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 ^ ' 4^j ^[ichad Ernest Sadler 
 
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 THE 
 
 SACONTALA : 
 
 OR 
 
 THE FATAL EING. 
 
 TRANSLATED BY? 
 
 SIR WILLIAM JONES., Knigh 
 
 ONE OF THE JUDGES OF HER MAJESTY'S LATE SUPREME 
 COURT, FORT WILLIAM, BENGAL, FOUNDER AND 
 FIRST PRESIDENT OF THE ASIATIC- 
 SOCIETY OF BENGAL. 
 
 REPUBLISHED BY 
 
 JOGENDKA NATH GHOSE. 
 
 CALCUTTA : 
 
 TRUBNER & CO., 57 & 59, LUDGATE HILL, LONDON. 
 Price Rupees €/- or 10 
 1875.
 
 
 TO 
 
 E i S HIGHNESS THE MAHARAJA OF 
 
 VIJOYNAGRAM G. C. S. I. 
 
 THIS NOBLE TRANSLATION 
 
 OF 
 
 SACONTALA 
 
 OF 
 
 KALIDASA 
 
 BY 
 
 SIR WILLIAM JONES., Kt 
 
 IS DEDICATED 
 
 IN ADMIRATION OF 
 
 HIS HIGHNESS MENOWNED PHILANTHROPY 
 
 AND 
 GREAT TALENTS 
 
 BY THE HUMBLE SERVANT 
 
 The Publisher. 
 
 8416
 
 PRE F A C E , 
 
 »=*?=* 
 
 IN one of flic letters which bear the title of edifying, though 
 most of them swarm with ridiculous errors, and all must be 
 consulted with extreme diffidence, I met, some years ago, with the 
 following passage : " In the north of India there are many books, 
 called Nafac, which, as the Brahinens assert, contain a large por- 
 tion of ancient history without any mixture of fable ;" and hav- 
 ing" an eager desire to know the real state of this empire before the 
 conquest of it by the Savages of the North, I was very solicitous, 
 on my arrival in Bengal, to procure access to those books, either 
 by the help of translations, if they had been translated, or by 
 learning the language in which they were originally composed, 
 and which I had yet a stronger inducement to learn from its con- 
 nection with the administration of justice to the Hindus; but 
 when I was able to converse with the Brahmens, they assured me 
 that the Natacs were not histories, and abounded with fables; that 
 they were extremely popular works, and consisted of con versa 
 tions in prose and verse, held before ancient Rajas in (heir public 
 assemblies, on an infinite variety of subjects, and in various 
 dialects of India : this definition gave me no very distinct, idea ; 
 but I concluded that they were dialogues on moral or literan 
 topics ; whilst other Europeans, whom I consulted, had under 
 stood from the natives that they were discourses on dnneing, 
 music, or poetry. At length a veiy sensible Brahmen, named 
 kadhacant, who had long been attentive to English manners, 
 removed all my doubts, and gave me no less delight than surprise, 
 by telling me that our nation had compositions, of the same sort,
 
 11 PREFACE. 
 
 which were publicly represented at Calcutta in the cold season, 
 and bore the name, as he had been informed, of plays. Resolving 
 at my leisure to read the best of them, I asked which of their 
 Natacs was most universally esteemed ; and he answered without 
 hesitation, Sacontala, supporting his opinion, as usual among the 
 Pandits, by a couplet to this effect : " The ring of Sacontala, in 
 which the. fourth act, and four stanzas of that act, are eminently 
 brilliant, displays all the rich exuberance of Caliddsa's genius." 
 I soon procured a correct copy of it ; and, assisted by my teacher 
 Ramalochan. began with translating it verbally into Latin, which 
 bears so great a resemblance to Sanscrit, that it is more convenient 
 than any modern language for a scrupulous interlineary version : 
 I then turned it word for word into English, and afterwards, 
 without adding or suppressing any material sentence, disengaged 
 it from the stiffness of a foreign idiom, and prepared the faithful 
 translation of the Indian drama, which I now present to the 
 Public as a most pleasing and authentic picture of old Hindu 
 manners, and one of the greatest curiosities that the literature of 
 Asia has yet brought to light. 
 
 Dramatic poetry must have been immemorially ancient in 
 the Indian empire : the invention of it is commonly ascribed to 
 Bheret, a sage believed to have been inspired, who invented also 
 a system of music which bears his name ; but this opinion of its 
 origin is rendered very doubtful by the universal belief, that the 
 first Sanscrit verse ever heard by mortals was pronounced in a 
 burst of resentment by the great Valmic, who nourished in the 
 silver age of the world, and was author of an Epic Poem on 
 the war of his contemporary, Rama, king of Ayodhya ; so that 
 no drama in verse could have been represented before his time ; 
 and the Indians have a wild story, that the first regular play, on 
 the same subject with the Ramayan, was composed by Hanumat 
 or Pavan, who commanded an army of Satyrs or Mountaineers 
 in Rama's expedition against Lancd : they add that he engraved 
 it on a smooth rock, which, being dissatisfied with his composition, 
 he hurled into the sea ; and that, many years after, a learned prince 
 ordered expert divers to take impressions of the poem on wax,
 
 PREFACE. iii 
 
 "by which means the drama was in great measure restored ; and 
 my Pandit assures me that he is in possession of it. By whom- 
 soever or in whatever age this species of entertainment was in- 
 vented, it is very certain, that it was carried to great perfection in 
 its kind, when Vicramaditya, who reigned in the first century 
 before Christ, gave encouragement to poets, philologers, and 
 mathematicians, at a time when the Britons were as unlettered 
 and unpolished as the army of Hanumat ; nine men of genius, 
 commonly called the nine gems, attended his court, and were 
 splendidly supported by his bounty ; and Calidas is unanimously 
 allowed to have been the brightest of them. — A modern epigram 
 was lately repeated to me, which does so much honor to the 
 author of Sacontala, that I cannot forbear exhibiting a literal 
 version of it : " Poetry was the sportful daughter of Valmic, and, 
 having been educated by Vyasa, she chose Calidas for her bride- 
 groom after the manner of Viderbha : she was the mother of 
 Amara, Sundar, Sanc'ha, Dhanic ; but now, old and decrepit, her 
 beauty faded, and her unadorned feet slipping as she walks, in 
 whose cottage does she disdain to take shelter ?" 
 
 All the other works of our illustrious poet, the Shakespeare 
 of India, that have yet come to my knowledge, are a second play, 
 in five acts, entitled Urvasi; an heroic poem, or rather a series 
 of poems in one book, on the Children of the Sun; another, with 
 perfect unity of action, on the Birth of Cumara, god of war; 
 two or three love tales in verse ; and an excellent little work on 
 Sanscrit Metre, precisely in the manner of Terentianus ; but he 
 is believed by some to have revised the works of Valmic and 
 Vyasa, and to have corrected the perfect editions of them which 
 are now current ; this at least is admitted by all, that he 
 stands next in reputation to those venerable bards; and we must 
 regret, that he has left only two dramatic poems, especially as 
 the stories in his Raghuvansa would have supplied him with 
 a number of excellent subjects. — Some of his contemporaries, 
 and other Hindu poets even to our own times, have composed 
 so many tragedies, comedies, farces, and musical pieces, that 
 the Indian theatre would fill as many volumes as thai of any
 
 i\ PR K FACE. 
 
 nation in ancient or modern Europe; all the Pandits assert 
 thai their plays are innumerable ; and, on my first inquiries 
 concerning them, I had notice of more than thirty, which they 
 consider as the flower of their Natacs, anions which the Malicr- 
 nunt Child, the Rape of Usha, the Taming of Durvasas, the 
 Seizure of the Lock, Malati and Madhava with five or six 
 dram is on the adventures of their incarnate gods, are the most 
 admired after those of Calidas. They are all in verse, where 
 the dialogue is elevated ; and in prose where it is familiar ; 
 the men of rank and learning are represented speaking pure 
 Sanscrit, and the women Pracrit, which is little more than 
 the language of the Brahmens melted down by a delicate arti- 
 culation to the softness of Italian ; while the low persons of 
 the drama speak the vulgar dialects of the several provinces 
 which they are supposed to inhabit. 
 
 The play of Sacontala must have been very popular when 
 it was first represented ; for the Indian empire was then in full 
 vigour, and the national vanity must have been highly ilattered 
 by the magnificent introduction of those kings and heroes in 
 whom the Hindus gloried ; the scenery must have been splendid 
 and beautiful ; and there is good reason to believe, that the court 
 at Avanti was equal in brilliancy during the reign of Vicrama- 
 ditya, to that of any monarch in any age or country. — 
 Dushmanta, the hero of the piece, appears in the chronological 
 tables of the Brahmens among the Children of the Moon, and 
 in the twenty-first generation after the flood ; so that, if we 
 can ;H all rely on the chronology of the Hindus, he was nearly 
 contemporary with Obed, or Jesse ; and Puru, his most cele- 
 brated ancestor, was the fifth in descent from Bndha, or Mer- 
 cury, who married, they say, a daughter of the pious king whom 
 Vishnu preserved in an ark from the universal deluge : his eldest 
 son Bheret was the illustrious progenitor of Curu, from whom 
 Pandu was lineally descended, and in whose family the Indian 
 Apollo became incarnate ; whence the poem, next in fame to 
 tin Ramayan, is called Mahabharat,
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 V 
 
 As to the machinery of the drama, it is takeia from the system 
 of mythology, which prevails to this day, and which it would 
 require a large volume to explain ; but we cannot help remarking 
 that the deities introduced in the Fatal Ring are clearly allegorical 
 personages. Marichi, the first production of Brahma, or the Crea- 
 tive Power, signifies light, that subtil fluid which was created 
 before its reservoir, the sun. as water was created before the sea 
 Casyapa, the offspring of Marichi, seems to be a personification of 
 infinite space, comprehending innumerable worlds ; and his 
 children by Aditi, or his active power (unless Aditi mean the 
 primeval day, and Diti, his other wife, the night), are Indra, or 
 the visible firmament, and the twelve Adityas, or suns, presiding 
 over as many months. 
 
 On the characters and conduct of the play I shall offer no 
 criticism ; because I am convinced that the tastes of men differ as 
 much as their sentiments and passions, and that, in feeling the 
 beauties of art, as in smelling flowers, tasting fruits, viewing pros- 
 pects, and hearing melody, every individual must be guided by 
 his own sensations and the incommunicable associations of his 
 own ideas. This only I may add, that if Sacontala should ever 
 be acted in India, where alone it could be acted with perfect 
 knowledge of Indian dresses, manners, and scenery, the piece 
 might easily be reduced to five acts of a moderate length, by throw- 
 ing the third act into the second, and the sixth into the fifth ; for 
 it must be confessed that the whole of Dushmanta's conversation 
 with his buffoon, and great part of his courtship in the hermitage 
 might be omitted without any injury to the drama. 
 
 It is my anxious wish that others may take the pains to 
 learn Sanscrit, and may be persuaded to translate the works of 
 Calidas : I shall hardly again employ my leisure in ;i task so 
 foreign to my professional (which are, in truth, my favorite) 
 studies ; and have no intention of translating any other book 
 from any language, except the Law Trad of Menu, and the new 
 Digest of Indian and Arabian laws ; but, to show, that the Brah- 
 mens, at least, do not think polite literature incompatible with 
 jurisprudence, 1 cannot avoid mentioning, that the venerabL
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 compiler of the Hind A Digest, who is now in the eighty-sixth 
 year, has the whole play of Saoontala k by heart, as he proved 
 when I last conversed with him, to my entire conviction. Lest, 
 however, I should hereafter seem to have changed a resolution 
 which I mean to keep inviolate, I think it proper to say, that I 
 have already translated four or live other books, and among them 
 the Hitopad^sa, which I undertook, merely as an exercise in 
 learning Sanscrit, three years before I knew that Mr. Wilkins, 
 without whose aid I should never have learnt it, had any thought 
 of giving the same work to the public.
 
 PERSONS OF THE DRAMA. 
 
 Dushmanta, Emperor of India. 
 Sacontald) the Heroine of the Piece. 
 
 D • j > \ Damsels attendant on her, 
 
 rriyamvada^ 
 
 Mddhavyd, the Emperor's Buffoon. 
 
 Gauta??u, an old female Hermit. 
 
 Sdrngarava, ^ 
 
 o' j r two Brahmens. 
 
 baradwata, ( 
 
 Canna, Foster-father of Sacontala. 
 
 Cumbhilaca^ a Fisherman. 
 
 Misracesi, a Nymph. 
 
 Mdtali, Charioteer of Indra. 
 
 A little Boy. 
 
 Casyapa, ^| 
 
 Aditi C Cities, Parents of Indra. 
 
 Officers of State and Police, Brahmens, Damsels, Hermits, Pupils, 
 Chamberlas, Warders of the Palace, Messengers, and Attendants.
 
 THE PROLOGUE. 
 
 A Brahmen pronounces the benediction. 
 
 "YT7ATER was the first work of the Creator ; and Fire re- 
 T T ceives the oblations ordained by law ; the Sacrifice is per- 
 formed with solemnity ; the Two Lights of heaven distinguish 
 time ; the subtil Ether, which is the vehicle of sound, pervades the 
 universe ; the Earth is the natural parent of all increase ; and 
 by Air all things breathing are animated : may PSA, the God 
 of Nature, apparent in these eight forms, bless and sustain you ! 
 
 The Manager enters; 
 
 Man. What occasion is there for a long speech ? — [Looking 
 towards the dressing room] — When your decorations, Madam, are 
 completed, l>e pleased to come forward. 
 
 An AGtress enters. 
 
 Actr. I attend, Sir. — What are your commands ? 
 
 Man. This, Madam, is the numerous and polite assembly of 
 the lamed Hero, our king Vicramaditya, the patron of every de- 
 lightful art ; and before this audience we must do justice to a new 
 production of Ctilidas, a dramatic piece, entitled Sacontala, or, 
 The Fatal Ring : it is requested, therefore, that all will be 
 attentive. 
 
 Actr. Who, Sir, could be inattentive to an entertainmeni - 
 well intended ? 
 
 Man. [Smiling] I will speak, Madam, without reserve. — 
 As far as an enlightened audience receive pleasure from our thea- 
 trical talents, and express it, so far, and no farther, I set a value 
 on them ; but my own mind is diffident of its powers, how 
 3trongly soever exerted.
 
 2 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Actr. You judge rightly in measuring your own merit by 
 the degree of pleasure which this assembly may receive ; but its 
 value, I trust, will presently appear. — Have you any farther com- 
 mands ? 
 
 Man. What better can you do, since you are now on the 
 stage, than exhilarate the souls, and gratify the sense, of our 
 auditory with a song ? 
 
 Actr. SI i a 11 I sing the description of a season ? and which 
 of the seasons do you choose to hear described ? 
 
 Man. No finer season could be selected than the summer, 
 which is actually begun, and abounds with delights. How sweet 
 is the close of a summer day, which invites our youth to bathe 
 in pure streams, and induces gentle slumber under the shades 
 refreshed by sylvan breezes, which have passed over the blooming 
 Patalis and stolen their fragrance ! 
 
 Actr. [Singing] " Mark how the soft blossoms of the Naga- 
 cdsar are lightly kissed by the bees ! Mark how the damsels 
 delicately place behind their ears the flowers of Sirisha !" 
 
 Man. A charming strain ! the whole company sparkles, 
 as it were, with admiration ; and the musical mode to which the 
 words are adapted, has filled their souls with rapture. By what 
 other performance can we ensure a continuance of their favor ? 
 
 Actr. Oh ! by none better than by the Fatal Ring, which 
 you have just announced. 
 
 Man. How could I forget it ! In that moment I was lulled 
 to distraction by the melody of thy voice, which allured my heart, 
 as the king Dushmanta is now allured by the swift antelope. 
 
 [Tliey both go out.
 
 S A CO NT ALA; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE FATAL I\ING 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Scene — A Forest. 
 
 Dushmanta, in a car, pursuing an antelope, with a boiv and 
 quiver, attended by his Charioteer. 
 
 Char. \Looking at the antelope, and then at the kingi] 
 
 WHEN I cast my eye on that black antelope, and on thee, 
 king, with thy braced bow, I see before me, as it were, 
 the God Mahesa chasing a hart, with his bow, named pinaea, braced 
 in his left hand. 
 
 Dushm. The fleet animal has given us a long chase. Oh ! 
 there he runs, with his neck bent gracefully, looking back, from 
 time to time, at the car which follows him. Now, through fear 
 of a descending shaft, he contracts his forehand, and extends 
 his flexible haunches ; and now, through fatigue, he pauses to 
 nibble the grass in his path with his mouth half opened. See 
 how he springs and bounds with long steps, lightly skimming 
 the ground, and rising high in the air ! And now so rapid in 
 his flight, that he is scarce discernible ! 
 
 Char. The ground was uneven, and the horses were checked 
 in their course. He has taken advantage of our delay. It is 
 level now, and we may easily overtake him. 
 
 Dushm. Loosen the reins.
 
 4 SACONTALA' ; OR, 
 
 Char. As the king commands. — [lie drives the car first at 
 full speed, and then gently.] — He could not escape. The horses were 
 not even touched by the clouds of dust which they raised ; they 
 tossed their manes, erected their ears, and rather glided than 
 galloped over the smooth plain. 
 
 Dushm. They soon outran the swift antelope. — Objects 
 which, from their distance, appeared minute, presently became 
 larger : what was really divided, seemed united, as we passed ; and 
 what was in truth bent, seemed straight. So swift was the motion 
 of the wheels, that nothing, for many moments, was either distant 
 or near. [lie fixes an arrow in his boicstring. 
 
 [Behind the scenes.] He must not be slain. This antelope, 
 king, has an asylum in our forest: he must not be slain. 
 
 Char. [Listening and looking.] Just as the animal presents a 
 fair mark for your arrow, two hermits are advancing to inter- 
 rupt your aim. 
 
 Dushm. Then stop the car. 
 
 Char. The king is obeyed. [lie draws in the reins. 
 
 Enter a Hermit and his Pupil. 
 
 Ilerm. [Raising his hands.] Slay not, mighty sovereign, 
 slay not a poor fawn, who has found a place of refuge. No, 
 surely, no ; he must not be hurt. An arrow in the delicate body 
 of a deer would be like fire in a bale of cotton. Compared with 
 thy keen shafts, how weak must be the tender hide of a young 
 antelope ! Replace quickly, oh ! replace the arrow which thou 
 hast aimed. The weapons of you kings and warriors are des- 
 tined for the relief of the oppressed, not for the destruction of 
 the guiltless. 
 
 Dushm. [Saluting them.] It is replaced. 
 
 [He placed the arrow in his quiver. 
 
 Ilerm. [With joy.] Worthy is that act of thee, most illus- 
 trious of monarchs ; worthy, indeed, of a prince descended from 
 Puru. Mayst thou have a son adorned with virtues, a sovereign 
 
 of the world ! 
 
 Pup. [Elevating both his hands.] Oh! by all means, may 
 thy son be adorned with every virtue, a sovereign of the world !
 
 THE FATAL RIKG. 5 
 
 Dushm, [Bowing to them.] My head bears with reverence 
 the order of a Brahmen. 
 
 Ilerm. Great King, we came hither to collect wood for a 
 solemn sacrifice ; and this forest, on the banks of the Malinl, 
 affords an asylum to the wild animals protected by Sacontala, 
 whom our holy preceptor Canna has received as a sacred deposit. 
 If you have no other avocation, enter yon grove, and let the rights 
 of hospitality be duly performed, Having seen with your own 
 eyes the virtuous behaviour of those whose only wealth is their 
 piety, but whose worldly cares are now at an end, you will then 
 exclaim, " How many good subjects are defended by this arm, 
 which the bowstring has made callous ! ' 
 
 Dushm. Is the master of your family at home ? 
 
 Herm. Our preceptor is gone to Somatirt'ha, in hopes of 
 deprecating some calamity, with which destiny threatens the 
 irreproachable Sacontala ; and he has charged her, in his absence, 
 to receive all guests with due honor. 
 
 Dushm. Holy man, I will attend her ; and she, having 
 observed my devotion, will report it favourably to the venerable 
 sage. 
 
 Both. Be it so ; and we depart on our own business. 
 
 [ The Hermit and his Pupil go out. 
 
 Dushm. Drive on the car. By visiting the abode of holiness, 
 we shall purify our souls. 
 
 Char. As the king (may his life be long !) commands. [He 
 drives on. 
 
 Dushm. [Looking on all sides.] That we are near the dwell- 
 ing-place of pious hermits, would clearly have appeared, even if 
 it had not been told. 
 
 Char. By what marks ? 
 
 Dushm. Do you not observe them? See under yon trees 
 the hallowed grains which have been scattered on the ground, 
 while the tender female parrot- were feeding their unfledged 
 young in their pendent nests. Mark in other places the shining 
 pieces of polishd stone which have bruised the oily fruit of the 
 sacred Ingudi. Look at the young fawns, which, having acquired
 
 6 sacontala' ; OR, 
 
 confidence in man, and accustomed themselves to the sound of his 
 voice, frisk at pleasure, without varying their course. Even the 
 surface of the river is reddened with lines of consecrated bark, 
 which float down its stream. Look again ; the roots of yon 
 trees are bathed in the waters of holy pools, which quiver as the 
 breeze plays upon them ; and the glowing lustre of yon fresh 
 leaves is obscured, for a time, by smoke that rises from oblations 
 of clarified butter. See too, where the young roes graze, without 
 apprehension from our approach, on the lawn before yonder garden, 
 were the tops of the sacrificial grass, cut for some religious rite, 
 are sprinkled around. 
 
 Char. I now observe all those marks of some holy habi- 
 tation. 
 
 Dmkm. [Turning aside.] This awful sanctuary, my friend, 
 must not be violated. Here, therefore, stop the car ; that I may 
 descend. 
 
 Char. I hold in the reins. The king may descend at his 
 pleasure. 
 
 Dushm. [Having descended, and looking at his own dress.] 
 Groves devoted to religion must be entered in humbler habiliments. 
 Take these regal ornaments ; — [the Charioteer receives them] — and, 
 whilst I am observing those who inhabit this retreat, let the 
 horses be watered and dressed. 
 
 Char. Be it as you direct ! [He goes out. 
 
 Dushm. [ Walking round and looking.] Now then I enter the 
 sanctuary. — [He enters the grove.] — Oh ! this place must be holy 
 my right arm throbs. — [Pausing and considering .] — What new 
 acquisition does this omen promise in a sequestered grove ? But 
 the gates of predestined events are in all places open. 
 
 [Behind the scenes.] Come hither, my beloved companions ; 
 Oh ! come hither. 
 
 Dushm. [Listening.] Hah ! I hear female voices to the right 
 of yon arbour. I am resolved to know who are conversing. — 
 [He ivalks round and looks.] — There are some damsels, I see, 
 belonging to the hermit's family who carry water-pots of different 
 sizes proportioned to their strength, and are going to water
 
 THE FATAL RING, 7 
 
 the delicate plants. Oil ! how charmingly they look! If the 
 beauty of maids who dwell in woodland retreats cannot easily 
 be found in the recesses of a palace, the garden flowers must make 
 room for the blossoms of the forest, which excel them in colour 
 and fragrance. [He sta?ids gazing at them. 
 
 Enter Sacontala, Anusuyd, and Priyamvada. 
 
 Anu. my Sacontala, it is in thy society that the trees of 
 our father Canna seem to me delightful : it well becomes thee, 
 who art soft as the freshblown Mallica, to fill with water the 
 canals which have been dug round these tender shrubs. 
 
 Sac. It is not only in obedience to our father that I thus 
 employ myself, though that were a sufficient motive, but I really 
 feel the affection of a sister for these young plants. 
 
 [ Watering them. 
 
 Pri. My beloved friend, the shrubs which you have watered 
 flower in the summer, which is now begun : let us give water 
 to those which have passed their flowering time ; for our virtue 
 will be the greater when it is wholly disinterested. 
 
 Sac. Excellent advice ! [ Watering other plants* 
 
 Dushm. [Aside in transport.'] How ! is that Canna's 
 daughter, Sacontala ? — [With surprise.] — The venerable sage 
 must have an unfeeling heart, since he has allotted a mean em- 
 ployment to so lovely a girl, and has dressed her in a coarse 
 mantle of woven bark. He, who could wish that so beautiful a 
 creature, who at first sight ravishes my soul should endure the 
 hardships of his austere devotion, would attempt, I suppose, to 
 cleave the hard wood Sam! with a leaf of the blue lotos. Let 
 me retire behind this tree, that I may gaze on her charms with- 
 out diminishing her confidence. [He retires. 
 
 Sac. My friend Priyamvada has tied this mantle of bark 
 so closely over my bosom that it gives me pain : Anusiiya, I re- 
 quest you to untie it. [Anusiiya unties the mantle. 
 
 Pri. [Laughing.] Well, my sweet friend, enjoy, while 
 you may, that youthful prime which gives your bosom so beauti- 
 ful a swell.
 
 8 SAC0NT0LA' ; OR, 
 
 Vushm. [Aside] Admirably spoken, Priyamvada! No; 
 her charms caimol be hidden, even though a robe of intertwisted 
 fibres be thrown over her shoulders, and conceal a part of her 
 bosom, like a veil of yellow leaves enfolding a radiant flower. 
 The water lily, though dark moss may settle on its head, is never- 
 theless beautiful ; and the moon with dewy beams is rendered 
 yet brighter by its black spots. The bark itself acquires elegance 
 from the features of a girl with antelope's eyes, and rather aug- 
 ments than diminishes my ardour. Many are the rough stalks 
 which support the water lily ; but many and exquisite are the 
 blossoms which hang on them. 
 
 Sac. [Looking before her.] Yon Amra tree, my friends, 
 points with the finger of its leaves, which the gale gently agitates, 
 and seems inclined to whisper some secret. I will go near it. 
 
 {They all approach the tree. 
 Pri. my SaeontaM, let us remain some time in this shade. 
 Sac. Why here particularly ? 
 
 PrL Because the Amra tree seems wedded to you, who are 
 graceful as the blooming creeper which twines round it. 
 
 Sac. Properly are you named Priyamvada, or speaking 
 kindly. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] She speaks truly. Yes ; her lip glows 
 like the tender leaflet ; her arms resemble two flexible stalks ; 
 and youthful beauty shines, like a blossom, in all her lineaments. 
 
 Arm. See, my Sacontala, how yon fresh Mallica, which you 
 have surnamed Yanadosini, or Delight of the Grove, has chosen 
 the sweet Amra for her bridegroom. 
 
 Sac. [Approaching, and looking at it with pleasure.] How 
 charming is the season, when the nuptials even of plants are 
 thus publicly celebrated ! [She stands admiring it. 
 
 Pri. [Smiling.] Do you know, my Anusiiya, why Sacon- 
 tala gazes on the plants with such rapture ? 
 
 Ami. No, indeed : I was trying to guess. Pray, tell me. 
 Pri. " As the Grove's Delight is united to a suitable tree, 
 thus I too hope for a bridegroom to my mind." — That is her 
 private thought at this moment, 
 A
 
 THE FATAL RING 
 
 Sac. Such are the flights of vour own imagination, 
 
 [Inverting the water-pot. 
 
 Ami. Here, is a plant, Sacontala, which you have forgotten, 
 though it has grown up, like 3^ourself, under the fostering care 
 of our father Canna. 
 
 Sae. Then I shall forget myself. — wonderful ! — [apj>roach- 
 ing the plant.] — Priyamvada ! [looking at it with joy] I have 
 delightful tidings for you 
 
 PH. What tidings, my beloved, for me ? 
 
 Sac. Tin's Madhavi-creeper, though it be not the usual time 
 for flowering, is covered with gay blossoms from its root to its top. 
 
 Both. [Approaching it hastily.'] Is it really so, sweet friend ? 
 
 Sac Is it so ? look yourselves. 
 
 Pri. [With eagerness.'] From this omen, Sacontala, I an- 
 nounce you an excellent husband, who will very soon take you by 
 the hand. [Both girls look at Sacontala. 
 
 Sac. [Displeased.] A strange fancy of yours ! 
 
 Pri. Indeed, my beloved, I speak not jestingly. I heard 
 something from our lather Canna. Your nurture of these plants 
 1 1 as prospered; and thence it is. that I foretel your approaching 
 nuptials. 
 
 Ami. It is thence, my Priyamvada, that she has Watered 
 them with so much alacrit\ 
 
 Sac. The Madhavi plant is nry sister: can I do otherwise" 
 than cherish her ? [Pouring water on it. 
 
 Ditxhm [Asiih.] I fear she is of the same religious order 
 with her foster-father. Or has a mistaken apprehension risen in 
 my mind ? My warm heart is so attached to her, that she can- 
 in. 1 but be a fit match for a man of the military class. The 
 doubt which awhile perplex the good, are soon removed by the 
 prevalence of their strong inclinations. I am enamoured of her; 
 and she. cannot, therefore, be the daughter of a I'rahmen, whom 
 I could not marry. 
 
 Sab. [Moving lor In n<l.] Alas ! a bee has left the blossom 
 of this MalHca, and is fluttering round my face. 
 
 [Sin exfo utieaSmesSi 
 
 B
 
 10 saoontala' ; OR, 
 
 Du&hrti. [Aside, with affection.'] How often have I seen our 
 court damsels affectedly turn their heads aside from some roving 
 insect, merely to display their graces ! but this rural charmer 
 knits her brows, and gracefully moves her eyes through fear only, 
 without art or affectation. Oh ! happy bee, who touchest the 
 corner of that eye beautifully trembling ; who, approaching the 
 tip of that ear, murmurest as softly as if thou wert whispering 
 a secret of love; and who sippest nectar, while she waves her 
 graceful hand, from that lip, which contains all the treasures of 
 delight ! Whilst I am solicitous to know in what family she was 
 born, thou art enjoying bliss, which to me would be supreme 
 felicity. 
 
 Sac. Disengage me, I entreat, from this importunate insect, 
 which quite baffles my efforts. 
 
 Pri. What power have we to deliver you ? The king 
 Dushmanta is the sole defender of our consecrated groves. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside;] This is a good occasion for me to dis- 
 cover myself — [advancing a little.]-*-! must not, I will not, fear. 
 Yet — [checking himself and retiring] — my royal character will 
 thus abruptly be known to them. No; I will appear as a simple 
 stranger, and claim the duties of hospitality. 
 
 Sac. This impudent bee will not rest, I will remove to 
 another place. [Stepping aside and looking round.] — Away ! 
 away ! He follows me wherever I go. Deliver me, oh ! deliver 
 me from this distress. 
 
 Dushm. [Advancing hastily.'] Ah ! While the race of Puru 
 govern the world, and restrain even the most profligate, by good 
 laws well administered, has any man the audacity to molest the 
 lovely daughters of pious hermits ? 
 
 [They look at him with emotion. 
 
 Ann. Sir, no man is here audacious ; but this damsel, our 
 beloved friend, w T as teased by a fluttering bee. 
 
 [Both girl look at Socontala\ 
 Dushm. [Approaching her.] Damsel, may thy devotion prosper ! 
 
 Sacontala" looks on the ground, bashful and silent. 
 
 Anu. Our guest must be received with due honors. 

 
 THE FATAL RING. 11 
 
 Pri. Stranger, you are welcome. Go, my Sacontala ; bring 
 from the cottage a basket of fruit and flowers. This river will, 
 in the mean time, supply water for his feet. 
 
 [Looking at the water-pots. 
 
 Dushm. Holy maid, the gentleness of thy speech does me 
 sufficient honor. 
 
 Anu. Sit down awhile on this bank of earth, spread with 
 the leaves of Septaperna : the shade is refreshing, and our lord 
 must want repose after his journey. 
 
 Dushm, You too must all be fatigued by your hospitable 
 attentions : rest yourselves, therefore, with me. 
 
 Pri. [Aside to Sacontala.] Come, let us all be seated : our 
 guest is contented with our reception of him. 
 
 [They all seat themselves. 
 
 Sac. [Aside.] At the sight of this youth I feel an emotion 
 scarce consistent with a grove devoted to piety. 
 
 Diishm. [Gazing at them alternately.'] How well your friend- 
 ship agrees, holy damsels, with the charming equality of your 
 ages and of your beauties ! 
 
 Pri. [Aside to Anusuya.] Who can this be, my Anusuya ? 
 The union of delicacy with robustness in his form, and of sweet- 
 ness with dignity in his discourse, indicate a character fit for 
 ample dominion. 
 
 Anu. [Aside to Priyamvada.] I too have been admiring 
 him. I must ask him a few questions.— [Aloud.] Your sweet 
 speech, Sir, gives me confidence. What imperial family is embel- 
 lished by our noble guest ? What is his native country ? Surely 
 it must be afflicted by his absence from it. What, I pray, could 
 induce you to humiliate that exalted form of yours by visiting a 
 forest peopled only by simple anchorites ? 
 
 Sac. [Aside.] Perplex not thyself, oh my heart ! let the 
 faithful Anusuya direct with her counsel the thoughts which rise 
 in thee. 
 
 Dushm. \ Aside.] How shall I reveal, or how .shall I disguise 
 myself ? — [Musing. ] — Be it so. — [Aloud to Ammiya.] Excellent 
 lady, I am a student of the Veda, dwelling in the city of our
 
 kniLi. descended from l'uru j and being occupied in the discharge 
 of religions and moral cluti* '^. am a>n\v hither to heboid the sane- 
 tuary of virtue. 
 
 .1 mi. Holy men, employed like you, are our lords and masters, 
 
 [Sacontala looks modest, yet toith affection; while hei 
 
 companions gaze alternately at her and. at the king, 
 
 Ann, [Aside to Sacontala. ] Oh ! if our venerable father 
 were present — 
 
 Sac. What if he were ? 
 
 Ante lie would entertain our guest with a variety of refresh- 
 ments. 
 
 Sat .. [Pretend /n</ displeasure.] Go too ; you had some other 
 idea in your bead ; I will not listen to you. [She. sits apart. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside to Anusuya and Priyamvada.] In my turn 
 holy damsels, allow me to ask one question concerning your lovely 
 friend. 
 
 Both. The request, Sir, does us honour. 
 
 Dushrn. The sage Canna, I know, is ever intent upon the 
 great Being ; and must have declined all earthly connections. 
 How then can this damsel be, as it is said, his daughter ? 
 
 Ann. Let our lord hear. There is, in the family of Cusa, a 
 pious prince of extensive power, eminent in devotion and in arms. 
 
 Dushm. You speak, no doubt, of Causica, the sage and 
 monarch. 
 
 Ami. Know, Sir, that he is in truth her father ; while Can- 
 na bears that reverend name, because he brought her up, since she 
 was left an infant. 
 
 Dushm. Left ? the word excites my curiosity ; and raises 
 in me a desire of knowing her whole story. 
 
 Ami, You shall hear it, Sir, in few words. — When that 
 sage king had begun to gather the fruits of his austere devotion, 
 the gods of Swerga became apprehensive of his increasing power, 
 and sent the nymph Menaca to frustrate, by her allurements, the 
 full effect of his piety, 
 
 Dushm. Is a mortal's piety so tremendous to the inferior 
 ies ? What was the event ?
 
 THE FATAL EI KG. 13 
 
 Ami. In the bloom of the vernal season. Causica, beholding 
 the beauty of the celestial nymph, and wasted by the gale of 
 desire —   [She stops and looks modest. 
 
 Dushm. I now see the whole. Sacontahi then is the 
 daughter of a king, by a nymph of the lower heaven. 
 
 Anu. Even so. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] The desire of my heart is gratified. — . 
 [Aloud.] How, indeed, could her transcendent beauty be the 
 portion of mortal birth ? Yon light, that sparkles with tremulous 
 beams, proceeds not from a terrestrial cavern, [ Sacontala 
 
 sits modestly ', with her eyes on the ground. 
 
 Dushm. [Again aside.] Happy man that I am ! Xow 
 has my fancy an ample range. Yet, having heard the pleasan- 
 try of her companions on the subject of her nuptials, I am 
 divided with anxious doubt, whether she be not wholly destined 
 for a religious life. 
 
 Pri. [ Smiling, and looking Jirst at Sacontahi, then at the 
 ling. ] Our lord seems desirous of asking other questions. 
 
 [Sacontahi rebukes Priyamvada with her hind. 
 
 Dushm. You know my very heart. I am, indeed, eager 
 to learn the whole of this charmer's life ; and must put one 
 question more. 
 
 Pri. Why should you muse on it so long ? — [Aside.] One 
 would think this religious man was forbidden by his vows to 
 court a pretty woman. 
 
 Dushm. This I ask. Is the strict rule of a hermit so far 
 to be observed by Oanna, that he cannot dispose of his daughter 
 in manage, but must check the natural impulse of juvenile love ? 
 Can she (oil preposterous fate !) be destined to reside for life 
 among her favourite antelopes, the black lustre of whose eyes is 
 far surpassed by hers ? 
 
 Pri. Hitherto, Sir, our friend has lived happy in this con- 
 futed forest, the abode of her spiritual father; but it is now 
 his intention to unite her with a bridegroom equal to hersel£ 
 
 Dushm. [Aside, irith, ecstasy.] Exult, oh my heart exuli 
 All doubt is removed; and what before thou wouldst haw
 
 14 SACONTALA' ; OR, 
 
 dreaded as a flame, may now be approached as a gem inestimable. 
 
 Sac. [Seeming angry.] Anusiiya, I will stay here no longer. 
 
 A fin. Why so I pray ? 
 
 Sac. I will go to the holy matron Gautami, and let her 
 know how impertinently our Priyamvad£ has been prattling. 
 
 [She rises. 
 
 Anu. It will not be decent, my love, for an inhabitant of 
 this hallowed wood to retire before a guest has received complete 
 honor. [ Sacontald, giving no answer, offers to go. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] Is she then departing ? — [Re rises, as if 
 going to stop her, but checks himself]] — The actions of a passionate 
 lover are as precipitate as his mind is agitated. Thus I, whose 
 passion iinpelled me to follow the hermit's daughter, am restrained 
 by a sense of duty. 
 
 Pri. [Going up to Sacontala.] My angry friend, you must 
 not retire. 
 
 Sac. [Stepping back and frowning.] What should detain me ? 
 
 Pri. You owe me the labour, according to our agreement, 
 of watering two more shrubs. Pay me first, to acquit your con- 
 science, and then depart, if you please. [Holding her. 
 
 Dushm. The damsel is fatigued, I imagine, by pouring so 
 much water on the cherished plants. Her arms, graced with palms 
 like fresh blossoms, hang carelessly down; her bosom heaves with 
 strong breathing; and now her dishevelled locks, from which the 
 string has dropped, are held by one of her lovely hands. Suffer 
 me, therefore, thus to discharge the debt. — [Giving his ring to 
 Priyamvada. Both damsels, reading the name Dushmanta, in- 
 scribed on the ring, look with surprise at each other.] — It is a toy 
 unworthy of your fixed attention \ but I value it as gift from the 
 king. 
 
 Pri. Then you ought not, Sir, to part with it. Her debt 
 is from this moment discharged on your word only. [She re- 
 turns the ring. 
 
 Anu. You are now released, Sacontala, by this benevo- 
 lent lord — or favored, perhaps, by a monarch himself. To what 
 place will you now retire ?
 
 THE FATAL RING. 15 
 
 Sac. [Aside*] Must I not wonder at all this if 1 preserve 
 my senses ? 
 
 Pri. Are not you goings Sacontala ? 
 
 Sac. Am I your subject ? I shall go when it pleases me.- 
 
 Dusknii [Aside looking at Sacontahi] Either she is affected 
 towards me, as I am towards her, or I am distracted with joy. 
 She mingles not her discourse with mine ; yet, when I speak, she 
 listens attentively. She commands not her actions in my pre- 
 sence ; and her eyes are engaged on me alone. 
 
 Behind the scenes.'] Oh pious hennits, preserve the animals 
 of this hallowed forest ! The King Dushmanta is hunting in it. 
 The dust raised by the hoofs of his horses, which pound the 
 pebbles ruddy as early dawn, falls like a swarm of blighting 
 insects on the consecrated boughs which sustain your mantles of 
 woven bark, moist with the water of the stream in which you have 
 bathed. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside. 1 Alas ! my officers, who are searching for 
 me, have indiscreetly disturbed this holy retreat. 
 
 Again behind the scenes.] Beware, ye hermits, of yon ele- 
 phant, who comes overturning all that oppose him ; now he fixes 
 his trunk with violence on a lofty branch that obstructs his way ; 
 and now he is entangled in the twining stalks of the Vratati. How 
 are our sacred rites interrupted ! How are the protected herds 
 dispersed ! The wild elephant, alarmed at the new appearance of 
 a car, lays our forest waste. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] How unwillingly am I offending the de- 
 vout foresters ! Yes ; I must go to them instantly. 
 
 Pri. Noble stranger, we are confounded with dread of the 
 enraged elephant* With your permission, therefore, We retire to 
 the hermit's cottage. 
 
 Ann. Sacontald, the venerable matron will be much dis« 
 tressed on your account. Come quickly, that we may be all saf<3 
 together. 
 
 Sac* [Walking slowly.] 1 am stopped, alas! by a sudden 
 pain in my side,
 
 [i'< sacontala' ; DB 
 
 Jh(<]im. I>c not alarmed, amiiablfe ilamsr!^. It shall be my 
 hai ad disturbance happen in your sacred groves': 
 
 Pri. Excellenl Granger, we were wholly tmacqiiainted with 
 your .station; and you mil forgive us, we hope, for the offeree of 
 intermitting ;i\vhile 1hc honors due to you: Imt we humbly re- 
 quest that you will give us once more the pleasure of seeing you, 
 though you have not now been received with perfect hospitality. 
 
 Duskny. You depreciate your merits. The sight of you, 
 sweet damsels, has sufficiently honored me. 
 
 Sac. My foot. Anusuya, is hurt by this pointed blade of 
 Cusa grass ; and now my loose vest of bark is caught by a 
 branch of the CurUvaca. Help me to disentangle myself, and 
 support me. — [She goes out, looking from time to time at Dushmanta 
 and supported by the damsels.] 
 
 Dusjim. [Sighing.] They arc all departed ; and I too, alas ! 
 must depart. For how short a moment have I been blessed 
 Avith a sight of the incomparable Sacontala ! I will send my at- 
 tendants to the city, and take my station at no great distance from 
 this forest. I cannot, in truth, divert my mind from the sweet 
 occupation of gazing on her. How, indeed, should I otherwise 
 occupy it ? My body moves onward ; but my restless heart runs 
 back to her ; like a light flag borne on a staff against the wind, 
 and fluttering in an opposite direction . [He goes out.
 
 THE FATAL RINfl, 
 
 ACT It 
 
 SCENE — A Plain, with royal pavilions on the skirt of the forest. 
 Madhavya. [Sighing and lamenting.^ 
 
 STRANGE recreation this? — Ah me! I am wearied to 
 death. — My royal friend has an unaccountable taste. — What 
 can I think of a king so passionately fond of chasing unprofit- 
 able quadrupeds? — "Here runs an antelope! — there goes a 
 
 boar!" — Such is our only conversation. — Even at noon, in ex- 
 cessive heat, when not a tree in the forest has a shadow under 
 
 it, we must be skipping and prancing about, like the beasts 
 whom we follow. — Are we thirsty? We have nothing to drink 
 but the waters of mountain torrents, which taste of burned 
 stones and mawkish leaves. — Are we hungry? We must greedi- 
 ly devour lean venison, and that commonly roasted to a stick. — 
 Have I a moment's repose at night ? — My slumber is disturbed 
 by the din of horses and elephants, or by the sons of slave girls 
 hollooing out, " More venison, more venison !" — Then comes 
 a cry that pierces my ear, "Away to the forest, away !" — Nor 
 are these my only grievances : fresh pain is now added to the 
 smart of my first wounds ; for, while we were separated from 
 our king, who waa chasing a foolish deer, he entered, I find, yon 
 lonely place, and there, to my infinite grief, saw a certain girl, 
 called Sacontahi, the daughter of a hermit : from that moment 
 not a word of returning to the city ! — These distressing thoughts 
 have kept my eyes open the whole night. — Alas ! when shall we 
 return ? — I cannot set eyes on my beloved friend Dushmanta 
 nince he set his heart on taking another wife. — [Stepping aside 
 mid looking] — Oh ! there he is. — How changed ! — He carries a 
 bow, indeed, but wears for his diadem a garland of wood- 
 flowers. — He is advancing : I must begin my operations. — [lie 
 stands leaning on <i staff."] — Let me thus take a moment's rest.— 
 [Aloud.]
 
 IS SACONTALA' ; OR, 
 
 Dushmanta enters, as described. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside, sighing.~\ Mjr darling is not so easily attain- 
 able ; 3'et my heart assumes confidence from the manner in 
 which she seemed affected i surely, though our love has not 
 hitherto prospered, yet the inclinations of us both are fixed on 
 our union. — [Sinning."] — Thus do lovers agreeably beguile them- 
 selves, when all the powers of their souls are intent on the ob- 
 jects of their desire ! — But am I beguiled ? No ; when she cast 
 Iter eyes even on her companions, they sparkled wjth tenderness ; 
 when she moved her graceful arms, they dropped, as if languid with 
 love ; when her friend remonstrated against her departure, she 
 spoke angrily — All this was, no doubt, on my account. — Oh! 
 lxow quick-sighted is love in discerning his own advantages ! 
 
 Madh. [Bending downward, as before.] Great prince ! my 
 hands are unable to move ; and it is with my lips only that I can 
 mutter a blessing on you. May the king be victorious ! 
 
 Diishm. [Looking at him and smiling.] Ah ! what has crip- 
 pled thee, friend Madhavya ? 
 
 Madh. You strike my eye with your own hand, and then 
 ask what makes it weep. 
 
 Dushm. Speak intelligibly. I know not what you mean. 
 
 Madh. Look at yon Vetas tree bent double in the river. 
 Is it crooked, I pray, by its own act, or by the force of the 
 stream ? 
 
 Dushm. It is bent, I suppose, by the current. 
 
 Madh. So am I by your Majesty. 
 
 Dushm. How so, Madhavya ? 
 
 Madh. Does it become you, I pray, to leave the great 
 affairs of your empire, and so charming a mansion as your 
 palace, for the sake of living here like a forester ? Can you hold 
 a council in a wood ? I, who am a reverend Brahmen, have no 
 longer the use of my hands and feet : they are put out of joint 
 by my running all day long after dogs and wild beasts. Favor' 
 me, I entreat, with your permission to repose but a single day. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] Such are this poor fellow's complaints j 
 whilst I, when I think of Canna's daughter, have as little relish
 
 THE FATAL RING. It) 
 
 for hunting as he. How can I brace this bow, and lix a shaft 
 in the string, to shoot at those beautiful deer who dwell in the 
 same groves with my beloved, and whose eyes derive lustre from 
 hers ? 
 
 Mddk. [Looking stedfasthj at the TcingJ] What scheme is 
 your royal mind contriving ? I have been crying, I hnd, in a 
 wilderness. 
 
 Dushm. I think of nothing but the gratification of my okl 
 friend's wishes. 
 
 Mddk. [Joyfully.] Then may the king live long ! 
 
 [Rising, but counterfeiting feebleness. 
 
 Dushm. Stay ; and listen to me attentively. 
 
 Mddk. Let the kino- command. 
 
 Dushm. When you have taken repose, I shall want your 
 assistance in another business, that will give you no fatigue. 
 
 Mddk. Oh ! what can that be, unless it be eating rice-pud- 
 ding ? 
 
 Dushm. You shall know in due time. 
 
 Mddk. I shall be delighted to hear it. 
 
 Dushm. Hola ! who is there ? 
 
 The Chamberlain enters. 
 
 Cham. Let my sovereign command me. 
 
 Dushm. Raivataca, bid the General attend. 
 
 Cham. I obey. — [He goes out, and returns with the 
 General.] — Come quickly, Sir, the king stands expecting you. 
 
 Gen. [Aside, looking at Dushmanta.] How comes it that 
 hunting, which moralists reckon a vice, should be a virtue in 
 the eyes of a king ? Thence it is, no doubt, that our emperor, 
 occupied in perpetual toil, and inured to constant heat, is be- 
 come so lean, that the sunbeams hardly affect him ; while he is 
 so tall, that he looks to us little men, like an elephant grazing 
 on a mountain : he seems all foul. — [Aloud, approaching the king.] 
 — May our monarch ever be victorious ! — This forest, king, 
 is infested by beast of prey : we see the traces of their huge 
 feet in every path.— What orders is it your pleasure to give ?
 
 _M> ...u ontala' ; OR, 
 
 Dushm. Bhadrasena, tliis moralizing M&dhayya has put a 
 
 stop to our recreation by forbidding the pleasures of the chase. 
 
 (it n. [Aside to Mudhavya.] Be firm to your word, my 
 friend ; whilst I sound the king's real inclinations. — [Aloud.] 
 I ) ! Sir, the fool talks idly. Consider the delights of hunting. 
 The body, it is true, becomes emaciated, but it is light and fit 
 for exercise. Mark how the wild beasts of various kinds are 
 variously affected by fear and by rage ! What pleasure equals 
 that of a proud archer, when his arrow hits the mark as it ilies ? 
 — Can hunting be justly called a vice ? No recreation, sorely, 
 can be compared with it. 
 
 M&dh. [Angrily] Away, thou false flatterer ! The king, 
 indeed, follows his natural bent, and is excusable ; but thou, 
 son of a slave girl, hast no excuse. — Away to the wood ! — How 
 I wish thou hadst been seized by a tiger or an old bear, who was 
 prowling for a skakal, like thyself ! 
 
 Dushm. We are now, Bhadrasena, encamped near a sacred 
 hermitage ; and I cannot at present applaud four panegyrick 
 on hunting. This day, therefore, let the wild buffalos roll un- 
 disturbed in the shallow water, or toss up the sand with their 
 horns ; let the herd of antelopes, assembled under the thick 
 shade, ruminate without fear ; let the large boars root up the 
 herbage on the brink of yon pool ; and let this my bow take 
 repose with a slackened string. 
 
 Gen. As our lord commands. 
 
 Duslim, Recall the archers who have advanced before me, 
 and forbid the officers to go very far from this hallowed grove. 
 Let them beware of irritating the pious : holy men are eminent 
 for patient virtues, yet conceal within their bosoms a scorching 
 flame ; as carbuncles are naturally cool to the touch ; but, if the 
 rays of the sun have been imbibed by them, they burn the hand, 
 
 J\Lhlh. Away now, and triumph on the delights of hunting. 
 
 (Jen. The king's orders are obeyed. [Be goes out. 
 
 Dus/uji. [To Ms attendants.] Put off your hunting apparel • 
 and thou, Raivataca, continue in waiting at a little distance, 
 
 Cham. I shall obey. [Goes out.
 
 THE FATAL KING. 21 
 
 Mddh. So ! you have cleared the stage : not even a fly is 
 left on it. Sit down, I pray, on this pavement of smooth peb- 
 bles., and the shade of this tree shall be your canopy ; I will sit by 
 you ; for I am impatient to know what will give me no fatigue. 
 
 Dushm. Go first, and seat thyself. 
 
 Mddh. Come, my royal Mend. [They both sit under a tree. 
 
 Dushm. Friend Madhavya, your eyes have not been gra- 
 tified with an object which best deserves to be seen. 
 
 Mddh. Yes, truly ; for a king is before them. 
 
 Dushm. All men are apt, indeed, to think favorably of 
 themselves ; but I meant Sacontala, the brightest ornament of 
 these woods. 
 
 Mddh. [Aside7\ I must not foment tills passion. — [Aloud.] 
 AYhat can you gain by seeing her ? She is a Brahmen's daughter, 
 and consequently no match for you ? 
 
 Dushm. What ! Do people gaze at the new moon, with 
 uplifted heads and fixed eyes, from a hope of possessing it ? 
 But you must know, that the heart of Dushmanta is not fixed 
 on an object which he must for ever despair of attaining. 
 
 Mddh. Tell me how. 
 
 Dushm. She is the daughter of a pious prince and war- 
 rior, by a celestial nymph ; and, her mother having left her 
 on earth, she has been fostered by Canna, even as a fresh blossom 
 of Malati, which droops on its pendant stalk, is raised and 
 expanded by the sun's light. 
 
 Mddh. [Laughinr/.~\ Your desire to possess this rustic 
 girl, when you have women bright as gems in your palace alrea- 
 dy, is like the fancy of a man, who has lost his relish fur dates, 
 and longs for the sour tamarind. 
 
 Dushm- Did you know her, you would not talk so wildly. 
 Jlfddh. Oh ! certainly, whatever a king admires must be 
 superlatively charming. 
 
 Dushm. [Smiling.] What need is there of long descrip- 
 tion ? When I meditate on the power of Brahma, and on her 
 lineaments, the creation of so transcendent a jewel outshines, 
 in my apprehension, all his other works : she was formed and
 
 ■2'2 BACONTALA' ; OK, 
 
 moulded in the eternal mind, which had raised with its utmost 
 exertion, the ideas of perfect shapes, and thence made an assem- 
 blage of all abstract beauties. 
 
 Ma dli. She must render, then, all other handsome women 
 contemptible. 
 
 Dushm. In my mind she really does, I know not yet 
 what blessed inhabitant of this world will be the possessor of 
 that faultless beauty, which now resembles a blossom whose fra- 
 grance has not been diffused ; a fresh leaf, which no hand has 
 torn from its stalk ; a pure diamond, which no polisher has 
 handled ; new honey, whose sweetness is yet untasted ; or rather 
 the celestial fruit of collected virtues, to the perfection of which 
 nothing can be added, 
 
 Ma'dh. Make haste, then, or the fruit of all virtues will 
 drop into the hand of some devout rustic, whose hair shines 
 with oil of Ingudi. 
 
 Dushm, She is not her own mistress ; and her foster-father 
 
 is at a distance. 
 
 Ma'dh. How is she disposed towards you ? 
 
 Dushm. My friend, the damsels in a hermit's family are 
 
 naturally reserved ; yet she did look at me, wishing to be unper- 
 ceived ; then she smiled, and started a new subject of conversa- 
 tion. Love is by nature averse to a sudden communication, 
 and hitherto neither fully displays, nor wholly conceals, himself 
 in her demeanour towards me. 
 
 Ma'dh, [Laughing ] Has she thus taken possession 0/ your 
 heart on so transient a view ? 
 
 Dushm. When she walked about with her female friends, 
 I saw her yet more distinctly, and my passion was greatly aug- 
 mented. She said sweetly, but untruly, " My foot is hurt by 
 the points of the Cusa grass :" then she stopped ; but soon, ad- 
 vancing a few paces, turned back her face, pretending a wish to 
 disentangle her vest of woven bark from the branches in which 
 it had not really been caught. 
 
 Ma'dh. You began with chasing an antelope, and have now 
 started new game : thence it is, I presume, that you are grown 
 fco fond of a consecrated forest.
 
 THE FATAL RING. 23 
 
 Dushm. Now the business for you, which I mentioned, is 
 this : you, who are a Brahmen, must find some expedient for 
 my second entrance into that asylum of virtue. 
 
 Mddh. And the advice which I give is this : remember 
 that you are a king. 
 
 Dushm. What then ? 
 
 Mddh. " Hola ! bid the hermits bring my sixth part of 
 their grain." Say this, and enter the grove without scruple. 
 
 Dushm. No, Madhavya : they pay a different tribute, who, 
 having abandoned all the gems and gold of this world, possess 
 riches far superior. The wealth of princes, collected from the 
 four orders of their subjects, is perishable ; but pious men give 
 us a sixth part of the fruits of their piety ; fruits which will 
 never perish. 
 
 Behind the scenes.] Happy men that we are ! we have now 
 attained the object of our desire. 
 
 Dushm. Hah ! I hear the voices of some religious anchorites. 
 
 The Chamberlain enters. 
 
 Cham. May the king be victorious ! — Two young men, sons 
 of a hermit, are waiting at my station, and soliciting an audience. 
 
 Dushm. Introduce them without delay. 
 
 Cham. As the king commands. — [lie goes out, and re-enters 
 with two Brahmens.] — Come on ; come this way. 
 
 First Brdhm. [Looking at the king.] Oh ! what confidence 
 is inspired by his brilliant appearance ! — Or proceeds it rather 
 
 from his disposition to virtue and holiness ? Whence cornea 
 
 it, that my fear vanishes ? —He now has taken his abode in a 
 
 wood which supplies us with every enjoyment ; and with all his 
 exertions for our safety, his devotion increases from day to day. — 
 The praise of a monarch who has conquered his passions ascends 
 even to heaven : inspired bards are continually singing, " Behold 
 a virtuous prince !" but with us the royal name stands first ; 
 " Behold, among kings, a sage !" 
 
 Second Brdhm. Is this, my friend, the truly virtuous Dush^ 
 manta ?
 
 2 I SACONTALA' ; OB 
 
 First Brdhm. Even lie. 
 
 Second Brdhm. It is not then wonderful, that lie alone, 
 whose arm is lofty and stroilg as the main bar of his city gate, 
 possesses the whole earth, whidh forms a dark boundary to the 
 ocean ; or that the gods of Swcrga, who fiercely contend in 
 battle with evil powers, proclaim victory gained by his braced 
 bow, not by the thunderboH of I'NDRA. 
 
 Both. [Approaching JiimS] king', be victorious ! 
 
 Diishm. [Bising.] I humbly salute yon both. 
 
 Both. Blessing's on thee ! 
 
 Dushm. \BespectfuUy:\ May I know the cause of this visit ? 
 
 First Brdhm. Our sovereign is hailed by the pious inhabi- 
 tants of these woods ; and they implore—— 
 
 Dushm. What is their command ? 
 
 First Brdhm. In the absence of our spiritual guide, Canna, 
 some evil demons are disturbing our holy retreat. Deign, there- 
 fore, accompanied by thy charioteer, to be master of our asylum, 
 if it be only for a few short days. 
 
 Dushm. [Eagerly.] I am highly favored by your invitation. 
 
 Mddh. [Aside.'] Excellent promoters of your design ! They 
 draw you by the neck, but not against your will. 
 
 Dushm. Raivataca, bid my charioteer bring my car, with 
 my bow and quiver. 
 
 Cham. I obey. [lie goes out 
 
 First Brdhm. Such condescension well becomes thee, who- 
 art an universal guardian. 
 
 Second Brdhm. Thus do the descendants of Punt perform 
 their engagement to deliver their subjects from fear of clanger. 
 
 Dushm. Go first, holy men : I will follow instantly. 
 
 Both. Be ever victorious ! [They go out 
 
 Dushm. Shall you not be delighted, friend Madhavya, to- 
 see my SacontaM ? 
 
 Mddh. At first I should have had no objection ; but I have 
 ix considerable one since the story of the demons. 
 
 Dushm. Oh ! fear nothing : you will be near me,
 
 THE FATAL RING. 25 
 
 Mddh. And you, I hope, will have leisure to protect me 
 from them. 
 
 The Chamberlain re-enters. 
 
 Cham. May our lord be victorious ! — The imperial car is 
 ready ; and all are expecting your triumphant approach. Carabba 
 too, a messenger from the queen-mother, is just arrived from 
 the city. 
 
 Dushm. Is he really come from the venerable queen ? 
 Cham. There can be no doubt of it. 
 Dushm. Let him appear before me. 
 
 [The Chamberlain goes out, and returns with' the 
 
 Messenger. 
 Cham. There stands the king — Carabba, approach him 
 with reverence. 
 
 Mess. [Prostrating himself.'] May the king be ever victorious ! 
 
 — The royal mother sends this message 
 
 Dushm. Declare her command. 
 
 Mess. Four days hence the usual fast for the advancement 
 of her son will be kept with solemnity ; and the presence of the 
 king (may his life be prolonged !) w T ill then be required. 
 
 Dushm. On one hand is a commission from holy Brah- 
 mens ; on the other, a command from my revered parent : both 
 duties arc sacred, and neither must be neglected. 
 
 Mddh. [Laughing.] Stay suspended betAveen them both, 
 like king Trisancu between heaven and earth ; when the pious 
 men said, "Rise !" and the gods of Swerga said, "Fall I" 
 
 Dushm. In truth I am greatly perplexed. My mind is 
 principally distracted by the distance of the two places where the 
 two duties are to be performed ; as the stream of a river is divi- 
 ded by rocks in the middle of its bed. — [Musing.] — Friend Mad- 
 havya, my mother brought you up as her own son, to be my 
 playfellow, and to divert me in my childhood. You may very 
 properly act my part in the queen's devotions. Return then to 
 the city, and give an account of my distress through the com- 
 mission of these reverend foresters, 
 
 D
 
 2G sacontala' ; OR, 
 
 Mddh. That ( will ; — but you could not really suppose tliat 
 I was afraid of demons ! 
 
 Dushm. How come you, who are an egregious Brahmen, to 
 be so bold on a sudden ? 
 
 M&dh. Oh ! I am now a young king. 
 
 Dushm. Yes, certainly ; and I will dispatch my whole 
 train to attend your highness, whilst I put an end to the dis- 
 turbance in this hermitage. 
 
 Mddh. [Strutting.] See, I am a prince regnant. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] This buffoon of a Brahmen has a slippery 
 genius. He will perhaps disclose my present pursuit to the 
 women in the palace. I must try to deceive him. — [Taking 
 Madhavya by the hand.] — I shall enter the forest, be assured, only 
 through respect for its pious inhabitants ; not from any inclina- 
 tion for the daughter of a hermit. How far am I raised above a 
 girl educated among antelopes ; a girl, whose heart must ever be 
 a stranger to love ! — The tale was invented for my diversion. 
 
 Mddh. Yes, to be sure ; only for yonr diversion ! 
 
 Dushm. Then farewel, my friend ; execute my commission 
 
 faithfully, whilst I proceed to defend the anchorites. 
 
 [All go ouU
 
 THE FATAL RING. 27 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE — The Hermitage in a Grove. 
 The Hermit's Pupil bearing consecrated grass. 
 Pupil [Meditating with wonder. ] 
 
 HOW great is the power of Dushmanta ! — The monarch and 
 his charioteer had no sooner entered the grove than we con- 
 tinued our holy rites without interruption. — What words can 
 describe him ? — By his barely aiming a shaft, by the mere sound 
 of his bow-string, by the simple murmur of his vibrating bow, 
 he disperses at once our calamities. — Now then I deliver to the 
 priests this bundle of fresh Cusa grass to be scattered round the 
 
 place of sacrifice. [Looking behind the scenes.] — Ah ! Priyam- 
 
 vada, for whom are you carrying that ointment of Usira root, 
 and those leaves of water lilies ? — [Listening attentively.] — What 
 say you ? — That Saeontala is extremely disordered by the sun's 
 heat, and that you have procured for her a cooling medicine ! — 
 Let her, my Priyamvada, be diligently attended ; for she is the 
 darling of our venerable father Canna. — I will administer, by the 
 hand of Gautami, some healing water consecrated in the cere- 
 mony called Vaitana. [ He goes out. 
 
 Dushmanta enters, expressing the distraction of a lover. 
 
 Dushm. I well know the power of her devotion : that she 
 will suffer none to dispose of her but Canna, I too well know. 
 Yet my heart can no more return to its former placid state, than 
 water can reascend the steep, down which it has fallen. — 
 God of Love, how can thy darts be so keen, since they are 
 pointed with flowers ? — Yes, I discover the reason of their keen- 
 ness. They are tipped with the flames which the wrath of Hara 
 kindled, m j i<] which blaze at this moment, like the Barava fire 
 under the waves : how else couldst thou, who wast consumed
 
 23 sacontala' ; OR, 
 
 even to ashes, be still the inflamer of our souls ? By thee and 
 by the moon, though each of you seems worthy of confidence, 
 we Lovers are cruelly deceived. They who love as I do, ascribe 
 .flowery shafts to thee, and cool beams to the moon, with equal 
 impropriety ; for the moon sheds fire on them with her dewy 
 rays, and thou pointest with sharp diamonds those arrows which 
 seem to be barbed with blossoms. Yet this god, who bears a 
 fish on bis banners, and who wounds me to the soul, will give 
 me real delight, if he destroy me with the aid of my beloved, 
 whose eyes are large and beautiful as those of a roe. power- 
 ful divinity, even when I thus adore thy attributes, hast thou no 
 compassion ? Thy fire, Love, is fanned into a blaze by a hun- 
 dred of my vain thoughts. — Does it become thee to draw thy 
 how even to thy ear, that the shaft, aimed at my bosom, may 
 inflict a deeper wound ? — Where now can I recreate my afflicted 
 soul by the permission of those pious men whose uneasiness I have 
 i-emoved by dismissing my train ?• — [Sighing. ~\ — I can have no 
 
 relief but from a sight of my beloved. [Looking up.'] — This 
 
 intensely hot noon must, no doubt, be passed by Sacontala with 
 her damsels on the banks of this river over- shadowed with Tam- 
 alas. — It must be so: — I will advance thither. — [Walking round 
 and looking. ~\ — My sweet friend has, I guess, been lately walking 
 under that row of young trees ; for I see the stalks of some flow- 
 ers, which probably she gathered, still unshrivelled ; and some 
 
 fresh leaves, newly plucked, still dropping milk. [Feeling a 
 
 breeze. — Ah ! this bank has a delightful air ! — Here may the gale 
 embrace me, wasting odours from the water lilies, and cool my 
 breast, inflamed by the bodiless god, with the liquid particles 
 which it catches from the waves of the Malini. — [Looking doivn.] 
   — Happy lover ! Sacontala must be somewhere in this grove 
 of flowering creepers ; for I discern on the yellow sand at the 
 door of yon arbour some recent footsteps, raised a little before, 
 and depressed behind by the weight of her elegant limbs. — I 
 shall have a better view from behind this thick foliage. — [Lie 
 conceal* himself, looking vigilantly.'] — Now are my eyes fully 
 gratified. — The darling of my heart, with her two faithful atten-
 
 THE FATAL RING. 29 
 
 slants, reposes on a smooth rock strown with fresh flowers. — 
 These branches will hide me,' whilst I hear their charming con- 
 versation. [He stands concealed, and gazes. 
 
 Sacontala and her two Damsels discovered. 
 
 Both. [Fanning her.] Say, beloved Sacontala, does the breeze, 
 raised by our fans of broad lotos leaves, refresh you? 
 
 Sac. [Mournfully.] Why, alas, do my dear friends take 
 this trouble? [Both look sorrowfully at each other. 
 
 Dnslim. [Aside.] Ah! she seems much indisposed. What 
 can have been the fatal cause of so violent a fever? — Is it what 
 my heart suggests? Or — [Musing'] — lam perplexed with doubts. — 
 The medicine extracted from the balmy Usira has been applied, 
 I see, to her bosom: her only bracelet is made of thin filaments 
 from the stalks of a water lily, and even that is loosely bound 
 on her arm. Yet, even thus disordered, she is exquisitely beau- 
 tiful. — Such are the hearts of the young ! Love and the sun 
 equally inflame us ; but the scorching heat of summer leads not 
 equally to happiness with the ardour of youthful desires. 
 
 Pri. [Aside to Anusiiya.] Did you not observe how the 
 heart of Sacontala was affected by the first sight of our pious 
 monarch ? My suspicion is, that her malady has no other cause. 
 
 Ami. [Aside to Priyamvada.] The same suspicion had 
 risen in my mind. I will ask her at once. — [Aloud] — My sweet 
 Sacontala, let me put one question to you. What has really 
 occasioned your indisposition ? 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] She must now declare it. Ah ! though 
 her bracelets of lotos are bright as moon beams, yet they are 
 marked, I see, with black spots from internal ardour. 
 
 Sac. [Half raising herself.] Oh ! say what you suspect to 
 have occasioned it. 
 
 Ami. Sacontala, we must necessarily be ignorant of what 
 is passing in your breast ; but I suspect your case to be that 
 which we have often heard related in tales of love. Tell us open- 
 ly what causes your illness. A physician, without knowing the 
 cause of a disorder, cannot even begin to apply a remedy.
 
 SO SACONTALA' ; OR, 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] I flatter myself with the same suspicion, 
 Sac. [Aside,] My pain is intolerable ; yet I cannot hastily 
 disclose the occasion of it. 
 
 Pri. My sweet friend, Anusiiyii, speaks rationally. Con- 
 sider the violence of your indisposition. Every day you will be 
 more and more emaciated, though your exquisite beauty has not 
 yet forsaken you. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] Most true. Her forehead is parched ; her 
 neck droops ; her waist is more slender than before ; her shoul- 
 ders languidly fall ; her complection is wan ; she resembles a 
 Madhavi creeper, whose leaves are dried by a sultry gale : yet, 
 even thus transformed, she is lovely, and charms my soul. 
 
 Sac. [Sighing.] What more can I say ? Ah ! why should 
 I be the occasion of your sorrow ? 
 
 Pri. For that very reason, my beloved, we are solicitous to 
 know your secret ; since, when each of us has a share of your 
 uneasiness, you will bear more easily your own portion of it. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] Thus urged by two friends, who share 
 her pains as well as her pleasures, she cannot fail to disclose the 
 hidden cause of her malady ; whilst I, on whom she looked at 
 our first interview with marked affection, am filled with anxious 
 desire to hear her answer. 
 
 Sac. From the very instant when the accomplished prince, 
 
 who has just given repose to our hallowed forest, met my eye 
 
 [She breaks off, and looks modest 
 
 Both. Speak on, beloved Sacontala, 
 
 Sac. From that instant my affection was unalterably fixed 
 on him — and thence I am reduced to my present languor. 
 
 Ami. Fortunately your affection is placed on a man wor- 
 thy of yourself. 
 
 Pri. Oh ! could a fine river have deserted the sea and flow- 
 ed into a lake ? 
 
 Dushm. [J°yf l dly-] That which I was eager to know, her 
 own lips have told. Love was the cause of my distemper, and 
 love has healed it ; as a summer's day, grown black with clouds, 
 relieves all animals from the heat which itself had caused,
 
 THE FATAL RING. 31 
 
 Sac. If it be no disagreeable task, contrive, I entreat you, 
 some means by which I may find favor in the king's eyes 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] That request banishes all my cares, and 
 gives me rapture even in my present situation. 
 
 Pri. [Aside to Anusiiya.] A remedy for her, my friend, will 
 scarce be attainable. Exert all the powers of your mind ; for 
 her illness admits of no delay. 
 
 Ana. [Aside to Priyamvad&.j By what expedient can her cure 
 be both accelerated and kept secret ? 
 
 Pri. [As before.'] Oh ! to keep it secret will be easy ; but to 
 attain it soon, almost insuperably difficult. 
 
 Ami. [As before.] How so ? 
 
 Pri. The young king seemed, I admit, by his tender glan- 
 ces, to be enamoured of her at first sight ; and he has been ob- 
 served, within these few days, to be pale and thin, as if his pas- 
 sion had kept him long awake. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] So it has This golden bracelet, sullied 
 
 by the flame which preys on me, and which no dew mitigates, 
 but the tears gushing nightly from these eyes, has fallen again 
 and again on my wrist, and has been replaced on my emaciated 
 arm. 
 
 Pri. [Aloud.] I have a thought, Anusiiya — Let us write a 
 love letter, which I will conceal in a flower, and, under the pretext 
 of making a respectful offering, deliver it myself into the king's 
 hand. 
 
 Ami. An excellent contrivance ! It pleases me highly ;-— 
 but what says our beloved Sacontala ? 
 
 Sac. I must consider, my friend, the possible consequences 
 of such a step. 
 
 Pri. Think also of a verse or two, which may suit your 
 passion, and be consistent with the character of a lovely girl born 
 in an exalted family. 
 
 Sae. I will think of them in due time ; but my heart flut- 
 % ters with the apprehension of being rejected. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] Here stands the man supremely blessed 
 in thy presence, from whom, timid girl, thou art apprehensive
 
 32 sacontala' ; OK, 
 
 of a refusal ! Here stands the man, from whom, beautiful maid, 
 thou fearest rejection, though lie loves thee distractedly. He who- 
 shall possess thee will seek no brighter gem ; and thou art the 
 gem which I am eager to possess. 
 
 Ami. You depreciate, Sacontala, your own incomparable 
 merits. What man in his senses would intercept with an um- 
 brella the moonlight of autumn, which alone can allay the fever 
 caused by the heat of the noon ? 
 
 Sac. [Smiling.] I am engaged in thought. [She meditates. 
 
 Dushm. Thus then I fix my eyes on the lovely poetess, 
 
 without closing them a moment, while she measures the feet of 
 
 her verse : her forehead is gracefully moved in cadence, and her 
 
 whole aspect indicates pure affection. 
 
 Sac. I have thought of a couplet ; but we have no writing 
 implements. 
 
 PH. Let us hear the words ; and then I will mark them 
 with my nail on this lotos leaf, soft and green as the breast of a 
 young parroquet : it may easily be cut into the form of a letter, — 
 Repeat the verses. 
 
 Sac. " Thy heart, indeed, I know not : but mine, oh ! cruel, 
 love warms by day and by night ; and all my faculties are 
 centered on thee." 
 
 Dushm. [Hastily advancing, and pronouncing a verse in 
 the same measiire.] " Thee, slender maid, love only warms ; 
 but me he burns ; as the day-star only stifles the fragrance 
 of the night-flower, but quenches the very orb of the moon." 
 
 Anu. [Looking at him joyfully.] Welcome, great king ; the 
 fruit of my friend's imagination has ripened without delay. 
 
 [Sacontala expresses an inclination to rise. 
 
 Dushm. Give yourself no pain. Those delicate limbs, 
 
 which repose on a couch of flowers, those arms, whose bracelets 
 
 of lotos are disarranged by a slight pressure, and that sweet 
 
 frame, which the hot noon seems to have disordered, must not 
 
 be fatigued by ceremony. 
 
 Sac. [Aside.] my heart, canst thou not rest at length 
 after all thy sufferings ?
 
 THE FATAL RING. 33 
 
 Anu. Let our sovereign take for his seat a part of the rock 
 on which she reposes. [Sacontahi makes a little room. 
 
 Dushm. [Seating himself.] Priyamvada, is not the fever 
 of your charming friend in some degree abated ? 
 
 JPri. [Smiling'] She has just taken a salutary medicine, 
 and will soon be restored to health. But mighty prince, as 
 I am favored by you and by her, my friendship for Sacontala 
 prompts me to converse with you for a few moments. 
 
 Dushm. Excellent damsel, speak openly ; and suppress 
 nothing. 
 
 Pri. Our lord shall hear. 
 
 Dushm. I am attentive. 
 
 Pri. By dispelling the alarms of our pious hermits, you 
 have discharged the duty of a great monarch. 
 
 Dushm. Oh ! talk a little on other subjects. 
 
 Pri. Then I must inform yon that our beloved companion 
 is enamoured of you, and has been reduced to her present lan- 
 guor by the resistless divinity, love. You only can preserve 
 her inestimable life. 
 
 Dushm. Sweet Priyamvada, our passion is reciprocal ; 
 but it is I who am honored. 
 
 Sac. [Smilmg, with a mixture of affection and resentment.] 
 Why should you detain the virtuous monarch, who must be 
 afflicted by so long an absence from the secret apartments of 
 his palace ? 
 
 Dushm. This heart of mine, oh thou who art of all things 
 the dearest to it, will have no object but thee, whose eyes 
 enchant me with their black splendour, if thou wilt but speak 
 in a milder strain. I, who was nearly slain by love's arrow, 
 am destroyed by thy speech. 
 
 Anu. [Laughing.] Princes are said to have many fovoritc 
 consorts. You must assure us, therefore, that our beloved 
 friend shall not be exposed to affliction through our conduct. 
 
 Dushm. What need is there of many words ? Let there 
 
 be ever so many women in my palace, I will have only two 
 
 E
 
 ?>\ sacontala' ; cm, 
 
 objects of perfect regard ; tlie sea-girt earth, which I govern; 
 and your sweet friend, whom I love. 
 
 Both. Our anxiety is dissipated. 
 
 [Sacontala strives in vain to conceal her joy, 
 
 Pri. [Aside to Anusiiya.] See how our friend recovers her 
 spirits by little and little, as the peahen, oppressed by the sum- 
 mer heat, is refreshed by a soft gale and a gentle shower. 
 
 Sac. [Jo the damsels.] Forgive, I pray, my offence in 
 having used unmeaning words : they were uttered only for 
 your amusement in return for your tender care of me. 
 
 Pri. They were the occasion, indeed, of our serious advice. 
 But it is the king who must forgive : who else is offended ? 
 
 Sac, The great monarch will, I trust, excuse what has 
 been said either before him or in his absence. — [Aside to the 
 damsels.'] Intercede with him, I entreat you, 
 
 Dushm. [Smiling.] I would cheerfully forgive any offence, 
 lovely Sacontala, if you, who have dominion over my heart, 
 would allow me full room to sit by you, and recover from 
 my fatigue, on this flowery couch pressed by your delicate 
 limbs. 
 
 Pri. Allow him room ; it will appease him, and make 
 him happy. 
 
 Sac. [Pretending anger, aside to Priyamada.] Be quiet, 
 thou mischief-making girl ! Dost thou sport with me in my pre- 
 sent weak state ? 
 
 Anu. [Looking behind the scenes.] ! my Priyamvada, there 
 is our favorite young antelope running wildly and turning his 
 eyes on all sides : he is no doubt, seeking his mother, who has 
 rambled in the wide forest. I must go and assist his search. 
 
 Pri. He is very nimble ; and you alone will never be able 
 to confine him in one place. I must accompany you. 
 
 [Both going out. 
 
 Sac. Alas ! I cannot consent to your going far : I shall be 
 left alone. 
 
 Both. [Smiling.] Alone ! with the sovereign of the world 
 by your side ! [Ihey go out
 
 THE FATAL RING. 35 
 
 Size. How could my companions both leave me ? 
 
 [Dushm. Sweet maid, give yourself no concern. Am not I, 
 who humbly solicit your favor, present in the room of them ? — 
 
 [Aside.] — I must declare my passion. [Aloud.] — Why should 
 
 not I, like them wave this fan of lotos leaves, to raise cool breezes 
 and dissipate your uneasiness ? Why should not I, like them, lay 
 softly in my lap those feet, red as water lilies, and press them, 
 my charmer, to relieve your pain ? 
 
 Sac. I should offend against myself, by receiving homage 
 from a person entitled to my respect. 
 
 \_Slie rises, and toalks slowly through weakness. 
 
 Dushm. The noon, my love, is not yet passed ; and your 
 sweet limbs are weak. Having left that couch where fresh flow- 
 ers covered your bosom, you can ill sustain this intense heat 
 with so languid a frame. [He gently draws her back. 
 
 Sac. Leave me, oh leave me. I am not, indeed, my own 
 
 mistress, or the two damsels were only appointed to attend 
 
 me. What can I do at present ? 
 
 Dushm. [Aside] Fear of displeasing her makes me bashful. 
 
 Sac. [Overhearing him] The king cannot give offence. It is 
 my unhappy fate only that I accuse. 
 
 Dushm. Why should you accuse so favorable a destiny? 
 
 Sac. Plow rather can I help blaming it, since it has per- 
 mitted my heart to be affected by amiable qualities, without 
 having left me at my own disposal ? 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] One would imagine that the charming 
 sex, instead of being, like us, tormented with love, kept love 
 himself within their hearts, to torment him with delay. 
 
 [Sacontahi going out. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] How! must I then fail of attaining feli- 
 city? [Following her and catching the skirt of her mantle 
 
 Sac. [Turning hark.] Son of Puru, preserve thy reason ; 
 oh! preserve it.— The hermits are busy on all sides of the grove. 
 
 Dushm. My charmer, your fear of them is vain. Canna 
 himself, who is deeply versed in the science of law, will be no 
 obstacle to our union. Many daughter, of the holiest men
 
 ;,. SACONTALA' ; OR, 
 
 have been married by the ceremony called Gandharva, as it is 
 practised by Indra's band, and even their fathers have approved 
 t l lcm . — [Looking round.]- r-What say you? are you still inflexi- 
 ble ? Alas ! I must then depart. 
 
 [Going from her a few paces, then looking bach 
 
 Sac. [Moving also a few steps, and then turning back her face.] 
 
 Though I have refused compliance, and have only allowed you 
 
 to converse with me for a moment, yet, son of Puru — let not 
 
 Sacontala be wholly forgotten. 
 
 Dushm. Enchanting girl, should you be removed to the 
 ends of the world, you will be fixed in this heart, as the shade 
 of a lofty tree remains with it even when the day is departed. 
 
 Sac. [Going out, aside.] Since I have heard his protesta- 
 tions, my feet move, indeed, but without advancing. I will con- 
 ceal myself behind those flowering Curuvacas, and thence I shall 
 see the result of his passion. 
 
 [She hides herself behind the shrubs. 
 Dushm. [Aside. Can you leave me, beloved Sacontala ; 
 me who am all affection ? Could you not have tarried a single 
 moment ? Soft is your beautiful frame, and indicates a bene- 
 volent soul ; yet your heart is obdurate : as the tender Sirisha 
 hangs on a hard stalk. 
 
 Sac. [Aside.] I really have now lost the power of departing. 
 Dushm. [Aside.] What can I do in this retreat since my 
 darling has left it ? — [Musing and looking round.] — Ah ! my 
 departure is happily delayed. — Here lies her bracelet of flowers, 
 excpiisitely perfumed by the root of Usira which had been spread 
 on her bosom : it has fallen from her delicate wrist, and is be- 
 come a new chain for my heart. 
 
 [ Taking up the bracelet with reverence. 
 Sac. [Aside, looking at her hand.] Ah me ! such was my 
 languor, that the filaments of lotos stalks which bound my arm 
 dropped on the ground unperceived by me. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside, placing it in his bosom.] Oh ! how delight- 
 ful to the touch ! — From this ornament of your lovely arm, 
 my darling, though it be inanimate and senseless, your un-
 
 THE FATAL EIXG. 37 
 
 liappy lover has regained confidence — a bliss which you refused 
 to confer. 
 
 Sac, [Aside.] I can stay here no longer. By this pretext 
 I may return. [Going sloitfy towards him. 
 
 Dushm. [ With rapture.'] Ah ! the empress of my soul again 
 blesses these eyes. After all my misery I was destined to be 
 favored by indulgent heaven. — The bird Clnitac, whose throat 
 was parched with thirst, supplicated for a drop of water, and 
 suddenly a cool stream poured into his bill from the bounty of 
 a fresh cloud. 
 
 Sac. Mighty king, when I had gone half way to the cot- 
 tage, I perceived that my bracelet of thin stalks had fallen from 
 my wrist ; and I return because my heart is almost convinced 
 that you must have seen and taken it. Restore it, I humbly 
 entreat, lest you expose both yourself and me to the censure of 
 the hermits. 
 
 Dushm. Yes, on one condition I will return it. 
 
 Sac. On what condition ? Speak- 
 
 Dushm. That I may replace it on the wrist to which it be- 
 longs. 
 
 Sac. [Aside."] I have no alternative. [Approaching him. 
 
 Duslun. But in order to replace it, we must both be seated 
 on that'smooth rock. [Both sit down. 
 
 Dushm. [Taking her hand.] exquisite softness ! This 
 
 hand has regained its native strength and beauty, like a young 
 
 shoot of Camalata : or it resembles rather the god of love himself, 
 
 when, having been consumed by the fire of Hara's wrath, he was 
 
 restored to life by a shower of nectar sprinkled by the immortals. 
 
 Sac. [Pressing his hand.] Let the son of my lord make 
 haste to tie on the bracelet. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside, with rapture.] Now I am truly blessed.— j 
 That phrase, the son of my lord, is applied only to a hush 
 [Aloud.]— My charmer, the clasp of this bracelet is no' iy 
 loosened : it must be made to fit you better. 
 
 Sac. [Smiling.] As you please.
 
 38 sacontala' ; OK, 
 
 Dushm. [Quitting her hand.] Look, my darling : this is the 
 new moon which left the firmament in honor of superior beauty, 
 and, liming' descended on your enchanting wrist, has joined both 
 its horns round it in the shape of a bracelet. 
 
 Sac, I really see nothing like a moon : the breeze, I sup- 
 pose, has shaken some dust from the lotos flower behind my ears, 
 and that has obscured my sight. 
 
 Dushm. [Smiling.'] If you permit me, I will blow the 
 fragrant dust from your eye. 
 
 Sac. It would be a kindness ; but I cannot trust you. 
 
 Dushm. Oh ! fear not, fear not. A new servant never 
 transgresses the command of his mistress. 
 
 Sac. But a servant over-assiduous deserves no confidence. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside,] I will not let slip this charming occasion. 
 
 [Attempting to raise her head — Sacontala faintly repels him, 
 
 but sits still.] damsel with an antelope's eyes be not appre- 
 hensive of my indiscretion. -[Sacontala looks up for a moment, 
 
 and then bashfully drops her head — Dushmanta, aside, gently raiS" 
 ing her head.] — —That lip, the softness of which is imagined, 
 not proved, seems to pronounce, with a delightful tremour, its 
 permission for me to allay my thirst. 
 
 Sac. The son of my lord seems inclined to break his promise. 
 
 Dushm. Beloved, I was deceived by the proximity of the 
 lotos to that eye which equals it in brightness. 
 
 [Re blows gently on her eye. 
 
 Sac. Well ; now I see a prince who keeps his word as it 
 becomes his imperial character. Yet I am really ashamed that 
 no desert of mine entitles me to the kind service of my lord's son. 
 
 Dushm. What reward can I desire, except that which I 
 consider as the greatest, the fragrance of your delicious lip ? 
 
 Sac. Will that content you ? 
 
 Dushm. The bee is contented with the mere odour of the 
 n ter lily. 
 
 Sac. If he were not, he would get no remedy. 
 
 [Kissing her eagerly. 
 
 Dushm. Yes, this and this
 
 THE FATAL RING. 39 
 
 Behind the scenes. Hark ! the Chacravdca is calling her mate on 
 the bank of the Malini : the night is beginning to spread her 
 shades. 
 
 Sac. [Listening alarmed.~\ son of my lord, the matron 
 Gautami approaches to enquire after my health. Hide yourself, 
 I entreat, behind yon trees. 
 
 Dushm. I yield to necessity. [He retires. 
 
 Gautami enters with a vase in her hand. 
 Gaut. [Looking anxiously at Sacontala.] My child, here is holy 
 water for thee. — What ! hast thou no companion here but the 
 invisible gods ; thou who art so much indisposed ? 
 
 Sac. Both Priyamvada and Anusuya are just gone down 
 to the river. 
 
 Gaut. [Sprinkling her.'] Is thy fever, my child, a little 
 abated ? [Feeling her hand. 
 
 Sac. Venerable matron, there is a change for the better. 
 
 Gaut. Then thou art in no danger. Mayst thou live many 
 years ! The day is departing : let us both go to the cottage. 
 
 Sac. [Aside, rising slowly.] my heart, no sooner hadst 
 thou begun to taste happiness, than the occasion slipped away ! —   
 [She advances a few steps, and returns to the arbour.] — bower of 
 twining plants, by whom my sorrows have been dispelled, on 
 thee I call ; ardently hoping to be once more happy under thy 
 shade. [She goes out with Gautami. 
 
 Dushm. [Returning to the bower, and sighing.] How, alas, 
 have my desires been obstructed ! — Could I do less than kiss the 
 lips of my charmer, though her modest cheeks were half averted ; 
 lips, whose sweetness had enchanted me, even when they pro- 
 nounced a denial ? — Whither now can I go ? — I will remain a 
 while in this arbour of creepers, which my darling's presence has 
 
 illuminated. [Looking round.] — Yes ; this is her seat on the 
 
 rock, spread with blossoms, which have been pressed by her de- 
 licate limbs. — Here lies her exquisite love letter on the leaf of a 
 water lily ; here lay her bracelet of tender filaments which had 
 fallen from her sweet wrist. — Though the bower of twining 
 Yetasas be now desolate, since my charmer has left it, yet, while
 
 tO sacontala' ; ok 
 
 my eyea are fixed on all these delightful memorials of her, lam 
 
 unable to depart. [Musing.] — Ah ! how imperfectly has this 
 
 affair been conducted by a lover, like me, who, with his darling 
 by his side, has let the occasion slip. — Should Sacontala visit 
 once more this calm retreat, the opportunity shall not pass again 
 unimproved : the pleasures of youth are by nature transitory. — 
 Thus my foolish heart forms resolutions, while it is distracted by 
 the sudden interruption of its happiness. Why did it ever allow 
 me to quit without effect the presence of my beloved ? 
 
 Behind the scenes. king, while we are beginning our even- 
 ing sacrifice, the figures of blood-thirsty demons, embrowned 
 by clouds collected at the departure of day, glide over the 
 sacred hearth, and spread consternation around. 
 
 Dushn. Fear not, holy men. — Your king will protect you. 
 
 [He goes out.
 
 THE FATAL RING- 41 
 
 ACT iv; 
 
 SCENE — A Lawn before the Cottage. 
 
 The two damsels are discovered gathering flowers. 
 
 Amisiiyd. 
 
 MY Priyamvada, though our sweet friend has been happily 
 married, according to the rites of Gandharvas, to a bride- 
 groom equal in rank, and accomplishments, yet my affectionate 
 heart is not wholly free from care ; and one doubt gives me 
 particular uneasiness. 
 
 Pri. "What doubt, my Anusiiya ? 
 
 Ann. This morning the pious prince was dismissed with 
 gratitude by our hermits, who had then completed their mystic 
 rites : he is now gone to his capital, Hastinapura, where, sur- 
 rounded by a hundred women in the recesses of his palace, it 
 may be doubted whether he will remember his charming bride. 
 
 Pri. In that respect you may be quite easy. Men, so well 
 informed and well educated as he, can never be utterly destitute 
 of honor. — We have another thing to consider. When our father 
 Canna shall return from his pilgrimage, and shall hear what has 
 passed, I cannot tell how he may receive the intelligence. 
 
 Ami. If you ask my opinion, he will, I think, approve of 
 the marriage. 
 
 Pri. Why do you think so ? 
 
 Anu. Because he could desire nothing better, than that a 
 husband so accomplished and so exalted should take Sacontahi 
 by the hand. It was, you know, the declared object of his heart, 
 that she might be suitably married ; and, since heaven has done 
 for him what he most wished to do, how can lie possibly be dis- 
 satisfied ? 
 
 Pri. V<mi reason well ; but — [Looking at her basket] — My 
 friend, we have plucked a sufficient store of flowers to scatter 
 over the place of sacrifice.-
 
 42 sacontala' ; OR, 
 
 Ami. Lei us gather more to decorate the temples of the 
 goddesses who have procured for SacontaM so much good fortune. 
 
 [They both gather more flowers. 
 
 Behind tin scenes. li is I Hola ! 
 
 Ami. [JListening. ~\ 1 hear the voice, as it seems, of a guest 
 arrived iu the hermitage. 
 
   Pri Let us hasten thither. Sacontala is now reposing; 
 but though we may, when she wakes, enjoy her presence, yet 
 her mind will all day be absent with her departed lord. 
 
 Aim. Be it so ; but we have occasion, you know, for all 
 these flowers. [They advance. 
 
 Again behind the scenes. How ! Dost thou show no atten- 
 tion to a guest ? Then hear my imprecations " He on whom 
 
 thou art meditating, on whom alone thy heart is now fixed, 
 while thou neglectest a pure gem of devotion who demands hos- 
 pitality, shall forget thee, when thou seest him next, as a man 
 restored to sobriety forgets the words which he uttered in a 
 state of intoxication." 
 
 [Both damsels hole at each other with affliction. 
 
 Pri. Wo is me ! Dreadful calamity ! Our beloved friend 
 lias, through mere absence of mind, provoked by her neglect, 
 some holy man who expected reverence. 
 
 Ann. [Looking.] It must be so ; for the choleric Durvasas 
 is going hastily back. 
 
 Pri. Who else has power to consume, like raging fire, 
 whatever offends him ? Go, my Anusiiya ; fall at his feet, and 
 persuade him, if possible, to return : in the mean time I will 
 prepare water and refreshments for him. 
 
 Ami. I go with eagerness. [She goes out. 
 
 Pri. [Advancing hastily, Iter foot slips.] Ah ! through my 
 eager haste 1 have let the basket fall ; and my religious du- 
 ties must not be postponed. [She gathers fresh flowers. 
 
 Anusiiya re-enters. 
 
 Aim. His wrath, my beloved, passes all bounds. Who 
 living could now appease him by the humblest prostration or 
 entreaties ? yet at last he a little relented.
 
 THE FATAL RIKG. 43 
 
 Pri. That little is a great deal for him. — But inform me 
 how you soothed him in any degree. 
 
 Anu. When he positively refused to come back, I threw 
 myself at his feet, and thus addressed him : " Holy sage, forgive 
 I entreat, the offence of an amiable girl, who has the highest 
 veneration for you, but was ignorant, through distraction of mind, 
 how exalted a personage was calling to her. 
 
 Pri. What then ? What said he ? 
 
 Aim. He answered thus : My word must not be recalled ; 
 but the spell which it has raised shall be wholly removed when 
 her lord shall see his ring," Saying this, he disappeared. 
 
 Pri. We may now have confidence ; for before the mon- 
 arch departed, he fixed with his own hand on the finger of 
 Sacontaki the ring, on which we saw the name Dushmanta en- 
 graved, and which we will instantly recognize. On him there- 
 fore alone will depend the remedy for our misfortune. 
 
 Anu. Come, let us now proceed to the shrines of the 
 goddesses, and implore their succour. [Both advance. 
 
 Pri. [Looking.] See, my Anusuya, where our beloved friend 
 sits, motionless as a picture, supporting her languid head with 
 her left hand. With a mind so intent on one object, she can 
 pay no attention to herself, much less to a stranger. 
 
 Anu. Let the horrid imprecation, Priyamvada, remain a 
 secret between us two : we must spare the feelings of our 
 beloved, who is naturally susceptible of quick emotions. 
 
 Pri. Who would pour boiling water on the blossom of a 
 tender Mallica ? [Both go out. 
 
 A Pupil of Canna enters. 
 Pap. I am ordered by the venerable Canna, who is returned 
 from the place of his pilgrimage, to observe the time of Hie 
 night, and am, therefore, come forth to see how much remains 
 of it.— [Walking round, and observing the heavens.] — On one 
 side, the moon, who kindles the flowers of the Oshadhi, lias 
 nearly sunk in his western bed ; and, on the other, the sun 
 seated behind his charioteer Arun, is beginning his course : the 
 lustre of them both is conspicuous, when they rise and when
 
 4 I SACONTALA' ; OR, 
 
 they set ; and by their example should men be equally firm in 
 prosperous and in adverse fortune.- — The moon has now dis- 
 appeared, and the night flower pleases no more ; it leaves only 
 a remembrance of its odour, and languishes like a tender bride 
 whose pain is intolerable in the absense of her beloved. — The 
 ruddy morn impurples the dew drops on the branches of }'onder 
 Vadarf ; the peacock, shaking off sleep, hastens from the cottages 
 of hermits interwoven with holy grass ; and yonder antelope, 
 springing hastily from the plaee of sacrifice, which is marked 
 with his hoofs, raises, himself on high, and stretches, his graceful 
 limbs. — How is the moon fallen from the sky with diminished 
 beams ! the moon who had set his foot on the head of Sumeru, 
 king of mountains, and had climecl, scattering the rear of dark- 
 ness, even to the central palace of Vishnu ! — Thus do the great 
 men of this world ascend with extreme labor to the summit 
 of ambition, but easily and quickly descend from it. 
 
 Anusuya enters meditating. 
 
 Anu. [Aside.] Such has been the affection of Sacontala, 
 though she was bred in austere devotion, averse from sensual 
 enjoyments — How unkind was the king to leave her ! 
 
 Pup. [Aside.] The proper time is come for performing 
 the homa : I must apprise our preceptor of it. [He goes out. 
 
 Ann. The shades of night are dispersed ; and I am hard- 
 ly awake ; but where I ever so perfectly in my senses, what 
 could I now do ? My hands move not readily to the usual 
 occupations of the morning. — Let the blame be cast on love only 
 by whom our friend has been reduced to her present condition, 
 through a monarch who has broken his word — Or does the 
 imprecation of Durvasas already prevail ? — How else could a 
 virtuous king:, who made so solemn an engagement, have suffer- 
 ed so long a time to elapse without sending even a message ? — 
 Shall we convey the fatal ring to him ? — Or what expedient 
 can be suggested for the relief of this incomparable girl, who 
 mourns without ceasing ? — Yet what fault has she committed ?— ~ 
 "With all my zeal for her happiness, I cannot summon courage
 
 THE FATAL KING. 45 
 
 enough to inform our father Canna that she is pregnant. — What 
 then, oh ! what step can I take to relieve her anxiety ? 
 
 Priyamvada enters. 
 
 Pri. Come, Anusuya, come quickly. They are making- 
 suitable preparations for conducting Sacontala to her husband's 
 palace. 
 
 Ann. [With surprise.] What say you, my friend ? 
 
 Pri. Hear me. I went just now to Sacontala, meaning 
 only to ask if she had slept well — 
 
 Ami. What then ? oh \ what then ? 
 
 Pri. She was sitting with her head bent on her knee, 
 when our father Canna, entering her apartment, embraced and 
 congratulated her. — " My sweet child, " said he, " there has 
 been a happy omen : the young Brahmen who officiated in our 
 morning sacrifice, though his sight was impeded by clouds of 
 smoke, dropped the clarified butter into the very centre of the 
 adorable flame. — Now, since the pious act of my pupil has 
 prospered, my foster child must not be suffered any longer to 
 languish in sorrow ; and this day I am determined to send thee 
 from the cottage of the old hermit who bred thee up, to the 
 palace of the monarch who has taken thee by the hand." 
 
 Ami. ]\Iy friend, who told Canna what passed in his 
 absence ? 
 
 J'ri. When he entered the place where the holy fire was 
 blazing he heard a voice from heaven pronouncing divine mea- 
 sures. — 
 
 Ami. [Amazed.] Ah ! you astonish me, 
 
 Pri. Hear the celestial verse: — tl Know that thy adopted 
 daughter, pious Brahmen, has received from Dushmanta 
 a ray of glory destined to rule the world ; as the wood Sami 
 becomes pregnant with mysterious fire." 
 
 Anu. [Embracing Priyamvada,] I am delighted, my be- 
 loved ; I am transported with joy. But — since they mean to 
 deprive us of our friend so soon as to-day, I feel that my de- 
 light is at least equalled by my sorrow.
 
 li; sacontala' ; OR, 
 
 Pri. Oh ! we must submit patiently to the anguish of 
 parting. Our beloved friend will now be happy ; and that 
 should console us. 
 
 Ann. Let us now make haste to dress her in bridal array. 
 I have already, for that purpose, lilled the shell of a cocoanut, 
 which you see lixed on an Amra tree, with the fragrant dust 
 of Nagac^saras : take it down, and keep it in a fresh lotos leaf, 
 whilst I collect some Gordchana from the forehead of a sacred 
 Cow, some earth from consecrated ground, and some fresh 
 Cusa grass, of which I will make a paste to ensure good for- 
 tune. 
 
 Pri. By all means. [She takes down the perfume. — Auu- 
 siiyii goes out. 
 
 Behind the scenes. Gautami, bid the two Misras, 
 Sarngarava and Saradwata, make ready to accompany my child 
 Sacontala. 
 
 Pri. [Listening.'] Lose no time, Anusiiya, lose no time. 
 Our father Canua is giving orders for the intended journey to 
 Hastinapura. 
 
 Anusiiya re-enters with the ingredients of her charm. 
 Aim. I am here : let us go, my Priyamvada. 
 
 [They both advance. 
 Pri. [Looking.'] There stands our Sacontala, after her bath 
 at sunrise, while many holy women, who are congratulating her, 
 carry baskets of hallowed grain. — Let us hasten to greet her. 
 Enter Sacontala, Gautami, and female Hermits. 
 Sac. I prostrate myself before the goddess. 
 Gaut. My child, thou canst not pronounce too often the 
 word goddess : thus wilt thou procure great felicity for thy 
 lord. 
 
 Llerrn. Mayst thou, royal bride, be delivered of a hero ! 
 
 [The Hermits go out. 
 Both damsels. [Approaching Sacontala.] Beloved friend, 
 Was your bath pleasant ? 
 
 Sac. ! my friends, you are welcome : let us sit a while 
 together. [They seat themselves.
 
 THE FATAL RING. 47 
 
 Ann. Now you must be patient, whilst I bind on a charm 
 
 to secure your happiness. 
 
 Sac. That is kind. — Much has been decided this day i 
 
 and the pleasure of being thus attended by my sweet friends 
 
 will not soon return. [ Wiping off her tears. 
 
 Pri. Beloved, it is unbecoming to weep at a time when you 
 
 are going to be so happy. — [Both damsels burst into tears as they 
 
 dress her.'] — Your elegant person deserves richer apparel it is 
 
 now decorated with such rude flower's as we could procure in 
 
 this forest. 
 
 C anna's Pupil enters with rich clothes. 
 
 Pup. Here is a complete dress. Let the queen wear it 
 auspiciously ; and may her life be long ! [The women look 
 
 with astonishmement. 
 
 Gaut. My son, Harita, whence came this apparel ? 
 
 Pup. From the devotion of our father Canna. 
 
 Gaut. "What dost thou mean ? 
 
 Pup. Be attentive. The venerable sage gave this order : 
 "Bring fresh flowers for Sacontahifrom the most beautiful trees ;" 
 and suddenly the woodnymphs appeared raising their hands, which 
 rivalled new leaves in beauty and softness. Some of them wove 
 a lower mantle bright as the moon, the presage of her felicity ; 
 another pressed the juice of Lacsha to stain her feet exquisitely 
 red ; the rest were busied in forming the gayest ornaments ; and 
 they eagerly showered their gifts on us. 
 
 Pri, [Looking at Sacontahi.] Thus it is, that even the 
 bee, whose nest is within the hollow trunk, does homage to the 
 honey of the lotos flower. 
 
 Gaut. The nymphs must have been commissioned by the 
 goddess of the king's fortune, to predict the accession of 
 brighter ornaments in his palace. [Sacontala looks modest. 
 
 Pup. I must hasten to Canna, who is gone to bathe in the 
 Mulim, and let him know the signal kindness of the woodnymphs. 
 
 [lie goes out. 
 
 Ann-. My sweet friend, I little expected so splendid a 
 dress :— how shall I adjust it properly ?— [Considering.] — Oh !
 
 |s SACONTALA' ; OR, 
 
 my skill in painting will supply me with some hints ; and I will 
 dispose the drapery acccording to art. 
 
 Sac. I well know your affection for him. 
 
 Canna enters meditating. 
 
 Can. [Aside.] This day must Sacontala depart : that is 
 resolved ; yet my soul is smitten with anguish. — My speech is 
 interrupted by a torrent of tears, wdiich my reason suppresses 
 and turns inward : my very sight is dimmed. — Strange that the 
 a miction of a forester, retired from the haunts of men, should 
 be so excessive ! — Oh, with what pangs must they who are 
 fathers of families, be afflicted on the departure of a daughter ! 
 
 [lie icalks round musing. 
 
 Pri. Now, my Sacontala, you are becomingly decorated : 
 put on this lower vest the gift of sylvan goddesses. 
 
 [Sacontala rises and puis on the mantle. 
 
 Gaut. My child, thy spiritual father, whose eyes- overflow 
 with tears of joy, stands desiring to embrace thee. Hasten 
 therefore to do him reverence. [Sacontala modestly bows to Mm. 
 
 Can. Mayst thou be cherished by thy husband, as Sar- 
 mishtha was cherished by Yayati ! Mayst thou bring forth a 
 sovereign of the world, as she brought forth Puru ! 
 
 Gaut. This, my child, is not a mere benediction ; it is a 
 boon actually conferred. 
 
 Can. My best beloved, come and walk with me round 
 the sacrificial fire. — [They all advanced^ — May these fires pre- 
 serve thee ! Fires which spring to their appointed stations on 
 the holy hearth, and consume the consecrated wood, while the 
 fresh blades of mysterious Cusa lie scattered around them ! 
 Sacramental fires, which destroy sin with the rising fumes of 
 clarified butter !— [Sacontala walks with solemnity round the 
 hearth.] — Now set out, my darling, on thy auspicious journey. — 
 [Looting round.]— "Where are the attendants, the two Misras ? 
 
 Enter Sarngarava and Saradwata. 
 Both. Holy sage, we are here.
 
 THE FATAL RING. 49 
 
 Can. My son, S&rngarava, show thy sister her way. 
 
 Sam. Come, damsel. [They all advance. 
 
 Can. Hear, all ye trees of this hallow forest ; ye trees, 
 in which the sylvan goddesses have their abode ; hear, and pro- 
 claim, that Sacontala is going to the palace of her wedded lord • 
 she who drank not, though thirsty, before you were watered ; 
 she who cropped not, through affection for you, one of your 
 fresh leaves, though she would have been pleased with such an 
 ornament for her locks ; she whose chief delight was in the 
 season when your branches are spangled with flowers ! 
 
 CHORUS of invisible Woodnymt-hs. 
 
 May her way be attended with prosperity ! May propitious 
 breezes sprinkle, for her delight, the odoriferous dust of rich 
 blossoms ! May pools of clear water, green with the leaves of 
 the lotos, refresh her as she walks ! and may shady branches 
 be her defence from the scorching sun-beams ! 
 
 [All listen with admiration. 
 
 Sam. Was that the voice of the C6cila wishing a happy 
 journey to Sacontala ? — Or did the nymphs, who are allied to 
 the pious inhabitants of these woods, repeat the warbling of the 
 musical bird, and make its greeting" their own ? 
 
 ' DO 
 
 Gaut. Daughter, the sylvan goddesses, who love their 
 kindred hermits, have wished you prosperity, and are entitled 
 to humble thanks. 
 
 [Sacontala walks round, bowing to the nymphs. 
 
 Sac. [Aside to Priyamvada.] Delighted as I am, ( ) Priy- 
 amvada with the thought of seeing again the son of my lord, 
 yet, on leaving this grove, my early asylum, I am scarce able 
 to walk. 
 
 Pri. You lament not alone. Mark the stffiict'on of the 
 
 forest itself when the time of your departure approaches ! 
 
 The female antelope ferdwses n<> more on the collected Cusa 
 grass ; and the peahen ceases to dance on the lawn : the very 
 plants of the grove, whose pale leaves fall on the ground, lose 
 their strength asd their 1>r City,
 
 Id SAGONTALA 7 ; OK, 
 
 Sac. Venerable father, Buffer me to address this Madha- 
 vi creeper, whose red blossoms inflame the grove. 
 
 ( \tn. My child, I know thy affection for it. 
 
 Sac. [Embracing the plani.^ most radiant of twining 
 plants, receive my embraces, and return them with thy flexible 
 arms : from this day, though removed to a fatal distance, I shall 
 for ever be thine. — beloved father, consider this creeper as 
 myself. 
 
 Can. My darling, thy amiable qualities have gained thee a 
 husband equal to thyself: such an event has been long, for thy 
 sake, the chief object of my heart ; and now, since my solici- 
 tude for thy marriage is at an end, I will marry thy favorite 
 plant to the bridegroom Amra, who sheds fragrance near her. 
 Proceed, my child, on thy journey. 
 
 Sac. [Approaching the two damsels.] Sweet friends, let this 
 Madhavi creeper be a precious deposit in your hands. 
 
 Ami. and Pri. Alas ! in whose care shall we be left ? 
 
 [They both iceep. 
 
 Can. Tears are vain, Anusuya : our Sacontala ought ra- 
 
 rather to be supported by your firmness, than weakened by 
 
 your weeping. [All advance. 
 
 Sac. Father ! when yon female antelope, who now moves 
 slowly from the weight of the young ones with which she is 
 pregnant, shall be delivered of them, send me, I beg, a kind 
 message with tidings of her safety. Do not forget. 
 
 Can. My beloved, I will not forget it. 
 
 Sac. [Advaminq y then stopping.] Ah! what is it that clings 
 to the skirts of my robe, and detains me ? 
 
 [She turns round, and looks. 
 
 Can. It is thy adopted child, the little fawn, whose 
 mouth, when the sharp points of Cusa grass had wounded it, 
 lias been so often smeared by thy hand with the healing oil 
 of Ingudi ; who has been so often fed by thee with a handful 
 of Syamiika grains, and now will not leave the footstep of his 
 protectress. 
 
 Sac. Why dost thou weep, tender fawn, for me. who
 
 THE FATAL RING. 5l 
 
 must leave our common dwelling-place ? — As thou wast reared 
 by me when thou hadst lost thy mother, who died soon, after 
 thy birth, so will my foster-father attend thee, when we are 
 separated, with anxious care. — Return, poor thing, return. — 
 we must part. [She bursts into tears. 
 
 Can. Thy tears, my child, ill suit the occasion : we shall 
 all meet again : be firm : see the direct road before thee, and 
 follow it. — When the big tear lurks beneath thy beautiful eye- 
 lashes, let thy resolution check its first efforts to disengage 
 itself. — In thy passage over this earth, where the paths are now 
 high, now low, and the true path seldom distinguished, the 
 traces of thy feet must needs be unequal ; but virtue will press 
 thee right onward. 
 
 Sdrn. It is a sacred rule, holy sage, that a benevolent 
 man should accompany a traveller till he meet with abundance 
 of water ; and that rule you have carefully observed : we are 
 now near the brink of a large pool. Give us, therefore, your 
 commands, and return. 
 
 Can. Let us rest a while under the shade of this- Vata 
 
 tree [1 hey all go to the shade.] — What message can I send 
 
 with propriety to the noble Dushmanta ? [He meditates. 
 
 Ann. [Aside to Sacontahi.] My beloved friend, every 
 heart in our as3 T lum is fixed on you alone, and all are afflicted 
 by your departure. — Look ; the bird Chacravaca, called by his 
 mate, who is almost hidden by water lilies, gives her no answer ; 
 but having dropped from his bill the fibres of lotos stalks which 
 lie had plucked, gazes on you with inexpressible tenderness. 
 
 Can. My son Sarngarava, remember, when thou shalt 
 present Sacontahi to the king, to address him thus, in my name : 
 " Considering us hermits as virtuous, indeed, but rich only in 
 devotion, and considering also thy own exalted birth, retain thy 
 love for this girl, which arose in thy bosom without any inter- 
 ference of her kindred ; and look on her among thy wives with 
 the same kindness which they experience ; more than that cannot 
 be demanded ; since particular affection must depend on the will 
 of heaven."
 
 52 sacoxtala' ; OR, 
 
 Sdrn. Your message, venerable man, is deeply rooted in 
 my remembrance. 
 
 Can. [Looking tenderly at Sacontald.] Now, my darling, 
 thou too must be gently admonished. — We, who are humble 
 foresters, are yet acquainted with the world which we have 
 forsaken. 
 
 Sdrh. Nothing can be unknown to the wise. 
 
 Can. Hear, my daughter — —When thou art settled in the 
 mansion of thy husband, show due reverence to him and to those 
 whom he reveres •< though he have other wives, be rather an affec- 
 tionate handmaid to them than a rival. — Should he displease thee,, 
 let not thy resentment lead thee to disobedience, dn thy con- 
 duct to thy domestics be rigidly just and impartial ; and seek 
 not eagerly thy own gratifications, — —By such behaviour young 
 women become respectable 5 but perverse wives are the bane 
 of a family. AVhat thinks Gautami of this lesson ? 
 
 Gaist. It is incomparable :— my child, be sure to remem- 
 ber it. 
 
 Can. Come, my beloved girt, give a parting embrace to me 
 and to thy tender companions. 
 
 Sac, Must Anusuyd and Priyamvadd return to the her' 
 mitage ? 
 
 Can. They too, my child, must be suitably married ; and 
 it would not be proper for them yet to visit the city j but Gaut- 
 ami will accompany thee. 
 
 Sac. [Embracing hifrt."] Removed from the bosom of my 
 father, like a young sandal tree, rent from the hills of Malaya, 
 how shall I exist in a strange soil ? 
 
 Can, Be not so anxious. When thou shalt be mistress of 
 a family, and comfort of a king, thou mayst, indeed, be occa- 
 sionally perplexed by the intricate affairs which arise from exu- 
 berance of wealth, but wilt then think lightly of this transient 
 affliction, especially when thou shalt have a son (and a son thou 
 
 wilt have) bright as the rising day-star. -Know also with 
 
 certainty, that the body must necessarily, at the appointed mo- 
 ment, be separated from the soul : who, then, can be immoderate-
 
 THE FATAL EIXG. 53 
 
 ly afflicted, when the weaker bounds of extrinsic relations are 
 loosened, or even broken. 
 
 Sac. [Fatting at his feet.] My father, I thus humbly de- 
 clare my veneration for you. 
 
 Can. Excellent girl, may my effort for thy happiness 
 prove successful. 
 
 Sac. [Approaching he?* two companions.] Come, then, my 
 beloved friends, embrace me together. [The// embrace her. 
 
 Ami. My friend, if the virtuous monarch should not at 
 once recollect you, only show him the ring on which his own 
 name is engraved. 
 
 Sdc. [Starting.] My heart flutters at the bare apprehen- 
 sion which you have raised. 
 
 frit Fear not, sweet Sacontahi : love always raises ideas of 
 misery, which are seldom or never realised. 
 
 Sam. Holy sage, the gun has risen to a considerable height : 
 let the queen hasten her departure. 
 
 Sac. [Again embracing Canna.j When, my father, oh ! when 
 a°"ain shall I behold this asylum of virtue ? 
 
 Can. Daughter, when thou shalt long have been wedded, 
 like this fruitful earth, to the pious monarch, and shalt have borne 
 him a son, whose car shall be matchless in battle, thy lord shall 
 transfer to him the burden of empire, and thou, with thy Dush- 
 manta, shalt again seek tranquillity, before thy final departure, 
 in this loved and consecrated grove. 
 
 Gaiit. My child, the proper time for our journey passes away 
 rapidly '.■ suffer thy father to return. -   ■G-o, venerable man, go- 
 back to thy mansion, from which she is doomed to be so long 
 absent. 
 
 Can. Sweet child, this delay interrupts my religious duties. 
 
 Sac. You,- my father', will perform them long without sor- 
 row ; but I, alas ! am destined to bear affliction. 
 
 Can. O ! my daughter, compel me not to neglect my daily 
 
 devotions. [Sighing.] — No, my sorrow will not be diminished. 
 
 — Can it cease, my beloved, when the plants which rise luxuriant- 
 ly from the hallowed grains which thy hand lias strown before
 
 ,V1 sacontala' ; OB, 
 
 my cottage, are continually in my sight ? — Go, may thy journey 
 prosper. 
 
 [Sacohtala goes out with Gr'autami and the two Misras. 
 
 Both damsels. [Looking after Sacontala with anguish.'] Alas ! 
 a-las ! our beloved is hidden by the thick trees. 
 
 Can. ^lv children, since your friend is at length departed, 
 check your immoderate grief, and follow me, [They all turn back. 
 
 Doth. Holy father, the grove will be a perfect Vacuity with- 
 out Sacon-tala. 
 
 Can. Your affection will certainly give it that appearance. 
 
 [lie walks round, meditating.] — Ah me ! — Yes ; at last my 
 
 weak mind has attained its due firmness after the departure of 
 my Sacontala. — In truth a daughter must sooner or later be the 
 property of another ; and, having now sent her to her lord, I 
 find my soul clear and undisturbed, like that of a man who has 
 restored to its owner an inestimable deposit which he long had 
 kept with solicitude. [ They go out
 
 THE FATAL KIX»;. J55 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE— The Palace. 
 
 An old Chamberlain, sighing. 
 
 Chamberlain. 
 
 ALAS ! what a decrepit old age have I attained ! This 
 wand, which I first held for the discharge of my customary 
 duties in the secret apartments of my prince, is now my support, 
 whilst I walk feebly through the multitude of years whieh I have 
 
 passed. 1 must now mention to the king, as he goes through 
 
 the palace, an event which concerns himself : it must not be de- 
 layed. — [ Advancing sloirh/.~\ — What is it? — Oh! I recollect: 
 the devout pupils of Canna desire an audience. — How strange a 
 thing is human life ! — The intellects of an old man seem at one 
 time luminous, and then on a sudden are involved in darkness, 
 
 like the flame of a lamp at the point of extinction. He walks 
 
 round and looks.'} — There is Dushmanta : he has been attending 
 to his people, as to his own family ; and now with a tranquil 
 heart seeks a solitary chamber ; as an elephant the chief of his 
 herd, having grazed the whole morning, and being heated by the 
 meridian sun, repairs to a cool station during the oppressive 
 
 heats. -Since the king is just risen from his tribunal, and must 
 
 be fatigued, I am almost afraid to inform him at present that 
 Canna's pupils are arrived : yet how should they who support 
 nations enjoy rest ? — The sun yokes his bright steeds for the 
 labor of many hours ; the gale breathes by night and by day ; 
 the prince of serpents continually sustains the weight of this 
 earth ; and equally incessant is the toil of that man, whose re- 
 venue arises from a sixth part of his people's income. 
 
 [lie walks about, 
 letter Dushmanta, Madhavya, and attendant*. 
 Dushm. [Looking oppressed with business.] Every petitioner 
 having attained justice, is departed happy ; but kings who per-
 
 ,*)G SACONTALA J OR, 
 
 form their duties conscientiously arc afflicted without end. — The 
 anxiety of acquiring dominion gives extreme pain ; and when 
 it is firmly established, the cares of supporting the nation in- 
 cessantly harass the sovereign ; as a large umbrella, of which a 
 man carries the staff in his own hand, fatigues while it shades 
 
 him. 
 
 Behind the scenes. May the king be victorious. ! 
 
 Two Bards repeat stanzas. 
 
 First Bard. Thou seekest not thy own pleasure : no ; 
 it is for the people that thou art harassed from day to day. 
 Such, when thou wast created, was the disposition implanted 
 in thy soul ! Thus a branchy tree bears on his head the scorch- 
 ing sunbeams, while his broad shade allays the fever of those 
 who seek shelter under him. 
 
 Second Bard. When thou wielded t the rod of justice, thou 
 bringest to order all those who have deviated from the path 
 of virtue : thou biddest contention cease : thou wast formed 
 for the preservation of thy people : thy kindred possess, indeed, 
 considerable w r ealth ; but so boundless is thy affection, that 
 all thy subjects are considered by thee as thy kinsmen. 
 
 Dushm. [Listening.'] That sweet poetry refreshes me after 
 the toil of giving judgments and public orders. 
 
 Mddh. Yes ; as a tired bull is refreshed when the people 
 say, " There goes the lord of cattle." 
 
 Dushm. [Smiling.'] Oh ! art thou here, my friend : let us 
 take our seats together. [The king and Madhavya sit down. — 
 Music behind the scenes. 
 
 Mddh. Listen, my royal friend. I hear a well-tuned 
 Vina sounding, as if it were in concert with the lutes of the 
 gods, from yonder apartment. — The queen Hansamati is pre- 
 paring, I imagine, to greet you with a new song, 
 
 Dushm. Be silent, that I may listen. 
 
 Cham, [Aside.] The king's mind seems intent on some- 
 other business. I must wait his leisure. [Retiring on one side. 
 
 SONG. [Behind the scenes.] 
 
 " Sweet bee, who, desirous of extracting fresh honey, wast
 
 THE FATAL RING. 57 
 
 wont to kiss the soft border of the new-blown Amra flower. 
 
 how canst thou now be satisfied with the water lily, and forget 
 the first object of thy love ?" 
 
 Dushm. The ditty breathes a tender passion. 
 
 Mddh. Does the king know its meaning ? It is too deep 
 for me. 
 
 Dushm. [Smiling.] I was once hi love with Hansamati, 
 and am now reproved for continuing so long absent from her.- — 
 Friend Maclhavya, inform the queen in my name that I feel 
 the reproof. 
 
 Mddh. As the king commands ; hut— [Rising slowly.] — 
 My friend, you are going to seize a sharp lance with another 
 man's hand. I cannot relish your commission to an enraged 
 woman. — A hermit cannot be happy till he has taken leave of 
 all passion whatever. 
 
 Dushm. Go, my kind friend : the urbanity of thy discourse 
 will appease her. 
 
 Mddh. What an errand !• [Re goes out 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] Ah ! What makes me so melancholy on 
 hearing a mere song on absence, when I am not in fact separated 
 from any real object of my affection ? — Perhaps the sadness of 
 men, otherwise happy, on seeing beautiful forms and listening to 
 sweet melody, arises from some faint remembrance of past joys 
 and the traces of connections in a former state of existence. 
 
 [He sits pensive and sorrowful. 
 
 Cham. [Advancing humbly.] May our sovereign be victori- 
 ous ! — Two religious men, with some women, are [come from 
 their abode in a forest near the Snowy Mountains, and bring a 
 message from Canna. — The king will command. 
 
 Dushm. [Surprised.] What ! are pious hermits arrived in 
 the company of women ? 
 Cham. It is even so. 
 
 Dushm. Order the priest Somarata, in my name, to shew 
 them due reverence in the form appointed by the Ye.da ; and bid 
 liim attend me. I shall wait for my holy guests in a place fit for 
 their reception. 
 
 u
 
 g$ ^acontala' ; OR, 
 
 ('haw. I obey. [Be goes out 
 
 tiitshm. Warder, point the way to the hearth of the con- 
 secrated tire. 
 
 Ward. This, O king, this is the way.— [Be walks before.]- 
 Here is the entrance of the hallowed enclosure ; and there stands 
 the venerable cow to be milked for the sacrifice, looking bright 
 from the recent sprinkling of mystic water, — Let the king 
 ascend. [Dushmanta is raised to the place of sacrifice on the 
 
 shoulders of his Warders. 
 
 Dushm. What message can the pious Canna have sent me ? 
 — Has the devotion of his pupils been impeded by evil spirits — 
 or by what other calamity ? — Or has any harm, alas ! befallen 
 the poor herds who graze in the halTowed forest ? — Or have the 
 sins of the king tainted the flowers and fruits of the creepers 
 planted by female hermits ? — My mind is entangled in a laby- 
 rinth of confused apprehensions. 
 
 Ward. What our sovereign imagines, cannot possibly have 
 happened; since the hermitage has been rendered secure from 
 evil by the mere sound of his bowstring. The pious men, whom 
 the king's benevolence has made happy, are come, I presume, to* 
 do him homage. 
 
 Enter. Sarngarava, Saradwata and Gautami, leading Sacon- 
 tala by the hand ; and before them, the old Chamberlain and the 
 Priest. 
 
 Cham. This way, respectable strangers ; come this way. 
 
 Sdrn. My friend Saradwata, there sits the king of men, 
 who has felicity at command, yet shows equal respect to all : here 
 no subject, even of the lowest class, is received with contempt. 
 •Nevertheless, my soul having ever been free from attachment to- 
 worldly things, I consider this hearth, although a crowd now sur- 
 round it, as the station merely of consecrated fire. 
 
 Sdrad. I was not less confounded than } r ourself on entering 
 the populous city ; but now I look on it r as a man just bathed 
 in pure water, on a man smeared with oil and dust, as the 
 pure on the impure, as the waking on the sleeping, as the free 
 man on the captive, as the independent on the slave.
 
 THE FATAL RING. 59 
 
 Priest. Thence it is, that men, like you two, are so 
 elevated above other mortals. 
 
 Sac. [Perceiving a bad omen.'] Venerable mother, I feel my 
 right eye throb ! What means this involuntary motion ? 
 
 Gaut. Heaven avert the omen, my sweet child ! May every 
 delight attend thee I [They all advance. 
 
 Priest. [Shelving the king to them.'] There, holy men is the 
 protector of the people ; who has taken his seat, and expects you. 
 
 Sam. This is what we wished ; yet we have no private in- 
 terest in the business. It is ever thus ; trees are bent by the 
 abundance of their fruit ; clouds are brought low, when they 
 teem with salubrious rain ; and the real benefactors of mankind 
 are not elated by riches. 
 
 Ward. king, the holy guests appear before you with 
 placid looks, indicating their affection. 
 
 Dushm. [Gazing at Sacontala.] Ah! what damsel is that, 
 whose mantle conceals the far greater part of her beautiful form ? 
 — She looks, among the hermits, like a fresh green bud among 
 faded and yellow leaves. 
 
 Ward. This at least, king, is apparent ; that she has a 
 form which deserves to be seen more distinctly. 
 
 Dushm. Let her still be covered : she seems pregnant ; and 
 the wife of another must not be seen even by me. 
 
 Sac. [Aside, with her hand to her bosom.] my heart, why 
 dost thou palpitate ? — Remember the beginning of thy lord's 
 affection, and be tranquil. 
 
 Priest. May the king prosper ! The respectable guests have 
 been honored as the law ordains ; and they have now a message 
 l»> deliver from their spiritual guide ; let the king deign to hear it. 
 
 Dushm. [ With reverence.] I am attentive. 
 
 Both Misras. [Extending their hands.] Victory attend thy 
 banners ! 
 
 Dushm. I respectfully greet you both. 
 
 Both. Blessings on our sovereign ! 
 
 Dushm. Has your devotion been uninterrupted ? 
 
 Sfrrn. How should our rites be disturbed, when thou art
 
 6U sacox tala' ; or, 
 
 the preserver of all creatures ? How, when the bright sun 
 blazes, should darkness cover the world ? 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] The name of royalty produces, I suppose, 
 all worldly advantages ! — [Aloud.'] Docs the holy Ganna then 
 prosper ? 
 
 Sdrn. king, they who gather the fruits of devotion may 
 command prosperity. He first inquires affectionately whether 
 thy arms are successful, and then addresses thee in these 
 words : — 
 
 Dushm. What are his orders ? 
 
 Sdrn. " The contract of marriage, reciprocally made be- 
 tween thee and this girl, my daughter, I confirm with tender 
 regard : since thou art celebrated as the most honorable of men 
 and my Sacontahi is Virtue herself in a human form, no blas- 
 phemous complaint will henceforth be made against Brahma for 
 suffering discordant matches : he has now united a bride and 
 bridgegroom with qualities equally transcendent. — Since, there- 
 fore, he is pregnant by thee, receive her in thy palace, that 
 she may perform, in conjunction with thee, the duties prescribed 
 by religion. 7 ' 
 
 Gaut. Great king, thou hast a mild aspect ; and I wish 
 to address thee in few words. 
 
 Dushm. [Smiling.] Speak, venerable matron. 
 
 Gaut. She waited not the return of her spiritual father ; 
 nor were thy kindred consulted by thee. You two only were 
 present, when your nuptials were solemnized : now, therefore 
 converse freely together in the absence of all others. 
 
 Sac. [Aside.] What will my lord say ? 
 
 Dushm. [Aside, peyylexed.] How strange an adventure ! 
 
 Sac. [Aside.] Ah me ! how disdainfully he seems to 
 receive the message ! 
 
 Sam. [Aside.] What means that phrase which I over- 
 heard, " How strange an adventure ?" — [Aloud.] — Monarch, thou 
 knowest the hearts of men. Let a wife behave ever so discreet- 
 ly, the world will think ill of her, if she live only with her pa- 
 ternal kinsmen ; and a lawful wife now requests, as her kindred
 
 THE FATAL RING. 61 
 
 also humbly entreat, that whether she be loved or not, she may 
 pass her days in the mansion of her husband. 
 
 [Dushm. AVhat sayest thou ! Am I the lady's husband ? 
 
 Sac, [Aside, with anguish.] my heart, thy fears have 
 proved just. 
 
 Sam. Does it become a magnificent prince to depart from 
 the rules of religion and honor, merely because he repents of 
 his engagements ? 
 
 Dushm. With what hope of success could this groundless 
 fable have been invented ? 
 
 Sam. [Angrily.] The minds of those whom power in- 
 toxicates are perpetually changing. 
 
 Dushm. I am reproved with too great severity. 
 
 (hint. [To Sacontahi.] Be not ashamed, my sweet child : 
 let me take off thy mantle, that the king may recollect thee. 
 
 [She unveils her. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside, looking at Sacontala.] While I am doubt- 
 ful whether this unblemished beauty which is displayed before 
 me has not been possessed by another, I resemble a bee flutter- 
 in"" at the close of night over a blossom filled with dew ; and in 
 this state of mind, I neither can enjoy nor forsake her. 
 
 Ward. [Aside to Dushmanta.] The king best knows his 
 rights and his duties : but who would hesitate when a woman, 
 bright as a gem, brings lustre to the apartments of his palace ? 
 
 S&rn. What, king, does thy strange silence import ? 
 
 Dushm. Holy man, I have been meditating again and 
 again, but have no recollection of my marriage with this lady, 
 liow then can I lay aside all consideration of my military tribe, 
 and admit into my palace a young woman who is pregnant by 
 another husband ? 
 
 Sac. [Aside."] Ah ! wo is me. — Can there be a doubt 
 even of our nuptials ? — The tree of my hope, which had risen 
 so luxuriantly, is at once broken down. 
 
 Sam. Beware, lest the godlike sage, who would have bes- 
 towed on thee, as a free gift, his inestimable treasure, which 
 thou hadst taken, like a base robber, should now cease to think
 
 62 SACONTALA' ; OR, 
 
 of thee, who art lawfully married to his daughter, and should 
 
 confine all his thoughts to her whom thy perfidy disgraces. 
 
 Sdrad. Rest a while, my Sarngarava ; and thou, Sacontala, 
 
 lake thy turn to speak ; since thy lord has declared his forget- 
 
 fulness. 
 
 Sac. [Aside.'] If his affection has ceased, of what use will 
 it be to recall his remembrance of me ?— Yet, if my soul must 
 
 endure torment, be it so; I will speak to him. '[Aloud to 
 
 Dushmanta.] — my husband ! "[Pausing.'] — Or (if the just 
 
 application of that sacred word be still doubted by thee) son 
 
 of Puru. is it becoming- that, havinn been once enamoured of me 
 
 in the consecrated forest, and having shown the excess of thy 
 
 passion, thou shouldst this day deny me with bitter expressions ? 
 
 Dushm. [Covering his ears.] Be the crime removed from 
 my soul ! — Thou hast been instructed for some base purpose to 
 vilify me, and make me fall from the dignity which I have 
 hitherto supported ; as a river which has burst its banks and 
 altered its placid current, overthrows the trees that had risen 
 aloft on them. 
 
 Sac. If thou sayst this merely from want of recollection, 
 I will restore thy memory by producing thy own ring, with thy 
 name engraved on it ! 
 
 Duslim. A capital invention ! 
 
 Sac. [Looking at her finger.] Ah me ! I have no ring. 
 
 [She fixes her eyes, with anguish on Gautami.] 
 
 Gaut. The fatal ring must have dropped, my child from 
 thy hand, when thou tookest up water to pour on thy head m 
 the pool of Sachitirt'hr, near the station of Sacravatara. 
 
 Dushm. [Smiling.] So skilful are women in finding ready 
 
 excuses ! 
 
 Sac. The power of Brama must prevail : I will yet men- 
 tion one circumstance. 
 
 Dushm. I must submit to hear the tale. 
 
 Sac. One day, in a grove of Vetasas, thou tookest water in 
 
 thy hand from its natural vase of lotos leaves 
 
 Dushm. "What followed ?
 
 TftE FATAL KING, G3 
 
 Sac. At that instant a little fawn, which I had reared as 
 my own child, approached thee ; and thou saydst with benevo- 
 lence : " Drink thou first, gentle fawn." He would not drink 
 from the hand of a stranger, but received water eagerly from 
 mine ; when thou saidst, with increasing affection : " Thus every 
 creature loves its companions : you are both foresters alike, 
 and both alike, amiable." 
 
 Dushm. By such interested and honied falsehoods are the 
 souls of voluptuaries ensnared ! 
 
 Gaut. Forbear, illustrious prince, to speak harshly. She 
 was bred in a sacred grove where she learned no guile. 
 
 Dushm. Pious matron, the dexterity of females, even 
 when they are untaught, appears in those of a species different 
 from our own. — What would it be if they were duly instructed I 
 — The female Cocilas, before they fly towards the firmament, 
 leave their eggs to be hatched, and their young fed, by birds 
 who have no relation to them. 
 
 Sac. | With anger.'] Oh ! void of honor, thou measurest 
 all the world by thy own bad heart. What prince ever resem- 
 bled, or ever will resemble, thee, who wearest the garb of 
 religion and virtue, but in truth art a base deceiver • like a deep 
 well whose mouth is covered with smiling plants ! 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] The rusticity of her education makes 
 her speak thus angrily and inconcistently with female decorum. 
 — She looks indignant ; her eye glows ; and her speech, formed 
 of harsh terms, faulters as she utters them. Her lip, ruddy as 
 the Bimba fruit, quivers as if it were nipped with frost ; and 
 her eyebrows, naturally smooth and equal, are at once irregu- 
 larly contracted. — Thus having failed in circumventing me by 
 the apparent lustre of simplicity, she has recourse to wrath, 
 and snaps in two the bow of Cama, which, if she had not 
 belonged to another, might have wounded me. — [Aloud.]— The 
 heart of Dushmanta, young woman, is known to all ; and thine 
 is betrayed by thy present demeanor. 
 
 Sac. [Ironically.] You kings are in all cases to be credited 
 implicitly : you perfectly know the respect which is due to
 
 ,; J sacontala' ; OR 
 
 virtue and to mankind ; while females, however modest, how- 
 ever virtuous, know nothing, and speak nothing truly. — In a 
 happy hour I came hither to seek the object of my affection : 
 in a happy moment I received the hand of a prince descended 
 from Puru ; a prince who had won my confidence by the honey 
 of his words, whilst his heart concealed the weapon that was 
 to pierce mine. [She hides her face and uieeps* 
 
 Sam. This insufferable mutability of the king's temper 
 kindles my wrath. — Henceforth let all be circumspect before 
 they form secret connections : a friendship hastily contracted, 
 when both hearts are not perfectly known, must ere long be- 
 come enmity. 
 
 Dushm. Wouldst thou force me then to commit an enor- 
 mous crime, relying solely on her smooth speeches? 
 
 Sam. [Scornfully.'] Thou hast heard an answer. — The words 
 of an incomparable girl, who never learned what iniquity Avas, 
 are here to receive no credit ; while they, whose learning con- 
 sists in accusing others, and inquiring into crimes, are the only 
 persons who speak truth ? 
 
 Dushm. man of nnim peached veracity, I certainly am 
 what thou describest ; but what would be gained by accusing 
 thy female associate ? 
 
 Sam. Eternal misery. 
 
 Dushm. No ; misery will never be the portion of Puru's 
 defcendants. 
 
 Sdm. What avils our altercation ? — king, we have 
 obeyed the commands of our preceptor, and now return. Sa- 
 contala is by law thy wife, whether thou desert or acknowledge 
 her ; and the dominion of a husband is absolute. — Go before us, 
 Gautami. [The two Misras and Gautami returning. 
 
 Sac. I have been deceived by this perfidious man ; but 
 will you, my friends, will you also forsake me ? [Following them. 
 
 Gaut. [Looking back.] My son, Sacontala follows us with 
 affectionate supplications. What can she do here with a faith- 
 less husband ; she who is all tenderness ?
 
 THE FATAL RIN& £5 
 
 Sam. [Angrily to Sacontahi.] wife, who seest the faults 
 of thy lord, dost thou desire independence ? 
 
 [Sacontahi stops, and trembles. 
 
 Sdrad. Let the queen hear. If thou beest what the kino- 
 proclaims thee, what right hast thou to complain ? But if thou 
 knowest the purity of thy own soul, it will become thee to wait 
 as a handmaid in the mansion of thy lord. Stay, then*, where 
 thou art : we must return to Caimav 
 
 Dushm. Deceive her not, holy men, with vain expecta- 
 tions. The moon opens the night flower ; and. the sun makes 
 the ivatcr lily blossom : each is confined to its own object : 
 and thus a virtuous man abstains from any connection with tHe 
 wife of another. 
 
 S&rn. Yet thou, king, who fearest to offend religion 
 and virtue, art not atraid to desert thy wedded wife ; pretending 
 that the variety of thy public affairs has macle thee forget thy 
 private contract. 
 
 Dushm. [To his Priest.'] I really have no remembrance 
 6f any such engagement ; and I ask thee, my spritual counsellor, 
 whether of the two offences be the greater, to forsake my own 
 wife, or to have an intercourse with the wife of another ? 
 
 Priest. [After some deliberation.'] Wc may adopt an ex- 
 pedient between both. 
 
 Dushm. Let my venerable guide command. 
 
 Priest. The young woman may dwell till her dilivery 
 in my house. 
 
 Dushm. For what purpose ? 
 
 Priest. Wise astrologers have askirdd the king, that he 
 will be the father of an illustrious prince, whose dominion will 
 be bounded by the western and eastern seas : now, if the holy 
 man's daughter shall bring forth a son whose hands and feet 
 bear the marks of extensive sovereignty, I will do homage to 
 her as my queen, and conduct her to the royal apartments ; if 
 I . sfie shall return iff due time to" her father. 
 
 Duritm. Be it as you judge proper. 
 
 Priest. [To Sacontahi.] This way. my daughter, follow me.
 
 66 sacontala' ; OR, 
 
 Sac. earth ! mild goddess, give me a place within thy 
 bosom ! 
 
 [She goes out weeping with the Priest ; while the two Mis- 
 rets go out by a different uJay with Gautami Dush- 
 
 tuanta stands meditating on the beauty of Sacontala j 
 but the imprecation still clouds his memory.] 
 
 Behind the scenes. Oh ! miraculous event ! 
 Dushm. [Listening.] What can have happened ! 
 
 J he Priest re-enters. 
 
 Priest. Hear, king, the stupendous event. When Carina's 
 pupils had departed, Sacontala, bewailing her adverse fortune, 
 extended her arms and wept ; when* — - 
 
 Dushm. What then ? 
 
 Priest. A body of light, in a female shape, descended near 
 Apsarastirt'ha, where the nymphs of heaven are worshiped j 
 and having caught her hastily in her bosom, disappeared. 
 
 [All express astonishment. 
 
 Dushm. I suspected from the beginning some work of 
 sorcery. — The business is over ; and it is needless to reason more 
 on it. —Let thy mind, Somarata, be at rest*- 
 
 Priest. May the king be victorious. [lie goes out. 
 
 Dushnis Chamberlain, I have been greatly harassed ; ancl 
 thou, Warder, go before me to a place of repose. 
 
 Ward. This way ; let the king come this way. 
 
 Dushm. [Advancing, aside.] I cannot with all my efforts 
 recollect my nuptials with the daughter of the hermit ; yet so 
 agitated is my heart, that it almost induces me to believe her 
 story* [AH go out.
 
 THE FATAL RIXG. f>7 
 
 
 ACT VI. 
 
 SCENE— A Stkeet. 
 
 Enter a Superintendent of Police with two Officers, leading 
 a man with his hands bound. 
 
 First Officer. Striking the prisoner. 
 
 TAKE that, Cumbhilaca if Cumbhilaca be thy name ; and 
 tell us now where thou gottest this ring, bright with a large 
 gem> on which the king's name is engraved, 
 
 Cumbh. [Trembling.] Spare me, I entreat your honors to 
 spare me : I am not guilty of so great a crime as you suspect. 
 
 First Off. distinguished Brahmen, didst thou then 
 receive it from the king as a reward of some important service ? 
 
 Cumbh. Only hear me : I am a poor fisherman dwelling 
 at SaGravatara —   — » 
 
 Second Off. Did we ask, thou thief, about thy tribe or 
 thy dwelling place. 
 
 Sup. Suehaca, let the fellow tell his own story. — — Now 
 conceal nothing, sirrah. 
 
 First Off. Dost thou heai- ? Do as our master commands. 
 
 Cumbh. I am a man who support my family by catching 
 hsh in nets, or with hooks, and by various othor contrivances. 
 
 Sup. [Laughing.] A virtuous way of gaining a livelihood ! 
 
 Cumbh. Blame me not, master. The occupation of our 
 forefathers, how low soever, must not be forsaken ; and a man 
 lio kills animals for sale may have a tender heart though his 
 act be cruel. 
 
 Sup. Go on, go on, 
 
 Cumbh. One day having caught a large Roliita fish, I cut it, 
 open, and saw This bright ring in itsstomaeh ; but when I offered 
 to sell it, I was apprehended; by your honors. So far only am I 
 guilty of taking the ring. Will you now continue beating and 
 bruising me to death ?
 
 6S SACONTALA' ; OK. 
 
 - • 
 
 
 Sup. [Smelling the ring.] It is certain, Jaluea, that tliis gem 
 has been in the body of a fish, The case requires consideration ; 
 and I will mention it to some of the king's household. 
 
 Both Off'. Come on, cutpurse. [Ihey advance. 
 
 Sup. Stand here, Siichaca, at the great gate of the city, and 
 wait for me, while 1 speak to some of the officers in the palace. 
 "Both Off. Go, Kajayucta. May the king favor thee. 
 
 [ The Superintendent goes out. 
 
 Second Off. Our master will stay, I fear, a long while. 
 
 First Off. Yes ; access to kings can only be had at their 
 leisure. 
 
 Second Off. The tips of my fingers itch, my friend Jaluea, 
 to kill this cutpurse. 
 
 Cumbh. You would put to death an innocent man. 
 
 First 'Off [Looking.] Here comes our master. — The king 
 has decided quickly. Now, Cumbhilaca, you will either see your 
 compainions again, or be the food of shakals and vultures. 
 
 T\ie Superintendent re-enters. 
 
 Sup. Let the fisherman immediately   
 
 Cumbh. [In an agony.'] Oh' ! I am a dead man. 
 
 Sup. be discharged. — Hola ! set him at liberty. The 
 
 king says he knows his innocence ; and his story is true. 
 
 Second Off. As our master commands.- The fellow is 
 
 brought back from the mansion of Yama, to which he was 
 hastening. [ Unbinding the fisherman. 
 
 Cumbh. [Bowing.] My lord, I owe my life to your kindness. 
 
 Sup. Rise, friend ; and hear with delight that the king 
 gives thee a sum of money equal to the full value of the ring : it 
 is a fortune to a man in thy station. [Giving him the money. 
 
 Cumbh. [With rapture.] I am transported with joy. 
 First Off. This vagabond seems to be taken down from 
 the stake, and set on the back of a state elephant. 
 
 Second Off. The king, I suppose, has a great affection for 
 hi 5 gem.
 
 T.HE FATAL KIXG. 69 
 
 Sup. Not for its intrinsic value ; but I guessed the cause 
 of his ecstasy when he saw it. 
 
 Both Off. What could occasion it ? 
 
 Slip. I suspect that it called to his memory some person 
 who has a place in his heart ; for though his mind be naturally 
 firm, yet, from the moment when he beheld the ring, he was for 
 some minutes excessively agitated. 
 
 Second Off. Our master has given the king extreme pleasure. 
 
 First Off. Yes ; and by ,the means of this fish-catcher. 
 
 [Looking fiercely at him- 
 
 Cumbh. Be not angry — Half the money shall be divided 
 between you to purchase wine. 
 
 First Off. Oh ! now thou art our beloved friend. — Good 
 wine is the first object of our affection. — Let us go together tp 
 the vintners. \_^ l€1 J a ^ 0° oui ' 
 
 SCENE — The Garden of the Palace. 
 
 The Nymph Misracesi appears in the air. 
 
 J\Jisr. My first task was duly performed when I went to 
 bathe in the Nymphs' pool ; and I now must see with my own 
 
 eyes how the virtuous king is afflicted. Sacontala is dear to this 
 
 heart, because she is the daughter of my beloved Menaca, from 
 whom I received both commissions. — [She looks round. .] — Ah ! on 
 a day full of delights the monarch's family seem oppressed with 
 
 some new sorrow. By exerting my supernatural power L 
 
 could know what has passed ; but respect must be shown to the 
 desire of Menaca. — I will retire, therefore, among those plants, 
 observe what is done without being visible. 
 
 [She descends and takes her station. 
 
 Enter two Damsels, attendants on the God of Love. 
 
 First Dams. [Looking at an Amra flower.] The blossoms 
 of yon Amra, waving on the green stalk, are fresh and light as 
 the breath of this vernal month. I must present the goddess 
 Keti with a basket of them. 
 
 Second Dams. Why, my Parabhritiea, dost thou mean to 
 present it alone ?
 
 70 SACONTALA ; OR, 
 
 first Dams. my friend Madhucarica, when a female 
 Cocila, which my name implies, sees a blooming Amra, she be- 
 comes entranced, and loses her recollection. 
 
 Second Dams. [ With transport.] What ! is the season of 
 sweets actually returned ? 
 
 First Dams. Yes ; the season in which we must sing of 
 nothing but wine and love. 
 
 Second Dams. Support me, then, while I climb up this tree, 
 and strip it of its fragrant gems, which we will carry as an offer- 
 ing to Cama. 
 
 first Dams. If I assist, I must have a moiety of the re- 
 ward which the god will bestow. 
 
 Seco?id Dams. To be sure, and without any previous bar- 
 gain. We are only one scul, you know, though Brahma has 
 given it two bodies.— — -.[She climbs tip, and gathers the forcers.] 
 — Ah ! the buds are hardly opened. — —Here is one a little ex- 
 panded, whioh diffuses a charming odour [Talcing a handful 
 
 of buds.] — This flower is sacred to the god who bears a fish on 
 his banner. — sweet blossom, which I now consecrate, thou 
 w^ell deservest to point the sixth arrow of Camadeva, who now 
 takes his bow to pierce myriads of } T outhful hearts. 
 
 [She throws down a blossom. 
 
 The old Chamberlain enters. 
 
 Cham. [Angrily.] Desist from breaking off those half- 
 opened buds : there will be no jubilee this year; our king has 
 forbidden it. 
 
 Both Dams. Oh ! pardon us. We really knew not the 
 prohibition. 
 
 Cham. You knew it not ! — Even the trees which the spring 
 was decking, and the birds who perch on them, sympathize with 
 our monarch. Thence it is, that yon buds, which have long ap- 
 peared, shed not yet their prolific dust ; and the flower of the 
 Curuvaca, though perfectly formed, remains veiled in a closed 
 chalice ; while the voice of the Cocila, though the cold dews fall 
 no more, is fixed within his throat ; and even Smara, the god of 
 desire, replaces the shaft half-drawn from his quiver.
 
 TriE FATAL RING. 71 
 
 Misr. [Aside.] The king, no doubt, is constat and 
 tender-hearted. 
 
 First Dams. A few days ago, Mitrayasu, the governor of 
 our province; dispatched us to kiss the feet of the king, and we 
 Come to decorate his groves and gardens with Various emblems : 
 thence it is$ that we heard nothing of his interdict. 
 
 Cham. Beware then of reiterating your offence. 
 
 Second Dams. To obey our lord will certainly be. our 
 delight ; but, if we are permitted to hear the story, tell us, we 
 pray, what has induced our sovereign to forbid the usual festivity. 
 
 Misr. [Aside.] Kings are generally fond of gay entertain- 
 ments ; and there must be some weighty reason for the prohibi- 
 tion. 
 
 Cham. [Aside.] The affair is public: why should I not 
 
 satisfy them ? -**-[Aloud<] — lias not the calamitous desertion 
 
 of Sacontala reached your ears ? 
 
 First. Dams. We heard her tale from the govcrner, as far 
 as the sisdit of the fatal ring. 
 
 Cham. Then I have little to add. 'When the king- 
 memory was restored, by the sight of his gem, he instantly cx- 
 clamed : " Yes, the incomparable Sacontala is my lawful wile ; 
 and when I rejected her, I had lost my reason." — He showed 
 strong marks of extreme affliction and penitence ; and from that, 
 moment he has abhorred the pleasures of life. No longer does 
 he exert his respectable talents from day to day for the good of 
 his people : he prolongs his nights without closing his eyes, 
 perpetually rolling on the edge of his couch ; and he rises, he 
 pronounces not one sentence aptly ; mistaking the names of the 
 women in his apartments, and through distraction, calling each of 
 them Sacontala : then he sits abashed, with his head long bent 
 on his knees. 
 
 Misr, [Aside.] This is pleasing to me, very pleasing. 
 
 Cham. By reason of the dee]) sorrow which now prevails 
 in his heart, the vernal jubilee has been interdicted. 
 
 Both Dams. The prohibition is highly proper. 
 
 Behind the scenes. Make way ! The king is passing.
 
 / 
 
 7 J SAOOXTAL.V ; OR, 
 
 < 'ham. [Listening!] Were comes the monarch : depart there- 
 fore, damsels, to your own provincs. [The two Damsels go oii'L 
 Bushrrtnnta enters inpemtential weed\ preceded by d Warder, and 
 
 attended by Madhavya. 
 
 Cham. [Looking at th 'Icing.] Ah! how majestic are noble 
 forms in every habiliment !- — Our prince, even in the garb of 
 affliction, is a venerable object. — Though" he has abandoned pica- 
 Sure, ornaments/' and business'; though he is become so' thin, that 
 Ms golden bracelet falls* loosened even down to his Wrist; though 
 his lips are parched with the heat of his sighs, and his eyes are 
 fixed open by long sorrow and" Want of sleep,' yet am I dazzled 
 by the blaze of virtue which beam's in" his countenance like a 
 diamond exquisitely polished. 
 
 Misr. [Aside, gazing on leishmanial] With, good reason is 
 my beloved Sacontala, though disgraced arid rejected, heavily op- 
 pressed with grief through the absence of this youth. 
 
 Dtfsltnt. [Advancing slowly, in deep meditation 1 .] When my 
 darling with an antelope's eyes would have reminded me of our 
 love, I was assuredly slumbering ; : but excess of misery has 
 awakened me. 
 
 Misr. [Aside*?] The charming girl will at last be happy. 
 
 Mddh. [Aside.] This monarch" of ours is caught again in the 
 £aie of affection ; and I hardly know a remedy for his illness. 
 
 Cham. [Approaching Dushmauta.] May the king' be victori- 
 ous ! — Let him survey y on' fine woodland', these cool walks, and 
 this blooming garden; where he may repose with pleasure on 
 banks of delight. 
 
 Dushm. [-Not attending to him]: Warder, inform the chief 
 minister in my name, that having resolved on a long absence 
 from the city, 1* do not mean to sit for some time in the tribunal ; 
 but let him write and dispatch to me all the cases that may arise 
 among my subjects. 
 
 Ward. As the king commands. [lie goes out. 
 
 Dushm. [To the Chamberlain.] And thou, Parvatayana, 
 neglect not thy stated business. 
 
 Cham. By no means. [He goes out.
 
 THE FATAL RING. 73 
 
 Mddh. You have not left a fly in the garden. — Amuse 
 yourself now in this retreat, which seems pleased with the depar- 
 ture of the dewy season. 
 
 Dushm. Madhavya, when persons accused of great 
 offences prove wholly innocent, see how their accusers are punish- 
 ed ! A phrensy obstructed my remembrance of any former 
 
 love for the daughter of the sage ; and now the heart-born god, 
 who delights in giving pain, has fixed in his bow-string a new 
 
 shaft pointed with the blossom of an Amra. The fatal ring 
 
 having restored my memory, see me deplore with tears of repent- 
 ance the loss of my best beloved, whom I rejected without cause ; 
 see me overwhelmed with sorrow, even while the return of spring 
 fills the hearts of all others with pleasure. 
 
 Ma'dh. Be still, my friend, whilst I break Love's arrows 
 with my staff. [He strikes off some flowers from an Amra tree. 
 
 Dushm. [Meditating.^ Yes, I acknowledge the supreme 
 
 power of Brahma. [To Madhavya] Where now, my friend, 
 
 shall I sit and recreate my sight with the slender shrubs which 
 bear a faint resemblance to the shape of Sacontala ? 
 
 Mddh. You will soon see the damsel skilled in painting, 
 whoin you informed that you would spend the forenoon in yon 
 bower of Madhavi creepers : and she will bring the queen's 
 picture which you commanded her to draw. 
 
 Dushm. My soul will be delighted even by her picture. 
 ' Show the way to the bower. 
 
 Ma'dh. This way, my friend. [They both advance. Mis- 
 
 races! following them.] — The arbour of twining Madhavis, em- 
 bellished with fragments of stone like bright gems, appears by 
 
 its pleasantness, though without a voice, to bid thee welcome. 
 
 Let us enter it, and be seated. [They both sit down in the bower 
 
 Misr. [Aside.] From behind these branchy shrubs I shall 
 
 behold the picture of my Sacontala. 1 will afterwtffds hasten 
 
 to report the sincere affection of her husband. 
 
 [She conceals herself. 
 Dushm. [Sighing.] my approved friend, the whole adv< titure 
 * >f the hermitage is now fresh in my memory.-—] informed
 
 SACONTALA' ; OR, 
 
 how deeply I was affected by the firs! sight of the damsel ; hut 
 when she was rejected by me you were not present. — Her name 
 was often repeated by me (how, indeed, should it not ?) in our 
 conversation, — \\ hat ! hast thou forgotten, as I had', the whole 
 story ? 
 
 Misr. [Aside.] The sovereigns of the world must not, 1 
 Gnd, be lift an instant without the objects of their love. 
 
 Mddh. ( >h. no : I have not forgotten it ; but at the end of* 
 our discourse you assured me that your love tale was invented 
 sole}" for your diversion ; and this, in the simplicity of my heart, 
 I believed. — Some great event seems in all this affair to be pre- 
 destined in liea ven. 
 
 Misr. [Aside.] Nothing is more true. 
 
 Dushm. [Having meditated. ~\ ! my friend, suggest some 
 relief for my torment. 
 
 Mddh. What new pain torments you ? Virtuous men 
 should never be thus afflicted : the most violent wind shakes not 
 mountains. 
 
 Dushm. When I reflect on the situation of your friend 
 Sacontala, who must now be greatly affected by my desertion of 
 her, I am without comfort. — She made an attempt to follow the 
 Brahmens and the matron : Stay, said the sage's pupil, who was 
 revered as the sage himself; Stay, said he, with a loud voice. 
 Then once more she fixed on me, who had betrayed her, that 
 celestial face,* then bedewed with gushing tears ; and the bare idea 
 of her pain burns me like an envenomed javelin. 
 
 Misr. [Aside.] How he afflicts himself! I really sympathize 
 with him. 
 
 Mddh. Surely some inhabitant of the heavens must have 
 wafted, her to his mansion. 
 
 Dushm. No ; what male divinity would have taken the pains 
 to carry off a wife so firmly attached to her lord ? Menaca, the 
 nymph of Swerga, gave her birth ; and some of her attendant 
 nymphs have, I imagine, concealed her at the desire of her mother. 
 
 Misr. [Aside.'] To reject Sacontala was.no doubt, the effect 
 a delirium, not the act of a waking man.
 
 THE FATAL RING. 75 
 
 Mddh. If it be thus, you will soon meet her again. 
 
 Dushm. Alas ! why do you think so ? 
 
 Madh. Because no father and mother can lono- endure to 
 sec their daughter deprived of her husband. 
 
 Dushm. Was it sleep that impaired my memory ? Was ifc 
 delusion ? Was it an error of my judgment ? Or was it the 
 destined reward of my bad actions ? Whatever it was, I am 
 sensible that, until Sacontala, return to these arms, I shall be 
 plunged in the abyss of affliction. 
 
 Madh. Do not despair : the fatal ring is itself an example 
 that the lost may be found. — Events which were foredoomed by 
 Heaven must not be lamented. 
 
 Dushm. [Looking at his ring.'] The fate of this ring, now 
 fallen from a station which it will not easily regain, I may at 
 least deplore. — gem, thou art removed from the soft finger, 
 beautiful with ruddy tips on which a place had been assigned 
 thee ; and, minute as thou art, thy bad qualities appear from the 
 similiariiy of thy punishment to mine. 
 
 Misr. [Aside.] Had it found a way to any other hand it.; 
 
 lot would have been truly deplorable. <> Menaca, how would-;, 
 
 thou be delighted with the conversation which gratifies my ears ! 
 
 Madh. Let me know, I pray, by what means the ring 
 obtained a place on the linger of Sacontala. 
 
 Dushm. You shall know, my friend. — When J was coming 
 from the holy forest to my capital, my beloved, with tears in her 
 5, thus addressed me: "How long will the son of my lord 
 keep me in his remembrance? ? 
 
 tddh. Well ; what then? 
 
 Dushm. Then fixing this ring on her Lovely finger, 1 thus 
 answered: " Repeat each day one of the three syllable engraved 
 on this gem ; and before thou : spelled the word : ; i hmanta, 
 one of my noblest officers shall a. thee, and conduct my 
 
 darling to her palace.' 1 — Yet I forgot, 1 deserted her in my 
 phrensy. 
 
 Misr. | . ! ' ] A, charming interval of three day i fixed
 
 70 sacontala' ; or, 
 
 between their separation and their meeting, which the will of 
 Brahma rendered unhappy. 
 
 Mddh. But how came the ring to enter, like a hook, into 
 the mouth of a carp ? 
 
 Dushm. When my beloved was lifting water to her head 
 in the pool of Sachitirt'ha, the ring must have dropped unseen. 
 
 Mddh. It is very probable. 
 
 Misr. [Aside] . Oh ! it was thence that the king, who 
 fears nothing but injustice, doubted the reality of his marriage ; 
 but how, I wonder, could his memory be connected with a ring ? 
 
 Dushm. I am really angry with this gem. 
 
 Mddh. [Laughing.] So am I with this staff. 
 
 Dushm. Why so, Madhavya? 
 
 Mddh. Because it presumes to be so straight when I am so 
 ..crooked, — Impertinent stick ! 
 
 Dushm. [Not attending to him.] How, ring, couldst thou 
 leave that hand adorned with soft long fingers, and fall into a 
 pool decked only with water lilies ? — The answer is obvious : 
 thou art irrational. — But how could I, who was born with a 
 reasonable soul, desert my only beloved ? 
 
 Misr. [Aside!] He anticipates my remark. 
 
 Mddh. [Aside.] So ; I must wait here during his medita- 
 tions, and perish with hunger. 
 
 Dushm. my darling, whom I treated with disrespect, 
 and forsook without reason, when will this traitor, whose heart is 
 deeply stung with repentant sorrow, be once more blessed with a 
 i ght of thee ? 
 
 A Damsel enters with a picture. 
 
 pdms. Great king, the picture is finished. 
 
 [Holding it before him. 
 
 Dushm, [Gazing on it.] Yes ; that is her face ; those are her 
 beautiful eyes ; those her lips embellished with smiles, and surpass- 
 ing the red lustre of the Carcandhu fruit : ( her mouth seems, 
 ili< '111:11 painted, to speak, and her countenance darts beams of 
   'i"U blended with a variety of melting tints. 
 
 Mddh, Truly, my friend, it is a picture sweet as love j$*
 
 THE FATAL RING. 77 
 
 self : my eye glides up and clown to feast on every particle of it ; 
 and it gives me as much delight as if I were actually conversing 
 with the living Sacontala. 
 
 Misr. [Aside.] An exquisite piece of painting ! My be- 
 
 loved friend seems to stand before my eyes. 
 
 Dushm. Yet the picture is infinitely below the original ; 
 and my warm fancy, by supplying its imperfections, represents, 
 in some degree, the loveliness of my darling. 
 
 Misr. [Aside.'] His ideas are suitable to his excessive love 
 and severe penitence. 
 
 Dushm. [Sighing.] Alas ! I rejected her when she lately 
 approached me, and now I do homage to her picture ; like a 
 traveller who negligently passes by a clear and full rivulet, and 
 soon ardently thirsts, for a false appearance of water on the 
 sand}?- desert. 
 
 Mddh. There are so many female figures on this canvas, 
 that I cannot well distinguish the lady Sacontala. 
 
 Misr. [Aside.] The old man is ignorant of her transcen- 
 dent beauty ; her eyes, which fascinated the soul of his prince, 
 never sparkled, I suppose, on Miidhavya. 
 
 Dushm. Which of the figures do you conceive intended 
 for the queen ? 
 
 Mddh. [Examining the picture.] It is she I imagine, who 
 looks a little fatigue ; with the string of her vest rather loose ; 
 the slender stalks of her arms falling languidly ; a few bright 
 drops on her face, and some flowers dropping from her united 
 locks. That must be the queen ; and the rest, I suppose, aro 
 her damsels. 
 
 Dushm. You judge well ; but my affection requires 
 something more in the piece. Besides, through some defect 
 in the coloring, a tear soems trickling down her cheek, which 
 ill suits the state in which I desired to see her painted. — [To 
 the Damsel.] — The picture, Chaturica, is unfinished. — Go back 
 to the painting room and bring the implements of thy art. 
 
 Dams, Kind Madhavya. hold the picture while I obey the 
 king,
 
 78 sacoxtala' ; orc, 
 
 Dushm. No ; I an ill hold it. 
 
 [He takes the picture ; and the damsel goes out. 
 
 Mddh. What else is to he painted ? 
 
 Misr. [Aside*] He desires, I presume, to add all those 
 circumstances which became the situation of his beloved in the 
 hermitage. 
 
 Dushm, In this landscape, my friend, I wish to see repre- 
 sented the river Malini, with some amorous Flamingos on its 
 green margin ; farther back must appear some hills near the 
 mountain Himalaya, surrounded with herds of Chamaras ; and 
 in the foreground, a dark spreading tree, with some mantles 
 of woven bark suspended on its branches to be dried by the 
 sunbeams ; while a pair of black antelopes couch in its shade, 
 and the female gently rubs her beautiful forehead on the horn 
 of the male. 
 
 Mddh. Add what you please ; but, in my judgment, the 
 vacant places should be filled with old hermits, bent, like me, 
 towards the ground. 
 
 Dushm. [Not attending to hint.] Oh ! I had forgotten 
 that my beloved herself must have some new ornaments. 
 
 Mddh. What I pray ? 
 
 Misr. [Aside. "\ Such, no doubt, as become a damsel bred 
 in a forest. 
 
 Dushm. The artist had omitted a Sirisha flower with 
 its peduncle fixed behind her soft ear, and its filaments waving 
 over part of her cheek ; and between her breasts must be placed 
 a knot of delicate fibres, from the stalks of water lilies, like 
 the rays of an autumnal moon. 
 
 a/ 
 
 Mddh. "Why does the queen cover part of her face, as if 
 she was afraid of something, with the tips of her fingers, that 
 glow like the flowers of the Cuvalaya ? — Oh! I now perceive 
 an impudent bee, that thief of odours, who seems eager to sip 
 honey from the lotos of her mouth. 
 
 Dushm. X bee ! drive oil" the importunate insect. 
 
 Mddh. The king has supreme power over all offenders.
 
 THE FATAL RING. 
 
 Dushm. male bee, who approachest the lovely inhabi- 
 tants of a flowery grove, why dost thou expose thyself to the 
 pain of being rejected ? — See where thy female sits on a blos- 
 som, and, though thirsty: waits for thy return : without thee 
 she will not taste its nectar. 
 
 Misr. [Aside. ~\ A wild, but apt, address ! 
 
 Mddh. The perfidy of male bees is proverbial. 
 
 Duskm. [Angrily.] Shouldst thou touch, bee, the lip of 
 my darling, ruddy as a fresh leaf on which no wind has yet 
 breathed, a lip from which I drank sweetness in the banquet of 
 love, thou shalt, by my order, be imprisoned in the center of 
 a lotos. — Dost thou still disobev me ? 
 
 Mddh. How can he fail to obey, since you denounce so 
 severe a punishment ? — [Aside, laughing.'] — Pie is stark mad with' 
 love and affliction ; whilst I, by keeping him company, shall be 
 as mad as he without either. 
 
 Dushm. After my positive injunction, art thou still un- 
 moved ? 
 
 Misr. [Aside.] How does excess of passion alter even the 
 wife ! 
 
 Mddh. Why, my friend, it is only a painted bee. 
 
 Misr. [Aside.] Oh ! I perceive his mistake : it shows the 
 perfection of the art. But why does he continue musing ? 
 
 Dushm. What ill-natured remark was that? — Whilst I am 
 enjoying the rapture of beholding her to whom my soul is 
 attached, thou, cruel remembrancer, tellest me that it is only a 
 picture. — [Weeping.] 
 
 Misr. [Aside.] Such are the woes of a separated lover ! 
 He is on all sides, entangled in sorrow. 
 
 Dushm. Why do I thus indulge unremitted grief ? That 
 intercourse with my darling which dreams would give, is pre- 
 vented by my continued inability to repose ; and my tears will 
 not suffer me to view her distinctly even in this picture. 
 
 Misr. [Aside.] His misery acquits him entirely of hav- 
 ing deserted her in his perfect senses.
 
 K " sacontala' ; OR, 
 
 The Damsel re-enters. 
 
 Dams. As I was advancing, king, with my box of pen- 
 cils and colors 
 
 Dushn. [Hastily.] What happened ? 
 
 Dams. It was forcibly seized by the queen Vasumati, 
 whom her maid Pingalica had apprised of my errand • and she 
 said : " I will myself deliver the casket to the son of my lord." 
 
 Mddhi How came you to be released ? 
 
 Dams. While the queen's maid was disengaging the skirt 
 of her mantle, which had been caught by the branch of a 
 thorny shrub, I stole away. 
 
 Dushril: Friend Madhavya, my great attention to Vasumati 
 has made her arrogant • and she will soon be here : be it your 
 care to conceal the pictured 
 
 Mddk. [Aside.] I Wish you would conceal it yourself! 
 
 ' [He takes the picture, and rises.] — —[Aloud.] — If, indeed, 
 
 you will disentangle me from the net of your secret apartments, 
 to which I am confined, and suffer me to dwell on the wall 
 Meghach'handa which encircles them, I will hide the picture in 
 a place where none shall see it but pigeons. [He goes out. 
 
 Misr. [Aside.] How honorably he [keeps his former en- 
 gagements, though his heart be now fixed on another object ! 
 
 A Warder enters with a leaf, 
 
 Ward. May the king prosper 1 
 
 Dushm. Warder, hast thou lately seen the queen Vasu- 
 mati ? 
 
 Ward. I met her, king ; but when she perceived the 
 leaf in my hand, she retired. 
 
 Dushm. The queen distinguishes time : she would not 
 impede my public business. 
 
 Ward. The chief minister sends this message « "I have 
 carefully stated a case which has arisen in the city, and accurate- 
 ly committed it to writing : let the king deign to consider it." 
 
 Dushm. Give me the leaf. [Receiving it, and reading.] 
 
 ' " Be it presented at the foot of the king, that a merchant
 
 THE FATAL TUNG. 81 
 
 named Dhanavriddhi, who had extensive commerce at sea, 
 was lost in a late ship-wreck : he had no child born ; and has 
 left a fortune of many millions, which belong, if the kino- 
 commands, to the royal treasury." [With sorrow.'] — Olr! 
 
 how great a misfortune it is to die childless ! Yet with his 
 affluence he must have had many wives : — let an inquiry be 
 made whether any one of them is pregnant. 
 
 Ward. I have heard that his wife, the daughter of an ex- 
 cellent man, named Sacetaca, has already performed the ceremo- 
 nies usual on pregnancy. 
 
 Dushm. The child, though unborn, has a title to his fa- 
 ther's property. Go: bid the minister make my judgment 
 
 public. 
 
 Ward. I obey. [Going. 
 
 Dushm. Stay a while. — — 
 
 Ward. [Returning.] I am here. 
 
 Dushm. Whether he had or had not left offspring, the 
 estate should not have been forfeited. — Let it be proclaimed, 
 that whatever kinsman any one of my subjects may lose, Dush- 
 manta (excepting always the case of forfeiture for crimes) will 
 supply, in tender affection, the place of that kinsman. 
 
 Ward. The proclamation shall be made. [lie goes ot/f. 
 
 [Dushmanta continues meditating^] 
 
 Re-enter Warder. 
 
 king ! the royal decree, which proves that your virtues are 
 awake after a long slumber, was heard with bursts of applause. 
 
 Dushm. [Sighing deeply.] When an illustrious man dies, 
 alas, without an heir, his estate goes to a stranger ; and such 
 will be the fate of all the wealth accumulated by the sons of 
 Puru. 
 
 Ward. Heaven avert the calamity ! [Goes out. 
 
 Dushm, Wo is me ! I am stripped of all the felicity which 
 
 1 once enjoyed. 
 
 Misr. [Aside.] How his heart dwells on the idea of his 
 
 beloved ! 
 
 k
 
 82 SACONTALA' ; OK 
 
 Dushm. My lawful wife, whom I basely deserted, remains 
 fixed in my soul : she would have been the glory of my family, 
 and might have produced a son brilliant as the richest fruit of 
 the teeming earth. 
 
 Misr. [Aside.] She is not forsaken by all; and soon, I 
 trust, will be thine. 
 
 Dams. [Aside;] What a change has the minister made in 
 the king by sending him that mischievous leaf ! Behold, he is 
 ' deluded with tears. 
 
 Dushm. Ah me ! the departed souls of my ancestors, who 
 claim a share in the funeral cake, which I have no son to offer, 
 are apprehensive of losing their due honor, when Dushmanta- 
 
 shall be no more on earth: who then, alas, will perform in 
 
 our family those obsequies which the Veda prescribes ? —My 
 
 forefathers must drink, instead of a pure libation, this flood of 
 tears, the only offering which a man who dies childless can make 
 them. [ Weeping. 
 
 Misr. [Aside.] Such a veil obscures the king's eyes, that he 
 thinks it total darkness, though a lamp be now shining brightly. 
 
 Dams. Afflict not yourself immoderately : our lord is young, 
 and when sons illustrious as himself shall be born of other queens, 
 his ancestors will be redeemed from their offences committed 
 here below. 
 
 Dushm. [ With agony.] The race of Puru, which has hitherto 
 been fruitful and unblemished, ends in me ; as the river Sereswati 
 disappears in a region unworthy of her divine stream. [He faints*. 
 
 Dams. Let the king resume confidence. — [She supports him. 
 
 Misr. [Aside.] Shall 1 restore him? No; he will speedily 
 be roused — I heard the nymph Devajanani consoling Sacontala 
 •in these words : " As the gods delight in their portion of 
 Sacrifices, thus wilt thou soon be delighted by the love of thy 
 husband." I go, therefore, to raise her spirits, and please my 
 friend Manaea with an account of his virtues and his affection. 
 [She rises aloft and disappears. 
 
 Behind the scenes. A Brahmen must not be slain : save 
 the life of a Brahmen.
 
 THE FATAL RING. 83 
 
 Dushm. [Reviving and listening.] Hah ! was not that the 
 plaintive voice of Madhavya ? 
 
 Dams. He has probably been caught with the picture 
 in his hand by Pingalica and the other maids. 
 
 Dushm. Go, Chaturica, and reprove the queen in my name 
 for not restraining her servants. 
 
 Dams. As the king commands. [She goes out. 
 
 Again behind the scenes. I am a Brahmen, and must not be 
 put to death. 
 
 Dushm. It is manifestly some Brahmen in great dan- 
 ger.- Hola ! who is there ? 
 
 The old Chamberlain enters. 
 
 Cham. What is the king's pleasure ? 
 
 Dushm,, Inquire why the faint-hearted Madhavya cries 
 out so piteously. 
 
 Cham. I will know in an instant. [He goes out, and returns 
 trembling. 
 
 Dushm. Is there any alarm, Piirvatayana ? 
 
 Cham. Alarm enough ! 
 
 Dushm. What causes thy tremor ? — Thus do men trem- 
 ble through age : fear shakes the old man's body, as the breeze 
 agitates the leaves of the Pippala. 
 
 Cham. Oh ! deliver thy friend. 
 
 Dushm. Deliver him ! from what ? 
 
 Cham. From distress and danger. 
 
 Dushm. Speak mare plainly. 
 
 Cham. The wall which looks to all quarters of the heavens, 
 and is named, from the clouds which cover it, Meghach'- 
 handa 
 
 Dushm. What of that ? 
 
 Cham. From the summit of that wall, the pinnacle of 
 which is hardly attainable even by the blue-necked pigeons, an 
 evil being, invisible to human eyes, has violently carried away 
 the friend of your childhood. 
 
 Dushm. [Starting up hastily.] What ! are even my secret
 
 S \ SACONTALA' ; OR, 
 
 apartments infested by supernatural agents ? — Royalty is ever 
 subjected to molestation. — A king knows not even the mischiefs 
 which his own negligence daily and hourly occasions: — how 
 then should he know what path his people are treading ; and how 
 should he correct their manners when his own are uncorrected ? 
 
 Behind the scenes. Oh, help ! Oh, release me. 
 
 Dushm. [Listening and advancing. ] Fear not, my friend, 
 fear nothing 
 
 Behind the scenes. Not fear, when a monster has caught me 
 by the nape of my neck, and means to snap my backbone as he 
 would snap a sugar-cane ! 
 
 Dushm. [Darting Ids eyes round, .] Hola ! my bow- > 
 
 A Warder enters with the king's bow and quiver. 
 
 Ward. Here are our great hero's arms, 
 
 [Dushmanta takes his boiv and an arrow 
 Behind the scenes. Here I stand ; and, thirsting for thy fresh 
 
 blood, will slay thee struggling as a tiger slays a calf. -Where 
 
 now is thy protector, Dushmanta, who grasps his bow to defend 
 the oppressed ? 
 
 Dushm. [ Wrath/ idly. ] The demon names me with defiance. 
 — Stay, thou basest of monsters. — Here am I, and thou shalt not 
 long exist. — [Raising his bow.~\ — Show the way, Parvatayana, to 
 the stairs of the terrace. 
 
 Cham. This way, great king ! [All go out hastily. 
 
 Ihe Scene changes to a broad Terrace. 
 
 Enter Dushmanta. 
 
 Dushm. [Looking round.] Ah ! the place is deserted. 
 
 Behind the scenes. Save me, oh ! save me — I see thee, my 
 friend, but thou canst not discern me, who, like a mouse in the 
 claws of a cat, have no hope of life. 
 
 Dushm. But this arrow shall distinguish thee from thy foe, 
 
 in spite of the magic which renders thee invisible. Mad- 
 
 havya, stand firm ; and thou, blood-thirsty fiend, think 
 not of destroying him whom I love and will protect. — See, I 
 thus fix a shaft which shall pierce thee, who deservest death, and
 
 THE FATAL RING. 85 
 
 shall save a Brahmen who deserves long life ; as the celestial bird 
 sips the milk, and leaves the water which has been mino-led with 
 xt - [He draws the bowstring. 
 
 Enter Matali and Madhavya. 
 
 Mdt The god Indra has destined evil demons to fall by thy 
 shafts ; against them let thy bow be drawn, and cast on thy 
 friend's eyes bright with affection. 
 
 Dushm. [Astonished, giving back his arms.] Oh ! Matali, 
 welcome ; I greet the driver of Indra' s car. 
 
 Mddh. What ! this cutthroat was putting me to death, and 
 thou greetest him with a kind welcome ! 
 
 Mdt. [Smiling.] king, live long and conquer ! Hear on 
 what errand I am dispatched by the ruler of the firmament. 
 Dushm. I am humbly attentive. 
 
 Mdt. There is a race of Danavas, the children of Ciilane-^ 
 mi, whom it is found hard to subdue — 
 
 Dushm. This I have heard already from Nared. 
 
 Mdt. The god with an hundred sacrifices, unable to quell 
 that gigantic race, commissions thee, his approved friend, 
 to assail them in the front of battle ; as the sun with seven 
 steeds despairs of overcoming the dark legions of night, and 
 gives way to the moon, who easily scatters them. Mount, there- 
 fore, with me, the car of Indra, and, grasping thy bow, advance 
 to assured victory. 
 
 Dushm. Such a mark of distinction from the prince of 
 good geni honors me highly ; but say why you treated so rough- 
 ly my poor friend Madhavya. 
 
 Mdt. Perceiving that, for some reason or another, you 
 were grievously afflicted, I was desirous to rouse your spirits 
 by provoking you to wrath. — The fire blazes when wood is 
 thrown on it ; the serpent, when provoked, darts his head" 
 against the assailant ; and a man capable of acquiring glory, 
 exerts himself when his courage is excited. 
 
 Dushm. [To Madhavya.] My friend, the command of 
 Divcispetir must instantly be obeyed : go, therefore, and carry
 
 86 sacontala' ; on, 
 
 the intelligence to my chief minister; saying to him in my 
 mime : " Let thy wisdom secure my people from danger while 
 this braced bow has a different employment." 
 
 Mddh — I obey ; but wish it could have been employed 
 without assistance from my terror. [lie goes out. 
 
 Mat. Ascend, great king. 
 
 [Dushmanta ascends, and Matali drives off the car.
 
 THE FATAL RING. 87 
 
 ACT VII. 
 
 Dushmanta with Matali in the car of Tndra, s?ipposed to 
 
 be above the clouds. 
 
 Dushmanta. 
 
 I AM sensible, Matali, that, for having- executed the com- 
 mission which Indra gave me, I deserved not such a profusion 
 of honors. 
 
 Mat. Neither of you is satisfied. You who have conferred 
 so "Teat a benefit on the god of thunder, consider it as a trifling 
 act of devotion ; whilst he reckons not all his kindness equal to 
 the benefit conferred. 
 
 Dushm. There is no comparison between the service and 
 the reward. — He surpassed my warmest expectation, when, be- 
 fore he dismissed me, he made me sit on half of his throne, thus 
 exalting me before all the inhabitants of the Empyreum ; and 
 smiling to see his son Jayanta, who stood near him, ambitious. 
 of the same honor, perfumed my bosom with essence of heavenly 
 sandal wood, throwing over my neck a garland of flowers blown 
 in paradise. 
 
 MM. king, you deserve all imaginable rewards from the 
 sovereign of good genii ; whose empyreal feats have twice been 
 disentangled from the thorns of Darin's race ; formerly by the 
 claws of the man-lion, and lately by thy unerring shafts. 
 
 Dashm. My victory proceeded wholly from the auspices 
 of the god; as on earth, when servants prosper in great enter- 
 prises, they owe their success to the magnificence of their lords. 
 
 Could Arun dispel the shades of night if the deity with a 
 
 thousand beams had not placed him before the car of day ? ' 
 
 Mat. That case, indeed, is parallel. — [Driving slowly.] —   
 See, king, the full exaltation of thy glory, which now rides 
 on the back of heaven ! The delighted genii have been collect- 
 ing, among the trees of life, those crimson and azure dyes, with
 
 88 sacoxtala' ; OR, 
 
 which the celestial damsels tinge their beautiful feet ; and they 
 now are writing thy actions in verses worthy of divine melody. 
 
 Dushm. [Modestly.'] In my transport, Matali, after the 
 rout of the giants, this wonderful place had escaped my notice. — 
 In what path of the winds are we now journeying ? 
 
 Mat This is the way which leads along the triple river, 
 heaven's brightest ornament, and causes yon luminaries to roll 
 in a circle with diffused beams : it is the course of a gentle 
 breeze which supports the floating for ms of the gods ; and this 
 path was the second step of Vishnu, when he confounded the 
 proud Vali. 
 
 Dushm. My internal soul, which a^ts by exterior organs, 
 
 is filled by the sight with a charming complacency. [Looking 
 
 at the wheels,] — We are now passing, I guess, through the region 
 of clouds. 
 
 Mat. Whence do you form that conjecture ? 
 
 Dushm. The car itself instructs me that we are mo vine; 
 over clouds pregnant with showers ; for the circumference of its 
 wheels disperses pellucid water ; the horses of Indra sparkle 
 with lightning; : and I now see the warbling; Chatacas descend 
 from their nests on the summits of mountains. 
 
 Mat. It is even so ; and in another moment you will be in 
 the country which you govern. 
 
 Dushm. [Looking clown. J Through the rapid, yet impercep- 
 tible, descent of the heavenly steeds, I now perceive the allotted 
 
 station of men. 'Astonishing prospect ! It is yet so distant 
 
 from us, that the low lands appear confounded with the high 
 mountain tops ; the trees erect their branchy shoulders, but 
 seem leafless ; the rivers look like bright lines, but their waters 
 vanish ; and, at this instant, the globe of earth seems thrown 
 upwards by some stupendous power. 
 
 Mat. [Looking with reverence on the earthy How delightful 
 is the abode of mankind ! — king, you saw distinctly. 
 
 Dushm. Say, Matali, what mountain is that which, like an 
 evening cloud, pours exhilarating streams, and forms a golden 
 zone between the western and eastern seas ?
 
 THE FATAL KING. 89 
 
 Mat. That, king, is the mountain of Gandharvas, named 
 Hemacuta : the universe contains not a more excellent place 
 for the successful devotion of the pious. There Casyapa, father 
 of the immortals, ruler of men, son of Marichi, who sprang from 
 the self-existent, resides with his comfort Aditi, blessed in holy 
 retirement. 
 
 Dushm. [Devoutly.] This occasion of attaining good fortune 
 must not be neglected : may I approach the divine pair, and do 
 them complete homage ? 
 
 Mat. By all means. — It is an excellent idea ! — We arc now 
 descended on earth. 
 
 Dushm. [With iconder.] These chariot wheels yield no 
 sound ; no dust arises from them ; and the descent of the car 
 gave me no shock. 
 
 Mai. Such is the difference, king, between thy car and 
 that of Indra ! 
 
 Dushm. Where is the hol} r retreat of Marichi ? 
 
 Mat. [Pointing.'] A little beyond that grove, where you 
 see a pious Yogi, motionless as a pollard, holding his thick 
 bushy hair, and fixing his eyes on the solar orb. — Mark ; his 
 body is half covered with a Avhitc ant's edifice made of raised 
 clay ; the skin of a snake supplies the place of his sacerdotal 
 thread, and part of it girds his loins ; a number of knotty plants 
 encircle and wound his neck ; and surrounding bird's nests 
 almost conceal his shoulders. 
 
 Dushm. I bow to a man of his austere devotion. 
 
 Mat. [Checking the reins.] Thus far, and enough. — We 
 now enter the sanctuary of him who rules the world, and the 
 groves which are watered by streams from celestial sources. 
 
 Dushm. This asylum is more delightful than paradise 
 itself: I could fancy myself bathing in a pool of nectar. 
 
 Mdt. [Stopping the car.] Let the king descend. 
 
 Dushm. [Joyfully descending.] How canst thou leave the enr ? 
 
 Mdt. On such an occasion it will remain fixed : we may 
 
 both leave it. — This w;i\\ victorious hero, this way. — Behold f 
 
 retreat of the truly pious. 
 
 i
 
 90 sacontala' j OR, 
 
 Dushm. I sec with equal amazement both the pious and 
 their awful retreat. — It becomes, indeed, pure spirits to feed on 
 balmy air in a forest blooming with trees of life ; to bathe in 
 rills dyed yellow with the golden dust of the lotos, and to 
 fortify their virtue in the mysterious bath ; to meditate in 
 caves, the pebbles of which are unblemished gems ; and to' 
 restrain their passions, even though nymphs of exquisite beauty 
 frolic around them : in this grove alone is attained the summit 
 of true piety, to which other hermits in vain aspire. 
 
 Mdtr In exalted minds the desire of perfect excellence 
 continually increases. — [Turning aside.'] — Tell me, Vriddhasd- 
 calya, in What business is the divine son of Marichi now en- 
 gaged ? — What sayestthou ? — Is he conversing with the daugh- 
 ter of Dacsha, who practises all the virtues of a dutiful wife, and 
 is consulting him on moral questions ? — -Then we must await 
 his leisure. — [To Dushmanta.] Rest, king, under the shade 
 of this Asoca tree, whilst I announce thy arrival to the father 
 of Indra. 
 
 Dushm. As you judge right. [Matali goes out. — Dush- 
 manta feels his right arm throb.] Why, my arm, dost thou 
 Hatter me with a vain omen ? — My former happiness is lost, and 
 misery only remains. 
 
 Behind the scenes. Be not so restless' : in every situation 
 thou showest thy bad temper. 
 
 Dushm, [Listening.] Hah ! this is no place, surely, for a 
 
 malignant disposition. Who can be thus rebuked ? — [Look-' 
 
 ing with surprise.] — I see a child, but with no childish counte- 
 nance or strength, whom two female anchorites are endeavouring 
 to keep in order ; while he forcibly pulls towards him, in rough 
 play, a lion's whelp with a torn mane, who seems just dragged 
 from the half-sucked nipple of the lioness ! 
 
 A little Boy and two female Attendants are discovered, as des- 
 cribed by the king. 
 
 Boy. Open thy mouth, lion's whelp, that I may count thy 
 
 teeth. 
 
 First Atten. Intractable child ! Why dost thou torment
 
 THE FATAL RING. 91 
 
 the wild animals of this forest, whom we cherish as if they were 
 
 our own offspring ? Thou seemest even to sport in anger. 
 
 Aptly have the hermits named thee Servademana, since 
 
 thou tamest all creatures. 
 
 Dushm. Ah ! what means it that my heart inclines to this 
 boy as if he were my own son ? — [Meditating.] — Alas ! I have 
 no son ; and the reflection makes rtfe once more soft-hearted. 
 
 Second Atten. The lioness will tear thee to pieces if thou 
 release not her whelp. 
 
 Boy. [Smiling.'] Oh ! I am greatly afraid of her to be sure! 
 
 [He bites his lip, as in defiance of her. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside, amazed.] The child exhibits the rudiments 
 /of heroic valour, and looks like fire which blazes from the 
 addition of dry fuel. 
 
 First Atten. My beloved child, set at liberty this young 
 prince of wild beasts ; and I will give thee a prettier plaything. 
 
 Boy. Give it first. — Where is it ? [Stretching out his hand. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside, gazing on the child's palm.] What ! the 
 very palm of his hand bears the marks of empire ; and whilst 
 he thus eagerly extends it, shows its lines of exquisite network, 
 and glows like a lotos expanded at early dawn, when the ruddy 
 splendour of its petals hides all other tints in obscurity. 
 
 Second Atten. Mere words, my Suvrita, will not pacify 
 him. — Go, I pray, to my cottage, where thou wilt find a play- 
 thing made for the hermit's child, Sancara ; it is a peacock of 
 earthen-ware painted with rich colors. 
 
 First Atten. I will bring it speedily. [She goes out. 
 
 Boy. In the mean time I will play with the young lion- 
 
 Second Atten. [Looking at him with a .smile.] Let liimgo, I 
 entreat thee. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] I feel the tenderest affection for this un- 
 manageable child. [Sighing.] — How sweet must be the delight 
 of virtuous fathers, when they soil their bosoms with dusl by 
 lifting up their playful children, who charm them with inarticulate 
 prattle, and show the white blossoms of their teeth, while tiny 
 Jaugh innocently at every trifling occurrence !
 
 92 sacontala' ; OR, 
 
 Second Aden. [Raising her finger. ,] What ! dost tliou show 
 no attention to me ! — [Looking iv/md.]—Ave any of the hermits 
 near ! — [Seeing Dushmanta.] — Oh! Let me request yon, gentle 
 stranger, to release the lion's whelp, ay ho cannot disengage him- 
 self from the grasp of this robust child. 
 
 Dushm. I will endeavour, — [Approaching the Boy and 
 $milvng.~\—0 thou, ayIio art the son of a pious anchorite, how 
 canst thou dishonor thy father, Avhom thy virtues would make 
 happy, by violating the rules of this consecrated forest ? It be- 
 comes a black serpent only, to infest the boughs of a fragrant 
 sandal tree. [The Boy releases the lion. 
 
 Second Atten. I thank you, courteous guest ; — but he is 
 not the son of an anchorite. 
 
 Dushm.. His actions, indeed, which are conformable to his 
 robustness, indicate a different birth : but my opinion arose 
 from the sanctity of the place Avhich he inhabits. — [Taking the 
 Boy fry the hand.] — [Aside.] — Oh ! since it gives me such de- 
 light merely to touch the hand of this child, ay ho is the hopeful 
 scion of a family unconnected with mine, what rapture must be 
 felt by the fortunate man from whom he sprang ? 
 
 Second Atten. [Gazing on them alternately^ wonderful ! 
 
 Dushm. What has raised your wonder ? 
 
 Second Atten. The astonishing resemblance between the 
 child and you, gentle stranger, to whom he bears no relation. — 
 It surprised me also to see, that although he has childish hu- 
 mours, and had no former acquaintance with you, yet your 
 words have restored him to his natural good temper. 
 
 Dushm. [Raising the Boy io his bosom.] Holy matron, 
 if he be not the son of a hermit, what then is the name of his 
 . family ? 
 
 Second Atten.- He is descended from Puru. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] Hah ! thence, no doubt, springs his dis- 
 position, and my affection for him. — [Setting him down.] — 
 [Aloud.] It is, I know, an established usage among the princes 
 of Puru's race, to dwell at first in, rich palaces with stuccoed 
 Walls, where they protect and cherish the world, but in the d"-
 
 THE FATAL RING. 'X.) 
 
 cline of life to seek humbler mansions near the roots of venerable 
 trees, where hermits with subdued passions practise austere devo- 
 tion. — I wonder, however, that this boy, who moves like a god, 
 could have been born of a mere mortal. 
 
 Second Atten. Affable stranger, your wonder will cease 
 when you know that his mother is related to a celestial nymph, 
 and brought him forth in the sacred forest of Casyapa. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside:] I am transported. — This is a fresh 
 ground of hope. — [Aloud.'] — What virtuous monarch took his ex r 
 cellent mother by the hand ? 
 
 Second Atten. Oh ! I must not give celebrity to the name 
 of a king who deserted his lawful wife. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] Ah ! she means me. — Let me now ask 
 the name of the sweet child's mother. — [Meditating.] — But it 
 is against good manners to inquire concerning the wife of 
 another man. 
 
 The First Attendant re-enters with a toy. 
 
 First Atten. Look, Servademana, look at the beauty of this 
 bird, Saconta hivanyam. 
 
 Boy. [LooFiny eagerly round.] Sacontahi ! Oh, where is 
 my beloved mother ? [Both Attendants laugh. 
 
 First Atten. He tenderly loves his mother, and was de- 
 ceived by an equivocal phrase. 
 
 Second Atten. My child,, she meant only the beautiful 
 shape and colors of this peacock. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside.] Is my Sacontahi then his mother ? Or has 
 that dear name been given to some other woman ? — This conver- 
 sation resembles the fallacious appearance of water in a desert, 
 which cads in bitter disappointment to the .-tag parched with 
 thiri J. 
 
 Boy. I shall like the peacock if it can run "and fly ; not 
 else. [lie talcs if. 
 
 First Atten. [Lookiny round in confusion.] Alas, the child's 
 amulet is not on his wrist !
 
 9 I sacontala' ; or, 
 
 Dushm. Be not alarmed. It was dropped while lie was 
 playing with the Hon : I see it, and will put it into your hand. 
 Both. Oh ! beware of touching it. 
 First Atten. Alj ! he has actually taken it up. 
 
 \T1ipy both gaze with surprise on each other. 
 
 I) it shin. Here it is ; but why would you have restrained 
 me from touching this bright s;eiii ? 
 
 Second Atten. Great monarch, this divine amulet has a won- 
 derful power, and was given to the child by the son of Marichi, as 
 soon as the sacred rites had been performed after his birth : when- 
 ever it fell on the ground, no human being but the father or 
 mother of this boy could have touched it unhurt. 
 
 Dushm. What if a stranger had taken it ? 
 
 First Atten. It would have become a serpent and wounded 
 him. 
 
 Dushm. Have you seen that consequence on any similar 
 occasion ? 
 
 Both. Frequently. 
 
 Dushm. [With transport.] I may then exult on the comple- 
 tion of niy ardent desire. [lie embraces the child. 
 
 Second Atten. Come, Suvrita, let us carry the delightful 
 intelligence to Sacontala, whom the harsh duties of a separated 
 wife have so long oppressed. [ The Attendants go out. 
 
 Boy. Farewell ; I must go to my mother. 
 
 Dushm. My darling son, thqu wilt make her happy by 
 going to her with me. 
 
 Boy. Dushmanta is my father ; and you are not Dushmanta. 
 Dushm. Even thy denial of me gives me delight. 
 
 Sacontala enters in mourning ajiparel, with her long hair twisted 
 in a single braid, and flowing down her back. 
 
 Sac. [Aside.~] Having heard that my child's amulet has 
 proved its divine power, I must either be strangely diffident of 
 my good fortune, or that event which Misracesi predicted has 
 actually happened. [Advancing.
 
 THE FATAL EING. 
 
 Diiskm. [With a mixture of joy and sorrow.] Ah ! do I see 
 
 the incomparable Sacontala clad in sordid weeds ? Her face 
 
 is emaciated by the performance of austere duties ; one twisted 
 lock floats over her shoulder ; and with a mind perfectly pure, 
 she supports the long absence of her husband, whose unkind- 
 ness exceeded all bounds. 
 
 Sac. [Seeing him, yet doubting.] Is that the son of my lord 
 grown pale with penitence and affliction ? — If not, who is it, 
 that sullies with his touch the hand of my child, whose amulet . 
 should have preserved him from such indignity ? 
 
 Boy. [Going hastily to Sacontala.] Mother, here is a stran- 
 ger who calls me son. 
 
 Dushm. Oh ! my best beloved, I have treated thee cruelly ; 
 but my cruelty is succeeded by the warmest affection ; and I 
 implore your remembrance and forgiveness. 
 
 Sac. [Aside.-] Be confident, my heart ! — [Aloud.] — I 
 shall be most happy when the king's anger has passed away. — 
 
 Sac. [Aside.] — This must be the son of my lord. 
 
 Dushm. By the kindness of heaven, loveliest of thy sex, 
 thou standest again before me, whose memory was obscured by 
 the gloom of fassination ; as the star Rohini at the end of an 
 eclipse rejoins her beloved moon. 
 
 Sac. May the king be — [She bursts into tears. 
 
 Dushm. My darling, though the word victorious be sup- 
 pressed by thy weeping, yet I must have victory, since I see 
 thee again, though with pale lips and a body unadorned. 
 
 Boy. What man is this, mother ? 
 
 Sac. Sweet child, ask the divinity, who presides over the 
 fortunes of us both. [She weeps: 
 
 Dushm. my only beloved, banish from thy mind my 
 cruel desertion of thee. — A violent phrensy overpowered my 
 soul. — Such, when the darkness of illusion prevails, are the 
 actions of the best intentioned ; as a blind man, when a friend 
 binds his head with a wreath of flowers, mistakes it for a twining 
 snake, and foolishly rejects it. [He falls at her feet. 
 
 Sac. Rise, my husband, oh ! rise — My happiness has been
 
 D6 SACONTALA' ; OR, 
 
 long interrupted ; but joy now succeeds to affliction, since the 
 son of my lord still loves me. — [lie rises.] — How was the re- 
 membrance of this unfortunate woman restored to the mind of 
 my lord's son ? 
 
 Dushm. "When the dart of misery shall be wholly extract- 
 ed from my bosom, 1 will tell yon all ; but since the anguish of 
 my soul has in part ceased, let me first wipe off that tear which 
 trickles from thy delicate eye-lash ; and thus efface the memory 
 of all the tears which my delirium has made thee shed. 
 
 [Ue stretches out his hand; 
 
 Sac. {Wiping off Iter tears, and seeing the ring on his 
 finger.'] Ah! is that the fatal ring ! 
 
 Dushm. Yes ; by the surprising recovery of it my memory 
 was restored. 
 
 Sac. Its influence, indeed, has been great • since it has 
 brought back the lost confidence of my husband. 
 
 Dushm. Take it then, as a beautiful plant receives a flower 
 from the returning season of joy. 
 
 Sac. I cannot again trust it. — Let it be worn by the son 
 of my lord. 
 
 Matali enters. 
 
 Mat. V>y the will of heaven the king has happily met his 
 beloved wife, and seen the countenance of his little son. 
 
 Dushm. It was by the company of my friend that my 
 desire attained maturity. — But say, was not this fortunate event 
 previously known to Indra ? 
 
 Mat. [Smiling.] What is unknown to the gods ? — But 
 come: the divine Maricha desires to see thee. 
 
 Dushm. Beloved, take our son by the hand ; and let me 
 present you both to the father of immortals. 
 
 Sac. I really am ashamed, even in thy presence, to ap- 
 proach the deities. 
 
 Dushm. It is highly proper on so happy an occasion — 
 Come, I intreat thee. [They all advance.
 
 THE FATAL RING. 97 
 
 The scene is withdrawn, and Casyapa is discovered on a throne 
 
 conversing icith Aditi. 
 
 Cas. [Pointing to the king.] That, daughter of Dacsha, 
 is the hero who led the squadrons of thy son to the front of bat- 
 tle, a sovereign of the earth, Dushmanta ; hv the means of whose 
 bow the thunder-bolt of Indra (all its work being accomplished) 
 is now a mere ornament of his heavenly palace. 
 
 Adi. He bears in his form all the marks of exalted ma- 
 jesty. 
 
 Mat. [Zb Dushmanta.] The parents of the twelve Adityas, 
 king, are gazing on thee, as qn their own offspring, with eyes 
 of affection. — Approach them, illustrious prince. 
 
 Dushm. Are those, Matali, the divine pair, sprung from 
 Alarichi and Dacsha ? — Are those the grand-children of Brahma 
 to whom the self-existent gave birth in the beginning ; whom 
 inspired mortals pronounce the fountain of glory apparent in the 
 form of twelve suns ; they who produced my benefactor, the lord 
 of a hundred sacrifices, and ruler of three worlds ? 
 
 Mat, Even they — [Prostrating himself with Dushmanta.] — 
 Great beings, the king Dushmanta, who has executed the com- 
 mands of your son Yasava, falls humbly before your throne. 
 Cas. Continue long to rule the world. 
 Adi. Long be a warrior with a car unshattered in combat. 
 
 [Sacontala and her son prostrate themselves. 
 
 Cas. Daughter, may thy husband be like Indra ! May thy 
 
 son resemble Jayanta ! And mayst thou (whom no benediction 
 
 could better suit) be equal in prosperity to the daughter of 
 
 JPuloman ! 
 
 Adi. Preserve, my child, a constant unity with thy lord : 
 and may this boy, for a great length of years, be the ornament 
 and joy of you both ! Now be seated near us. [ They all sit down. 
 Cas. [Looking at them by turns.'] Sacontala is the model 
 of excellent wives ; her son is dutiful ; and thou, king, 
 hast three rare advantages, true piety, abundant wealth, and 
 active virtue. 
 
 Dushm. divine being, having obtained the former ob- 
 
 m
 
 08 sacontala' ; or 
 
 jeet of my most ardent wishes, I now have reached the summit 
 of earthly happiness through thy favor, and thy benizon will en- 
 sure its permanence. — First appears the flower, then the fruit ; 
 first clouds are collected, then the shower falls : such is the re- 
 gular course of causes and effects ; and thus, when thy in- 
 dulgence preceded, felicity generally followed. 
 
 Mat Great indeed, king, has been the kindness of the 
 primeval Brahmens. 
 
 Duslun. Bright son of Marfchi, this thy heftidmaid was 
 married to me by the ceremony of Gandharvas, and, after a 
 time, was conducted to my palace by some of her family ; but 
 my memory having failed through delirium, I rejected her, and 
 thus committed a grievous effence against the venerable Canna, 
 who is of thy divine lineage : afterwards, on seeing this fatal 
 ring, I remembered my love and my nuptials ; but the whole 
 transaction yet fills me with wonder. My soul was confounded 
 with strange ignorance that obscured my senses ; as if a man 
 were to see an elephant marching before him, yet to doubt what 
 animal it could be, till he discovered by the traces of his large 
 feet that it was an elephant. 
 
 Gas. Cease, my son, to charge thyself with an offence com- 
 mitted ignorantly, and, therefore, innocently.— Now hear me — 
 
 JDushm. I am devoutly attentive : 
 
 Cos. When the nymph Meiiaca led Sacontala from the 
 place where thy desertion of her had afflicted her soul, she brought 
 her to the palace of Aditi ; and I knew, by the power of medita- 
 tion on the Supreme Being, that thy forgetfulness of thy pious 
 and lawful consort had proceeded from the imprecation of 
 Durvasas, and that the charm Would terminate on the sight of 
 thy ring. 
 
 Dushm. [Aside] My name then is cleared from infamy. 
 
 Sac. Happy am I that the son of my lord, who now re- 
 cognises me, denied me through i<morance, and not with real 
 
 aversion. -The terrible imprecation was heard, I suppose, 
 
 when my mind was intent on a different object, by my two be- 
 loved friends, who, with extreme affection, concealed it from me
 
 THE FATAL RIXG. H9 
 
 to spare my feelings, but advised me at parting to show the ring 
 if my husband should have forgotten me. 
 
 Cas. [Turning to SacontalaJ Thou art apprised, my 
 daughter, of the whole truth, and must no longer resent the be- 
 haviour of thy lord. He rejected thee when his memory was 
 
 impaired by the force of a charm ; and when the gloom was dis- 
 pelled, his conjugal affection revived ; as a mirror whose surface 
 has been sullied, reflects no image ; but exhibits perfect resem- 
 blances when its polish has been restored. 
 
 Dushm. Such, indeed, was my situation. 
 
 Cas. My son Dushmanta, hast thou embraced thy child by 
 Sacontala, on whose birth I myself performed the ceremonies 
 prescribed in the Veda ? 
 
 Dushm. Holy Marichi, he is the glory of my house. 
 
 Cas. Know too, that his heroic virtue will raise him to 
 a dominion extended from sea to sea : before he has passed the 
 ocean of mortal life, he shall rule, unequalled in combat, this 
 earth with seven peninsulas ; and, as he now is called Servade- 
 mana, because he tames even in childhood the fiercest animals, 
 so, in his riper years, he shall acquire the name of Bhereta, be- 
 cause he shall sustain and nourish the world. 
 
 Dushn. A boy educated by the son of Marichi, must attain 
 the summit of greatness. 
 
 Adi. Now let Sacontala, who is restored to happiness, convey 
 intelligence to Canna of all these events : her mother Menacd is 
 in my family, and knows all that has passed. 
 
 Sac. The goddess proposes what I most ardently wish. 
 
 Cas. By the force of true piety the whole scene will be pre- 
 sent to the mind of Canna. 
 
 Duslmu The devout sage must be still excessively indignant 
 at my frantic behaviour. 
 
 Cas. [Meditating. ~] Then let him hear from me the delight- 
 ful news, that his foster-child has been tenderly reccixo I by her 
 husband, and that both are happy with the little warrior who 
 sprang from them. — llola. ! who is in waiting ?
 
 h kacontala' • OR, 
 
 A Pupil enters. 
 
 Pup. Great being, I am here. 
 
 Cos. Hasten, Golava, through the light air, and in my name 
 inform the venerable Canria, that Sacontald has a charming son 
 by Dushmanta, whose affection for her was restored with his 
 remembrance, on the termination of the spell raised by the angry 
 Durvasas. 
 
 Pup. As the divinity commands. [He goes out. 
 
 Cas. My son, reascend the car Of Indra with thy consort 
 and child, and return happy to thy imperial seat. 
 
 JDushm. Be it as Marichi ordains. 
 
 Cas. Henceforth may the god of the atmosphere with copious 
 rain give abundance to thy affectionate subjects ; and mayst 
 thou with frequent sacrifices maintain the thunderer's friend- 
 ship ! By numberless interchanges of good offices between you 
 both, may benefits reciprocally be conferred on the inhabitants 
 of tlie two worlds ! 
 
 Dushm. Powerful being, I will be studious, as far as I am 
 able to attain that felicity, 
 
 Cas. What other favors can I bestow on thee ? 
 
 Duskm. Can any favors exceed those already bestowed ? 
 
 Let every king appply himself to the attainment of happiness for 
 his people ; let Sereswati, the goddess of liberal arts, be adored by 
 all readers of the Veda ; and may Siva, with an azure neck and 
 red locks, eternally potent and self-existing, avert from me the 
 pain of another birth in this perishable world, the seat of crimes 
 and of punishment. [All go out. 
 
 FINIS. 
 
 Printed at the Britannia Press, No. 1, Wellington Street, Calcutta*
 
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