Part 4 (1/2)

But while on the cold earth slumbered--Damayanti, all distraught Nala in his mind by sorrow--might no longer calmly sleep; For the losing of his kingdom--the desertion of his friends, And his weary forest wanderings--painful on his thought arose; ”If I do it, what may follow?--what if I refuse to do?

Were my instant death the better--or to abandon her I love.

But to me too deep devoted--suffers she distress and shame; Reft of me she home may wander--to her royal father's house; Faithful wandering ever with me--certain sorrow will she bear, But if separated from me--chance of solace may be hers.”

Long within his heart he pondered--and again, again weighed o'er.

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

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

Thus his mind on Damayanti--dwelt in its perverted thought, Wrought by Kali's evil influence--to desert his lovely wife.

Of himself without a garment--and of her with only one.

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

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

Pondering this within his spirit--round the cabin Nala went; In that narrow cabin's circuit--Nala wandered here and there, Till he found without a scabbard--s.h.i.+ning, a well-tempered sword.

Then when half that only garment--he had severed, and put on, In her sleep Vidarbha's princess--with bewildered mind he fled.

Yet, his cruel heart relenting--to the cabin turns he back; On the slumbering Damayanti--gazing, sadly wept the king; ”Thou, that sun nor wind hath ever--roughly visited, my love!

On the hard earth in a cabin--sleepest with thy guardian gone.

Thus attired in half a garment--she that aye so sweetly smiled, Like to one distracted, beauteous--how at length will she awake?

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

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

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

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

Then of sense bereft by Kali--Nala hastily set forth; And departing, still departing--he returned again, again; Dragged away by that bad demon--ever by his love drawn back.

Nala, thus his heart divided--into two conflicting parts, Like a swing goes backward, forward--from the cabin, to and fro.

Torn away at length by Kali--flies afar the frantic king, Leaving there his wife in slumber--making miserable moans.

Reft of sense, possessed by Kali--thinking still on her he left, Pa.s.sed he in the lonely forest--leaving his deserted wife.

BOOK XI.

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

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

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

Oh, I'm lost! undone for ever--helpless in the wild wood left; Faithful once to every duty--wert thou not, and true in word.

Art thou faithful to thy promise--to desert me thus in sleep.

Could'st thou then depart, forsaking--thy devoted, constant wife; Her in sooth that never wronged thee--wronged indeed, but not by her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So consumed with inward misery--ever sighing more and more, Spake at length king Bhima's daughter--spake the still devoted wife: ”He, by whose dire imprecation--Nala this dread suffering bears, May he far surpa.s.s in suffering--all that Nala suffers now, May the evil one, to evil--who the blameless Nala drives, Smitten by a curse as fatal--live a dark unblessed life.”

Thus her absent lord lamenting--that high-minded raja's queen, Every-where her lord went seeking--in the satyr-haunted wood.[72]

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

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