Bound by that malignant treaty — Kali with his dark ally, Haunted they the stately palace — where Nishadha's monarch ruled; Watching still the fatal instant — in Nishadha long they dwelt. Twelve long years had passed ere Kali — saw that fatal instant come.
Nala after act uncleanly — the ablution half performed, Prayed at eve, with feet unwashen — Kali seized the fatal hour. Into Nala straight he entered — and possessed his inmost soul. Pushkara in haste he summoned — come with Nala play at dice,
Ever in the gainful hazard — by my subtle aid thou'lt win, Even the kingdom of Nishadha — even from Nala all his realm. Pushkara by Kali summoned — to his brother Nala came, In the dice of dice embodied— Dwapara stood silent by.
Pushkara the hero-slayer — to king Nala standing near: “Play we with the dice, my brother,” — thus again, again he said. Long the lofty-minded raja — that bold challenge might not brook, In Vidarbha's princess’ presence — deemed he now the time for play.
For his wealth, his golden treasures — for his chariots, for his robes, Then possessed by Kali, Nala — in the game was worsted still. He with love of gaming maddened,— of his faithful friends not one Might arrest the desperate frenzy — of the conqueror of his foes.
Came the citizens assembling — with the counsellors of state, To behold the king approached they — to restrain his dread disease. Then the charioteer advancing— thus to Damayanti spake: “All the city, noble princess — stands assembled at the gate,
Say thou to Nishadha's monarch —‘ All his subjects here are met; Ill they brook this dire misfortune— in their justice-loving king’.” Then, her voice half choked with anguish — spake the sorrow-stricken queen, Spirit-broken, Bhima's daughter — to Nishadha's sovereign spake,
“Raja, lo! the assembled city — at the gate their king to see: With the counsellors of wisdom — by their loyal duty led. Deign thou, monarch, to admit them,” — thus again, again she said. To the queen with beauteous eyelids — uttering thus her sad lament,
Still possessed by wicked Kali — answered not the king a word. Then those counsellors of wisdom — and those loyal citizens, “‘ Tis not he,” exclaimed in sorrow,— and in shame and grief went home. Thus of Pushkara and Nala — still went on that fatal play;
Many a weary month it lasted — and still lost the king of men.
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