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.”
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