Scarcely had king Nala parted — Damayanti now refreshed, Wakened up, the slender-waisted — timorous in the desert wood. When she did not see her husband — overpowered with grief and pain, Loud she shriek'd in her first anguish — “Where art thou, Nishadha's king?
Mighty king! my soul-protector — O, my lord! desert'st thou me. Oh, I'm lost! undone for ever — helpless in the wild wood left; Faithful once to every duty — wert thou not, and true in word. Art thou faithful to thy promise — to desert me thus in sleep.
Could'st thou then depart, forsaking — thy devoted, constant wife; Her in sooth that never wronged thee — wronged indeed, but not by her. Keep'st thou thus thy solemn promise — oh, unfaithful lord of men, There, when all the gods were present — plighted to thy wedded wife?
Death is but decreed to mortals — at its own appointed time, Hence one moment, thus deserted— one brief moment do I live.— But thou'st had thy sport — enough then — now desist, O king of men, Mock not thou a trembling woman — show thee to me, O my lord!
Yes, I see thee, there I see thee — hidden as thou think'st from sight, In the rushes why conceal thee?— answer me, why speak'st thou not. Wherefore now ungentle stay'st thou — like to one forsworn, aloof? Wherefore wilt thou not approach me — to console me in my woe?
For myself I will not sorrow — nor for aught to me befalls. Thou art all alone, my husband,— I will only mourn for thee. How will't fare with thee, my Nala — thirsting, famished, faint with toil. Nor beholding me await thee — underneath the trees at eve.”
Then, in all her depth of anguish — with her trouble as on fire, Hither, thither, went she weeping — all around she went and wailed. Now springs up the desolate princess — now falls down in prostrate grief; Now she pines in silent sorrow — now she shrieks and wails aloud.
So consumed with inward misery — ever sighing more and more, Spake at length king Bhima's daughter — spake the still devoted wife: “He, by whose dire imprecation — Nala this dread suffering bears, May he far surpass in suffering — all that Nala suffers now,
May the evil one, to evil — who the blameless Nala drives, Smitten by a curse as fatal — live a dark unblessed life.” Thus her absent lord lamenting — that high-minded raja's queen, Every-where her lord went seeking — in the satyr-haunted wood.
Like a maniac, Bhima's daughter — wandered wailing here and there; And “alas! alas! my husband” — every-where her cry was heard. Her beyond all measure wailing — like the osprey screaming shrill, Miserably still deploring — still renewing her lament.
Suddenly king Bhima's daughter — as she wandered near his lair, Seized a huge gigantic serpent — in his raging famine fierce. In the grasp of that fierce serpent — round about with terror girt, Not herself she pities only — pities she Nishadha's king.
“O my guardian, thus unguarded — in this savage forest seized, Seized by this terrific serpent — wherefore art not thou at hand? How will't be, when thou rememberest — once again thy faithful wife, From this dreadful curse delivered — mind, and sense, and wealth returned?
When thou'rt weary, when thou'rt hungry — when thou'rt fainting with fatigue, Who will soothe, O blameless Nala — all thy weariness, thy woe.” Then a huntsman as he wandered — in the forest jungle thick, As he heard her thus bewailing — in his utmost haste drew near.
In the grasp when he beheld her — of that long-eyed serpent fell, Instant did the nimble huntsman — rapidly as he came on, Pierce that unresisting serpent — with a sharp and mortal shaft: In her sight he slew that serpent — skill'd in slaughter of the chase.
Her released he from her peril — washed he then with water pure, And with sylvan food refreshed her — and with soothing words address'd: “Who art thou that roam'st the forest — with the eyes of the gazelle; How to this extreme of misery — noble lady, hast thou fallen?”
Damayanti, by the huntsman — thus in soothing tone addressed, All the story of her misery-told him, as it all befell; Her, scant-clothed in half a garment — with soft swelling limbs and breast, Form of youthful faultless beauty — and her fair and moonlike face,
And her eyes with brows dark arching — and her softly-melting speech, Saw long time that wild beast hunter — kindled all his heart with love. Then with winning voice that huntsman — bland beginning his discourse, Fain with amorous speech would soothe her — she his dark intent perceived.
Damayanti, chaste and faithful,— soon as she his meaning knew, In the transport of her anger — her indignant soul took fire. In his wicked thought the dastard — her yet powerless to subdue, On the unsubdued stood gazing — as like some bright flame she shone.
Damayanti, in her sorrow — of her realm, her lord bereft, On the instant she found language — uttered loud her curse of wrath,— “As my pure and constant spirit — swerves not from Nishadha's lord, Instant so may this base hunter — lifeless fall upon the earth.”
Scarce that single word was uttered — suddenly that hunter bold Down upon the earth fell lifeless — like a lightning blasted tree.
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