their inmost heart;\nto be drunk in by the palace mirrors, to be lifted to the sky by the\nVidyadharas scattered in the pavilion, looking down from the roof;\nto be surrounded by the universe concealed in the guise of pictures,\nall thronging together to see her; to be gazed at by the palace itself,\nwhich had gained a thousand eyes to behold her, in that the eyes of its\npeacocks' tails were outspread as they danced to the clashing of her\ngems; and to be steadily looked on by her own attendants, who seemed\nin their eagerness to behold her to have gained a divine insight.\n\n'\"Her beauty bore the impress of awakening love, though but yet in\npromise, and she seemed to be casting childhood aside like a thing\nof no worth.\n\n(365) '\"Such was Kadambari as the prince beheld her. Before her was\nseated Keyuraka, loud in praise of Candrapida's beauty, as Kadambari\nquestioned him, saying, 'Who is he, and what are his parentage, name,\nappearance, and age? What did he say, and what didst thou reply? How\nlong didst thou see him? how has he become so close a friend to\nMaha\u00e7veta? and why is he coming hither?'\n\n'\"Now, on beholding the moonlike beauty of Kadambari's face, the\nprince's heart was stirred like the tide of ocean. 'Why,' thought he,\n'did not the Creator make all my senses into sight, or what noble\ndeed has my eye done that it may look on her unchecked? Surely it is\na wonder! The Creator has here made a home for every charm! Whence\nhave the parts of this exceeding beauty been gathered? Surely from\nthe tears that fell from the Creator's eyes in the labour of thought,\nas he gently moulded her with his hands, all the lotuses in the world\nhave their birth.'\n\n(366) '\"And as he thus thought his eye met hers, and she, thinking,\n'This is he of whom Keyuraka spoke,' let her glance, widened by wonder\nat his exceeding beauty, dwell long and quietly on him. Confused\nby the sight of Kadambari, yet illumined by the brightness of her\ngaze, he stood for a moment like a rock, while at the sight of him a\nthrill rose in Kadambari, her jewels clashed, and she half rose. Then\nlove caused a glow, but the excuse was the effort of hastily rising;\ntrembling hindered her steps--the hamsas around, drawn by the sound of\nthe anklets, got the blame; the heaving of a sigh stirred her robe--it\nwas thought due to the wind of the cowries; her hand fell on her heart,\nas if to touch Candrapida's image that had entered in--it pretended to\ncover her bosom; she let fall tears of joy--the excuse was the pollen\nfalling from the flowers in her ear. Shame choked her voice--the swarm\nof bees hastening to the lotus sweetness of her mouth was the cause;\n(367) the pain of the first touch of Love's arrow caused a sigh--the\npain of the ketaki thorns amidst the flowers shared the guilt; a tremor\nshook her hand--keeping off the portress who had come with a message\nwas her pretence; and while love was thus entering into Kadambari,\na second love, as it were, arose, who with her entered the heart\nof Candrapida. For he thought the flash of her jewels but a veil,\nher entrance into his heart a favour, the tinkling of her gems a\nconversation, her capture of all his senses a grace, and contact\nwith her bright beauty the fulfilment of all his wishes. Meanwhile\nKadambari, advancing with difficulty a few steps, affectionately and\nwith yearning embraced her friend, who also yearned for the sight\nof her so long delayed; and Maha\u00e7veta returned her embrace yet more\nclosely, and said, 'Dear Kadambari, in the land of Bharata there is a\nking named Tarapida, who wards off all grief [296] from his subjects,\nand who has impressed his seal on the Four Oceans by the edge of the\nhoofs of his noble steeds; and this his son, named Candrapida, decked\n[297] with the orb of earth resting on the support of his own rock-like\narms, has, in pursuit of world conquest, approached this land; and\nhe, from the moment I first beheld him, has instinctively become my\nfriend, though there was nought to make him so; and, though my heart\nwas cold from its resignation of all ties, yet he has attracted it by\nthe rare and innate nobility of his character. (368) For it is rare\nto find a man of keen mind who is at once true of heart, unselfish in\nfriendship, and wholly swayed by courtesy. Wherefore, having beheld\nhim, I brought him hither by force. For I thought thou shouldst\nbehold as I have done a wonder of Brahma's workmanship, a peerless\nowner of beauty, a supplanter of Lakshmi, earth's joy in a noble lord,\nthe surpassing of gods by mortals, the full fruition of woman's eyes,\nthe only meeting-place of all graces, the empire of nobility, and the\nmirror of courtesy for men. And my dear friend has often been spoken\nof to him by me. Therefore dismiss shame on the ground of his being\nunseen before, lay aside diffidence as to his being a stranger, cast\naway suspicion rising from his character being unknown, and behave\nto him as to me. He is thy friend, thy kinsman, and thy servant.' At\nthese words of hers Candrapida bowed low before Kadambari, and as she\nglanced sideways at him affectionately there fell from her eyes, with\ntheir beautiful pupils turned towards the corner of their long orbs,\na flood of joyous tears, as though from weariness. The moonlight of a\nsmile, white as nectar, darted forth, as if it were the dust raised\nby the heart as it hastily set out; one eyebrow was raised as if to\nbid the head honour with an answering reverence the guest so dear to\nthe heart; (369) her hand crept to her softly parting lips, and might\nseem, as the light of an emerald ring flashed between the fingers,\nto have taken some betel. She bowed diffidently, and then sat down on\nthe couch with Maha\u00e7veta, and the attendants quickly brought a stool\nwith gold feet and a covering of white silk, and placed it near the\ncouch, and Candrapida took his seat thereon. To please Maha\u00e7veta, the\nportresses, knowing Kadambari's wishes, and having by a hand placed on\nclosed lips received an order to stop all sounds, checked on every side\nthe sound of pipe, lute and song, and the Magadha women's cry of 'All\nhail!' (370) When the servants had quickly brought water, Kadambari\nherself washed Maha\u00e7veta's feet, and, drying them with her robe,\nsat on the couch again; and Madalekha, a friend worthy of Kadambari,\ndear as her own life and the home of all her confidence, insisted\non washing Candrapida's feet, unwilling though he were. Maha\u00e7veta\nmeanwhile asked Kadambari how she was, and lovingly touched with her\nhand the corner of her friend's eyes, which shone with the reflected\nlight of her earrings; she lifted the flowers in Kadambari's ear,\nall covered with bees, and softly stroked the coils of her hair,\nroughened by the wind of the cowries. And Kadambari, ashamed, from\nlove to her friend, of her own well-being, as though feeling that in\nstill dwelling at home she had committed a crime, said with an effort\nthat all was well with her. Then, though filled with grief and intent\non gazing at Maha\u00e7veta's face, yet her eye, with its pupil dark and\nquivering as it looked out sideways, was, under the influence of love,\nwith bow fully bent, irresistibly drawn by Candrapida's face, and she\ncould not turn it away. At that same moment she felt jealousy [298]\nof his being pictured on the cheek of her friend standing near--the\npain of absence as his reflection faded away on her own breast,\npierced by a thrill--the anger of a rival wife as the image of the\nstatues fell on him--the sorrow of despair as he closed his eyes,\nand blindness as his image was veiled by tears of joy.\n\n(371) '\"At the end of a moment Maha\u00e7veta said to Kadambari as she was\nintent on giving betel: 'Dear Kadambari, the moment has approached for\nus to show honour to our newly arrived guest, Candrapida. Therefore\ngive him some.' But averting her bent face, Kadambari replied slowly\nand indistinctly, 'Dear friend, I am ashamed to do so, for I do not\nknow him. Do thou take it, for thou canst without the forwardness\nthere would be in me, and give it him'; and it was only after many\npersuasions, that with difficulty, and like a village maiden, she\nresolved to give it. Her eyes were never drawn from Maha\u00e7veta's face,\nher limbs trembled, her glance wavered, she sighed deeply, she was\nstunned by Love with his shaft, and she seemed a prey to terror\nas she stretched forth her hand, holding the betel as if trying to\ncling to something under the idea she was falling. The hand Candrapida\nstretched out, by nature pink, as if red lead had fallen upon it from\nthe flapping of his triumphal elephant, was darkened by the scars of\nthe bowstring, and seemed to have drops of collyrium clinging to it\nfrom touching the eyes of his enemies' Lakshmi, weeping as he drew\nher by the hair; (372) its fingers by the forth-flashing rays of\nhis nails seemed to run up hastily, to grow long and to laugh, and\nthe hand seemed to raise five other fingers in the five senses that,\nin desire to touch her, had just made their entry full of love. Then\ncontending feelings [299] took possession of Kadambari as if they\nhad gathered together in curiosity to see the grace at that moment so\neasy of access. Her hand, as she did not look whither it was going,\nwas stretched vainly forth, and the rays of its nails seemed to hasten\nforward to seek Candrapida's hand; and with the murmur of the line\nof bracelets stirred by her trembling, it seemed to say, as drops of\nmoisture arose on it, 'Let this slave offered by Love be accepted,'\n[300] as if she were offering herself, and 'Henceforth it is in thy\nhand,' as if she were making it into a living being, and so she gave\nthe betel. And in drawing back her hand she did not notice the fall\nof her bracelet, which had slipped down her arm in eagerness to touch\nhim, like her heart pierced by Love's shaft; and taking another piece\nof betel, she gave it to Maha\u00e7veta.\n\n(373) '\"Then there came up with hasty steps a maina, a very flower,\nin that her feet were yellow as lotus filaments, her beak was like\na campak bud, and her wings blue as a lotus petal. Close behind her\ncame a parrot, slow in gait, emerald-winged, with a beak like coral\nand neck bearing a curved, three-rayed rainbow. Angrily the maina\nbegan: 'Princess Kadambari, why dost thou not restrain this wretched,\nill-mannered, conceited bird from following me? If thou overlookest\nmy being oppressed by him, I will certainly destroy myself. I swear\nit truly by thy lotus feet.' At these words Kadambari smiled; but\nMaha\u00e7veta, not knowing the story, asked Madalekha what she was saying,\nand she told the following tale: 'This maina, Kalindi, is a friend\nof Princess Kadambari, and was given by her solemnly in marriage to\nParihasa, the parrot. And to-day, ever since she saw him reciting\nsomething at early dawn to Kadambari's betel-bearer, Tamalika, alone,\nshe has been filled with jealousy, and in frowardness of wrath will\nnot go near him, or speak, or touch, or look at him; and though\nwe have all tried to soothe her, she will not be soothed.' (374)\nThereat a smile spread over Candrapida's face, and he softly laughed\nand said, 'This is the course of gossip. It is heard in the court;\nby a succession of ears the attendants pass it on; the outside\nworld repeats it; the tale wanders to the ends of the earth, and we\ntoo hear how this parrot Parihasa has fallen in love with Princess\nKadambari's betel-bearer, and, enslaved by love, knows nothing of the\npast. Away with this ill-behaved, shameless deserter of his wife,\nand away with her too! But is it fitting in the Princess not to\nrestrain her giddy slave? Perhaps her cruelty, however, was shown at\nthe first in giving poor Kalindi to this ill-conducted bird. What can\nshe do now? For women feel that a shared wifehood is the bitterest\nmatter for indignation, the chief cause for estrangement, and the\ngreatest possible insult. Kalindi has been only too patient that in\nthe aversion caused by this weight of grief she has not slain herself\nby poison, fire, or famine. For nothing makes a woman more despised;\nand if, after such a crime, she is willing to be reconciled and to\nlive with him again, shame on her! enough of her! let her be banished\nand cast out in scorn! Who will speak to her or look at her again,\nand who will mention her name?' A laugh arose among Kadambari's women\nas they heard [301] his mirthful words. (375) But Parihasa, hearing\nhis jesting speech, said: 'Cunning Prince, she is clever. Unsteady\nas she is, she is not to be taken in by thee or anyone else. She\nknows all these crooked speeches. She understands a jest. Her mind is\nsharpened by contact with a court. Cease thy jests. She is no subject\nfor the talk of bold men. For, soft of speech as she is, she knows\nwell the time, cause, measure, object, and topic for wrath and for\npeace.' Meanwhile, a herald came up and said to Maha\u00e7veta: 'Princess,\nKing Citraratha and Queen Madira send to see thee,' and she, eager\nto go, asked Kadambari, 'Friend, where should Candrapida stay?' The\nlatter, inwardly smiling at the thought that he had already found a\nplace in the heart of thousands of women, said aloud, 'Dear Maha\u00e7veta,\nwhy speak thus? Since I beheld him I have not been mistress of myself,\nfar less than of my palace and my servants. Let him stay wherever it\npleases him and my dear friend's heart.' Thereon Maha\u00e7veta replied,\n\"Let him stay in the jewelled house on the playing hill of the royal\ngarden near thy palace,' and went to see the king.\n\n(376) '\"Candrapida went away at her departure, followed by maidens,\nsent for his amusement by the portress at Kadambari's bidding,\nplayers on lute and pipe, singers, skilful dice and draught players,\npractised painters and reciters of graceful verses; he was led by\nhis old acquaintance Keyuraka to the jewelled hall on the playing hill.\n\n'\"When he was gone the Gandharva princess dismissed her girl-friends\nand attendants, and followed only by a few, went into the palace. There\nshe fell on her couch, while her maidens stayed some way off, full\nof respect, and tried to comfort her. At length she came to herself,\nand remaining alone, she was filled with shame. For Modesty censured\nher: 'Light one, what hast thou begun?' Self-respect reproached her:\n'Gandharva Princess, how is this fitting for thee?' Simplicity mocked\nher: 'Where has thy childhood gone before its day was over?' Youth\nwarned her: 'Wilful girl, do not carry out alone any wild plan of\nthine own!' Dignity rebuked her: 'Timid child, this is not the course\nof a high-born maiden.' Conduct blamed her: 'Reckless girl, avoid\nthis unseemly behaviour!' High Birth admonished her: 'Foolish one,\nlove hath led thee into lightness.' Steadfastness cried shame on her:\n'Whence comes thine unsteadiness of nature?' Nobility rebuked her:\n'Self-willed, my authority is set at nought by thee.'\n\n(377) '\"And she thought within herself, 'What shameful conduct is this\nof mine, in that I cast away all fear, and show my unsteadiness and\nam blinded by folly. In my audacity I never thought he was a stranger;\nin my shamelessness I did not consider that he would think me light of\nnature; I never examined his character; I never thought in my folly if\nI were worthy of his regard; I had no dread of an unexpected rebuff;\nI had no fear of my parents, no anxiety about gossip. Nay, more, I\ndid not in my unkindness [302] remember that Maha\u00e7veta was in sorrow;\nin my stupidity I did not notice that my friends stood by and beheld\nme; in my utter dullness I did not see that my servants behind were\nobserving me. Even grave minds would mark such utter forgetfulness of\nseemliness; how much more Maha\u00e7veta, who knows the course of love;\nand my friends skilled in all its ways, and my attendants who know\nall its symptoms, and whose wits are sharpened by life at court. The\nslaves of a zenana have keen eyes in such matters. My evil fate has\nundone me! Better were it for me now to die than live a shameful\nlife. What will my father and mother and the Gandharvas say when they\nhear this tale? What can I do? What remedy is there? How can I cover\nthis error? To whom can I tell this folly of my undisciplined senses,\n(378) and where shall I go, consumed by Kama, the five-arrowed god? I\nhad made a promise in Maha\u00e7veta's sorrow, I had announced it before\nmy friends, I had sent a message of it by the hands of Keyuraka, and\nhow it has now come about that that beguiling Candrapida has been\nbrought hither, I know not, ill-fated that I am; whether it be by\ncruel fate or proud love, or nemesis of my former deeds, or accursed\ndeath, or anything else. But some power unseen, unknown, unheard of,\nunthought of and unimagined before, has come to delude me. At the\nmere sight of him I am a captive in bonds; I am cast into a cage\nand handed over by my senses; I am enslaved and led to him by Love;\nI am sent away by affection; I am sold at a price by my feelings; I\nam made as a household chattel by my heart. I will have nothing to do\nwith this worthless one!' Thus for a moment she resolved. But having\nmade this resolve, she was mocked by Candrapida's image stirred by\nthe trembling of her heart, 'If thou, in thy false reserve, will have\nnought to do with me, I will go.' She was asked by her life, which\nclung to her in a farewell embrace before starting at the moment of\nher determination to give up Candrapida; (379) she was addressed by a\ntear that rose at that moment, 'Let him be seen once more with clearer\neyes, whether he be worthy of rejection or no'; she was chidden by\nLove, saying, 'I will take away thy pride together with thy life;'\nand so her heart was again turned to Candrapida. Overwhelmed, when\nthe force of her meditation had collapsed, by the access of love,\nshe rose, under its sway, and stood looking through the window at the\nplaying hill. And there, as if bewildered by a veil of joyful tears,\nshe saw with her memory, not her eyes; as if fearing to soil with a\nhot hand her picture, she painted with her fancy, not with her brush;\ndreading the intervention of a thrill, she offered an embrace with\nher heart, not her breast; unable to bear his delay in coming, she\nsent her mind, not her servants, to meet him.\n\n'\"Meanwhile, Candrapida willingly entered the jewelled house, as if it\nwere a second heart of Kadambari. On the rock was strewn a blanket,\nwith pillows piled on it at either end, and thereon he lay down,\nwith his feet in Keyuraka's lap, while the maidens sat round him\nin the places appointed for them. With a heart in turmoil he betook\nhimself to reflection: 'Are these graces of Princess Kadambari, that\nsteal all men's hearts, innate in her, or has Love, with kindness won\nby no service of mine, ordained them for me? (380) For she gave me a\nsidelong glance with loving, reddened eyes half curved as if they were\ncovered with the pollen of Love's flowery darts as they fell on her\nheart. She modestly veiled herself with a bright smile fair as silk\nas I looked at her. She offered the mirror of her cheek to receive my\nimage, as in shame at my gaze she averted her face. She sketched on\nthe couch with her nail the first trace of wilfulness of a heart that\nwas giving me entrance. Her hand, moist with the fatigue of bringing\nme the betel, seemed in its trembling to fan her hot face, as if it\nwere a tamala branch she had taken, for a swarm of bees hovered round\nit, mistaking it for a rosy lotus. Perhaps,' he went on to reflect,\n'the light readiness to hope so common among mortals is now deceiving\nme with a throng of vain desires; and the glow of youth, devoid of\njudgment, or Love himself, makes my brain reel; whence the eyes of\nthe young, as though struck by cataract, magnify even a small spot;\nand a tiny speck of affection is spread far by youthful ardour as by\nwater. An excited heart like a poet's imagination is bewildered by\nthe throng of fancies that it calls up of itself, and draws likenesses\nfrom everything; youthful feelings in the hand of cunning love are as\na brush, and shrink from painting nothing; and imagination, proud of\nher suddenly gained beauty, turns in every direction. (381) Longing\nshows as in a dream what I have felt. Hope, like a conjuror's wand,\n[303] sets before us what can never be. Why, then,' thought he again,\n'should I thus weary my mind in vain? If this bright-eyed maiden\nis indeed thus inclined towards me, Love, who is so kind without my\nasking, will ere long make it plain to me. He will be the decider of\nthis doubt.' Having at length come to this decision, he rose, then\nsat down, and merrily joined the damsels in gentle talk and graceful\namusements--with dice, song, lute, tabor, concerts of mingled sound,\nand murmur of tender verse. After resting a short time he went out\nto see the park, and climbed to the top of the pleasure hill.\n\n'\"Kadambari saw him, and bade that the window should be opened to watch\nfor Maha\u00e7veta's return, saying, 'She tarries long,' and, with a heart\ntossed by Love, mounted to the roof of the palace. There she stayed\nwith a few attendants, protected from the heat by a gold-handled\numbrella, white as the full moon, and fanned by the waving of four\nyaks' tails pure as foam. She seemed to be practising an adornment fit\nfor going to meet [304] Candrapida, by means of the bees which hovered\nround her head, eager for the scent of the flowers, which veiled her\neven by day in darkness. Now she leaned on the point of the cowrie,\nnow on the stick of the umbrella; now she laid her hands on Tamalika's\nshoulder, (382), now she clung to Madalekha; now she hid herself amidst\nher maidens, looking with sidelong glance; now she turned herself\nround; now she laid her cheek on the tip of the portress's staff;\nnow with a steady hand she placed betel on her fresh lips; now she\nlaughingly ran a few steps in pursuit of her maidens scattered by the\nblows of the lotuses she threw at them. And in looking at the prince,\nand being gazed at by him, she knew not how long a time had passed. At\nlast a portress announced Maha\u00e7veta's return, and she went down, and\nalbeit unwilling, yet to please Maha\u00e7veta she bathed and performed\nthe wonted duties of the day.\n\n'\"But Candrapida went down, and dismissing Kadambari's followers,\nperformed the rites of bathing, and worshipped the deity honoured\nthroughout the mountain, and did all the duties of the day, including\nhis meal, on the pleasure hill. There he sat on an emerald seat\nwhich commanded the front of the pleasure hill, pleasant, green as\na pigeon, bedewed with foam from the chewing of fawns, shining like\nYamuna's waters standing still in fear of Balarama's plough, glowing\ncrimson with lac-juice from the girls' feet, sanded with flower-dust,\nhidden in a bower, a concert-house of peacocks. He suddenly beheld\nday eclipsed by a stream of white radiance, rich in glory, (383)\nlight drunk up as by a garland of lotus-fibres, earth flooded as by\na Milky Ocean, space bedewed as by a storm of sandal-juice, and the\nsky painted as with white chunam.\n\n'\"'What!' thought he, 'is our lord, the Moon, king of plants,\nsuddenly risen, or are a thousand shower-baths set going with their\nwhite streams let loose by a spring, or is it the heavenly Ganges,\nwhitening the earth with her wind-tossed spray, that has come down\nto earth in curiosity?'\n\n [305]'\"Then, turning his eyes in the direction of the light, he\n beheld Kadambari, and with her Madalekha and Taralika bearing a\n pearl necklace on a tray covered with white silk. (384) Thereupon\n Candrapida decided that it was this necklace that eclipsed [306]\n moonlight, and was the cause of the brightness, and by rising while\n she was yet far off, and by all wonted courtesies, he greeted the\n approach of Madalekha. For a moment she rested on that emerald seat,\n and then, rising, anointed him with sandal perfume, put on him two\n white robes, (385) crowned him with malati flowers, and then gave\n him the necklace, saying, 'This thy gentleness, my Prince, so devoid\n of pride, must needs subjugate every heart. Thy kindness gives an\n opening even to one like me; by thy form thou art lord of life to\n all; by that tenderness shown even where there is no claim on thee,\n thou throwest on all a bond of love; the innate sweetness of thy\n bearing makes every man thy friend; these thy virtues, manifested\n with such natural gentleness, give confidence to all. Thy form\n must take the blame, for it inspires trust even at first sight;\n else words addressed to one of such dignity as thou would seem all\n unmeet. For to speak with thee would be an insult; our very respect\n would bring on us the charge of forwardness; our very praise would\n display our boldness; our subservience would manifest lightness,\n our love self-deception, our speech to thee audacity, our service\n impertinence, our gift an insult. Nay, more, thou hast conquered\n our hearts; what is left for us to give thee? Thou art lord of our\n life; what can we offer thee? Thou hast already bestowed the great\n favour of thy presence; what return could we make? Thou by thy sight\n hast made our life worth having; how can we reward thy coming? (386)\n Therefore Kadambari with this excuse shows her affection rather than\n her dignity. Noble hearts admit no question of mine and thine. Away\n with the thought of dignity. Even if she accepted slavery to one\n like thee, she would do no unworthy act; even if she gave herself\n to thee, she would not be deceived; if she gave her life, she\n would not repent. The generosity of a noble heart is always bent\n on kindness, and does not willingly reject affection, and askers\n are less shamefaced than givers. But it is true that Kadambari\n knows she has offended thee in this matter. Now, this necklace,\n called \u00c7esha, [307] because it was the only jewel left of all that\n rose at the churning of nectar, was for that reason greatly valued\n by the Lord of Ocean, and was given by him to Varuna on his return\n home. By the latter it was given to the Gandharva king, and by him\n to Kadambari. And she, thinking thy form worthy of this ornament,\n in that not the earth, but the sky, is the home of the moon, hath\n sent it to thee. And though men like thee, who bear no ornament\n but a noble spirit, find it irksome to wear the gems honoured by\n meaner men, yet here Kadambari's affection is a reason for thee to\n do so. (387) Did not Vishnu show his reverence by wearing on his\n breast the kaustubha gem, because it rose with Lakshmi; and yet he\n was not greater than thee, nor did the kaustubha gem in the least\n surpass the \u00c7esha in worth; nor, indeed, does Lakshmi approach in\n the slightest degree to imitating Kadambari's beauty. And in truth,\n if her love is crushed by thee, she will grieve Maha\u00e7veta [308] with\n a thousand reproaches, and will slay herself. Maha\u00e7veta therefore\n sends Taralika with the necklace to thee, and bids me say thus:\n \"Let not Kadambari's first impulse of love be crushed by thee, even\n in thought, most noble prince.\"' Thus having said, she fastened on\n his breast the necklace that rested like a bevy of stars on the slope\n of the golden mountain. Filled with amazement, Candrapida replied:\n 'What means this, Madalekha? Thou art clever, and knowest how to\n win acceptance for thy gifts. By leaving me no chance of a reply,\n thou hast shown skill in oratory. Nay, foolish maiden, what are we\n in respect of thee, or of acceptance and refusal; truly this talk\n is nought. Having received kindness from ladies so rich in courtesy,\n let me be employed in any matter, whether pleasing or displeasing to\n me. But truly there lives not the man whom the virtues of the most\n courteous lady Kadambari do not discourteously [309] enslave.' (388)\n Thus saying, after some talk about Kadambari, he dismissed Madalekha,\n and ere she had long gone the daughter of Citraratha dismissed her\n attendants, rejected the insignia of wand, umbrella, and cowrie,\n and accompanied only by Tamalika, again mounted to the roof of her\n palace to behold Candrapida, bright with pearls, silk raiment and\n sandal, go to the pleasure hill, like the moon to the mount of\n rising. There, with passionate glances imbued with every grace,\n she stole his heart. (390) And when it became too dark to see, she\n descended from the roof, and Candrapida, from the slope of the hill.\n\n'\"Then the moon, source of nectar, gladdener of all eyes, arose with\nhis rays gathered in; he seemed to be worshipped by the night-lotuses,\nto calm the quarters whose faces were dark as if with anger, and\nto avoid the day-lotuses as if from fear of waking them; under the\nguise of his mark he wore night on his heart; he bore in the glow of\nrising the lac that had clung to him from the spurning of Rohini's\nfeet; he pursued the sky, in its dark blue veil, like a mistress;\nand by reason of his great goodwill, spread beauty everywhere.\n\n'\"And when the moon, the umbrella of the supreme rule of Kama, the\nlord of the lotuses, the ivory earring that decks the night, had\nrisen, and when the world was turned to whiteness, as though overlaid\nwith ivory, Candrapida lay down on a cool moonlit slab, pearl white,\npointed out by Kadambari's servants. It was washed with fresh sandal,\ngarlanded with pure sinduvara flowers, and carved round with a leafy\ntracery of lotus petals. It lay on the shore of a palace lotus tank,\nthat seemed from the full moonlight to be made of night-lotuses,\n[310] with steps white with bricks washed by the waves, as it wafted a\nbreeze fanned by the ripples; (391) pairs of hamsas lay there asleep,\nand pairs of cakravakas kept up their dirge of separation thereon. And\nwhile the Prince yet rested there Keyuraka approached him, and told\nhim that Princess Kadambari had come to see him. Then Candrapida rose\nhastily, and beheld Kadambari drawing near. Few of her friends were\nwith her; all her royal insignia were removed; she was as it were\na new self, in the single necklace she wore; her slender form was\nwhite with the purest sandal-juice; an earring hung from one ear; she\nwore a lotus-petal in the ear, soft as a budding digit of the moon;\nshe was clad in robes of the kalpa-tree, [311] clear as moonlight;\nand in the garb that consorted with that hour she stood revealed like\nthe very goddess of moonrise, as she rested on the hand offered by\nMadalekha. Drawing near, she showed a grace prompted by love, and\ntook her seat on the ground, where servants are wont to sit, like a\nmaiden of low degree; and Candrapida, too, though often entreated by\nMadalekha to sit on the rocky seat, took his place on the ground by\nMadalekha; and when all the women were seated he made an effort to\nspeak, saying, 'Princess, to one who is thy slave, and whom even a\nglance gladdens, there needs not the favour of speech with thee, far\nless so great a grace as this. (392) For, deeply as I think, I cannot\nsee in myself any worth that this height of favour may befit. Most\nnoble and sweet in its laying aside of pride is this thy courtesy,\nin that such grace is shown to one but newly thy servant. Perchance\nthou thinkest me a churl that must be won by gifts. Blessed, truly,\nis the servant over whom is thy sway! How great honour is bestowed\non the servants deemed worthy of the bestowal of thy commands. But\nthe body is a gift at the service of any man, and life is light as\ngrass, so that I am ashamed in my devotion to greet thy coming with\nsuch a gift. Here am I, here my body, my life, my senses! Do thou,\nby accepting one of them, raise it to honour.'\n\n'\"Madalekha smilingly replied to this speech of his: 'Enough,\nPrince. My friend Kadambari is pained by thy too great ceremony. Why\nspeakest thou thus? She accepts thy words without further talk. And\nwhy, too, is she brought to suspense by these too flattering\nspeeches?' and then, waiting a short time, she began afresh: 'How is\nKing Tarapida, how Queen Vilasavati, how the noble \u00c7ukanasa? What is\nUjjayini like, and how far off is it? What is the land of Bharata? And\nis the world of mortals pleasant?' So she questioned him. (393)\nAfter spending some time in such talk, Kadambari rose, and summoning\nKeyuraka, who was lying near Candrapida, and her attendants, she went\nup to her sleeping-chamber. There she adorned a couch strewn with\na coverlet of white silk. Candrapida, however, on his rock passed\nthe night like a moment in thinking, while his feet were rubbed by\nKeyuraka, of the humility, beauty, and depth of Kadambari's character,\nthe causeless kindness of Maha\u00e7veta, the courtesy of Madalekha, the\ndignity of the attendants, the great splendour of the Gandharva world,\nand the charm of the Kimpurusha land.\n\n'\"Then the moon, lord of stars, weary of being kept awake by the sight\nof Kadambari, descended, as if to sleep, to the forest on the shore,\nwith its palms and tamalas, talis, banyans, and kandalas, [312] cool\nwith the breeze from the hardly stirred [313] ripples. As though with\nthe feverish sighs of a woman grieving for her lover's approaching\nabsence, the moonlight faded away. Lakshmi, having passed the night\non the moon lotuses, lay on the sun lotuses, as though love had sprung\nup in her at the sight of Candrapida. At the close of night, when the\npalace lamps grew pale, as if dwindling in longing as they remembered\nthe blows of the lotuses in maidens' ears, the breezes of dawn,\nfragrant with creeper-flowers, were wafted, sportive with the sighs\nof Love weary from ceaselessly discharging his shafts; the stars were\neclipsed by the rising dawn, and took their abode, as through fear, in\nthe thick creeper bowers of Mount Mandara. [314] (394) Then when the\nsun arose, with its orb crimson as if a glow remained from dwelling\nin the hearts of the cakravakas, Candrapida, rising from the rock,\nbathed his lotus face, said his morning prayer, took his betel, and\nthen bade Keyuraka see whether Princess Kadambari was awake or no, and\nwhere she was; and when it was announced to him by the latter on his\nreturn that she was with Maha\u00e7veta in the bower of the courtyard below\nthe Mandara palace, he started to see the daughter of the Gandharva\nking. There he beheld Maha\u00e7veta surrounded by wandering ascetic women\nlike visible goddesses of prayer, with marks of white ash on their\nbrow, and hands quickly moving as they turned their rosaries; bearing\nthe vow of \u00c7iva's followers, clad in robes tawny with mineral dyes,\nbound to wear red cloth, robed in the ruddy bark of ripe cocoanuts,\nor girdled with thick white cloth; with fans of white cloth; with\nstaves, matted locks, deer-skins, and bark dresses; with the marks of\nmale ascetics; reciting the pure praises of \u00c7iva, Durga, Kartikeya,\nVi\u00e7ravasa, [315] Krishna, Avalokite\u00e7vara, the Arhat, Viri\u00f1ca. [316]\nMaha\u00e7veta herself was showing honour to the elder kinswomen of the\nking, the foremost of the zenana, by salutes, courteous speeches,\nby rising to meet them and placing reed seats for them.\n\n(395) '\"He beheld Kadambari also giving her attention to the\nrecitation of the Mahabharata, that transcends all good omens, by\nNarada's sweet-voiced daughter, with an accompaniment of flutes soft\nas the murmur of bees, played by a pair of Kinnaras sitting behind\nher. She was looking in a mirror fixed before her at her lip, pale as\nbeeswax when the honey is gone, bathed in the moonlight of her teeth,\nthough within it was darkened by betel. She was being honoured by a\nsunwise turn in departing by a tame goose wandering like the moon\nin a fixed circle, with wide eyes raised to her sirisha earrings\nin its longing for vallisneria. Here the prince approached, and,\nsaluting her, sat down on a seat placed on the dais. After a short\nstay he looked at Maha\u00e7veta's face with a gentle smile that dimpled\nhis cheek, and she, at once knowing his wish, said to Kadambari:\n'Dear friend, Candrapida is softened by thy virtues as the moonstone\nby the moon, and cannot speak for himself. He wishes to depart; for\nthe court he has left behind is thrown into distress, not knowing what\nhas happened. Moreover, however far apart you may be from each other,\nthis your love, like that of the sun and the day lotus, or the moon and\nthe night lotus, will last till the day of doom. Therefore let him go.'\n\n(396) '\"'Dear Maha\u00e7veta,' replied Kadambari, 'I and my retinue belong\nas wholly to the prince as his own soul. Why, then, this ceremony?' So\nsaying, and summoning the Gandharva princes, she bade them escort\nthe prince to his own place, and he, rising, bowed before Maha\u00e7veta\nfirst, and then Kadambari, and was greeted by her with eyes and\nheart softened by affection; and with the words, 'Lady, what shall\nI say? For men distrust the multitude of words. Let me be remembered\nin the talk of thy retinue,' he went out of the zenana; and all the\nmaidens but Kadambari, drawn by reverence for Candrapida's virtues,\nfollowed him on his way like his subjects to the outer gate.\n\n'\"On their return, he mounted the steed brought by Keyuraka, and,\nescorted by the Gandharva princes, turned to leave Hemakuta. His whole\nthoughts on the way were about Kadambari in all things both within and\nwithout. With a mind wholly imbued with her, he beheld her behind him,\ndwelling within him in his bitter grief for the cruel separation;\nor before him, stopping him in his path; or cast on the sky, as if\nby the force of longing in his heart troubled by parting, so that\nhe could perfectly see her face; he beheld her very self resting\non his heart, as if her mind were wounded with his loss. When he\nreached Maha\u00e7veta's hermitage, he there beheld his own camp, which\nhad followed the tracks of Indrayudha.\n\n(397) '\"Dismissing the Gandharva princes, he entered his own abode\namidst the salutations of his troops full of joy, curiosity,\nand wonder; and after greeting the rest of the court, he spent\nthe day mostly in talk with Vai\u00e7ampayana and Patralekha, saying,\n'Thus said Maha\u00e7veta, thus Kadambari, thus Madalekha, thus Tamalika,\nthus Keyuraka.' No longer did royal Glory, envious at the sight\nof Kadambari's beauty, find in him her joy; for him night passed\nin wakefulness as he thought, with a mind in ceaseless longing, of\nthat bright-eyed maiden. Next morning, at sunrise, he went to his\npavilion with his mind still fixed on her, and suddenly saw Keyuraka\nentering with a doorkeeper; and as the latter, while yet far off,\ncast himself on the ground, so that his crest swept the floor,\nCandrapida cried, 'Come, come,' greeting him first with a sidelong\nglance, then with his heart, then with a thrill. Then at last he\nhastened forward to give him a hearty and frank embrace, and made\nhim sit down by himself. Then, in words brightened by the nectar of\na smile, and transfused with overflowing love, he reverently asked:\n'Say, Keyuraka, is the lady Kadambari well, and her friends, and\nher retinue, and the lady Maha\u00e7veta?' With a low bow, Keyuraka, as\nthough he had been bathed, anointed, and refreshed by the smile that\nthe prince's deep affection had prompted, replied respectfully:\n\n'\"'She is now well, in that my lord asks for her.' And then he showed\na folded lotus-leaf, wrapped in wet cloth, with its opening closed\nby lotus filaments, and a seal of tender lotus filaments set in a\npaste of wet sandal. (398) This he opened, and showed the tokens\nsent by Kadambari, such as milky betel-nuts of emerald hue, with\ntheir shells removed and surrounded with fresh sprays, betel-leaves\npale as the cheek of a hen-parrot, camphor like a solid piece of\n\u00c7iva's moon, and sandal ointment pleasant with rich musk scent. 'The\nlady Kadambari,' said he, 'salutes thee with folded hands that kiss\nher crest, and that are rosy with the rays of her tender fingers;\nMaha\u00e7veta with a greeting and embrace; Madalekha with a reverence\nand a brow bathed in the moonlight of the crest-gem she has let fall;\nthe maidens with the points of the fish-ornaments and the parting of\ntheir hair resting on the ground; and Taralika, with a prostration\nto touch the dust of thy feet. Maha\u00e7veta sends thee this message:\n\"Happy truly are they from whose eyes thou art never absent. For\nin truth thy virtues, snowy, cold as the moon when thou art by, in\nthine absence burn like sunlight. Truly all yearn for the past day\nas though it were that day whereon fate with such toil brought forth\namrita. Without thee the royal Gandharva city is languid as at the end\nof a feast. (399) Thou knowest that I have surrendered all things; yet\nmy heart, in my despite, desires to see thee who art so undeservedly\nkind. Kadambari, moreover, is far from well. She recalls thee with thy\nsmiling face like Love himself. Thou, by the honour of thy return,\ncanst make her proud of having some virtues of her own. For respect\nshown by the noble must needs confer honour. And thou must forgive\nthe trouble of knowing such as we. For thine own nobility gives this\nboldness to our address. And here is this \u00c7esha necklace, which was\nleft by thee on thy couch.\"' So saying, he loosed it from his band,\nwhere it was visible by reason of the long rays that shot through the\ninterstices of the fine thread, and placed it in the fan-bearer's hand.\n\n'\"'This, indeed, is the reward of doing homage at Maha\u00e7veta's feet,\nthat the lady Kadambari should lay so great a weight of honour on\nher slave as to remember him,\" said Candrapida, as he placed all on\nhis head [317] and accepted it. The necklace he put round his neck,\nafter anointing it with an ointment cool, pleasant, and fragrant,\nas it were with the beauty of Kadambari's cheeks distilled, or the\nlight of her smile liquefied, or her heart melted, or her virtues\nthrobbing forth. (400) Taking some betel, he rose and stood, with his\nleft arm on Keyuraka's shoulder, and then dismissed the courtiers,\nwho were gladly paying their wonted homage, and at length went\nto see his elephant Gandhamadana. There he stayed a short time,\nand after he had himself given to the elephant a handful of grass,\nthat, being jagged with the rays of his nails, was like lotus-fibre,\nhe went to the stable of his favourite steed. On the way he turned\nhis face now on this side, now on that, to glance at his retinue,\nand the porters, understanding his wish, forbade all to follow him,\nand dismissed the retinue, so that he entered the stable with Keyuraka\nalone. The grooms bowed and departed, with eyes bewildered by terror\nat their dismissal, and the prince set straight Indrayudha's cloth,\nwhich had fallen a little on one side, pushed back his mane, tawny\nas a lion's, which was falling on his eyes and half closing them, and\nthen, negligently resting his foot on the peg of the tethering-rope,\nand leaning against the stable wall, he eagerly asked:\n\n'\"'Tell me, Keyuraka, what has happened in the Gandharva court since\nmy departure? In what occupation has the Gandharva princess spent\nthe time? What were Maha\u00e7veta and Madalekha doing? What talk was\nthere? How were you and the retinue employed? And was there any\ntalk about me?' Then Keyuraka told him all: 'Listen, prince. On\nthy departure, the lady Kadambari, with her retinue, climbed to the\npalace roof, making in the maidens' palace with the sound of anklets\nthe beat of farewell drums that rose from a thousand hearts; (401)\nand she gazed on thy path, gray with the dust of the cavalcade. When\nthou wert out of sight, she laid her face on Maha\u00e7veta's shoulder, and,\nin her love, sprinkled the region of thy journey with glances fair as\nthe Milky Ocean, and, warding off the sun's touch, as it were, with\nthe moon assuming in jealousy the guise of a white umbrella, she long\nremained there. Thence she reluctantly tore herself away and came down,\nand after but a short rest in the pavilion, she arose and went to the\npleasaunce where thou hadst been. She was guided by bees murmuring in\nthe flowers of oblation; startled by the cry of the house peacocks,\nshe checked their note as they looked up at the shower-like rays of\nher nails, by the circlets which lay loose round her throat; at every\nstep she let her hand rest on creeper-twigs white with flowers, and\nher mind on thy virtues. When she reached the pleasaunce, her retinue\nneedlessly told her: \"Here the prince stayed on the spray-washed rock,\nwith its creeper-bower bedewed by the stream from a pipe that ends\nin an emerald fish-head; here he bathed in a place covered by bees\nabsorbed in the fragrance of the scented water; here he worshipped\n\u00c7iva on the bank of the mountain stream, sandy with flower-dust; here\nhe ate on a crystal stone which eclipsed moonlight; and here he slept\non a pearly slab with a mark of sandal-juice imprinted on it.\" (402)\nAnd so she passed the day, gazing on the signs of thy presence; and\nat close of day Maha\u00e7veta prepared for her, though against her will, a\nmeal in that crystal dwelling. And when the sun set and the moon rose,\nsoon, as though she were a moonstone that moonlight would melt, and\ntherefore dreaded the entrance of the moon's reflection, she laid her\nhands on her cheeks, and, as if in thought, remained for a few minutes\nwith closed eyes; and then rising, went to her sleeping-chamber,\nscarcely raising her feet as they moved with graceful, languid gait,\nseemingly heavy with bearing the moon's reflection on their bright\nnails. Throwing herself on her couch, she was racked by a severe\nheadache, and overcome by a burning fever, and, in company with the\npalace-lamps, the moon-lotuses, and the cakravakas, she passed the\nnight open-eyed in bitter grief. And at dawn she summoned me, and\nreproachfully bade me seek for tidings of thee.'\n\n'\"At these words, Candrapida, all eager to depart, shouted: 'A\nhorse! a horse!' and left the palace. Indrayudha was hastily saddled,\nand brought round by the grooms, and Candrapida mounted, placing\nPatralekha behind him, leaving Vai\u00e7ampayana in charge of the camp,\ndismissing all his retinue, and followed by Keyuraka on another steed,\nhe went to Hemakuta. (403) On his arrival, he dismounted at the gate of\nKadambari's palace, giving his horse to the doorkeeper, and, followed\nby Patralekha, eager for the first sight of Kadambari, he entered, and\nasked a eunuch who came forward where the lady Kadambari was. Bending\nlow, the latter informed him, that she was in the ice-bower on the\nbank of the lotus-tank below the Mattamayura pleasaunce; and then the\nprince, guided by Keyuraka, went some distance through the women's\ngarden, and beheld day grow green, and the sunbeams turn into grass\nby the reflection of the plantain-groves with their emerald glow,\nand there he beheld Kadambari. (410) Then she looked with tremulous\nglance at her retinue, as, coming in one after another, they announced\nCandrapida's approach, and asked each by name: 'Tell me, has he really\ncome, and hast thou seen him? How far off is he?' She gazed with\neyes gradually brightening as she saw him yet afar off, and rose from\nher couch of flowers, standing like a newly-caught elephant bound to\nher post, and trembling in every limb. She was veiled in bees drawn\nas vassals by the fragrance of her flowery couch, all murmuring; her\nupper garment was in confusion, and she sought to place on her bosom\nthe shining necklace; (411) she seemed to beg the support of a hand\nfrom her own shadow as she laid her left hand on the jewelled pavement;\nshe seemed to receive herself as a gift by sprinkling [318] with her\nright hand moist with the toil of binding together her falling locks;\nshe poured forth tears of joy cool as though the sandal-juice of her\nsectarial mark had entered in and been united with them; she washed\nwith a line of glad tears her smooth cheeks, that the pollen from\nher garland had tinged with gray, as if in eagerness that the image\nof her beloved might fall thereon; she seemed to be drawn forward by\nher long eyes fastened on Candrapida's face, with its pupil fixed in\na sidelong glance, and her head somewhat bent, as if from the weight\nof the sandal-mark on her brow.\n\n'\"And Candrapida, approaching, bowed first before Maha\u00e7veta, then\ncourteously saluted Kadambari, and when she had returned his obeisance,\nand seated herself again on the couch, and the portress had brought\nhim a gold stool with legs gleaming with gems, he pushed it away\nwith his foot, and sat down on the ground. Then Keyuraka presented\nPatralekha, saying: 'This is Prince Candrapida's betel-box bearer\nand most favoured friend.' And Kadambari, looking on her, thought:\n'How great partiality does Prajapati bestow on mortal women!' And\nas Patralekha bowed respectfully, she bade her approach, and placed\nher close behind herself, amidst the curious glances of all her\nretinue. (412) Filled even at first sight with great love for her,\nKadambari often touched her caressingly with her slender hand.\n\n'\"Now, Candrapida, having quickly performed all the courtesies of\narrival, beheld the state of Citraratha's daughter, and thought:\n'Surely my heart is dull, in that it cannot even now believe. Be\nit so. I will, nevertheless, ask her with a skilfully-devised\nspeech.' [319] Then he said aloud: 'Princess, I know that this pain,\nwith its unceasing torment, has come on thee from love. Yet, slender\nmaiden, it torments thee not as us. I would gladly, by the offering\nof myself, restore thee to health. For I pity thee as thou tremblest;\nand as I see thee fallen under the pain of love, my heart, too, falls\nprostrate. For thine arms are slender and unadorned, and thou bearest\nin thine eye a red lotus like a hybiscus [320] from the deep wasting\nof fever. And all thy retinue weep ceaselessly for thy pain. Accept\nthine ornaments. Take of thine own accord thy richest adornments; for\nas the creeper shines hidden in bees and flowers, so shouldst thou.'\n\n'\"Then Kadambari, though naturally simple by reason of her youth, yet,\nfrom a knowledge taught by love, understood all the meaning of this\ndarkly-expressed speech. (413) Yet, not realizing that she had come to\nsuch a point in her desires, supported by her modesty, she remained\nsilent. She sent forth, however, the radiance of a smile at that\nmoment on some pretext, as though to see his face darkened by the bees\nwhich were gathered round its sweetness. Madalekha therefore replied:\n'Prince, what shall I say? This pain is cruel beyond words. Moreover,\nin one of so delicate a nature what does not tend to pain? Even cool\nlotus-fibres turn to fire and moonlight burns. Seest thou not the pain\nproduced in her mind by the breezes of the fans? Only her strength\nof mind keeps her alive.' But in heart alone did Kadambari admit\nMadalekha's words as an answer to the prince. His mind, however, was in\nsuspense from the doubtfulness of her meaning, and after spending some\ntime in affectionate talk with Maha\u00e7veta, at length with a great effort\nhe withdrew himself, and left Kadambari's palace to go to the camp.\n\n'\"As he was about to mount his horse, Keyuraka came up behind him,\nand said: 'Prince, Madalekha bids me say that Princess Kadambari, ever\nsince she beheld Patralekha, has been charmed by her, and wishes to\nkeep her. She shall return later. (414) Having heard her message, thou\nmust decide' 'Happy,' replied the prince, 'and enviable is Patralekha,\nin that she is honoured by so rare a favour by the princess. Let her\nbe taken in.' So saying, he went to the camp.\n\n'\"At the moment of his arrival he beheld a letter-carrier well known\nto him, that had come from his father's presence, and, stopping\nhis horse, he asked from afar, with eyes widened by affection:\n'Is my father well, and all his retinue? and my mother and all the\nzenana?' Then the man, approaching with a reverence, saying, 'As\nthou sayest, prince,' gave him two letters. Then the prince, placing\nthem on his head, and himself opening them in order, read as follows:\n'Hail from Ujjayini. King Tarapida, king of kings, whose lotus-feet\nare made the crest on the head of all kings, greets Candrapida, the\nhome of all good fortune, kissing him on his head, which kisses the\ncircle of the flashing rays of his crest jewels. Our subjects are\nwell. Why has so long a time passed since we have seen thee? Our\nheart longs eagerly for thee. The queen and the zenana pine for\nthee. Therefore, let the cutting short of this letter be a cause of\nthy setting out.' And in the second letter, sent by \u00c7ukanasa, he read\nwords of like import. Vai\u00e7ampayana, too, at that moment came up, and\nshowed another pair of letters of his own to the same effect. (415)\nSo with the words, 'As my father commands,' he at once mounted his\nhorse, and caused the drum of departure to be sounded. He instructed\nMeghanada, son of Balahaka, the commander-in-chief, who stood near him\nsurrounded by a large troop: 'Thou must come with Patralekha. Keyuraka\nwill surely bring her as far as here, and by his lips a message must\nbe sent with a salutation to Princess Kadambari. Truly the nature of\nmortals deserves the blame of the three worlds, for it is discourteous,\nunfriendly, and hard to grasp, in that, when the loves of men suddenly\nclash, they do not set its full value on spontaneous tenderness. Thus,\nby my going, my love has become a cheating counterfeit; my faith\nhas gained skill in false tones; my self-devotion has sunk into base\ndeceit, having only a pretended sweetness; and the variance of voice\nand thought has been laid bare. But enough of myself. The princess,\nthough a mate for the gods, has, by showing her favour to an unworthy\nobject, [321] incurred reproach. For the ambrosially kind glances of\nthe great, when they fall in vain on unfitting objects, cause shame\nafterwards. And yet my heart is not so much weighed down by shame\nfor her as for Maha\u00e7veta. For the princess will doubtless often blame\nher for her ill-placed partiality in having painted my virtues with\na false imputation of qualities I did not possess. What, then, shall\nI do? My parents' command is the weightier. Yet it controls my body\nalone. (416) But my heart, in its yearning to dwell at Hemakuta, has\nwritten a bond of slavery for a thousand births to Princess Kadambari,\n[322] and her favour holds it fast [323] as the dense thicket holds a\nforester. Nevertheless, I go at my father's command. Truly from this\ncause the infamous Candrapida will be a byword to the people. Yet,\nthink not that Candrapida, if he lives, will rest without again tasting\nthe joy of worshipping the lotus-feet of the princess. Salute with\nbent head and sunwise turn the feet of Maha\u00e7veta. Tell Madalekha that\na hearty embrace, preceded by an obeisance, is offered her; salute\nTamalika, and inquire on my behalf after all Kadambari's retinue. Let\nblessed Hemakuta be honoured by me with upraised hands.' After giving\nthis message, he set Vai\u00e7ampayana over the camp, instructing his friend\nto march [324] slowly, without overtasking the army. Then he mounted,\naccompanied by his cavalry, mostly mounted on young horses, wearing the\ngrace of a forest of spears, breaking up the earth with their hoofs,\nand shaking Kailasa with their joyful neighing as they set out; and\nthough his heart was empty, in the fresh separation from Kadambari,\nhe asked the letter-carrier who clung to his saddle concerning the\nway to Ujjayini.\n\n(417-426 condensed) '\"And on the way he beheld in the forest a red\nflag, near which was a shrine of Durga, guarded by an old Dravidian\nhermit, who made his abode thereby.\n\n(426) '\"Dismounting, he entered, and bent reverently before the\ngoddess, and, bowing again after a sunwise turn, he wandered about,\ninterested in the calm of the place, and beheld on one side the\nwrathful hermit, howling and shouting at him; and at the sight,\ntossed as he was by passionate longing in his absence from Kadambari,\nhe could not forbear smiling a moment; but he checked his soldiers,\nwho were laughing and beginning a quarrel with the hermit; and at\nlength, with great difficulty, he calmed him with many a soothing and\ncourteous speech, and asked him about his birthplace, caste, knowledge,\nwife and children, wealth, age, and the cause of his ascetic vow. On\nbeing asked, the latter described himself, and the prince was greatly\ninterested by him as he garrulously described his past heroism, beauty,\nand wealth, and thus diverted his mind in its soreness of bereavement;\nand, having become friendly with him, he caused betel to be offered to\nhim. (427) When the sun set, the princes encamped under the trees that\nchanced [325] to be near; the golden saddles of the steeds were hung\non boughs; the steeds showed the exertions they had gone through,\nfrom the tossing of their manes dusty with rolling on the earth,\nand after they had taken some handfuls of grass and been watered,\nand were refreshed, they were tethered, with the spears dug into the\nground before them; the soldiery, wearied [326] with the day's march,\nappointed a watch, and gladly went to sleep on heaps of leaves near\nthe horses; the encampment was bright as day, for the darkness was\ndrunk up by the light of many a bivouac fire, and Candrapida went to a\ncouch prepared for him by his retinue, and pointed out to him by his\nporters, in front of the place where Indrayudha was tethered. But\nthe very moment he lay down restlessness seized his heart, and,\novercome by pain, he dismissed the princes, and said nothing even\nto the special favourites who stood behind him. With closed eyes\nhe again and again went in heart to the Kimpurusha land. With fixed\nthought he recalled Hemakuta. He thought on the spontaneous kindness\nof Maha\u00e7veta's favours. [327] He constantly longed for the sight\nof Kadambari as his life's highest fruit. He continually desired\nthe converse of Madalekha, so charming in its absence of pride. He\nwished to see Tamalika. He looked forward to Keyuraka's coming. He\nbeheld in fancy the winter palace. He often sighed a long, feverish\nsigh. He bestowed on the \u00c7esha necklace a kindness beyond that for\nhis kin. (428) He thought he saw fortunate Patralekha standing behind\nhim. Thus he passed the night without sleep; and, rising at dawn,\nhe fulfilled the hermit's wish by wealth poured out at his desire,\nand, sojourning at pleasant spots on the way, in a few days he\nreached Ujjayini. A thousand hands, like lotuses of offering to a\nguest raised in reverent salutation, were raised by the citizens in\ntheir confusion and joy at his sudden coming, as he then unexpectedly\nentered the city. The king heard from the retinue [328] hastening to\nbe first to tell him that Candrapida was at the gate, and bewildered\nby sudden gladness, with steps slow from the weight of joy, he went to\nmeet his son. Like Mandara, he drew to himself as a Milky Ocean his\nspotless silk mantle that was slipping down; like the kalpa-tree,\nwith its shower of choice pearls, he rained tears of gladness;\nhe was followed by a thousand chiefs that were round him--chiefs\nwith topknots white with age, anointed with sandal, wearing untorn\n[329] linen robes, bracelets, turbans, crests and wreaths, bearing\nswords, staves, umbrellas and cowries, making the earth appear rich\nin Kailasas and Milky Oceans. The prince, seeing his father from afar,\ndismounted, and touched the ground with a head garlanded by the rays of\nhis crest-jewels. Then his father stretched out his arms, bidding him\napproach, and embraced him closely; and when he had paid his respects\nto all the honourable persons who were there, he was led by the king\nto Vilasavati's palace. (429) His coming was greeted by her and her\nretinue, and when he had performed all the auspicious ceremonies of\narrival, he stayed some time in talk about his expedition of conquest,\nand then went to see \u00c7ukanasa. Having duly stayed there some time, he\ntold him that Vai\u00e7ampayana was at the camp and well, and saw Manorama;\nand then returning, he mechanically [330] performed the ceremonies\nof bathing, and so forth, in Vilasavati's palace. On the morrow he\nwent to his own palace, and there, with a mind tossed by anxiety,\nhe deemed that not only himself, but his palace and the city, and,\nindeed, the whole world, was but a void without Kadambari, and so, in\nhis longing to hear news of her, he awaited the return of Patralekha,\nas though it were a festival, or the winning of a boon, or the time\nof the rising of amrita.\n\n'\"A few days later Meghanada came with Patralekha, and led her in;\nand as she made obeisance from afar, Candrapida smiled affectionately,\nand, rising reverently, embraced her; for though she was naturally\ndear to him, she was now yet dearer as having won a fresh splendour\nfrom Kadambari's presence. He laid his slender hand on Meghanada's\nback as he bent before him, and then, sitting down, he said: 'Tell me,\nPatralekha, is all well with Maha\u00e7veta and Madalekha, and the lady\nKadambari? (430) And are all her retinue well, with Tamalika and\nKeyuraka?' 'Prince,' she replied, 'all is well, as thou sayest. The\nlady Kadambari, with her friends and retinue, do thee homage by making\ntheir raised hands into a wreath for their brows.' At these words the\nprince dismissed his royal retinue, and went with Patralekha into\nthe palace. Then, with a tortured heart, no longer able from its\nintense love to overcome his eagerness to hear, he sent his retinue\nfar away and entered the house. With his lotus-feet he pushed away\nthe pair of hamsas that were sleeping happily on the slope beneath a\nleafy bower that made an emerald banner; and, resting in the midst\nof a fresh bed of hybiscus, that made a sunshade with its broad,\nlong-stalked leaves, he sat down, and asked: 'Tell me, Patralekha,\nhow thou hast fared. How many days wert thou there? What favour did\nthe princess show thee? What talk was there, and what conversation\narose? Who most remembers us, and whose affection is greatest?' [331]\nThus questioned, she told him: 'Give thy mind and hear all. When thou\nwert gone, I returned with Keyuraka, and sat down near the couch of\nflowers; and there I gladly remained, receiving ever fresh marks of\nkindness from the princess. What need of words? (431) The whole of\nthat day her eye, her form, her hand, were on mine; her speech dwelt\non my name and her heart on my love. On the morrow, leaning on me,\nshe left the winter palace, and, wandering at will, bade her retinue\nremain behind, and entered the maidens' garden. By a flight of emerald\nsteps, that might have been formed from Jamuna's [332] waves, she\nascended to a white summer-house, and in it she stayed some time,\nleaning against a jewelled pillar, deliberating with her heart,\nwishing to say something, and gazing on my face with fixed pupil\nand motionless eyelashes. As she looked she formed her resolve, and,\nas if longing to enter love's fire, she was bathed in perspiration;\nwhereat a trembling came upon her, so that, shaking in every limb as\nthough fearing to fall, she was seized by despair.\n\n'\"'But when I, who knew her thoughts, fixed my mind on her, and,\nfastening my eyes on her face, bade her speak, she seemed to be\nrestrained by her own trembling limbs; with a toe that marked the\nfloor as if for retreat, she seemed to rub out her own image in shame\nthat it should hear her secret; (432) with her lotus foot--its anklets\nall set jingling by the scratching of the floor--she pushed aside the\ntame geese; with a strip of silk made into a fan for her hot face,\nshe drove away the bees on her ear-lotuses; to the peacock she gave,\nlike a bribe, a piece of betel broken by her teeth; and gazing often\non every side lest a wood-goddess should listen, much as she longed\nto speak, she was checked in her utterance by shame, and could not\nspeak a word. [333] Her voice, in spite of her greatest efforts,\nwas wholly burnt up by love's fire, borne away by a ceaseless flow\nof tears, overwhelmed by onrushing griefs, broken by love's falling\nshafts, banished by invading sighs, restrained by the hundred\ncares that dwelt in her heart, and drunk by the bees that tasted\nher breath, so that it could not come forth. In brief, she made a\npearl rosary to count her many griefs with the bright tears that\nfell without touching her cheeks, as with bent head she made the\nvery image of a storm. Then from her shame learnt its full grace;\nmodesty, a transcendant modesty; simplicity, simplicity; courtesy,\ncourtesy; (433) fear, timidity; coquetry, its quintessence; despair,\nits own nature; and charm, a further charm. And so, when I asked her,\n\"Princess, what means this?\" she wiped her reddened eyes, and, holding\na garland woven by the flowers of the bower with arms which, soft as\nlotus-fibres, seemed meant to hold her firmly in the excess of her\ngrief, she raised one eyebrow, as if gazing on the path of death,\nand sighed a long, fevered sigh. And as, in desire to know the cause\nof her sorrow, I pressed her to tell me, she seemed to write on the\nketaki petals scratched by her nails in her shame, and so deliver her\nmessage. She moved her lower lip in eagerness to speak, and seemed to\nbe whispering to the bees who drank her breath, and thus she remained\nsome time with eyes fixed on the ground.\n\n'\"'At last, often turning her glance to my face, she seemed to purify,\nwith the tears that fell from her brimming eyes, the voice that the\nsmoke of Love's fire had dimmed. And, in the guise of tears, she bound\nup with the rays of her teeth, flashing in a forced smile, the strange\nsyllables of what she had meant to say, but forgotten in her tremor,\nand with great difficulty betook herself to speech. \"Patralekha,\" she\nsaid to me, \"by reason of my great favour for thee, neither father,\nmother, Maha\u00e7veta, Madalekha, nor life itself is dear to me as thou\nhast been since I first beheld thee. (434) I know not why my heart has\ncast off all my friends and trusts in thee alone. To whom else can I\ncomplain, or tell my humiliation, or give a share in my woe? When I\nhave shown thee the unbearable burden of my woe, I will die. By my life\nI swear to thee I am put to shame by even my own heart's knowledge of\nmy story; how much more by another's? How should such as I stain by\nill report a race pure as moonbeams, and lose the honour which has\ndescended from my sires, and turn my thoughts on unmaidenly levity,\nacting thus without my father's will, or my mother's bestowal, or my\nelders' congratulations, without any announcement, without sending\nof gifts, or showing of pictures? Timidly, as one unprotected,\nhave I been led to deserve my parents' blame by that overweening\nCandrapida. Is this, I pray, the conduct of noble men? Is this the\nfruit of our meeting, that my heart, tender as a lotus filament,\nis now crushed? For maidens should not be lightly treated by youths;\nthe fire of love is wont to consume first their reserve and then their\nheart; the arrows of love pierce first their dignity and then their\nlife. Therefore, I bid thee farewell till our meeting in another birth,\nfor none is dearer to me than thou. (435) By carrying out my resolve\nof death, I shall cleanse my own stain.\" So saying, she was silent.\n\n'\"'Not knowing the truth of her tale, I sorrowfully, as if ashamed,\nafraid, bewildered, and bereft of sense, adjured her, saying:\n\"Princess, I long to hear. Tell me what Prince Candrapida has\ndone. What offence has been committed? By what discourtesy has he\nvexed that lotus-soft heart of thine, that none should vex? When I\nhave heard this, thou shalt die on my lifeless body.\" Thus urged,\nshe again began: \"I will tell thee; listen carefully. In my dreams\nthat cunning villain comes daily and employs in secret messages a\ncaged parrot and a starling. In my dreams he, bewildered in mind with\nvain desires, writes in my earrings to appoint meetings. He sends\nlove-letters with their syllables washed away, filled with mad hopes,\nmost sweet, and showing his own state by the lines of tears stained\nwith pigment falling on them. By the glow of his feelings he dyes my\nfeet against my will. In his reckless insolence he prides himself on\nhis own reflection in my nails. (436) In his unwarranted boldness\nhe embraces me against my will in the gardens when I am alone,\nand almost dead from fear of being caught, as the clinging of my\nsilken skirts to the branches hinders my steps, and my friends the\ncreepers seize and deliver me to him. Naturally crooked, he teaches\nthe very essence of crookedness to a heart by nature simple by the\nblazonry he paints on my breast. Full of guileful flattery, he fans\nwith his cool breath my cheeks all wet and shining as with a breeze\nfrom the waves of my heart's longing. He boldly places the rays of his\nnails like young barley-sheaves on my ear, though his hand is empty,\nbecause its lotus has fallen from his grasp relaxed in weariness. He\naudaciously draws me by the hair to quaff the sweet wine of his breath,\ninhaled by him when he watered his favourite bakul-flowers. Mocked by\nhis own folly, he demands on his head the touch of my foot, destined\nfor the palace a\u00e7oka-tree. [334] In his utter love madness, he says:\n'Tell me, Patralekha, how a madman can be rejected?' For he considers\nrefusal a sign of jealousy; he deems abuse a gentle jest; he looks\non silence as pettishness; he regards the mention of his faults as a\ndevice for thinking of him; he views contempt as the familiarity of\nlove; he esteems the blame of mankind as renown.\"\n\n'\"'A sweet joy filled me as I heard her say this, and I thought,\n(437) \"Surely Love has led her far in her feelings for Candrapida. If\nthis indeed be true, he shows in visible form, under the guise of\nKadambari, his tender feeling towards the prince, and he is met\nby the prince's innate and carefully-trained virtues. The quarters\ngleam with his glory; a rain of pearls is cast by his youth on the\nwaves of the ocean of tenderness; his name is written by his youthful\ngaiety on the moon; his own fortune is proclaimed by his happy lot;\nand nectar is showered down by his grace as by the digits of the moon.\"\n\n'\"'Moreover, the Malaya wind has at length its season; moonrise has\ngained its full chance; the luxuriance of spring flowers has won a\nfitting fruit; the sharpness of wine has mellowed to its full virtue,\nand the descent of love's era is now clearly manifest on earth.\n\n'\"'Then I smiled, and said aloud: \"If it be so, princess, cease thy\nwrath. Be appeased. Thou canst not punish the prince for the faults of\nKama. These truly are the sports of Love, the god of the Flowery Bow,\nnot of a wanton Candrapida.\"\n\n'\"'As I said this, she eagerly asked me: \"As for this Kama, whoever\nhe may be, tell me what forms he assumes.\"\n\n'\"'\"How can he have forms?\" replied I. \"He is a formless fire. For\nwithout flame he creates heat; without smoke he makes tears flow;\nwithout the dust of ashes he shows whiteness. Nor is there a being\nin all the wide universe who is not, or has not been, or will not be,\nthe victim of his shaft. Who is there that fears him not? (438) Even\na strong man is pierced by him when he takes in hand his flowery bow.\n\n'\"'\"Moreover, when tender women are possessed by him, they gaze,\nand the sky is crowded with a thousand images of their beloved. They\npaint the loved form; the earth is a canvas all too small. They reckon\nthe virtues of their hero; number itself fails them. They listen to\ntalk about their dearest; the Goddess of Speech herself seems all too\nsilent. They muse on the joys of union with him who is their life;\nand time itself is all too short to their heart.\"\n\n'\"'She pondered a moment on this ere she replied: \"As thou sayest,\nPatralekha, Love has led me into tenderness for the prince. For all\nthese signs and more are found in me. Thou art one with my own heart,\nand I ask thee to tell me what I should now do? I am all unversed in\nsuch matters. Moreover, if I were forced to tell my parents, I should\nbe so ashamed that my heart would choose death rather than life.\"\n\n'\"'Then again I answered; \"Enough, princess! Why this needless talk\nof death as a necessary condition? [335] Surely, fair maiden, though\nthou hast not sought to please him, Love has in kindness given thee\nthis boon. Why tell thy parents? Love himself, like a parent, plans\nfor thee; (439) like a mother, he approves thee; like a father, he\nbestows thee; like a girl friend, he kindles thine affection; like\na nurse, he teaches thy tender age the secrets of love. Why should I\ntell thee of those who have themselves chosen their lords? For were\nit not so, the ordinance of the svayamvara in our law-books [336]\nwould be meaningless. Be at rest, then, princess. Enough of this talk\nof death. I conjure thee by touching thy lotus-foot to send me. I am\nready to go. I will bring back to thee, princess, thy heart's beloved.\"\n\n'\"'When I had said this, she seemed to drink me in with a tender\nglance; she was confused by an ardour of affection which, though\nrestrained, found a path, and burst through the reserve that Love's\nshafts had pierced. In her pleasure at my words, she cast off the\nsilken outer robe which clung to her through her weariness, and\nleft it suspended on her thrilling limbs. [337] She loosened the\nmoonbeam necklace on her neck, put there as a noose to hang herself,\nand entangled in the fish ornaments of her swinging earring. Yet,\nthough her whole soul was in a fever of joy, she supported herself\nby the modesty which is a maiden's natural dower, and said: \"I\nknow thy great love. But how could a woman, tender of nature as a\nyoung \u00e7irisha-blossom, show such boldness, especially one so young\nas I? (440) Bold, indeed, are they who themselves send messages, or\nthemselves deliver a message. I, a young maiden, [338] am ashamed to\nsend a bold message. What, indeed, could I say? 'Thou art very dear,'\nis superfluous. 'Am I dear to thee?' is a senseless question. 'My\nlove for thee is great,' is the speech of the shameless. 'Without\nthee I cannot live,' is contrary to experience. 'Love conquers\nme,' is a reproach of my own fault. 'I am given to thee by Love,'\nis a bold offering of one's self. 'Thou art my captive,' is the\ndaring speech of immodesty. 'Thou must needs come,' is the pride of\nfortune. 'I will come myself,' is a woman's weakness. 'I am wholly\ndevoted to thee,' is the lightness of obtruded affection. 'I send\nno message from fear of a rebuff,' is to wake the sleeper. [339]\n'Let me be a warning of the sorrow of a service that is despised,'\nis an excess of tenderness. 'Thou shalt know my love by my death,'\nis a thought that may not enter the mind.\"'\"'\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nPART II.\n\n\n(441) I hail, for the completion of the difficult toil of this\nunfinished tale, Uma and \u00c7iva, parents of earth, whose single body,\nformed from the union of two halves, shows neither point of union\nnor division.\n\n(442) I salute Narayana, creator of all, by whom the man-lion form\nwas manifested happily, showing a face terrible with its tossing mane,\nand displaying in his hand quoit, sword, club and conch.\n\nI do homage to my father, that lord of speech, the creator by whom that\nstory was made that none else could fashion, that noble man whom all\nhonour in every house, and from whom I, in reward of a former life,\nreceived my being.\n\n(443) When my father rose to the sky, on earth the stream of the\nstory failed with his voice. And I, as I saw its unfinished state\nwas a grief to the good, began it, but from no poetic pride.\n\nFor that the words flow with such beauty is my father's special gift;\na single touch of the ray of the moon, the one source of nectar,\nsuffices to melt the moonstone.\n\nAs other rivers at their full enter the Ganges, and by being absorbed\nin it reach the ocean, so my speech is cast by me for the completion\nof this story on the ocean-flowing stream of my father's eloquence.\n\nReeling under the strong sweetness of Kadambari [340] as one\nintoxicated, I am bereft of sense, in that I fear not to compose an\nending in my own speech devoid of sweetness and colour.\n\n(444) The seeds that promise fruit and are destined to flower are\nforced by the sower with fitting toils; scattered in good ground, they\ngrow to ripeness; but it is the sower's son who gathers them. [341]\n\n\n\n'\"Moreover,\" Kadambari continued, \"if the prince were brought shame\nitself, put to shame by my weakness, would not allow a sight of\nhim. (446) Fear itself, frightened at the crime of bringing him by\nforce, would not enter his presence. Then all would be over if my\nfriend Patralekha did her utmost from love to me, and yet could not\ninduce him to come, even by falling at his feet, either perchance\nfrom his respect for his parents, or devotion to royal duty, or love\nof his native land, or reluctance towards me. Nay, more. (448) I am\nthat Kadambari whom he saw resting on a couch of flowers in the winter\npalace, and he is that Candrapida, all ignorant of another's pain,\nwho stayed but two days, and then departed. I had promised Maha\u00e7veta\nnot to marry while she was in trouble, though she besought me not\nto promise, saying, that Kama often takes our life by love even for\none unseen. (449) But this is not my case. For the prince, imaged by\nfancy, ever presents himself to my sight, and, sleeping or waking,\nin every place I behold him. Therefore talk not of bringing him.\"\n\n'(450) Thereupon I [342] reflected, \"Truly the beloved, as shaped in\nthe imagination, is a great support to women separated from their\nloves, especially to maidens of noble birth.\" (451) And I promised\nKadambari that I would bring thee, O Prince. (452) Then she, roused by\nmy speech full of thy name, as by a charm to remove poison, suddenly\nopened her eyes, and said, \"I say not that thy going pleases me,\nPatralekha. (453) It is only when I see thee that I can endure my\nlife; yet if this desire possess thee, do what thou wilt!\" So saying,\nshe dismissed me with many presents.\n\n'Then with slightly downcast face Patralekha continued: \"The recent\nkindness of the princess has given me courage, my prince, and I am\ngrieved for her, and so I say to thee, 'Didst thou act worthily of\nthy tender nature in leaving her in this state?'\"\n\n'Thus reproached by Patralekha, and hearing the words of Kadambari,\nso full of conflicting impulses, the prince became confused; (454)\nand sharing in Kadambari's feeling, he asked Patralekha with tears,\n\"What am I to do? Love has made me a cause of sorrow to Kadambari,\nand of reproach to thee. (455) And methinks this was some curse that\ndarkened my mind; else how was my mind deceived when clear signs were\ngiven, which would create no doubt even in a dull mind? All this my\nfault has arisen from a mistake. I will therefore now, by devoting\nmyself to her, even with my life, act so that the princess may know\nme not to be of so hard a heart.\"\n\n'(456) While he thus spoke a portress hastened in and said: \"Prince,\nQueen Vilasavati sends a message saying, 'I hear from the talk\nof my attendants that Patralekha, who had stayed behind, has now\nreturned. And I love her equally with thyself. Do thou therefore come,\nand bring her with thee. The sight of thy lotus face, won by a thousand\nlongings, is rarely given.'\"\n\n'\"How my life now is tossed with doubts!\" thought the prince. \"My\nmother is sorrowful if even for a moment she sees me not. (457) My\nsubjects love me; but the Gandharva princess loves me more. Princess\nKadambari is worthy of my winning, and my mind is impatient of delay;\"\nso thinking, he went to the queen, and spent the day in a longing of\nheart hard to bear; (458) while the night he spent thinking of the\nbeauty of Kadambari, which was as a shrine of love.\n\n'(459) Thenceforth pleasant talk found no entrance into him. His\nfriends' words seemed harsh to him; the conversation of his kinsmen\ngave him no delight. (460) His body was dried up by love's fire, but\nhe did not yield up the tenderness of his heart. (461) He despised\nhappiness, but not self-control.\n\n'While he was thus drawn forward by strong love, which had its\nlife resting on the goodness and beauty of Kadambari, and held\nbackwards by his very deep affection for his parents, he beheld\none day, when wandering on the banks of the Sipra, a troop of horse\napproaching. (462) He sent a man to inquire what this might be, and\nhimself crossing the Sipra where the water rose but to his thigh,\nhe awaited his messenger's return in a shrine of Kartikeya. Drawing\nPatralekha to him, he said, \"Look! that horse-man whose face can\nscarce be descried is Keyuraka!\"\n\n'(463) He then beheld Keyuraka throw himself from his horse while\nyet far off, gray with dust from swift riding, while by his changed\nappearance, his lack of adornment, his despondent face, and his eyes\nthat heralded his inward grief, he announced, even without words,\nthe evil plight of Kadambari. Candrapida lovingly called him as he\nhastily bowed and drew near, and embraced him. And when he had drawn\nback and paid his homage, the prince, having gratified his followers by\ncourteous inquiries, looked at him eagerly, and said, \"By the sight of\nthee, Keyuraka, the well-being of the lady Kadambari and her attendants\nis proclaimed. When thou art rested and at ease, thou shalt tell me\nthe cause of thy coming;\" and he took Keyuraka and Patralekha home\nwith him on his elephant. (464) Then he dismissed his followers, and\nonly accompanied by Patralekha, he called Keyuraka to him, and said:\n\"Tell me the message of Kadambari, Madalekha and Maha\u00e7veta.\"\n\n'\"What shall I say?\" replied Keyuraka; \"I have no message from any of\nthese. For when I had entrusted Patralekha to Meghanada, and returned,\nand had told of thy going to Ujjayini, Maha\u00e7veta looked upwards,\nsighed a long, hot sigh, and saying sadly, 'It is so then,' returned\nto her own hermitage to her penance. Kadambari, as though bereft of\nconsciousness, ignorant of Maha\u00e7veta's departure, only opened her eyes\nafter a long time, scornfully bidding me tell Maha\u00e7veta; and asking\nMadalekha (465) if anyone ever had done, or would do, such a deed as\nCandrapida, she dismissed her attendants, threw herself on her couch,\nveiled her head, and spent the day without speaking even to Madalekha,\nwho wholly shared her grief. When early next morning I went to her,\nshe gazed at me long with tearful eyes, as if blaming me. And I, when\nthus looked at by my sorrowing mistress, deemed myself ordered to go,\nand so, without telling the princess, I have approached my lord's\nfeet. Therefore vouchsafe to hear attentively the bidding of Keyuraka,\nwhose heart is anxious to save the life of one whose sole refuge is in\nthee. For, as by thy first coming that virgin [343] forest was stirred\nas by the fragrant Malaya wind, so when she beheld thee, the joy of\nthe whole world, like the spring, love entered her as though she were\na red a\u00e7oka creeper. (466) But now she endures great torture for thy\nsake.\" (466-470) Then Keyuraka told at length all her sufferings, till\nthe prince, overcome by grief, could bear it no longer and swooned.\n\n'Then, awakening from his swoon, he lamented that he was thought too\nhard of heart to receive a message from Kadambari or her friends,\nand blamed them for not telling him of her love while he was there.\n\n(476) '\"Why should there be shame concerning one who is her servant,\never at her feet, that grief should have made its home in one so\ntender, and my desires be unfulfilled? (477) Now, what can I do\nwhen at some days' distance from her. Her body cannot even endure\nthe fall of a flower upon it, while even on adamantine hearts like\nmine the arrows of love are hard to bear. When I see the unstable\nworks began by cruel Fate, I know not where it will stop. (478)\nElse where was my approach to the land of the immortals, in my vain\nhunt for the Kinnaras? where my journey to Hemakuta with Maha\u00e7veta,\nor my sight of the princess there, or the birth of her love for me,\nor my father's command, that I could not transgress, for me to return,\nthough my longing was yet unfulfilled? It is by evil destiny that\nwe have been raised high, and then dashed to the ground. Therefore\nlet us do our utmost to console [344] the princess.\" (479) Then in\nthe evening he asked Keyuraka, \"What thinkest thou? Will Kadambari\nsupport life till we arrive? (480) Or shall I again behold her face,\nwith its eyes like a timid fawn's?\" \"Be firm, prince,\" he replied. \"Do\nthine utmost to go.\" The prince had himself begun plans for going;\nbut what happiness or what content of heart would there be without\nhis father's leave, and how after his long absence could that be\ngained? A friend's help was needed here, but Vai\u00e7ampayana was away.\n\n'(484) But next morning he heard a report that his army had reached\nDa\u00e7apura, and thinking with joy that he was now to receive the favour\nof Fate, in that Vai\u00e7ampayana was now at hand, he joyfully told the\nnews to Keyuraka. (485) \"This event,\" replied the latter, \"surely\nannounces thy going. Doubtless thou wilt gain the princess. For when\nwas the moon ever beheld by any without moonlight, or a lotus-pool\nwithout a lotus, or a garden without creeper? Yet there must be delay\nin the arrival of Vai\u00e7ampayana, and the settling with him of thy\nplans. But I have told thee the state of the princess, which admits\nof no delay. Therefore, my heart, rendered insolent by the grace\nbestowed by thy affection, desires that favour may be shown me by a\ncommand to go at once to announce the joy of my lord's coming.\" (486)\nWhereat the prince, with a glance that showed his inward satisfaction,\nreplied: \"Who else is there who so well knows time and place, or who\nelse is so sincerely loyal? This, therefore, is a happy thought. Go to\nsupport the life of the princess and to prepare for my return. But let\nPatralekha go forward, too, with thee to the feet of the princess. For\nshe is favoured by the princess.\" Then he called Meghanada, and bade\nhim escort Patralekha, (487) while he himself would overtake them\nwhen he had seen Vai\u00e7ampayana. Then he bade Patralekha tell Kadambari\nthat her noble sincerity and native tenderness preserved him, even\nthough far away and burnt by love's fire, (489) and requested her\nbidding to come. (491) After their departure, he went to ask his\nfather's leave to go to meet Vai\u00e7ampayana. The king lovingly received\nhim, and said to \u00c7ukanasa: (492) \"He has now come to the age for\nmarriage. So, having entered upon the matter with Queen Vilasavati,\nlet some fair maiden be chosen. For a face like my son's is not often\nto be seen. Let us then gladden ourselves now by the sight of the\nlotus face of a bride.\" \u00c7ukanasa agreed that as the prince had gained\nall knowledge, made royal fortune firmly his own, and wed the earth,\nthere remained nothing for him to do but to marry a wife. \"How fitly,\"\nthought Candrapida, \"does my father's plan come for my thoughts of a\nunion with Kadambari! (493) The proverb 'light to one in darkness,'\nor 'a shower of nectar to a dying man,' is coming true in me. After\njust seeing Vai\u00e7ampayana, I shall win Kadambari.\" Then the king went\nto Vilasavati, and playfully reproached her for giving no counsel as\nto a bride for her son. (494) Meanwhile the prince spent the day in\nawaiting Vai\u00e7ampayana's return. And after spending over two watches\nof the night sleepless in yearning for him, (495) the energy of his\nlove was redoubled, and he ordered the conch to be sounded for his\ngoing. (497) Then he started on the road to Da\u00e7apura, and after going\nsome distance he beheld the camp, (501) and rejoiced to think he would\nnow see Vai\u00e7ampayana; and going on alone, he asked where his friend\nwas. But weeping women replied: \"Why ask? How should he be here?\" And\nin utter bewilderment he hastened to the midst of the camp. (502) There\nhe was recognised, and on his question the chieftains besought him to\nrest under a tree while they related Vai\u00e7ampayana's fate. He was, they\nsaid, yet alive, and they told what had happened. (505) \"When left by\nthee, he halted a day, and then gave the order for our march. 'Yet,'\nsaid he, 'Lake Acchoda is mentioned in the Purana as very holy. Let us\nbathe and worship \u00c7iva in the shrine on its bank. For who will ever,\neven in a dream, behold again this place haunted by the gods?' (506)\nBut beholding a bower on the bank he gazed at it like a brother long\nlost to sight, as if memories were awakened in him. And when we urged\nhim to depart, he made as though he heard us not; but at last he\nbade us go, saying that he would not leave that spot. (508) 'Do I not\nknow well' said he, 'all that you urge for my departure? But I have\nno power over myself, and I am, as it were, nailed to the spot, and\ncannot go with you.' (510) So at length we left him, and came hither.\"\n\n'Amazed at this story, which he could not have even in a dream\nimagined, Candrapida wondered: \"What can be the cause of his resolve\nto leave all and dwell in the woods? I see no fault of my own. He\nshares everything with me. Has anything been said that could hurt him\nby my father or \u00c7ukanasa?\" (517) He at length returned to Ujjayini,\nthinking that where Vai\u00e7ampayana was there was Kadambari also,\nand resolved to fetch him back. (518) He heard that the king and\nqueen had gone to \u00c7ukanasa's house, and followed them thither. (519)\nThere he heard Manorama lamenting the absence of the son without\nwhose sight she could not live, and who had never before, even in\nhis earliest years, shown neglect of her. (520) On his entrance the\nking thus greeted him: \"I know thy great love for him. Yet when I\nhear thy story my heart suspects some fault of thine.\" But \u00c7ukanasa,\nhis face darkened with grief and impatience, said reproachfully: \"If,\nO king, there is heat in the moon or coolness in fire, then there may\nbe fault in the prince. (521) Men such as Vai\u00e7ampayana are portents of\ndestruction, (522) fire without fuel, polished mirrors that present\neverything the reverse way; (523) for them the base are exalted,\nwrong is right, and ignorance wisdom. All in them makes for evil, and\nnot for good. Therefore Vai\u00e7ampayana has not feared thy wrath, nor\nthought that his mother's life depends on him, nor that he was born\nto be a giver of offerings for the continuance of his race. (524)\nSurely the birth of one so evil and demoniac was but to cause us\ngrief.\" (525) To this the king replied: \"Surely for such as I to\nadmonish thee were for a lamp to give light to fire, or daylight an\nequal splendour to the sun. Yet the mind of the wisest is made turbid\nby grief as the Manasa Lake by the rainy season, and then sight is\ndestroyed. Who is there in this world who is not changed by youth? When\nyouth shows itself, love for elders flows away with childhood. (528)\nMy heart grieves when I hear thee speak harshly of Vai\u00e7ampayana. Let\nhim be brought hither. Then we can do as is fitting.\" (529) \u00c7ukanasa\npersisted in blaming his son; but Candrapida implored leave to fetch\nhim home, and \u00c7ukanasa at length yielded. (532) Then Candrapida\nsummoned the astrologers, and secretly bade them name the day for\nhis departure, when asked by the king or \u00c7ukanasa, so as not to delay\nhis departure. \"The conjunction of the planets,\" they answered him,\n\"is against thy going. (533) Yet a king is the determiner of time. On\nwhatever time thy will is set, that is the time for every matter.\" Then\nthey announced the morrow as the time for his departure; and he spent\nthat day and night intent on his journey, and deeming that he already\nbeheld Kadambari and Vai\u00e7ampayana before him.\n\n'(534) And when the time came, Vilasavati bade him farewell in deep\nsorrow: \"I grieved not so for thy first going as I do now. My heart\nis torn; my body is in torture; my mind is overwhelmed. (535) I know\nnot why my heart so suffers. Stay not long away.\" He tried to console\nher, and then went to his father, who received him tenderly, (539)\nand finally dismissed him, saying: \"My desire is that thou shouldst\ntake a wife and receive the burden of royalty, so that I may enter on\nthe path followed by royal sages; but this matter of Vai\u00e7ampayana is\nin the way of it, and I have misgivings that my longing is not to be\nfulfilled; else how could he have acted in so strange a way? Therefore,\nthough thou must go, my son, return soon, that my heart's desire may\nnot fail.\" (540) At length he started, and spent day and night on his\njourney in the thought of his friend and of the Gandharva world. (544)\nAnd when he had travelled far the rainy season came on, and all the\nworkings of the storms found their counterpart in his own heart. (548)\nYet he paused not on his way, nor did he heed the entreaties of his\nchieftains to bestow some care on himself, but rode on all day. (549)\nBut a third part of the way remained to traverse when he beheld\nMeghanada, and, asking him eagerly concerning Vai\u00e7ampayana, (550) he\nlearnt that Patralekha, sure that the rains would delay his coming,\nhad sent Meghanada to meet him, and that the latter had not been to the\nAcchoda lake. (552) With redoubled grief the prince rode to the lake,\nand bade his followers guard it on all sides, lest Vai\u00e7ampayana should\nin shame flee from them; but all his search found no traces of his\nfriend. (553) \"My feet,\" thought he, \"cannot leave this spot without\nhim, and yet Kadambari has not been seen. Perchance Maha\u00e7veta may know\nabout this matter; I will at least see her.\" So he mounted Indrayudha,\nand went towards her hermitage. There dismounting, he entered; but\nin the entrance of the cave he beheld Maha\u00e7veta, with difficulty\nsupported by Taralika, weeping bitterly. (554) \"May no ill,\" thought\nhe, \"have befallen Kadambari, that Maha\u00e7veta should be in this state,\nwhen my coming should be a cause of joy.\" Eagerly and sorrowfully he\nquestioned Taralika, but she only gazed on Maha\u00e7veta's face. Then\nthe latter at last spoke falteringly: \"What can one so wretched\ntell thee? Yet the tale shall be told. When I heard from Keyuraka of\nthy departure, my heart was torn by the thought that the wishes of\nKadambari's parents, my own longing, and the sight of Kadambari's\nhappiness in her union with thee had not been brought about, and,\ncleaving even the bond of my love to her, I returned home to yet\nharsher penance than before. (555) Here I beheld a young Brahman,\nlike unto thee, gazing hither and thither with vacant glance. But at\nthe sight of me his eyes were fixed on me alone, as if, though unseen\nbefore, he recognised me, though a stranger, he had long known me,\nand gazing at me like one mad or possessed, he said at last: 'Fair\nmaiden, only they who do what is fitting for their birth, age, and form\nescape blame in this world. Why toilest thou thus, like perverse fate,\nin so unmeet an employment, in that thou wastest in stern penance a\nbody tender as a garland? (556) The toil of penance is for those who\nhave enjoyed the pleasures of life and have lost its graces, but not\nfor one endowed with beauty. If thou turnest from the joys of earth,\nin vain does Love bend his bow, or the moon rise. Moonlight and the\nMalaya wind serve for naught.'\"\n\n'\"But I, caring for nothing since the loss of Pundarika, asked no\nquestions about him, (557) and bade Taralika keep him away, for some\nevil would surely happen should he return. But in spite of being kept\naway, whether from the fault of love or the destiny of suffering that\nlay upon us, he did not give up his affection; and one night, while\nTaralika slept, and I was thinking of Pundarika, (559) I beheld in the\nmoonlight, clear as day, that youth approaching like one possessed. The\nutmost fear seized me at the sight. 'An evil thing,' I thought,\n'has befallen me. If he draw near, and but touch me with his hand,\nthis accursed life must be destroyed; and then that endurance of it,\nwhich I accepted in the hope of again beholding Pundarika, will have\nbeen in vain.' While I thus thought he drew near, and said: 'Moon-faced\nmaiden, the moon, Love's ally, is striving to slay me. Therefore I\ncome to ask protection. Save me, who am without refuge, and cannot\nhelp myself, for my life is devoted to thee. (560) It is the duty of\nascetics to protect those who flee to them for protection. If, then,\nthou deign not to bestow thyself on me, the moon and love will slay\nme.' At these words, in a voice choked by wrath, I exclaimed: 'Wretch,\nhow has a thunderbolt failed to strike thy head in the utterance of\nthese thy words? Surely the five elements that give witness of right\nand wrong to mortals are lacking in thy frame, in that earth and air\nand fire and the rest have not utterly destroyed thee. Thou hast learnt\nto speak like a parrot, without thought of what was right or wrong\nto say. Why wert thou not born as a parrot? (561) I lay on thee this\nfate, that thou mayest enter on a birth suited to thine own speech,\nand cease to make love to one such as I.' So saying, I turned towards\nthe moon, and with raised hands prayed: 'Blessed one, lord of all,\nguardian of the world, if since the sight of Pundarika my heart has\nbeen free from the thought of any other man, may this false lover by\nthe truth of this my saying, fall into the existence pronounced by\nme.' Then straightway, I know not how, whether from the force of love,\nor of his own sin, or from the power of my words, he fell lifeless,\nlike a tree torn up by the roots. And it was not till he was dead that\nI learnt from his weeping attendants that he was thy friend, noble\nprince.\" Having thus said, she bent her face in shame and silently\nwept. But Candrapida, with fixed glance and broken voice, replied:\n\"Lady, thou hast done thine utmost, and yet I am too ill-fated to\nhave gained in this life the joy of honouring the feet of the lady\nKadambari. Mayest thou in another life create this bliss for me.\" (562)\nWith these words his tender heart broke, as if from grief at failing\nto win Kadambari, like a bud ready to open when pierced by a bee.\n\n'Then Taralika burst into laments over his lifeless body and into\nreproaches to Maha\u00e7veta. And as the chieftains, too, raised their cry\nof grief and wonder, (564) there entered, with but few followers,\nKadambari herself, attired as to meet her lover, though a visit\nto Maha\u00e7veta was the pretext of her coming, and while she leant on\nPatralekha's hand, she expressed her doubts of the prince's promised\nreturn, (565) and declared that if she again beheld him she would not\nspeak to him, nor be reconciled either by his humility or her friend's\nendeavours. Such were her words; but she counted all the toil of\nthe journey light in her longing to behold him again. But when she\nbeheld him dead, with a sudden cry she fell to the ground. And when\nshe recovered from her swoon, she gazed at him with fixed eyes and\nquivering mouth, like a creeper trembling under the blow of a keen\naxe, and then stood still with a firmness foreign to her woman's\nnature. (566) Madalekha implored her to give her grief the relief of\ntears, lest her heart should break, and remember that on her rested the\nhopes of two races. \"Foolish girl,\" replied Kadambari, with a smile,\n\"how should my adamantine heart break if it has not broken at this\nsight? These thoughts of family and friends are for one who wills to\nlive, not for me, who have chosen death; for I have won the body of\nmy beloved, which is life to me, and which, whether living or dead,\nwhether by an earthly union, or by my following it in death, suffices\nto calm every grief. It is for my sake that my lord came hither and\nlost his life; how, then, could I, by shedding tears, make light of\nthe great honour to which he has raised me? or how bring an ill-omened\nmourning to his departure to heaven? or how weep at the joyous moment\nwhen, like the dust of his feet, I may follow him? Now all sorrow is\nfar away. (567) For him I neglected all other ties; and now, when he is\ndead, how canst thou ask me to live? In dying now lies my life, and to\nlive would be death to me. Do thou take my place with my parents and\nmy friends, and mayest thou be the mother of a son to offer libations\nof water for me when I am in another world. Thou must wed the young\nmango in the courtyard, dear to me as my own child, to the madhavi\ncreeper. Let not a twig of the a\u00e7oka-tree that my feet have caressed be\nbroken, even to make an earring. Let the flowers of the malati creeper\nI tended be plucked only to offer to the gods. Let the picture of Kama\nin my room near my pillow be torn in pieces. The mango-trees I planted\nmust be tended so that they may come to fruit. (568) Set free from the\nmisery of their cage the maina Kalindi and the parrot Parihasa. Let\nthe little mongoose that rested in my lap now rest in thine. Let my\nchild, the fawn Taralaka, be given to a hermitage. Let the partridges\non the pleasure-hill that grew up in my hand be kept alive. See that\nthe hamsa that followed my steps be not killed. Let my poor ape be\nset free, for she is unhappy in the house. Let the pleasure-hill be\ngiven to some calm-souled hermit, and let the things I use myself be\ngiven to Brahmans. My lute thou must lovingly keep in thine own lap,\nand anything else that pleases thee must be thine own. But as for\nme, I will cling to my lord's neck, and so on the funeral pyre allay\nthe fever which the moon, sandal, lotus-fibres, and all cool things\nhave but increased.\" (569) Then she embraced Maha\u00e7veta, saying: \"Thou\nindeed hast some hope whereby to endure life, even though its pains\nbe worse than death; but I have none, and so I bid thee farewell,\ndear friend, till we meet in another birth.\"\n\n'As though she felt the joy of reunion, she honoured the feet of\nCandrapida with bent head, and placed them in her lap. (570) At\nher touch a strange bright light arose from Candrapida's body, and\nstraightway a voice was heard in the sky: \"Dear Maha\u00e7veta, I will\nagain console thee. The body of thy Pundarika, nourished in my world\nand by my light, free from death, awaits its reunion with thee. The\nother body, that of Candrapida, is filled with my light, and so is\nnot subject to death, both from its own nature, and because it is\nnourished by the touch of Kadambari; it has been deserted by the\nsoul by reason of a curse, like the body of a mystic whose spirit\nhas passed into another form. Let it rest here to console thee and\nKadambari till the curse be ended. Let it not be burnt, nor cast into\nwater, nor deserted. It must be kept with all care till its reunion.\"\n\n'All but Patralekha were astounded at this saying, and fixed their\ngaze on the sky; but she, recovering, at the cool touch of that light,\nfrom the swoon brought on by seeing the death of Candrapida, rose,\nhastily seizing Indrayudha from his groom, saying: \"However it may be\nfor us, thou must not for a moment leave thy master to go alone without\na steed on his long journey;\" and plunged, together with Indrayudha,\ninto the Acchoda Lake. (571) Straightway there rose from the lake a\nyoung ascetic, and approaching Maha\u00e7veta, said mournfully: \"Princess\nof the Gandharvas, knowest thou me, now that I have passed through\nanother birth?\" Divided between joy and grief, she paid homage to\nhis feet, and replied: \"Blessed Kapi\u00f1jala, am I so devoid of virtue\nthat I could forget thee? And yet this thought of me is natural,\nsince I am so strangely ignorant of myself and deluded by madness\nthat when my lord Pundarika is gone to heaven I yet live. (572) Tell\nme of Pundarika.\" He then recalled how he had flown into the sky in\npursuit of the being who carried off Pundarika, and passing by the\nwondering gods in their heavenly cars, he had reached the world of\nthe moon. \"Then that being,\" he continued, \"placed Pundarika's body\non a couch in the hall called Mahodaya, and said: 'Know me to be the\nmoon! (573) When I was rising to help the world I was cursed by thy\nfriend, because my beams were slaying him before he could meet his\nbeloved; and he prayed that I, too, might die in the land of Bharata,\nthe home of all sacred rites, knowing myself the pains of love. But I,\nwrathful at being cursed for what was his own fault, uttered the curse\nthat he should endure the same lot of joy or sorrow as myself. When,\nhowever, my anger passed away, I understood what had happened about\nMaha\u00e7veta. Now, she is sprung from the race that had its origin in\nmy beams, and she chose him for her lord. Yet he and I must both\nbe born twice in the world of mortals, else the due order of births\nwill not be fulfilled. I have therefore carried the body hither, and\nI nourish it with my light lest it should perish before the curse is\nended, and I have comforted Maha\u00e7veta. (574) Tell the whole matter to\nPundarika's father. His spiritual power is great, and he may find a\nremedy.' And I, rushing away in grief, leapt off another rider in a\nheavenly chariot, and in wrath he said to me: 'Since in the wide path\nof heaven thou hast leapt over me like a horse in its wild course,\ndo thou become a horse, and descend into the world of mortals.' To\nmy tearful assurance that I had leapt over him in the blindness of\ngrief, and not from contempt, he replied: 'The curse, once uttered,\ncannot be recalled. But when thy rider shall die, thou shalt bathe and\nbe freed from the curse.' Then I implored him that as my friend was\nabout to be born with the moon-god, in the world of mortals, I might,\nas a horse, constantly dwell with him. (575) Softened by my affection,\nhe told me that the moon would be born as a son to King Tarapida\nat Ujjayini, Pundarika would be the son of his minister, \u00c7ukanasa,\nand that I should be the prince's steed. Straightway I plunged into\nthe ocean, and rose as a horse, but yet lost not consciousness of the\npast. I it was who purposely brought Candrapida hither in pursuit of\nthe kinnaras. And he who sought thee by reason of the love implanted\nin a former birth, and was consumed by a curse in thine ignorance,\nwas my friend Pundarika come down to earth.\"\n\n'Then Maha\u00e7veta beat her breast with a bitter cry, saying: \"Thou didst\nkeep thy love for me through another birth, Pundarika; I was all the\nworld to thee; and yet, like a demon, born for thy destruction even in\na fresh life, I have received length of years but to slay thee again\nand again. (576) Even in thee, methinks, coldness must now have sprung\nup towards one so ill-fated, in that thou answerest not my laments;\"\nand she flung herself on the ground. But Kapi\u00f1jala pityingly replied:\n\"Thou art blameless, princess, and joy is at hand. Grieve not,\ntherefore, but pursue the penance undertaken by thee; for to perfect\npenance naught is impossible, and by the power of thine austerities\nthou shalt soon be in the arms of my friend.\"\n\n'(577) Then Kadambari asked Kapi\u00f1jala what had become of Patralekha\nwhen she plunged with him into the tank. But he knew naught of what\nhad happened since then, either to her, or his friend, or Candrapida,\nand rose to the sky to ask the sage \u00c7vetaketu, Pundarika's father,\nto whom everything in the three worlds was visible.\n\n'(577-578) Then Maha\u00e7veta counselled Kadambari, whose love to her was\ndrawn the closer from the likeness of her sorrow, that she should\nspend her life in ministering to the body of Candrapida, nothing\ndoubting that while others, to gain good, worshipped shapes of wood\nand stone that were but images of invisible gods, she ought to worship\nthe present deity, veiled under the name of Candrapida. Laying his\nbody tenderly on a rock, Kadambari put off the adornments with which\nshe had come to meet her lover, keeping but one bracelet as a happy\nomen. She bathed, put on two white robes, rubbed off the deep stain of\nbetel from her lips, (579) and the very flowers, incense, and unguents\nshe had brought to grace a happy love she now offered to Candrapida\nin the worship due to a god. That day and night she spent motionless,\nholding the feet of the prince, and on the morrow she joyfully saw\nthat his brightness was unchanged, (581) and gladdened her friends\nand the prince's followers by the tidings. (582) The next day she sent\nMadalekha to console her parents, and they sent back an assurance that\nthey had never thought to see her wed, and that now they rejoiced\nthat she had chosen for her husband the incarnation of the moon-god\nhimself. They hoped, when the curse was over, to behold again her\nlotus-face in the company of their son-in-law. (583) So comforted,\nKadambari remained to tend and worship the prince's body. Now, when\nthe rainy season was over, Meghanada came to Kadambari, and told her\nthat messengers had been sent by Tarapida to ask the cause of the\nprince's delay, (584) and that he, to spare her grief, had told them\nthe whole story, and bade them hasten to tell all to the king. They,\nhowever, had replied that this might doubtless be so; yet, to say\nnothing of their hereditary love for the prince, the desire to see so\ngreat a marvel urged them to ask to be allowed to behold him; their\nlong service deserved the favour; and what would the king say if they\nfailed to see Candrapida's body? (585) Sorrowfully picturing to herself\nwhat the grief of Tarapida would be, Kadambari admitted the messengers,\n(586) and as they tearfully prostrated themselves, she consoled them,\nsaying that this was a cause for joy rather than sorrow. \"Ye have seen\nthe prince's face, and his body free from change; therefore hasten to\nthe king's feet. Yet do not spread abroad this story, but say that ye\nhave seen the prince, and that he tarries by the Acchoda Lake. For\ndeath must come to all, and is easily believed; but this event,\neven when seen, can scarce win faith. It profits not now, therefore,\nby telling this to his parents, to create in them a suspicion of\nhis death; but when he comes to life again, this wondrous tale will\nbecome clear to them.\" (587) But they replied: \"Then we must either not\nreturn or keep silence. But neither course is possible; nor could we\nso greet the sorrowing king.\" She therefore sent Candrapida's servant\nTvaritaka with them, to give credit to the story, for the prince's\nroyal retinue had all taken a vow to live there, eating only roots\nand fruits, and not to return till the prince himself should do so.\n\n(589) 'After many days, Queen Vilasavati, in her deep longing for\nnews of her son, went to the temple of the Divine Mothers of Avanti,\n[345] the guardian goddesses of Ujjayini, to pray for his return; and\non a sudden a cry arose from the retinue: \"Thou art happy, O Queen! The\nMothers have shown favour to thee! Messengers from the prince are at\nhand.\" Then she saw the messengers, with the city-folk crowding round\nthem, asking news of the prince, or of sons, brothers, and other\nkinsfolk among his followers, (591) but receiving no answers. She\nsent for them to the temple court, and cried: \"Tell me quickly of my\nson. (592) Have ye seen him?\" And they, striving to hide their grief,\nreplied: \"O Queen, he has been seen by us on the shore of the Acchoda\nLake, and Tvaritaka will tell thee the rest.\" \"What more,\" said she,\n\"can this unhappy man tell me? For your own sorrowful bearing has\ntold the tale. Alas, my child! Wherefore hast thou not returned? When\nthou didst bid me farewell, I knew by my forebodings that I should not\nbehold thy face again. (593) This all comes from the evil deeds of my\nformer birth. Yet think not, my son, that I will live without thee,\nfor how could I thus even face thy father? And yet, whether it be\nfrom love, or from the thought that one so fair must needs live, or\nfrom the native simplicity of a woman's mind, my heart cannot believe\nthat ill has befallen thee.\" (594) Meanwhile, the news was told to\nthe king, and he hastened to the temple with \u00c7ukanasa, and tried to\nrouse the queen from the stupor of grief, saying: (595) \"My queen,\nwe dishonour ourselves by this show of grief. Our good deeds in a\nformer life have carried us thus far. We are not the vessel of further\njoys. That which we have not earned is not won at will by beating\nthe breast. The Creator does what He wills, and depends on none. We\nhave had the joy of our son's babyhood and boyhood and youth. We have\ncrowned him, and greeted his return from his world conquest. (596)\nAll that is lacking to our wishes is that we have not seen him wed,\nso that we might leave him in our place, and retire to a hermitage. But\nto gain every desire is the fruit of very rare merit. We must, however,\nquestion Tvaritaka, for we know not all yet.\" (597) But when he heard\nfrom Tvaritaka how the prince's heart had broken, he interrupted him,\nand cried that a funeral pyre should be prepared for himself near the\nshrine of Mahakala. (598) All his treasure was to be given to Brahmans,\nand the kings who followed him were to return to their own lands. Then\nTvaritaka implored him to hear the rest of the story of Vai\u00e7ampayana,\nand his grief was followed by wonder; while \u00c7ukanasa, showing the\ndesire of a true friend to forget his own grief and offer consolation,\nsaid: (599) \"Sire, in this wondrous transitory existence, wherein\nwander gods, demons, animals and men, filled with joy and grief,\nthere is no event which is not possible. Why then doubt concerning\nthis? If from a search for reason, how many things rest only on\ntradition, and are yet seen to be true? As the use of meditation\nor certain postures to cure a poisoned man, the attraction of the\nloadstone, the efficacy of mantras, Vedic or otherwise, in actions\nof all kinds, wherein sacred tradition is our authority. (600) Now\nthere are many stories of curses in the Puranas, the Ramayana, the\nMahabharata, and the rest. For it was owing to a curse that Nahusha\n[346] became a serpent, Saudasa [347] a cannibal, Yayati decrepit,\nTri\u00e7amku [348] a Candala, the heaven-dwelling Mahabhisha was born\nas \u00c7antanu, while Ganga became his wife, and the Vasus, [349] his\nsons. Nay, even the Supreme God, Vishnu, was born as Yamadagni's son,\nand, dividing himself into four, he was born to Da\u00e7aratha, and also\nto Vasudeva at Mathura. Therefore the birth of gods among mortals\nis not hard of belief. And thou, sire, art not behind the men of\nold in virtue, nor is the moon greater than the god from whom the\nlotus springs. Our dreams at our sons' birth confirm the tale; the\nnectar that dwells in the moon preserves the prince's body, (601)\nand his beauty that gladdens the world must be destined to dwell in\nthe world. We shall therefore soon see his marriage with Kadambari,\nand therein find all the past troubles of life more than repaid. Do\nthen thine utmost by worshipping gods, giving gifts to Brahmans,\nand practising austerities, to secure this blessing.\" (602-604) The\nking assented, but expressed his resolve to go himself to behold the\nprince, and he and the queen, together with \u00c7ukanasa and his wife,\nwent to the lake. (605) Comforted by the assurance of Meghanada, who\ncame to meet him, that the prince's body daily grew in brightness,\nhe entered the hermitage; (606) while, at the news of his coming,\nMaha\u00e7veta fled in shame within the cave, and Kadambari swooned. And\nas he looked on his son, who seemed but to sleep, the queen rushed\nforward, and with fond reproaches entreated Candrapida to speak\nto them. (608) But the king reminded her that it was her part to\ncomfort \u00c7ukanasa and his wife. \"She also, to whom we shall owe the\njoy of again beholding our son alive, even the Gandharva princess,\nis yet in a swoon; do thou take her in thine arms, and bring her\nback to consciousness.\" Then she tenderly touched Kadambari, saying\n\"Be comforted, my mother, [350] for without thee, who could have\npreserved the body of my son Candrapida? Surely thou must be wholly\nmade of amrita, that we are again able to behold his face.\" (609) At\nthe name of Candrapida and the touch of the queen, so like his own,\nKadambari recovered her senses, and was helped by Madalekha to pay\ndue honour, though with face bent in shame, to his parents. She\nreceived their blessing--\"Mayest thou live long, and long enjoy an\nunwidowed life\"--and was set close behind Vilasavati. The king then\nbade her resume her care of the prince, and took up his abode in\na leafy bower near the hermitage, provided with a cool stone slab,\nand meet for a hermit, (610) and told his royal retinue that he would\nnow carry out his long-cherished desire of an ascetic life, and that\nthey must protect his subjects. \"It is surely a gain if I hand over\nmy place to one worthy of it, and by this enfeebled and useless body\nof mine win the joys of another world.\"\n\n'So saying, he gave up all his wonted joys, and betook himself to\nthe unwonted life in the woods; he found a palace beneath the trees;\nthe delights of the zenana, in the creepers; the affection of friends,\nin the fawns; the pleasure of attire, in rags and bark garments. (611)\nHis weapons were rosaries; his ambition was for another world; his\ndesire for wealth was in penance. He refused all the delicacies that\nKadambari and Maha\u00e7veta offered him, and so dwelt with his queen and\n\u00c7ukanasa, counting all pains light, so that every morning and evening\nhe might have the joy of seeing Candrapida.'\n\nHaving told this tale, [351] the sage Jabali said with a scornful\nsmile to his son Harita and the other ascetics: 'Ye have seen how this\nstory has had power to hold us long, and to charm our hearts. And this\nis the love-stricken being who by his own fault fell from heaven,\nand became on earth Vai\u00e7ampayana, son of \u00c7ukanasa. He it is who,\nby the curse of his own wrathful father, and by Maha\u00e7veta's appeal\nto the truth of her heart, has been born as a parrot.' (612) As he\nthus spoke, I awoke, as it were, out of sleep, and, young as I was,\nI had on the tip of my tongue all the knowledge gained in a former\nbirth; I became skilled in all arts; I had a clear human voice,\nmemory, and all but the shape of a man. My affection for the prince,\nmy uncontrolled passion, my devotion to Maha\u00e7veta, all returned. A\nyearning arose in me to know about them and my other friends, and\nthough in deepest shame, I faintly asked Jabali: 'Now, blessed saint,\nthat thou hast brought back my knowledge, my heart breaks for the\nprince who died in grief for my death. (613) Vouchsafe to tell me\nof him, so that I may be near him; even my birth as an animal will\nnot grieve me.' With mingled scorn and pity he replied: 'Wilt thou\nnot even now restrain thine old impatience? Ask, when thy wings are\ngrown.' Then to his son's inquiry how one of saintly race should be\nso enslaved by love, he replied that this weak and unrestrained nature\nbelonged to those born, like me, from a mother only. For the Veda says,\n'As a man's parents are, so is he,' (614) and medical science, too,\ndeclares their weakness. And he said my life now would be but short,\nbut that when the curse was over, I should win length of years. I\nhumbly asked by what sacrifices I should gain a longer life, but he\nbade me wait, and as the whole night had passed unobserved in his\nstory, (615) he sent the ascetics to offer the morning oblation, while\nHarita took me, and placed me in his own hut near his couch, and went\nto his morning duties. (616) During his absence, I sorrowfully thought\nhow hard it would be to rise from being a bird to being a Brahman,\nnot to say a saint, who has the bliss of heaven. Yet if I could not\nbe united to those I loved in past lives why should I yet live? But\nHarita then returned, and told me that Kapi\u00f1jala was there. (617-618)\nWhen I saw him weary, yet loving as ever, I strove to fly to him, and\nhe, lifting me up, placed me in his bosom, and then on his head. (619)\nThen he told me, 'Thy father \u00c7vetaketu knew by divine insight of\nthy plight, and has begun a rite to help thee. As he began it I was\nset free from my horse's shape; (620) but he kept me till Jabali had\nrecalled the past to thee, and now sends me to give thee his blessing,\nand say that thy mother Lakshmi is also helping in the rite.' (621)\nThen, bidding me stay in the hermitage, he rose to the sky, to take\npart in the rite. (622) After some days, however, my wings were grown,\nand I resolved to fly to Maha\u00e7veta, so I set off towards the north;\n(623) but weariness soon overtook me, and I went to sleep in a tree,\nonly to wake in the snare of a terrible Candala. (624) I besought\nhim to free me, for I was on the way to my beloved, but he said he\nhad captured me for the young Candala princess, who had heard of\nmy gifts. With horror I heard that I, the son of Lakshmi and of a\ngreat saint, must dwell with a tribe shunned even by barbarians;\n(625) but when I urged that he could set me free without danger,\nfor none would see him, he laughed, and replied: 'He, for whom there\nexist not the five guardians of the world, [352] witnesses of right\nand wrong, dwelling within his own body to behold his actions, will\nnot do his duty for fear of any other being.' (626) So he carried me\noff, and as I looked out in hope of getting free from him, I beheld\nthe barbarian settlement, a very market-place of evil deeds. It was\nsurrounded on all sides by boys engaged in the chase, unleashing their\nhounds, teaching their falcons, mending snares, carrying weapons, and\nfishing, horrible in their attire, like demoniacs. Here and there the\nentrance to their dwellings, hidden by thick bamboo forests, was to\nbe inferred, from the rising of smoke of orpiment. On all sides the\nenclosures were made with skulls; (627) the dustheaps in the roads\nwere filled with bones; the yards of the huts were miry with blood,\nfat, and meat chopped up. The life there consisted of hunting; the\nfood, of flesh; the ointment, of fat; the garments, of coarse silk;\nthe couches, of dried skins; the household attendants, of dogs; the\nanimals for riding, of cows; the men's employment, of wine and women;\nthe oblation to the gods, of blood; the sacrifice, of cattle. The\nplace was the image of all hells. (628) Then the man brought me to\nthe Candala maiden, who received me gladly, and placed me in a cage,\nsaying: 'I will take from thee all thy wilfulness.' What was I to\ndo? Were I to pray her to release me, it was my power of speech that\nhad made her desire me; were I silent, anger might make her cruel;\n(629) still, it was my want of self-restraint that had caused all my\nmisery, and so I resolved to restrain all my senses, and I therefore\nkept entire silence and refused all food.\n\nNext day, however, the maiden brought fruits and water, and when I\ndid not touch them she said tenderly: 'It is unnatural for birds and\nbeasts to refuse food when hungry. If thou, mindful of a former birth,\nmakest distinction of what may or may not be eaten, yet thou art now\nborn as an animal, and canst keep no such distinction. (630) There is\nno sin in acting in accordance with the state to which thy past deeds\nhave brought thee. Nay, even for those who have a law concerning food,\nit is lawful, in a time of distress, to eat food not meet for them,\nin order to preserve life. Much more, then, for thee. Nor needst thou\nfear this food as coming from our caste; for fruit may be accepted\neven from us; and water, even from our vessels, is pure, so men say,\nwhen it falls on the ground.' I, wondering at her wisdom, partook of\nfood, but still kept silence.\n\n'After some time, when I had grown up, I woke one day to find myself\nin this golden cage, and beheld the Candala maiden as thou, O king,\nhast seen her. (631) The whole barbarian settlement shewed like\na city of the gods, and before I could ask what it all meant, the\nmaiden brought me to thy feet. But who she is and why she has become a\nCandala, and why I am bound or brought hither, I am as eager as thou,\nO king, to learn.'\n\nThereupon the king, in great amazement, sent for the maiden, and she,\nentering, overawed the king with her majesty, and said with dignity:\n'Thou gem of earth, lord of Rohini, joy of Kadambari's eyes--thou, O\nmoon, hast heard the story of thy past birth, and that of this foolish\nbeing. Thou knowest from him how even in this birth he disregarded his\nfather's command, and set off to seek his bride. Now I am Lakshmi,\nhis mother, and his father, seeing by divine insight that he had\nstarted, bade me keep him in safety till the religious rite for him was\ncompleted, and lead him to repentance. (632) The rite is now over. The\nend of the curse is at hand. I brought him to thee that thou mightest\nrejoice with him thereat. I became a Candala to avoid contact with\nmankind. Do ye both therefore, straightway leave bodies beset with the\nills of birth, old age, pain, and death, and win the joy of union with\nyour beloved.' So saying, she suddenly rose to the sky, followed by\nthe gaze of all the people, while the firmament rang with her tinkling\nanklets. The king, at her words, remembered his former birth and said:\n'Dear Pundarika, now called Vai\u00e7ampayana, happy is it that the curse\ncomes to an end at the same moment for us both'; but while he spoke,\nLove drew his bow, taking Kadambari as his best weapon, and entered\ninto the king's heart to destroy his life. (635) The flame of love\nwholly consumed him, and from longing for Maha\u00e7veta, Vai\u00e7ampayana,\nwho was in truth Pundarika, endured the same sufferings as the king.\n\nNow at this time there set in the fragrant season of spring, as if to\nburn him utterly, (636) and while it intoxicated all living beings,\nit was used by Love as his strongest shaft to bewilder the heart of\nKadambari. On Kama's festival she passed the day with great difficulty,\nand at twilight, when the quarters were growing dark, she bathed,\nworshipped Kama, and placed before him the body of Candrapida, washed,\nanointed with musk-scented sandal, and decked with flowers. (637)\nFilled with a deep longing, she drew nigh, as if unconsciously and\nsuddenly, bereft by love of a woman's native timidity, she could\nno longer restrain herself, and clasped Candrapida's neck as though\nhe were yet alive. At her ambrosial embrace the prince's life came\nback to him, and, clasping her closely, like one awakened from sleep\n(638), he gladdened her by saying: 'Timid one, away with fear! Thine\nembrace hath brought me to life; for thou art born of the Apsaras race\nsprung from nectar, and it was but the curse that prevented thy touch\nfrom reviving me before. I have now left the mortal shape of \u00c7udraka,\nthat caused the pain of separation from thee; but this body I kept,\nbecause it won thy love. Now both this world and the moon are bound\nto thy feet. Vai\u00e7ampayana, too, the beloved of thy friend Maha\u00e7veta,\nhas been freed from the curse with me.' While the moon, hidden\nin the shape of Candrapida, thus spoke, Pundarika descended from\nthe sky, pale, wearing still the row of pearls given by Maha\u00e7veta,\nand holding the hand of Kapi\u00f1jala. (639) Gladly Kadambari hastened\nto tell Maha\u00e7veta of her lover's return, while Candrapida said:\n'Dear Pundarika, though in an earlier birth thou wast my son-in-law,\n[353] thou must now be my friend, as in our last birth.' Meanwhile,\nKeyuraka set off to Hemakuta to tell Hamsa and Citraratha, and\nMadalekha fell at the feet of Tarapida, who was absorbed in prayer\nto \u00c7iva, Vanquisher of Death, and Vilasavati, and told them the\nglad tidings. (640) Then the aged king came, leaning on \u00c7ukanasa,\nwith the queen and Manorama, and great was the joy of all. Kapi\u00f1jala\ntoo brought a message to \u00c7ukanasa from \u00c7vetakatu, saying: 'Pundarika\nwas but brought up by me; but he is thy son, and loves thee; do thou\ntherefore keep him from ill, and care for him as thine own. (641) I\nhave placed in him my own life, and he will live as long as the moon;\nso that my desires are fulfilled. The divine spirit of life in me now\nyearns to reach a region surpassing the world of gods.' That night\npassed in talk of their former birth; and next day the two Gandharva\nkings came with their queens, and the festivities were increased a\nthousandfold. Citraratha, however, said: 'Why, when we have palaces of\nour own, do we feast in the forest? Moreover, though marriage resting\nonly on mutual love is lawful among us, [354] yet let us follow the\ncustom of the world.' 'Nay,' replied Tarapida. 'Where a man hath\nknown his greatest happiness, there is his home, even if it be the\nforest.1 (642) And where else have I known such joy as here? [355]\nAll my palaces, too, have been given over to thy son-in-law; take\nmy son, therefore, with his bride, and taste the joys of home.' Then\nCitraratha went with Candrapida to Hemakuta, and offered him his whole\nkingdom with the hand of Kadambari. Hamsa did the same to Pundarika;\nbut both refused to accept anything, for their longings were satisfied\nwith winning the brides dear to their hearts.\n\nNow, one day Kadambari, though her joy was complete, asked her husband\nwith tears: 'How is it that when we all have died and come to life,\nand have been united with each other, Patralekha alone is not here,\nnor do we know what has become of her?' 'How could she be here, my\nbeloved?' replied the prince tenderly. 'For she is my wife Rohini,\nand, when she heard I was cursed, grieving for my grief, she refused\nto leave me alone in the world of mortals, and though I sought to\ndissuade her, she accepted birth in that world even before me, that\nshe might wait upon me. (643) When I entered on another birth, she\nagain wished to descend to earth; but I sent her back to the world\nof the moon. There thou wilt again behold her.' But Kadambari, in\nwonder at Rohini's nobility, tenderness, loftiness of soul, devotion,\nand charm, was abashed, and could not utter a word.\n\nThe ten nights that Candrapida spent at Hemakuta passed as swiftly\nas one day; and then, dismissed by Citraratha and Madira, who were\nwholly content with him, he approached the feet of his father. There he\nbestowed on the chieftains who had shared his sufferings a condition\nlike his own, and laying on Pundarika the burden of government,\nfollowed the steps of his parents, who had given up all earthly\nduties. Sometimes from love of his native land, he would dwell in\nUjjayini, where the citizens gazed at him with wide, wondering eyes;\nsometimes, from respect to the Gandharva king, at Hemakuta, beautiful\nbeyond compare; sometimes, from reverence to Rohini, in the world\nof the moon, where every place was charming from the coolness and\nfragrance of nectar; sometimes, from love to Pundarika, by the lake\nwhere Lakshmi dwelt, on which the lotuses ever blossomed night and day,\nand often, to please Kadambari, in many another fair spot.\n\nWith Kadambari he enjoyed many a pleasure, to which the yearning of\ntwo births gave an ever fresh [356] and inexhaustible delight. Nor\ndid the Moon rejoice alone with Kadambari, nor she with Maha\u00e7veta,\nbut Maha\u00e7veta with Pundarika, and Pundarika with the Moon, all spent\nan eternity of joy in each other's company, and reached the very\npinnacle of happiness.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX.\n\n\nDESCRIPTION OF UJJAYINI.\n\n\n(102) There is a town by name Ujjayini, the proudest gem of the\nthree worlds, the very birthplace of the golden age, created by the\nblessed Mahakala, [357] Lord of Pramathas, [358] Creator, Preserver\nand Destroyer of the Universe, as a habitation meet for himself, like\na second earth. It is encompassed by a moat deep as hell--as by the\nocean, mistaking it for another earth--and surrounded by fenced walls,\nwhite with plaster, like Kailasa, with its many points showing clear\nagainst the sky, through joy at being the dwelling of \u00c7iva.\n\nIt is adorned with large bazaars, like the oceans when their waters\nwere drunk by Agastya, stretching far, with gold-dust for sand,\nwith conch and oyster pearls, coral and emeralds laid bare. The\npainted halls that deck it are filled with gods, demons, Siddhas,\n[359] Gandharvas, genii, and snakes, (103) and show like a row of\nheavenly chariots come down from the sky to behold fair women at\nceaseless festivals. Its crossways shine with temples like Mandara\nwhitened by the milk raised up by the churning stick, with spotless\ngolden vases for peaks, and white banners stirred by the breeze\nlike the peaks of Himalaya with the heavenly Ganges falling on\nthem. Commons gray with ketaki pollen, dark with green gardens,\nwatered by buckets constantly at work, and having wells adorned with\nbrick seats, lend their charm. Its groves are darkened by bees vocal\nwith honey draughts, its breeze laden with the sweetness of creeper\nflowers, all trembling. It pays open honour to Kama, with banners\nmarked with the fish on the house-poles, with bells ringing merrily,\nwith crimson pennons of silk, and red cowries steady, made of coral,\nstanding upright in every house. Its sin is washed away by the\nperpetual recitation of sacred books. (104) It resounds with the cry\nof the peacocks, intent on a wild dance with their tails outspread\nfrom excitement in the bathing-houses, wherein is the steady, deep\nsound of the drums, and a storm caused by the heavy showers of spray,\nand beautiful rainbows made by the sunbeams cast upon it. It glitters\nwith lakes, fair with open blue water-lilies, with their centre white\nas unclosed moon-lotuses, beautiful in their unwavering gaze, [360]\nlike the thousand eyes of Indra. It is whitened with ivory turrets on\nall sides, endowed with plantain groves, white as flecks of ambrosial\nfoam. It is girt with the river Sipra, which seems to purify the sky,\nwith its waves forming a ceaseless frown, as though jealously beholding\nthe river of heaven on the head of \u00c7iva, while its waters sway over\nthe rounded forms of the Malavis, wild with the sweetness of youth.\n\nThe light-hearted race that dwell there, like the moon on the locks\nof \u00c7iva, spread their glory [361] through all the earth, and have\ntheir horn filled with plenty; [362] like Mainaka, they have known no\npakshapata; [363] like the stream of the heavenly Ganges, with its\ngolden lotuses, their heaps of gold and rubies [364] shine forth;\nlike the law-books, they order the making of water-works, bridges,\ntemples, pleasure-grounds, wells, hostels for novices, wayside sheds\nfor watering cattle, and halls of assembly; like Mandara, they have\nthe best treasures of ocean drawn up for them; though they have charms\nagainst poison, [365] yet they fear snakes; [366] though they live\non the wicked, [367] they give their best to the good; though bold,\nthey are very courteous; though pleasant of speech, they are truthful;\nthough handsome, [368] content with their wives; though they invite\nthe entrance of guests, they know not how to ask a boon; though they\nseek love and wealth, they are strictly just; though virtuous, they\nfear another world. [369] They are connoisseurs in all arts, pleasant\n[370] and intelligent. They talk merrily, are charming in their humour,\nspotless in their attire, (106) skilled in foreign languages, clever\nat subtleties of speech, [371] versed in stories of all kinds, [372]\naccomplished in letters, having a keen delight in the Mahabharata,\nPuranas, and Ramayana, familiar with the Brihatkatha, masters of the\nwhole circle of arts, especially gambling, lovers of the \u00e7astras,\ndevoted to light literature, calm as a fragrant spring breeze,\nconstantly going to the south; [373] upright, [374] like the wood of\nHimalaya; skilled in the worship of Rama, [375] like Lakshmana; open\nlovers of Bharata, like \u00c7atrughna; [376] like the day, following the\nsun; [377] like a Buddhist, bold in saying 'Yes' about all kinds of\ngifts; [378] like the doctrine of the Samkhya philosophy, possessed\nof noble men; [379] like Jinadharma, pitiful to life.\n\nThe city seems possessed of rocks, with its palaces; it stretches like\na suburb with its long houses; it is like the tree that grants desires\nwith its good citizens; it bears in its painted halls the mirror of\nall forms. Like twilight, it shines with the redness of rubies; [380]\n(107) like the form of the Lord of Heaven, it is purified with the\nsmoke of a hundred sacrifices; like the wild dance of \u00c7iva, it has\nthe smiles, which are its white markets; [381] like an old woman, it\nhas its beauty worn; [382] like the form of Garuda, it is pleasing\nin being the resting-place of Vishnu; [383] like the hour of dawn,\nit has its people all alert; like the home of a mountaineer, it has\npalaces in which ivory cowries [384] are hanging; like the form of\n\u00c7esha, [385] it always bears the world; like the hour of churning\nthe ocean, it fills the end of the earth with its hubbub; [386]\nlike the rite of inauguration, it has a thousand gold pitchers [387]\nat hand; like Gauri, it has a form fit to sit on the lion-throne;\nlike Aditi, honoured in a hundred houses of the gods; like the\nsports of Mahavaraha, showing the casting down of Hiranyaksha;\n[388] like Kadru, it is a joy to the race of reptiles; [389] like\nthe Harivam\u00e7a, it is charming with the games of many children. [390]\n(108) Though its courts are open to all, its glory is uninjured;\n[391] though it glows with colour, [392] it is white as nectar;\nthough it is hung with strings of pearls, yet when unadorned [393]\nit is adorned the most; though composed of many elements, [394] it is\nyet stable, and it surpasses in splendour the world of the immortals.\n\nThere the sun is daily seen paying homage to Mahakala, for his steeds\nvail their heads at the charm of the sweet chant of the women singing\nin concert in the lofty white palaces, and his pennon droops before\nhim. There his rays fall on the vermeil floors like the crimson of\neve; and on the emerald seats, as though busy in creating lotus beds;\non the lapis-lazuli, as though scattered on the sky; on the circling\naloe smoke, as though eager to break its dense gloom; on the wreaths\nof pearl, as though disdaining the clusters of stars; (109) on the\nwomen's faces, as though kissing unfolding lotuses; on the splendour of\ncrystal walls, as though falling amid the pale moonlight of morning;\non the white silken banners, as though hanging on the waves of the\nheavenly Ganges; on the sun-gems, as though blossoming from them;\non the sapphire lattices, as though entering the jaws of Rahu. There\ndarkness never falls, and the nights bring no separation to the pairs\nof cakravakas; nor need they any lamps, for they pass golden as with\nmorning sunshine, from the bright jewels of women, as though the world\nwere on fire with the flame of love. There, though \u00c7iva is at hand,\nthe cry of the hamsas in the houses, arising sweet and ceaseless,\nat the kindling of love, fills the city with music, like the mourning\nof Rati for the burning of the God of Love. There the palaces stretch\nforth their flags, whose silken fringes gleam and flutter at night\nin the wind, like arms to remove the mark of the moon put to shame\nby the fair lotus-faced Malavis. (110) There the moon, deer-marked,\nmoves, in the guise of his reflection, on the jewel pavement, cool\nwith the sprinkling of much sandal-water, as though he had fallen\ncaptive to Love at the sight of the faces of the fair city dames\nresting on the palace roofs. There the auspicious songs of dawn\nraised by the company of caged parrots and starlings, though they\nsing their shrillest, as they wake at night's close, are drowned and\nrendered vain by the tinkling of women's ornaments, reaching far,\nand outvying the ambrosial voices of the tame cranes. [395] (111)\nThere dwells \u00c7iva, who has pierced the demon Andhaka with his sharp\ntrident, who has a piece of the moon on his brow polished by the\npoints of Gauri's anklets, whose cosmetic is the dust of Tripura,\nand whose feet are honoured by many bracelets fallen from Rati's\noutstretched arms as she pacifies him when bereft of Kama.\n\n\n\nDESCRIPTION OF TARAPIDA. [396]\n\n(112) Like hell, he was the refuge of the lords of earth, [397]\nfearing when their soaring pride was shorn; [398] like the stars, he\nwas followed by the wise men; [399] like Love, he destroyed strife;\n[400] like Da\u00e7aratha, he had good friends; [401] (113) like \u00c7iva,\nhe was followed by a mighty host; [402] like \u00c7esha, he had the weight\nof the earth upon him; [403] like the stream of Narmada, his descent\nwas from a noble tree. [404] He was the incarnation of Justice, the\nvery representative of Vishnu, the destroyer of all the sorrows of\nhis people. He re-established justice, which had been shaken to its\nfoundations by the Kali Age, set on iniquity, and mantled in gloom\nby the spread of darkness, just as \u00c7iva re-established Kailasa when\ncarried off by Ravana. He was honoured by the world as a second Kama,\ncreated by \u00c7iva when his heart was softened by the lamentations\nof Rati.\n\n(113-115) Before him bowed conquered kings with eyes whose pupils were\ntremulous and quivering from fear, with the bands of the wreaths on\ntheir crest ornaments caught by the rays of his feet, and with the line\nof their heads broken by the lotus-buds held up in adoration. They\ncame from the Mount of Sunrise, [405] which has its girdle washed\nby the ocean waves, where the flowers on the trees of its slopes are\ndoubled by stars wandering among the leaves, where the sandal-wood is\nwet with the drops of ambrosia that fall from the moon as it rises,\nwhere the clove-trees [406] blossom when pierced by the hoofs of\nthe horses of the sun's chariot, where the leaves and shoots of the\nolibanum-trees are cut by the trunk of the elephant Airavata; (114)\nfrom Setubandha, built with a thousand mountains seized by the hand\nof Nala, [407] where the fruit on the lavali-trees is carried off by\nmonkeys, where the feet of Rama are worshipped by the water-deities\ncoming up from the sea, and where the rock is starred with pieces\nof shell broken by the fall of the mountain; from Mandara, where the\nstars are washed by the waters of pure waterfalls, where the stones are\npolished by the rubbing of the edge of the fish ornament of Krishna\nrising at the churning of ambrosia, where the slopes are torn by the\nweight of the feet moving in the effort of drawing hither and thither\nVasuki coiled in the struggles of Gods and demons, where the peaks are\nsprinkled with ambrosial spray; from Gandhamadana, beautiful with the\nhermitage of Badarika marked with the footprints of Nara and Narayana,\nwhere the peaks are resonant with the tinkling of the ornaments of\nthe fair dames of Kuvera's city, where the water of the streams is\npurified by the evening worship of the Seven Rishis, and where the\nland around is perfumed by the fragments of lotuses torn up by Bhima.\n\n\n\nCANDRAPIDA'S ENTRY INTO THE PALACE.\n\n(188) Preceded by groups of chamberlains, hastening up and bowing,\nhe received the respectful homage of the kings, who had already taken\ntheir position there, who came forward on all sides, who had the ground\nkissed by the rays of the crest-jewels loosened from their crests and\nthrown afar, and who were introduced one by one by the chamberlains;\nat every step he had auspicious words for his dismounting uttered by\nold women of the zenana, who had come out from inside, and were skilled\nin old customs; having passed through the seven inner courts crowded\nwith thousands of different living beings, as if they were different\nworlds, he beheld his father. The king was stationed within, surrounded\nby a body-guard whose hands were stained black by ceaseless grasping of\nweapons, who had their bodies, with the exception of hands, feet, and\neyes, covered with dark iron coats of mail, (189) like elephant-posts\ncovered with swarms of bees ceaselessly attracted by desire of the\nscent of ichor, hereditary in their office, of noble birth, faithful;\nwhose heroism might be inferred from their character and gestures,\nand who in their energy and fierceness were like demons. On either\nside he had white cowries ceaselessly waved by his women; and he\nsat on a couch white as a wild goose, and bright as a fair island,\nas if he were the heavenly elephant on the water of Ganges.\n\n\n\nVILASAVATI'S ATTENDANTS.\n\n(190) Approaching his mother, he saluted her. She was surrounded by\ncountless zenana attendants in white jackets, like \u00c7ri with the waves\nof milk, and was having her time wiled away by elderly ascetic women,\nvery calm in aspect, wearing tawny robes, like twilight in its clouds,\nworthy of honour from all the world, with the lobes of their ears long,\nknowing many stories, relating holy tales of old, reciting legends,\nholding books, and giving instructions about righteousness. (191)\nShe was attended by eunuchs using the speech and dress of women, and\nwearing strange decorations; she had a mass of cowries constantly waved\naround her, and was waited upon by a bevy of women seated around her,\nbearing clothes, jewels, flowers, perfumes, betel, fans, unguents,\nand golden jars; she had strings of pearls resting on her bosom, as\nthe earth has the stream of Ganges flowing in the midst of mountains,\nand the reflection of her face fell on a mirror close by, like the\nsky when the moon's orb has entered into the sun.\n\n\n\n\u00c7UKANASA'S PALACE.\n\n(192) He reached \u00c7ukanasa's gate, which was crowded with a troop of\nelephants appointed for the watch, obstructed by thousands of horses,\n(193) confused with the hustling of countless multitudes, visited\nday and night by Brahmans, \u00c7aivas, and red-robed men skilled in\nthe teaching of \u00c7akyamuni, clothed as it were in the garments of\nrighteousness, sitting on one side by thousands, forming circles,\ncoming for various purposes, eager to see \u00c7ukanasa, having their\neyes opened by the ointment of their several \u00e7astras, and showing\ntheir respectful devotion by an appearance of humility. The gateway\nwas filled with a hundred thousand she-elephants of the tributary\nkings who had entered the palace with double blankets drawn round\nthe mahouts who sat on their shoulders, having their mahouts asleep\nfrom weariness of their long waiting, some saddled and some not,\nnodding their heads from their long standing motionless. The prince\ndismounted in the outer court, as though he were in a royal palace,\nthough not stopped by the guards standing in the entrance and running\nup in haste; and having left his horse at the entrance, leaning on\nVai\u00e7ampayana, and having his way shown by circles of gatekeepers,\nwho hastened up, pushing away the bystanders, he received the salutes\nof bands of chiefs who arose with waving crests to do him homage,\nand beheld the inner courts with all the attendants mute in fear\nof the scolding of cross porters, and having the ground shaken by\nhundreds of feet of the retinues of neighbouring kings frightened by\nthe moving wands, (194) and finally entered the palace of \u00c7ukanasa,\nbright inside with fresh plaster, as if it were a second royal court.\n\n\n\nDESCRIPTION OF NIGHT.\n\n(196) The brightness of day approached the west, following the path\nof the sun's chariot-wheels, like a stream of water. Day wiped away\nall the glow of the lotuses with the sun's orb hastening downwards\nlike a hand roseate as fresh shoots. The pairs of cakravakas, whose\nnecks were hidden in swarms of bees approaching from familiarity\nwith the scent of lotuses, were separated as if drawn by the noose\nof destiny. The sun's orb poured forth, under the guise of a rosy\nglow, the lotus honey-draught, as it were, drunk in with its rays\ntill the end of day, as if in weariness of its path through the\nheavens. And when in turn the blessed sun approached another world,\nand was a very red lotus-earring of the West, when twilight shone\nforth with its lotus-beds opening into the lake of heaven, (197)\nwhen in the quarters of space lines of darkness showed clear like\ndecorations of black aloes; when the glow of eve was driven out by\ndarkness like a band of red lotuses by blue lotuses dark with bees;\nwhen bees slowly entered the hearts of red lotuses, as if they were\nshoots of darkness, to uproot the sunshine drunk in by the lotus-beds;\nwhen the evening glow had melted away, like the garland round the face\nof the Lady of night; when the oblations in honour of the goddess of\ntwilight were cast abroad in all quarters; when the peacock's poles\nseemed tenanted by peacocks, by reason of the darkness gathered round\ntheir summits, though no peacocks were there; when the doves, very\near-lotuses of the Lakshmi of palaces, were roosting in the holes of\nthe lattices; when the swings of the zenana had their bells dumb,\nand their gold seats motionless and bearing no fair dames; when\nthe bands of parrots and mainas ceased chattering, and had their\ncages hung up on the branches of the palace mango-trees; when the\nlutes were banished, and their sound at rest in the ceasing of the\nconcert; when the tame geese were quiet as the sound of the maidens'\nanklets was stilled; (198) when the wild elephants had the clefts of\ntheir cheeks free from bees, and their ornaments of pearls, cowries,\nand shells taken away; when the lights were kindled in the stables\nof the king's favourite steeds; when the troops of elephants for the\nfirst watch were entering; when the family priests, having given their\nblessing, were departing; when the jewelled pavements, emptied almost\nof attendants on the dismissal of the king's suite, spread out wide,\nkissed by the reflection of a thousand lights shining in the inner\napartments, like offerings of golden campak-blossoms; when the palace\ntanks, with the splendours of the lamps falling on them, seemed as if\nthe fresh sunlight had approached to soothe the lotus-beds grieved by\nseparation from the sun; when the caged lions were heavy with sleep;\nand when Love had entered the zenana like a watchman, with arrows in\nhand and bow strung; when the words of Love's messenger were uttered\nin the ear, bright in tone as the blossoms in a garland; when the\nhearts of froward dames, widowed by grief, were smouldering in the\nfire transmitted to them from the sun-crystals; and when evening had\nclosed in, Candrapida ... went to the king's palace....\n\n\n\nTHE REGION OF KAILASA.\n\n(243) The red arsenic-dust scattered by the elephants' tusks crimsoned\nthe earth. The clefts of the rock were festooned with shoots of\ncreepers, now separating and now uniting, hanging in twists, twining\nlike leafage; the stones were wet with the ceaseless dripping of\ngum-trees; the boulders were slippery with the bitumen that oozed from\nthe rocks. The slope was dusty with fragments of yellow orpiment broken\nby the mountain horses' hoofs; powdered with gold scattered from the\nholes dug out by the claws of rats; lined by the hoofs of musk-deer\nand yaks sunk in the sand and covered with the hair of rallakas and\nrankus fallen about; filled with pairs of partridges resting on the\nbroken pieces of rock; with the mouths of its caves inhabited by pairs\nof orang-outangs; with the sweet scent of sulphur, and with bamboos\nthat had grown to the length of wands of office.\n\n\n\nPASSAGES PRINTED IN THE APPENDIX. [408]\n\n\n        102,          1--110, 6\n        111,          1-4\n        112,          6--115, 1\n        188,          4--189, 5\n        190,          6--191, 5\n        192,          11--194, 2\n        196,          4--199, 1\n        243,          4-10\n\n\n\nPASSAGES CONDENSED OR OMITTED. [409]\n\n\n        11,           7--15, 2\n       *31,           10--34, 2\n        46,           7--48, 4\n        81,           3-10\n        83,           1-8\n        85,           3--89, 4\n        119,          3--124, 3\n        137,          7--138, 3\n        141,          6--155, 5\n        162,          8--164, 8\n        176,          6--188, 4\n       *199,          5--200, 9\n        203,          2--204, 2\n       *227,          4--234, 6\n        242,          6-10\n       *245,          4--248, 3\n        250,          3-8\n       *252,          7--256, 5\n        262,          1--266, 3\n        276,          9--277, 8\n        285,          2-4\n       *346,          7--348, 7\n        353,          6--355, 9\n        357,          1-10\n        359,          12--365, 2\n        369,          2-8\n       *383,          6--384,9\n        388,          5--390, 4\n        403,          6--410, 3\n        417,          1--426, 3\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nNOTES\n\n\n[1] It is needless to give here more than the few facts essential\nfor the understanding of 'Kadambari,' for the life and times of Bana\nwill probably be treated of in the translation of the 'Harsha-Carita'\nby Professor Cowell and Mr. Thomas in this series; and Professor\nPeterson's Introduction to his edition of 'Kadambari' (Bombay Sanskrit\nSeries, 1889) deals fully with Bana's place in literature. The facts\nhere given are, for the most part, taken from the latter work.\n\n[2] E.g., the Madhuban grant of Sam 25, E. I. i., 67 ff. For this\nand other chronological references I am indebted to Miss C. M. Duff,\nwho has let me use the MS. of her 'Chronology of India.'\n\n[3] For Bana's early life, V. 'Harsha-Carita,' chs. i., ii. I have\nto thank Mr. F. W. Thomas for allowing me to see the proof-sheets of\nhis translation.\n\n[4] Peterson, 'Kadambari,' pp. 96-98; and 'The Subhashitavali,'\nedited by Peterson (Bombay Sanskrit Series, 1886), pp. 62-66.\n\n[5] Translated by Mr. C. Tawney (Calcutta, 1884), vol. ii.,\npp. 17-26. Somadeva's date is about A.D. 1063.\n\n[6] V. Peterson, 'Kadambari,' pp. 82-96.\n\n[7] Translated by Ballantyne and Pramada-Dasa-Mitra (Calcutta, 1875),\n\u00a7 567. The italics represent words supplied by the translators.\n\n[8] Kadambari,' p. 69.\n\n[9] Professor Peterson does not, however, make this deduction in\nfavour of Bana's own version.\n\n[10] I.e., rasa, poetic charm.\n\n[11] 'Kadambari,' Nirnaya Sagara Press, Bombay, pp. 205-221. 'Evam\nsamatikramatsu--ajagama.'\n\n[12] Bombay edition, p. 6.\n\n[13] Professor Cowells review of 'A Bengali Historical\nNovel.' Macmillan, April, 1872.\n\n[14] V. Peterson, 'Kadambari,' p. 42.\n\n[15] Indeed, this description is so like in spirit to that of\nClairvaux, that I cannot forbear quoting a few lines of the latter. The\nwriter describes the workshops where the brethren labour, and the\norchard used for rest and quiet thought, and goes on to say how the\nAube is raised by the toils of the brethren to the level of the Abbey;\nit throws half its water into the Abbey, 'as if to salute the brethren,\nand seems to excuse itself for not coming in its whole force.' Then\n'it returns with rapid current to the stream, and renders to it,\nin the name of Clairvaux, thanks for all the services which it has\nperformed.' The writer then goes on to tell of the fountain which,\nprotected by a grassy pavilion, rises from the mountain, and is\nquickly engulfed in the valley, 'offering itself to charm the sight\nand supply the wants of the brethren, as if it were not willing to\nhave communition with any others than saints.' This last is surely\na touch worthy of Bana. V. Dr. Eale's translation of 'St. Bernard's\nWorks.' London, 1889, vol. ii., pp. 462-467.\n\n[16] Translated by Mr. C. Tawney. Oriental Translation Fund Series,\np. 113.\n\n[17] V. 'Kadambari,' Nirnaya Sagara, p. 19, l. 2.\n\n[18] 'Hiouen Thsang,' translated by St. Julien, 'M\u00e9moires sur les\nContr\u00e9es Occidentals,' I., pp. 247-265. Cf. also 'Harsha-Carita,'\nch. viii. (p. 236 of the translation), where he pays great honour to\na Buddhist sage.\n\n[19] E. I. i. 67.\n\n[20] V. 'Katha-Sarit-Sagara,' i. 505.\n\n[21] V. 'Kadambari,' pp. 97-104.\n\n[22] V. 'History of Indian Literature,' translation, London, 1878,\np. 232.\n\n[23] V. 'Sahitya-Darpana,' \u00a7 626-628.\n\n[24] Ibid., \u00a7 630.\n\n[25]\n\n   'Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh Jew,\n    Thou makest thy knife keen.'\n\n            'Merchant of Venice,' IV. 1, 123 (Globe edition).\n\n\n   'Now is it Rome indeed, and room enough,\n    When there is in it but one only man.'\n\n                            'Julius C\u00e6sar,' I. 2, 156.\n\n[26] V. 'Sahitya-Darpana,' \u00a7 664.\n\n[27] Ibid., \u00a7 718-722.\n\n[28] Ibid., \u00a7 738.\n\n[29] V. Peterson, 'Kadambari,' p. 36.\n\n[30] Cf. Spenser's stanzas on Mutability.\n\n[31] V. infra, p. 208.\n\n[32] V. infra, p. 2.\n\n[33] The list looks long, but the pages in the 'Nirnaya-Sagara'\nedition contain frequently but few lines, and many of the omissions\nare a line or two of oft-repeated similes.\n\n[34] Beginning at p. 566 of the 'Nirnaya-Sagara' edition.\n\n[35] I here take the opportunity to acknowledge what by an oversight\nwas omitted in its proper place, my indebtedness to Professor Cowell\nfor the rendering into English verse of two couplets given on pp. 11\nand 113.\n\n[36] As the three Vedas, or the triad.\n\n[37] Vishnu Purana, Bk. v., ch. 33.\n\n[38] His guru.\n\n[39] Rasa = (a) the eight rasas; (b) love.\n\n[40] \u00c7ayya = (a) composition; (b) couch.\n\n[41] (a) Which sparkle with emphatic words and similes; (b) like\nflashing lamps.\n\n[42] (a) Pun; (b) proximity.\n\n[43] Hanging on his ear (as an ornament).\n\n[44] In the case of elephants, 'having their ichor regulated by a\nproper regimen.'\n\n[45] With renowned warriors on their backs.\n\n[46] Having trunks as thick as sacrificial posts.\n\n[47] I.e., Vasavadatta and the Brihatkatha; or, r., advitiya,\nunrivalled.\n\n[48] (a) Unconquerable in might; (b) having unconquerable shafts.\n\n[49] In the case of Brahma, 'he made his chariot of flamingoes.'\n\n[50] (a) His hand was wet with a stream of constant giving; (b)\nthe trunk was wet with ichor.\n\n[51] Or, to the sun's orb.\n\n[52] Vinata = (a) mother of Garuda; (b) humble.\n\n[53] Or, caste.\n\n[54] Or, fines of gold.\n\n[55] Or, fickle affections.\n\n[56] Had, mada = (a) pride; (b) ichor.\n\n[57] Or, breaking away from virtue.\n\n[58] Or, tribute.\n\n[59] In autumn, the hamsas, or wild geese, return.\n\n[60] Or, bamboos.\n\n[61] Ram. I. 60.\n\n[62] He had (a) great faults; (b) a long arm.\n\n[63] Dark.\n\n[64] I.e., imposed no heavy tribute.\n\n[65] Or, 'with citra and \u00e7ravana,' lunar mansions.\n\n[66] Or, living creatures.\n\n[67] (a) Of lowly birth; (b) not dwelling on earth.\n\n[68] (a) Candala; (b) elephant.\n\n[69] Or, ajati, without caste.\n\n[70] Alaka = (a) curls; (b) a city.\n\n[71] Or, whose love would be a reproach.\n\n[72] A verse in the arya measure.\n\n[73] Vipula, Acala, and \u00c7a\u00e7a, characters in the Brihatkatha. Or,\nbroad mountains and hares.\n\n[74] Varuna, tree; varuna, wine.\n\n[75] Or, with lightning.\n\n[76] Constellations. The moon was supposed to have a deer dwelling\nin it.\n\n[77] (a) The cowries held by the suite; (b) different kinds of deer.\n\n[78] (a) Rocky; (b) having \u00c7iva.\n\n[79] Ku\u00e7a: (a) Sita's son; (b) grass. Ni\u00e7acara: (a) Ravana; (b) owls.\n\n[80] (a) Mark of aloes on the brow; (b) tilaka trees and aloe trees\nall bright.\n\n[81] (a) Love; (b) madana trees.\n\n[82] As an amulet.\n\n[83] Name of an ornament.\n\n[84] Wine-cups.\n\n[85] (a) Halls; (b) \u00e7al trees.\n\n[86] (a) Clapping of hands; (b) palm-trees.\n\n[87] (a) Arrows; (b) reeds.\n\n[88] (a) Trees; (b) eyes.\n\n[89] (a) As tamala trees (very dark); (b) with tamala trees.\n\n[90] Virata, a king who befriended the Pandavas. The chief of his army\nwas named Kicaka. F. Mbh., Bk. iv., 815. Kicaka also means 'bamboo.'\n\n[91] Or, the twinkling stars of the Deer constellation, pursued by\nthe Hunter (a constellation).\n\n[92] Bark garments, matted locks, and rags of grass.\n\n[93] (a) Seven leaves; (b) a tree.\n\n[94] (a) Of fierce disposition; (b) full of wild beasts.\n\n[95] The sign of a vow.\n\n[96] Or perhaps, 'not caring for the fascination of the beauty of\nRavana,' i.e. his sister. He was loved by Ravana's sister.\n\n[97] Does this refer to the reflection of the sky in its clear water?\n\n[98] \u00c7almali = silk cotton-tree.\n\n[99] Lit., 'striving upwards to see.'\n\n[100] Indra's wood.\n\n[101] \u00c7akuni = (a) bird; (b) name of Duryodhana's supporter.\n\n[102] Or, 'by Vanamala,' Krishna's chaplet.\n\n[103] Tara = (a) wife of Sugriva, the monkey king; (b) star.\n\n[104] Mountaineer.\n\n[105] Arjuna, or Karttavirya, was captured by Ravana when sporting\nin the Nerbuddha, and was killed by Para\u00e7urama. V. Vishnu Purana,\nBk. iv., ch. 11.\n\n[106] Dushana was one of Ravana's generals; Khara was Ravana's brother,\nand was slain by Rama.\n\n[107] Cf. Uttararamacarita, Act V.\n\n[108] Ekalavya, king of the Nishadas, killed by Krishna. Mbh., I., 132.\n\n[109] Or, curls.\n\n[110] V. Harivam\u00e7a, 83.\n\n[111] Or, with clouds.\n\n[112] She-rhinoceros.\n\n[113] Or, rainbows.\n\n[114] Ekacakra = (a) a city possessed by Vaka; (b) one army, or\none quoit.\n\n[115] Naga = (a) elephant; (b) snake.\n\n[116] Or, \u00c7ikhandi, a son of Drupada, a friend of the Pandavas.\n\n[117] Or, mirage.\n\n[118] Or, eager for the Manasa lake. The Vidyadhara was a good or\nevil genius attending the gods. V. Kulluka on Manu, xii., 47.\n\n[119] Yojanagandha, mother of Vyasa.\n\n[120] Or, 'bearing the form of Bhima.' He was Bhima's son. V. Mbh.,\nI., 155.\n\n[121] (a) Crescent moon of \u00c7iva; (b) eyes of peacocks' tails.\n\n[122] Hiranyaka\u00e7ipu. V. Harivam\u00e7a, 225.\n\n[123] Or, an ambitious man surrounded by bards (to sing his praises).\n\n[124] Or, loving blood.\n\n[125] Nishadas = (a) mountaineers; (b) the highest note of the scale.\n\n[126] (a) Had passed many ages; (b) had killed many birds.\n\n[127] Or, great wealth.\n\n[128] Black.\n\n[129] Or, Durga.\n\n[130] Or, mountain.\n\n[131] (a) Magnanimity; (b) great strength.\n\n[132] Anabhibhavaniya\u00b0.\n\n[133] (a) Awakening cry; (b) moral law.\n\n[134] Owls are supposed to be descendants of the sage Vi\u00e7vamitra.\n\n[135] As omens.\n\n[136] Pi\u00e7ita\u00e7na, a demon, or, according to the commentary here,\na tiger.\n\n[137] Lit., 'creating a doubt of.'\n\n[138] Cf. Emerson's Essay on Experience: 'Sleep lingers all our\nlife-time about our eyes, as night hovers all day in the boughs of\nthe fir-tree.'\n\n[139] Read, \u00c7rama.\n\n[140] Lit., 'To have been an extract from.'\n\n[141] Sacred to Indra, and burnt by Agni with the help of Arjuna\nand Krishna.\n\n[142] Three horizontal lines.\n\n[143] Truth in thought, word, and deed.\n\n[144] Read, Nishpatata.\n\n[145] Nilapandu, mottled blue and white. The Hindu penance is to be\nbetween five fires: four on earth and the sun above. V. Manu, vi. 23.\n\n[146] The sign of a vow.\n\n[147] (a) Bark garment; (b) bark of trees.\n\n[148] (a) Girdle. V. Manu, ii. 42; (b) mountain slope.\n\n[149] Or, the moon.\n\n[150] Or, with.\n\n[151] (a) Kripa = compassion; (b) Kripa was the teacher of A\u00e7vatthama,\nor Drauni.\n\n[152] Or, Virgo, Cervus, the Pleiads and Draco.\n\n[153] (a) Having twilight drunk up; (b) having many faults eradicated.\n\n[154] Rajas = (a) dust; (b) passion.\n\n[155] In performance of a vow. V. Manu, vi. 23.\n\n[156] Or, 'of the demon Naraka,' slain by Krishna. Harivam\u00e7a\u00ad\u00ad, 122.\n\n[157] Or, had stars tawny at the junction of night and day.\n\n[158] Lit., (a) Holding all his passions in firm restraint; (b)\nhaving the axle of its wheels firm.\n\n[159] Lit., (a) He had a body wasted by secret performance of penance;\n(b) he brought to nought the enemies' plans of battle by secret\ncounsel and by his army.\n\n[160] Or, having caves with whirlpools and the circles of shells\noblique.\n\n[161] Or, quays.\n\n[162] (a) Perhaps Pushkara, the place of pilgrimage in Ajmere;\n(b) lotus-grove.\n\n[163] (a) Having entrance into great halls; (b) being absorbed\nin Brahma.\n\n[164] Or, salvation.\n\n[165] Or, inflicted punishment; or, though intent on the Sama veda,\nhe was yet a dandi; i.e., an ascetic who despises ritual.\n\n[166] Having beautiful matted locks.\n\n[167] (a) Having no left eye; (b) having no crooked glances.\n\n[168] R. V., x. 190.\n\n[169] Another kind of bread-tree.\n\n[170] The Commentary explains it as 'Veda.'\n\n[171] The tridandaka or three staves of the mendicant Brahman who\nhas resigned the world.\n\n[172] Or, impassioned glances.\n\n[173] (a) Moulting; (b) partisanship.\n\n[174] Bala = (a) hair; (b) children.\n\n[175] Rama, woman.\n\n[176] \u00c7akuni = (a) a bird; (b) Duryodhana's uncle.\n\n[177] Vayu = (a) wind; (b) breath.\n\n[178] (a) Teeth; (b) Brahmans.\n\n[179] Or, dullness.\n\n[180] Or, seeking prosperity.\n\n[181] Or, seek enjoyment.\n\n[182] Or good fortune.\n\n[183] The Garhapatya, Dakshina, and Ahavaniya fires.\n\n[184] Proverbial phrase for clearness.\n\n[185] Vishnu Purana, vi., ch. 3, 'The seven solar rays dilate to\nseven suns, and set the three worlds on fire.'\n\n[186] Lit., 'is leader of.'\n\n[187] Or, caprice.\n\n[188] Vishnu Purana, i., 123.\n\n[189] Semi-divine beings dwelling between the earth and the sun.\n\n[190] Tara = (a) stars; (b) wife of Brihaspati, carried away by\nthe moon.\n\n[191] (a) \"Wife of the sage Va\u00e7ishtha; (b) the morning star.\n\n[192] (a) Constellation; (b) staff borne during a vow.\n\n[193] (a) Constellation; (b) roots for the hermits' food.\n\n[194] Or, constellation.\n\n[195] \u00c7iva.\n\n[196] Caste.\n\n[197] Friends.\n\n[198] I.e., king, minister, and energy.\n\n[199] Or, misfortune.\n\n[200] An ordeal.\n\n[201] An ordeal.\n\n[202] (a) Clearing of the waters after the rainy season; (b) ordeal\nof poison.\n\n[203] (a) Magic; (b) practice of Yoga.\n\n[204] (a) Lit., 'tearing out of eyes;' (b) slaughter of the demon\nTaraka by Kartikeya.\n\n[205] A star in the Scorpion's tail.\n\n[206] Seizing of tribute.\n\n[207] Or, having his body united. V. Dowson, 'Classical Dictionary.'\n\n[208] Having fortresses subdued.\n\n[209] These are teachers of the gods and heroes.\n\n[210] Vishnu.\n\n[211] Lit., 'firm.'\n\n[212] (a) The gods; (b) love.\n\n[213] Four was the number of the oceans and of the arms of Narayana.\n\n[214] The divine mothers, or personified energies of the chief deities.\n\n[215] Wife of \u00c7ukanasa.\n\n[216] Summary of pp. 141-155.\n\n[217] Or, Ananga, name of Kama.\n\n[218] Since he can only give it the name, not the substance or\nmeaning. Kumara = (a) name of Kartikeya; (b) prince.\n\n[219] Kama.\n\n[220] Summary of pp. 176-189.\n\n[221] Lit., 'sew him to himself.'\n\n[222] Summary of pp. 190, 191.\n\n[223] Summary of p. 193.\n\n[224] \u00c7arabha, a fabulous animal supposed to have eight legs, and to\ndwell in the snowy mountains.\n\n[225] (a) Many sins; (b) twilight.\n\n[226] Lit., (a) climbs trees; (b) protects parasites.\n\n[227] (a) Showing the elevation of many men; (b) rising in stature\nto the height of many men.\n\n[228] Or, arrogance.\n\n[229] Or, stupidity.\n\n[230] Or, wealth.\n\n[231] Or, ill-fortune.\n\n[232] Balam = (a) strength; (b) army. Laghuma = (a) lightness;\n(b) triviality.\n\n[233] Vigrahavati = (a) having a body; (b) full of strife.\n\n[234] Purushottama, i.e., Vishnu.\n\n[235] The rainy season sends away the hamsas.\n\n[236] Lit., their limbs fail them.\n\n[237] Which have a strong scent.\n\n[238] Men having throbbing eyes.\n\n[239] (a) A noble man; (b) fire.\n\n[240] Or, drink.\n\n[241] Or, taxes.\n\n[242] Like Vishnu.\n\n[243] Like \u00c7iva.\n\n[244] Lit., 'inlaid.'\n\n[245] Or, kesara flowers.\n\n[246] Recaka, so commentary.\n\n[247] Both trees of paradise.\n\n[248] The quarter of \u00c7atakratu or Indra.\n\n[249] All auspicious signs. Cakra is (a) a quoit; (b) a cakravaka.\n\n[250] (a) A demon; (b) the heron.\n\n[251] For the love of snakes for the breeze, V. Raghuvam\u00e7a, XIII.,\n12, and Buddhacarita, I., 44. Snakes are sometimes called vayubaksha.\n\n[252] The following reference to Thomas Bell's 'History of British\nQuadrupeds' was given by Mr. S. B. Charlesworth. 'Writing about the\ndeer of our parks (p. 404) he (Bell) quotes Playford's \"Introduction to\nMusic\" as follows: \"Travelling some years since, I met on the road near\nRoyston a herd of about twenty deer following a bagpipe and violin,\nwhich while the music played went forward. When it ceased they all\nstood still, and in this manner they were brought out of Yorkshire\nto Hampton Court.\"' V. supra, pp. 40, 79.\n\n[253] Meghaduta, 38.\n\n[254] The dvipas are continents separated from each other by\noceans. The \u00c7vetadvipa, or White Continent, is, according to Weber,\nsuggested by Alexandria. V. 'Indische Studien,' I., 400; II., 397, 398.\n\n[255] Dvandva, a pair of opposites, as, e.g., pleasure and pain.\n\n[256] (a) Brilliant; (b) Durga.\n\n[257] Summary of p. 277.\n\n[258] The Commentary says: 'A house is whitened to welcome anyone. The\nface (or mouth) is the dwelling of Sarasvati.'\n\n[259] Mandara, one of the trees of Paradise.\n\n[260] The month June-July.\n\n[261] Staff.\n\n[262] (a) A tilaka, or mark of ashes; (b) abundance of tilaka trees\nwhite with blossoms.\n\n[263] Read Kau\u00e7alasya.\n\n[264] Cf. 'Dulce rudimentum meditantis lilia quondam natur\u00e6, cum\nsese opera ad majora pararet.'--Rapin, on the convolvulus. V. Hallam,\n'Hist. of Lit.,' Pt. iv., ch. v.\n\n[265] Vishnu Purana, Wilson, 1865, vol. ii., p. 297.\n\n[266] Son of Kuvera.\n\n[267] The coral tree.\n\n[268] Or, virtue.\n\n[269] 'In the arya metre,' in the Sanskrit.\n\n[270] Manasijanma = (a) born in the Manasa lake; (b) born in the mind,\ni.e., love. Muktalata = (a) a white creeper; (b) a pearl necklace.\n\n[271] Scilicet, in the day.\n\n[272] Turbid with (a) dust; (b) passion.\n\n[273] The Vishnu Purana, Bk. vi., ch. iii., mentions seven suns.\n\n[274] The asterism Rohini.\n\n[275] Utkalika = (a) wave; (b) longing.\n\n[276] Or, hand.\n\n[277] Hands.\n\n[278] Feet.\n\n[279] Hands.\n\n[280] Candracandala (lit., 'base-born moon') is intended as an\nassonance.\n\n[281] Purnapatra, a basket of gifts to be scrambled for at a wedding.\n\n[282] I.e., the row of pearls given by Maha\u00e7veta.\n\n[283] Omit, priyajanavi\u00e7vasavacanani.\n\n[284] Read, parityakta.\n\n[285] Read, antare.\n\n[286] Go\u00e7irsha, a kind of fragrant sandal.\n\n[287] V. Vishnu Purana, Bk. i., ch. iii. (For the description of\nBrahma's night.)\n\n[288]\n\n    Tatah Saindhavako raja kshudras, tata, Jayadrathah,\n    Varadanena Rudrasya sarvan nah samavarayat.\n\n\n('Then the vile Sindh kinglet, Jayadratha, through the boon conferred\nby Rudra, O my son, kept us all back.')--Mahabharata, vii., 2574.\n\n[289] Harivam\u00e7a, 4906.\n\n[290] The cakora, or Greek partridge, was said to have its eyes turned\nred in the presence of poison.\n\n[291] Madira, intoxicating, bewitching; so called because her eyes\nwere madirah.\n\n[292] Daksha cursed the moon with consumption at the appeal of his\nforty-nine daughters, the moon's wives, who complained of his special\nfavour to the fiftieth sister.\n\n[293] Lit., 'without cause.'\n\n[294] Lit., 'going by machinery.'\n\n[295] Trees of paradise.\n\n[296] A pun on pida, grief.\n\n[297] A pun on pida, a chaplet.\n\n[298] Read irshyam, vyatham, and rosham, as the Calcutta edition.\n\n[299] 'All the rasas,' the ten emotions of love, fear, etc., enumerated\nby writers on rhetoric.\n\n[300] Because water was poured out to ratify a gift.\n\n[301] Bhashita, literally, 'addressed by'; or read, bhavita, 'entering\ninto the spirit of.'\n\n[302] Read nirdakshinyaya.\n\n[303] A bundle of peacock feathers waved by the conjuror to bewilder\nthe audience.\n\n[304] The dark blue of the bees was like the blue veil worn by women\ngoing to meet their lovers.\n\n[305] This passage is condensed.\n\n[306] Read musho.\n\n[307] I.e., 'relic,' or 'remaining.'\n\n[308] Read Maha\u00e7vetam.\n\n[309] Cf. 'Harsha Carita' (Bombay edition, p. 272),\n'Parame\u00e7varottamangapatadurlalitangam'.\n\n[310] Read Kumudamayya.\n\n[311] A tree of paradise.\n\n[312] Tali, a kind of palm; Kandala, a plantain.\n\n[313] Or, reading avirala, thick coming.\n\n[314] The Vishnu Purana, Bk. ii., ch. ii., calls Mandara the Mountain\nof the East; Gandhamadana, of the South; Vipula, of the West; and\nSupar\u00e7va, of the North.\n\n[315] Father of Kuvera.\n\n[316] Brahma.\n\n[317] A phrase denoting readiness to obey. V. supra, p. 15.\n\n[318] Pouring water into the hand was the confirmation of a\ngift. V. supra, p. 150.\n\n[319] Transpose iti.\n\n[320] Hybiscus mutabilis changes colour thrice a day.\n\n[321] Or, at a wrong time.\n\n[322] Remove the stop after asyah and Candrapidah, and place one\nafter gantum.\n\n[323] 'It is not allowed by her favour to move.'\n\n[324] Read suhridapi gantavyam, 'his friend must go.'\n\n[325] Or, sampanna, 'full-grown, having fruit and flowers,' according\nto the commentary.\n\n[326] Read khinne.\n\n[327] Read prasadanam.\n\n[328] Read \u00b0janat, etc.\n\n[329] V. supra, p. 12, where the robes of the chiefs are torn by\ntheir ornaments in their hasty movements.\n\n[330] Parava\u00e7a iva, or, 'with mind enslaved to other thoughts.'\n\n[331] Read garigasi.\n\n[332] The Jamuna is a common comparison for blue or green.\n\n[333] Placing a stop after gaditum instead of after nih\u00e7esham.\n\n[334] An allusion to the idea that the a\u00e7oka would bud when touched\nby the foot of a beautiful woman.\n\n[335] Anubandha, one of the four necessary conditions in writing. (a)\nSubject-matter; (b) purpose; (c) relation between subject treated\nand its end; (d) competent person to hear it.-- V. 'Vedanta Sara.,'\np. 2-4; 'Vacaspatya Dictionary.'\n\n[336] 'Manu,' ix., 90.\n\n[337] I.e., the down on the body rises from joy (a common idea in\nSanskrit writers), and holds the robe on its points.\n\n[338] Read, Samdi\u00e7anti, and place the stop after svayam instead of\nafter samdi\u00e7anti.\n\n[339] I.e., awake a sleeping lion.\n\n[340] Or, 'wine.'\n\n[341] Bhushanabhatta, after these introductory lines, continues\nPatralekha's account of Kadambari's speech, and completes the story.\n\n[342] I.e., Patralekha.\n\n[343] Literally, 'that forest of creepers, sc. maidens.'\n\n[344] So commentary.\n\n[345] Avanti is the province of which Ujjayini is the capital. For\nthe Divine Mothers, V. supra, p. 56.\n\n[346] V. supra, pp. 19, 20, 47.\n\n[347] A king of the solar race.\n\n[348] V. supra, p. 6.\n\n[349] Read ashtanam api Vasunam.\n\n[350] The commentary says 'mother' is said to a daughter-in-law,\njust as tata, 'father,' is said to a son.\n\n[351] The parrot's own history is now continued from p. 47.\n\n[352] The commentary explains these as Indra, Yama, Varuna, Soma\nand Kuvera. The Calcutta translation apparently translates a reading\nmahabhutani.\n\n[353] As the betrothed of Maha\u00e7veta, who was of the moon-race of\nApsarases.\n\n[354] For gandharva marriage, v. Manu., iii. 32.\n\n[355] Cf. M. Arnold:\n\n\n    'Ah, where the spirit its highest life hath led,\n    All spots, match'd with that spot, are less divine.'\n\n\n[356] Apunarukta, 'without tautology.'\n\n[357] \u00c7iva.\n\n[358] Fiends attendant on \u00c7iva.\n\n[359] Vide p. 98.\n\n[360] Or, with fishes.\n\n[361] Or, light.\n\n[362] Literally (a) whose wealth is crores of rupees; (b) in the case\nof the moon, 'whose essence is in its horns.'\n\n[363] (a) Partizanship; (b) cutting of pinions. When the rest of the\nmountains lost their wings, Mainaka escaped.\n\n[364] Or, padma, 1000 billions.\n\n[365] Or, emeralds.\n\n[366] Or, rogues.\n\n[367] Or, granaries.\n\n[368] Or, learned.\n\n[369] Or, though full of energy, they fear their enemies.\n\n[370] Or, liberal.\n\n[371] V. Sahitya-Darpana, 641.\n\n[372] Ibid., 568.\n\n[373] Or, offering gifts.\n\n[374] Or, containing pine-trees.\n\n[375] Or, attentive to women.\n\n[376] Brother of Rama and Bharata.\n\n[377] Or, their friends.\n\n[378] Or, of the Sarvastivadin School (a subdivision of the Vaibhashika\nBuddhists).\n\n[379] Or, matter and spirit.\n\n[380] Or, lotus-hued.\n\n[381] In the case of \u00c7iva, 'loud laughter, bright as nectar.'\n\n[382] It has treasure vaults.\n\n[383] Or, keeping its covenants firm.\n\n[384] Or, houses whitened with ivory and cowries.\n\n[385] Or, having splendid mountains always at hand.\n\n[386] Or, false.\n\n[387] Or, gold pieces.\n\n[388] (a) Demon; (b) golden dice.\n\n[389] Or, rogues.\n\n[390] Or, the sporting of King Bala.\n\n[391] Though the free intercourse with women is allowed, it is of\nirreproachable conduct.\n\n[392] Its castes are loved.\n\n[393] Vihara (a) without necklaces; (b) having temples.\n\n[394] Having many citizens.\n\n[395] Then follows: 'There--demons,' p. 47, l. 18.\n\n[396] Follows p. 48, l. 17, 'gay.'\n\n[397] Read \u00b0kulaih; (a) Kings; (b) mountains.\n\n[398] Loss of dependencies; or, loss of wings.\n\n[399] Or, by the star Budha.\n\n[400] Or, his body was destroyed.\n\n[401] Or, Sumitra, wife of Da\u00e7aratha.\n\n[402] Or, by the 'Lord of Battles,' i.e., Kartikeya.\n\n[403] Or, was honoured for his patience.\n\n[404] (a) A great family; (b) a great bamboo from which the river is\nsaid to rise.\n\n[405] V. supra, p. 162.\n\n[406] Read lavanga.\n\n[407] A monkey chief.\n\n[408] The figures refer to the page and line of the Nirnaya-Sagara\nedition of Kadambari.\n\n[409] Passages marked * are condensed, and only occasional phrases\nare translated.","title":"The K\u0101dambar\u012b of B\u0101\u1e47a","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":89849}