With the evening in Vidarbha — men at watch, as they drew near, Mighty Rituparna's coming — to king Bhima did proclaim. Then that king, by Bhima's mandate — entered in Kundina's walls, All the region round him echoing— with the thunders of his car.
But the echoing of that chariot — when king Nala's horses heard, In their joy they pawed and trampled— even as Nala's self were there. Damayanti, too, the rushing — of king Nala's chariot heard. As a cloud that hoarsely thunders — at the coming of the rains.
All her heart was thrilled with wonder — at that old familiar sound. On they seemed to come, as Nala — drove of yore his trampling steeds: Like it seemed to Bhima's daughter — and e'en so to Nala's steeds. On the palace roofs the peacocks — th’ elephants within their stalls,
And the horses heard the rolling — of the mighty monarch's car. Elephants and peacocks hearing — the fleet chariot rattling on, Up they raised their necks and clamoured — as at sound of coming rain. “How the rolling of yon chariot — filling, as it seems, th’ earth,
Thrills my soul with unknown transport — it is Nala, king of men. If this day I see not Nala — with his glowing moonlike face, Him, the king with countless virtues — I shall perish without doubt. If this day within th’ embraces — of that hero's clasping arms,
I the gentle pressure feel not — without doubt I shall not live. If‘ tis not, like cloud of thunder — he that comes, Nishadha's king, I this day the fire will enter — burning like the hue of gold. In his might like the strong lion — like the raging elephant,
Comes he not, the prince of princes — I shall perish without doubt. Not a falsehood I remember — I remember no offence; Not an idle word remember — in his noble converse free. Lofty, patient, like a hero — liberal beyond all kings,
Nought ignoble, as the eunuch — even in private, may he do. As I think upon his virtues — as I think by day, by night, All my heart is rent with anguish — widowed of in own beloved.” Thus lamenting, she ascended — as with frenzied mind possessed,
To the palace roof's high terrace — to behold the king of men. In the middle court high seated — in the car, the lord of earth, Rituparna with Varshneya — and with Vahuca she saw, When Varshneya from that chariot — and when Vahuca came down,
He let loose those noble coursers — and he stopped the glowing car. From that chariot-seat descended — Rituparna, king of men, To the noble monarch Bhima — he drew near, for strength renowned. Him received with highest honour — Bhima, for without due cause,
Deemed not he, the mighty raja — with such urgent speed had come. “Wherefore com'st thou! hail and welcome” — thus that gracious king enquires; For his daughter's sake he knew not — that the lord of men had come. But the raja Rituparna — great in wisdom as in might,
When nor king within the palace — nor king's son he could behold, Nor of Swayembara heard he — nor assembled Brahmins saw. Thus within his mind deep pondering — spoke of Kosala the lord. “Hither, O majestic Bhima — to salute thee am I come.”
But king Bhima smiled in secret — as he thought within his mind, “What the cause of this far journey — of a hundred Yojanas. Passing through so many cities — for this cause he set not forth; For this cause of little moment — to our court he hath not come:
What the real cause, hereafter — haply I may chance to know.” After royal entertainment — then the king his guest dismissed: “Take then thy repose,” thus said he — “weary of thy journey, rest.” He refreshed, with courteous homage — of that courteous king took leave,
Ushered by the royal servants — to th’ appointed chamber went: There retired king Rituparna — with Varshneya in his suite. Vahuca, meantime, the chariot — to the chariot-house had led, There the coursers he unharnessed — skilfully he dressed them there,
And with gentle words caressed them — on the chariot seat sate down. But the woeful Damayanti — when Bhangasuri she'd seen, And the charioteer Varshneya — and the seeming Vahuca, Thought within Vidarbha's princess — “Whose was that fleet chariot's sound?
Such it seems as noble Nala's — yet no Nala do I see. Hath the charioteer Varshneya — Nala's noble science learned? Therefore did the thundering chariot — sound as driven by Nala's self? Or may royal Rituparna — like the skilful Nala drive,
Therefore did the rolling chariot — seem as of Nishadha's king?” Thus when Damayanti pondered — in the silence of her soul, Sent she then her beauteous handmaid — to that king her messenger.
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