Part 2 (2/2)
Satyavan lets the weapon drop-- Too well Savitri knows the cause, He feels not well, the work must stop.
A pain is in his head,--a pain As if he felt the cobra's fangs, He tries to look around,--in vain, A mist before his vision hangs; The trees whirl dizzily around In a fantastic fas.h.i.+on wild; His throat and chest seem iron-bound, He staggers, like a sleepy child.
”My head, my head!--Savitri, dear, This pain is frightful. Let me lie Here on the turf.” Her voice was clear And very calm was her reply, As if her heart had banished fear: ”Lean, love, thy head upon my breast,”
And as she helped him, added--”here, So shall thou better breathe and rest.”
”Ah me, this pain,--'tis getting dark, I see no more,--can this be death?
What means this, G.o.ds?--Savitri, mark, My hands wax cold, and fails my breath.”
”It may be but a swoon.” ”Ah! no-- Arrows are piercing through my heart,-- Farewell my love! for I must go, This, this is death.” He gave one start And then lay quiet on her lap, Insensible to sight and sound, Breathing his last.... The branches flap And fireflies glimmer all around; His head upon her breast; his frame Part on her lap, part on the ground, Thus lies he. Hours pa.s.s. Still the same, The pair look statues, magic-bound.
PART III.
Death in his palace holds his court, His messengers move to and fro, Each of his mission makes report, And takes the royal orders,--Lo, Some slow before his throne appear And humbly in the Presence kneel: ”Why hath the Prince not been brought here?
The hour is past; nor is appeal Allowed against foregone decree; There is the mandate with the seal!
How comes it ye return to me Without him? Shame upon your zeal!”
”O King, whom all men fear,--he lies Deep in the dark Medhya wood, We fled from thence in wild surprise, And left him in that solitude.
We dared not touch him, for there sits, Beside him, lighting all the place, A woman fair, whose brow permits In its austerity of grace And purity,--no creatures foul As we seemed, by her loveliness, Or soul of evil, ghost or ghoul, To venture close, and far, far less
”To stretch a hand, and bear the dead; We left her leaning on her hand, Thoughtful; no tear-drop had she shed, But looked the G.o.ddess of the land, With her meek air of mild command.”-- ”Then on this errand I must go Myself, and bear my dreaded brand, This duty unto Fate I owe; I know the merits of the prince, But merit saves not from the doom Common to man; his death long since Was destined in his beauty's bloom.”
PART IV.
As still Savitri sat beside Her husband dying,--dying fast, She saw a stranger slowly glide Beneath the boughs that shrunk aghast.
Upon his head he wore a crown That s.h.i.+mmered in the doubtful light; His vestment scarlet reached low down, His waist, a golden girdle dight.
His skin was dark as bronze; his face Irradiate, and yet severe; His eyes had much of love and grace, But glowed so bright, they filled with fear.
A string was in the stranger's hand Noosed at its end. Her terrors now Savitri scarcely could command.
Upon the sod beneath a bough, She gently laid her husband's head, And in obeisance bent her brow.
”No mortal form is thine,”--she said, ”Beseech thee say what G.o.d art thou?
And what can be thine errand here?”
”Savitri, for thy prayers, thy faith, Thy frequent vows, thy fasts severe, I answer,--list,--my name is Death.
”And I am come myself to take Thy husband from this earth away, And he shall cross the doleful lake In my own charge, and let me say To few such honours I accord, But his pure life and thine require No less from me.” The dreadful sword Like lightning glanced one moment dire; And then the inner man was tied, The soul no bigger than the thumb, To be borne onwards by his side:-- Savitri all the while stood dumb.
But when the G.o.d moved slowly on To gain his own dominions dim, Leaving the body there--anon Savitri meekly followed him, Hoping against all hope; he turned And looked surprised. ”Go back, my child!”
Pale, pale the stars above them burned, More weird the scene had grown and wild; ”It is not for the living--hear!
To follow where the dead must go, Thy duty lies before thee clear, What thou shouldst do, the Shasters show.
”The funeral rites that they ordain And sacrifices must take up Thy first sad moments; not in vain Is held to thee this bitter cup; Its lessons thou shall learn in time!
All that thou _canst_ do, thou hast done For thy dear lord. Thy love sublime My deepest sympathy hath won.
Return, for thou hast come as far As living creature may. Adieu!
Let duty be thy guiding star, As ever. To thyself be true!”
”Where'er my husband dear is led, Or journeys of his own free will, I too must go, though darkness spread Across my path, portending ill, 'Tis thus my duty I have read!
If I am wrong, oh! with me bear; But do not bid me backward tread My way forlorn,--for I can dare All things but that; ah! pity me, A woman frail, too sorely tried!
And let me, let me follow thee, O gracious G.o.d,--whate'er betide.
”By all things sacred, I entreat, By Penitence that purifies, By prompt Obedience, full, complete, To spiritual masters, in the eyes Of G.o.ds so precious, by the love I bear my husband, by the faith That looks from earth to heaven above, And by thy own great name O Death, And all thy kindness, bid me not To leave thee, and to go my way, But let me follow as I ought Thy steps and his, as best I may.
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