BOOK XII.

Slain that savage wild-beast hunter — onward went the lotus-eyed,

Through the dread, and desert forest — ringing with the cricket's song;

Full of lions, pards, and tigers — stags, and buffalos, and bears,

Where all kinds of birds were flocking — and wild men and robbers dwelt.

Trees of every form and stature— every foliage, every name;

Pregnant with rich mines of metal — many a mountain it enclosed,

Many a shady resonant arbour — many a deep and wondrous glen;

Many a lake, and pool, and river — birds and beasts of every shape.

She, in forms terrific round her — serpents, elves, and giants saw:

Pools, and tanks of lucid water — and the shaggy tops of hills,

Flowing streams and headlong torrents — saw, and wondered at the sight.

And the princess of Vidarbha — gazed where in their countless herds,

Buffalos and bears were feeding — boars, and serpents of the wood.

Safe in virtue, bright in beauty — glorious and of high resolve,

Now alone, Vidarbha's daughter — wandering, her lost Nala sought.

Yet no fear king Bhima's daughter — for herself might deign to feel,

Travelling the dreary forest — only for her lord distressed;

Him she mourned, that noble princess — him in bitterest anguish wailed,

Every limb with sorrow trembling — stood she on a beetling rock;

“Monarch, with broad chest capacious — monarch with the sinewy arm,

Me in this dread forest leaving — whither hast thou fled away?

Thou the holy Aswamedha — thou each sacrificial rite,

Hast performed, to me, me only — in thy holy faith thou'st failed.

That which thou, O best of husbands — in mine hearing hast declared,

Thy most solemn vow remember — call to mind thy plighted faith.

Of the swift-winged swans the language — uttered, monarch, by thy side,

That thyself, before my presence — didst renew, bethink thee well.

Thou the Vedas, thou the Angas — with the Upangas oft hast read,

Of each heaven-descended volume — one and simple is the truth.

Therefore, of thy foes the slayer!— reverence thou the sacred truth

Of thy solemn plighted promise — in my presence sworn so oft.

Am not I the loved so dearly — purely, sinlessly beloved;

In this dark and awful forest — wherefore dost thou not reply?

Here with monstrous jaws wide yawning — with his fierce and horrid form,

Gapes the forest king to slay me — and thou art not here to save.

None but I, thou'st said, for ever — none but I to thee am dear!

Make this oft-repeated language — make this oft-sworn promise true.

To thy queen bereft of reason — to thy weeping wife beloved,

Why repliest thou not — her only thou desir'st — she only thee.

Meagre, miserable, pallid — tainted with the dust and mire,

Scantly clad in half a garment — lone, with no protector near;

Like a large-eyed hind that wanders — separate from the wonted herd,

Thou regard'st me not, thus weeping — oh thou tamer of thy foes.

Mighty king, a lonely wanderer — in this vast and trackless wood,

Damayanti, I address thee — wherefore answerest not my voice?

Nobly born, and nobly minded — beautiful in every limb,

Do I not e'en now behold thee — in this mountain, first of men,

In this lion-haunted forest — in this tiger-howling wood,

Lying down or seated, standing — or in majesty and might

Moving, do I not behold thee — the enhancer of my woe?

Who shall I address, afflicted — wasted by my grief away;

‘ Hast thou haply seen my Nala — in the solitary wood?’

Who this day will show the monarch — wandering in the forest depth,

Beautiful and royal-minded — conqueror of an host of foes!

‘ Him thou seek'st with eyes of lotus — Nala, sovereign of men —

Lo, he's here!’ whose voice of music — may I hear thus sweetly speak?

Lo, with fourfold tusks before me — and with wide and gaping jaws,

Stands the forest king, the tiger — I approach him without fear.

Of the beasts art thou the monarch — all this forest thy domain,

For the daughter of Vidarbha — Damayanti, know thou me,

Consort of Nishadha's sovereign — Nala, slayer of his foes —

Seeking here my exile husband — lonely, wretched, sorrow-driven,

Thou, O king of beasts, console me — if my Nala thou hast seen;

Or, O lord of all the forest — Nala if thou canst not show,

Best of savage beasts, devour me — from my misery set me free.

Hearing thus my lamentation-now does that fell king of beasts

Go towards the crystal river — flowing downward to the sea.’ —

To this mountain then the holy — crowned with many a lofty peak,

In its soul-exalting splendour — rising, many-hued, to heaven;

Full within of precious metal — rich with many a glowing gem,

Rising o'er the spreading forest — like a banner broad and high,

Ranged by elephants and lions — tigers, bears, and boars, and stags;

And of many birds the voices — sweetly sound o'er all its cliffs;

All the trees of richest foliage— all the trees of stateliest height,

All the flowers and golden fruitage — on its crested summits wave,

Down its peaks in many a streamlet — dip the water-birds their wings:

This, the monarch of all mountains — ask I of the king of men;

‘ O, all-honoured Prince of Mountains, with thy heaven-ward soaring peaks,

Refuge of the lost, most noble — thee, O Mountain, I salute;

I salute thee, lowly bowing — I, the daughter of a king;

Of a king the royal consort — of a king's son I the bride.

Of Vidarbha the great sovereign — mighty hero is my sire.

Named the lord of earth, king Bhima — of each caste the guardian he;

Of the holy Aswamedha — of the regal sacrifice,

He the offerer, best of monarchs — known by his commanding eye,

Pious, and of life unblemished — true in word, of generous speech,

Affable, courageous, prosperous — skilled in every duty, pure.

Of Vidarbha the protector — conqueror of a host of foes;

Know me of that king the daughter — lowly thus approaching thee.

In Nishadha, mighty Mountain! dwelt the father of my lord.

High the name he won, the illustrious — Virasena was he called.

Of this king the son, the hero — prosperous and truly brave,

He who rules his father's kingdom — by hereditary right,

Slayer of his foes, dark Nala — Punyasloka is he called;

Holy, Veda read, and eloquent — soma quaffing, fire adoring,

Sacrificer, liberal giver — warrior, in all points a king,—

Of this monarch, best of mountains — know, the wife before thee stands.

Fallen from bliss, bereft of husband — unprotected, sorrow-doomed,

Seeking every where her husband — him the best of noblest men.

Best of mountains, heaven-upsoaring — with thy hundred stately peaks,

Hast thou seen the kingly Nala — in this dark and awful wood:

Like the elephant in courage — wise, impetuous, with long arms,

Valiant, and of truth unquestioned — my heroic, glorious lord;

Hast thou seen Nishadha's sovereign — mighty Nala hast thou seen?

Why repliest thou not, oh Mountain — sorrowing, lonely, and distressed,

With thy voice why not console me — as thine own afflicted child?

Hero, mighty, strong in duty — true of promise, lord of earth,

If thou art within the forest — show thee in thy proper form.

When so eloquently deep-toned — like the sound of some dark cloud,

Shall I hear thy voice, oh Nala!— sweet as the amrita draught,

Saying,‘ daughter of Vidarbha!’ — with distinct, with blessed sound,

Musical as holy Veda — rich, and soothing all my pain;

Thus console me, trembling, fainting — thou, oh virtue-loving king!”

To the holiest of mountains — spake the daughter of the king.

Damayanti then set forward — toward the region of the north.

Three days long, three nights she wandered — then that noble woman saw,

The unrivalled wood of hermits — like to a celestial grove.

To the ancient famous hermits— equal was that sacred crew;

Self-denying, strict in diet— temperate, and undefiled;

Water-drinking, air inhaling — and the leaves their simple food;

Mortified, for ever blessed — seeking the right way to heaven;

Bark for vests and skins for raiment — wore those hermits, sense-subdued.

She beheld the pleasant circle — of those hermits’ lonely cells;

Round them flocks of beasts were grazing — wantoned there the monkey tribes.

When she saw those holy dwellings — all her courage was revived.

Lovely browed, and lovely tressed — lovely bosom'd, lovely lipp'd,

In her brightness, in her glory — with her large dark beauteous eyes,

Entered she those hermit dwellings — wife of Virasena's son;

Pearl of women, ever blessed-Damayanti the devout,

She those holy men saluting — stood with modest form half bent.

“Hail, and welcome!” thus those hermits — instant with one voice exclaimed.

And those sacred men no sooner — had the fitting homage paid,

“Take thy seat,” they said, “oh lady— and command what we must do.”

Thus replied the slender waisted — “Blessed are ye, holy men.

In your sacred fires, your worship— blameless, with your beasts and birds.

Doth the grace of heaven attend you — in your duties, in your deeds?”

Answered they, “The grace of heaven — ever blesses all our deeds.

But say thou, of form so beauteous — who thou art, and what thou would'st?

As thy noble form we gaze on — on thy brightness as we gaze,

In amaze we stand and wonder — cheer thee up, and mourn no more.

Of the wood art thou the goddess — or the mountain goddess thou;

Or the goddess of the river?— Blessed Spirit, speak the truth.

Nor the sylvan goddess am I,” — to the Wise she thus replied;

“Neither of the mountain, Brahmins — nor the river nymph am I.

Know me but a mortal being — O, ye rich in holiness!

All my tale at length, I'll tell ye — if meet audience ye will give.

In Vidarbha, mighty guardian — Bhima, dwells the lord of earth;

Of that noble king the daughter — twice-born Sages, know ye me.

And the monarch of Nishadha — Nala named, the great in fame;

Brave in battle, conqueror, prudent — is my lord, the peasants’ king;

To the gods devout in worship — friendly to the Brahmin race,

Of Nishadha's race the guardian — great in glory, great in might,

True in word, and skilled in duty — and the slayer of his foes.

Pious, heaven-devoted, prosperous — conqueror of hostile towns;

Nala named, the best of sovereigns — splendid as the king of gods.

Know that large-eyed chief, my husband — like the full-orbed moon his face,

Giver he of costly offerings — deep in th’ holy volumes read;

Slayer of his foes in battle — glorious as the sun and moon.

He to some most evil minded — unrespected, wicked men,

After many a challenge, studious — he of virtue and of truth,

To these skilful gamesters, fraudful — lost his kingdom and his wealth.

Know ye me the hapless consort — of that noble king of kings,

Damayanti, so they name me — yearning for my husband's sight.

I through forests, over mountains — stagnant marsh and river broad,

Lake with wide pellucid surface — through the long and trackless wood,

Ever seeking for my husband — Nala, skilful in the fight.

Mighty in the use of weapons — wander desolate and sad.

Tell me, to this pleasant sojourn — sacred to these holy men,

Hath he come, the royal Nala?— hath Nishadha's monarch come?

For whose sake through ways all trackless — terrible, have I set forth,

In this drear, appalling forest — where the lynx and tiger range,

If I see not noble Nala — ere few days, few nights are o'er,

I to happiness will join me — from this mortal frame set free.

Reft of him, my princely husband — what have I to do with life —

How endure existence longer — for my husband thus distressed.”

To the lady thus complaining — lonely in the savage wood,

Answered thus those holy hermits — spake the gifted seers the truth:—

“There will be a time hereafter — beautiful, the time will come,

Through devotion now we see him— and thou too wilt see him soon;

That good monarch of Nishadha — Nala, slayer of his foes;

That dispenser of strict justice — Bhima's daughter! free from grief,

From all sin released, thou'lt see him — glittering in his royal gems,

Governing that noble city — o'er his enemies supreme.

To his foemen causing terror — to his friends allaying grief,

Thou, oh noble, shalt thy husband — see, that king of noble race.”

To the much-loved wife of Nala — to the princess speaking thus,

Vanished then those holy hermits — with their sacred fires, their cells.

As she gazed upon the wonder — wrapt in mute amaze she stood;

Damayanti, fair-limbed princess — wife of Virasena's son;

“Have I only seen a vision — what hath been this wondrous chance?

Where are all those holy hermits — where the circle of their cells?

Where that pure and pleasant river — haunted by the dipping birds?

Where those trees with grateful umbrage — with their pendant fruits and flowers?”

Long within her heart she pondered — Damayanti with sweet smile,

For her lord, to grief abandoned — miserable, pale of hue;

To another region passed she — there with voice by weeping choked,

Mourns she, till with eyes o'erflowing — an Asoca tree she saw.

Best of trees, the Asoca blooming— in the forest she approached,

Gemmed all o'er with glowing fruitage — vocal with the songs of birds.

“Ah, behold amid the forest — flourishes this happy tree,

With its leafy garlands radiant — as the joyous mountain king.

O thou tree with pleasant aspect — from my sorrow set me free.

Vitasoca, hast thou seen him — hast the fearless raja seen,

Nala, of his foes the slayer — Damayanti's lord beloved?

Hast thou seen Nishadha's monarch — hast thou seen mine only love,

Clad in half a single garment — with his soft and delicate skin;

Hast thou seen th’ afflicted hero — wandering in the forest lone.

That I may depart ungrieving — fair Asoca, answer me.

Truly be thou named Asoca— as the extinguisher of grief.”

Thus in her o'erpowering anguish — moved she round the Asoca tree.

Then she went her way in sadness — to another region dread.

Many a tree she stood and gazed on — many a river passed she o'er;

Passed she many a pleasant mountain — many a wild deer, many a bird;

Many a hill and many a cavern — many a bright and wondrous stream,

Saw king Bhima's wandering daughter — as she sought her husband lost.

Long she roamed her weary journey — Damayanti with sweet smile,

Lo, a caravan of merchants — elephants, and steeds, and cars,

And beyond, a pleasant river — with its waters cool and clear.

‘ Twas a quiet stream, and waveless — girt about with spreading canes;

There the cuckoo, there the osprey — there the red-geese clamouring stood;

Swarmed the turtles, fish and serpents — there rose many a stately isle.

When she saw that numerous concourse — Nala's once all-glorious wife,

Entered she, the slender-waisted — in the midst of all the host;

Maniac-like in form and feature — and in half a garment clad,

Thin and pallid, travel-tainted — matted all her locks with dust.

As they all beheld her standing — some in terror fled away;

Some stood still in speechless wonder — others raised their voice and cried;

Mocked her some with cruel tauntings — others spake reproachful words;

Others looked on her with pity — and enquired her state, her name.

“Who art thou? whose daughter. Lady — in the forest seek'st thou aught?

At thy sight we stand confounded — art thou of our mortal race?

Of this wood art thou the goddess?— of this mountain? of that plain?

Who art thou, O noble Lady — thee, our refuge, we adore.

Art thou sylvan nymph or genius — or celestial nymph divine?

Every-way regard our welfare — and protect us, undespised:

So our caravan in safety — may pursue its onward way,

So ordain it, O illustrious!— that good fortune wait on all.”

Thus addressed by that assemblage — Damayanti, kingly-born,

Answered thus with gentle language — grieving for her husband lost.

Of that caravan the leader — and the whole assembled host,

Youths and boys, and grey-haired elders — and the guides, thus answered she:

“Know me, like yourselves, a mortal — daughter of a king of men,

Of another king the consort — seeking for my royal lord;

Know, Vidarbha's king, my father — and Nishadha's king, my lord,

Nala, is his name, the glorious — him, th’ unconquered do I seek;

Know ye aught of that good monarch — tell me, quick, of my beloved,

Of the tiger hero, Nala — slayer of a host of foes.”

Of the caravan the captain — thus the lovely-limbed addressed,

Suchi was his name, the merchant — “Hear, illustrious queen, my speech;

Of this caravan the captain — I, O Lady with sweet smile,

Him that bears the name of Nala — nowhere have these eyes beheld.

Elephants, and pards, and tigers — lynxes, buffaloes, and bears,

See I in this trackless forest — uninhabited by men;

Save thyself, of human feature — nought, or human form, I've seen.

So may he, the king of Yakshas — Manibhadra, guard us well. "

To the merchants then she answered — to the leader of the host,

“Tell me whither do ye travel!— whither bound your caravan?”

“To the realm of Chedi's sovereign— truth-discerning Subahu,

Soon this caravan will enter — travelling in search of gain.”