"Kashyapa: My daughter, Thy lord resembles Indra, and thy child Is noble as Jayanta, Indra's son; I have no worthier blessing left for thee, May'st thou be faithful as the god's own wife!"

"Mátali: Sire, the venerable progenitors of the celestials are gazing at your Majesty with as much affection as if you were their son. You may advance towards them."

"King: Vetravatí, what can possibly be the message that the venerable Kanwa has sent me by these hermits? Perchance their sacred rites have been disturbed By demons, or some evil has befallen The innocent herds, their favourites, that graze Within the precincts of the hermitage, Or haply, through my sins, some withering blight Has nipped the creeping plants that spread their arms Around the hallowed grove. Such troubled thoughts Crowd through my mind, and fill me with misgiving."

"King: Are these, O Mátali, the holy pair, Offspring of Daksha and divine Maríchi, Children of Brahmá's sons, by sages deemed Sole fountain of celestial light, diffused Through twelve effulgent orbs? Are these the pair From whom the ruler of the triple world, Sovereign of gods and lord of sacrifice, Sprang into being? That immortal pair Whom Vishnu, greater than the Self-existent, Chose for his parents, when, to save mankind, He took upon himself the shape of mortals?"

"Warder (Vetravatí) If you ask my opinion, Sire, I think the hermits merely wish to take an opportunity of testifying their loyalty, and are therefore come to offer homage to your majesty."

"Warder (Vetravatí): Here is the terrace of the hallowed fire-chamber, and yonder stands the cow that yields the milk for the oblations. The sacred enclosure has been recently purified, and looks clean and beautiful. Ascend, Sire."

"Gautami: Heaven avert the evil omen, my child! May the guardian deities of thy husband's family convert it into a sign of good fortune!"

"King: Most august of beings! Dushyanta, content to have fulfilled the commands of your son Indra, offers you his adoration."

"Aditi: My daughter, may'st thou be always the object of thy husband's fondest love; and may thy son live long to be the joy of both his parents! Be seated."

"SHAKOONTALÁ: I shrink from entering the august presence of the great Saint, even with my husband at my side."

"King: Go, go; you can disarm her wrath by a civil speech; but give her my message."

"King: Nay; on such a joyous occasion it is highly proper. Come, come; I entreat thee."

"Vátáyana, Chamberlain: Victory to the King! So please your Majesty, some hermits who live in a forest near the Snowy Mountains have arrived here, bringing certain women with them. They have a message to deliver from the sage Kanwa and desire an audience. I await your Majesty's commands."

"Máthavya: But stay—I don't much relish being sent to bear the brunt of her jealousy. The chances are that she will have me seized by the hair of the head and beaten to a jelly. I would as soon expose myself, after a vow of celibacy, to the seductions of a lovely nymph, as encounter the fury of a jealous woman."

"King: Shakoontalá, take our child and lead the way. We will together go into the presence of the holy Sage."

"Kashyapa [To his wife]: O Adití, This is the mighty hero, King Dushyanta, Protector of the earth; who, at the head Of the celestial armies of thy son, Does battle with the enemies of heaven. Thanks to his bow, the thunderbolt of Indra Rests from its work, no more the minister Of death and desolation to the world, But a mere symbol of divinity."

"King: But the lady there— Who can she be, whose form of matchless grace Is half concealed beneath her flowing veil? Among the sombre hermits she appears Like a fresh bud 'mid sear and yellow leaves."

"Máthavya: Hark! my dear friend, listen a minute, and you will hear sweet sounds proceeding from the music-room. Some one is singing a charming air. Who can it be? Oh! I know. The queen Hansapadiká is practising her notes, that she may greet you with a new song."

"King: Yes, indeed. My heart's dearest wish has borne sweet fruit. But tell me, Mátali, is this joyful event known to the great Indra?"

"King: She means to reprove me, because I once paid her great attention, and have lately deserted her for the queen Vasumatí. Go, my dear fellow, and tell Hansapadiká from me that I take her delicate reproof as it is intended."

"Kanwa: It is natural enough that your affection should make you view it in this light. As for me, I am quite surprised at myself. Now that I have fairly dismissed her to her husband's house, my mind is easy; for, indeed, A daughter is a loan—a precious jewel Lent to a parent till her husband claim her. And now that to her rightful lord and master I have delivered her, my burdened soul Is lightened, and I seem to breathe more freely."

"King: Tell my domestic priest Somaráta to receive the hermits with due honour, according to the prescribed form. He may then himself introduce them into my presence. I will await them in a place suitable for the reception of such holy guests."

"Mátali: What is unknown to the gods? But come with me, noble Prince, the divine [[Kashyapa graciously permits thee to be presented to him."

"Aditi: He bears in his noble form all the marks of dignity."

"Kashyapa: Hail to the beautiful Shakoontalá, Hail to her noble son, and hail to thee, Illustrious Prince—rare triple combination Of virtue, wealth, and energy united!"

"King: Yes; the moment I recovered it my memory was restored."

"Kanwa: Daughter, detain me no longer. My religious duties must not be interrupted."

"SHAKOONTALÁ: The ring was to blame in allowing itself to be lost at the very time when I was anxious to convince my noble husband of the reality of my marriage."

"SHAKOONTALÁ: Beloved father, thy frame is much enfeebled by penitential exercises. Do not, oh! do not, allow thyself to sorrow too much on my account."

"Gautamí: Come, my child, the favourable time for our journey is fast passing. Let thy father return. Venerable Sire, be thou the first to move homewards, or these last words will never end."

"SHAKOONTALÁ: [Seeing the signet-ring on his finger] Ah! my dear husband, is that the Lost Ring?"

"King: Receive it back, as the beautiful twining-plant receives again its blossom in token of its reunion with the spring."

"King:[Falling at her feet] Fairest of women, banish from thy mind The memory of my cruelty; reproach The fell delusion that o'erpowered my soul, And blame not me, thy husband; 'tis the curse Of him in whom the power of darkness reigns, That he mistakes the gifts of those he loves For deadly evils. Even though a friend Should wreathe a garland on a blind man's brow, Will he not cast it from him as a serpent?"

"SHAKOONTALÁ: Dear father, when shall I ever see this hallowed grove again?"

"SHAKOONTALÁ: Rise, my own husband, rise. Thou wast not to blame. My own evil deeds, committed in a former state of being[37], brought down this judgment upon me. How else could my husband, who was ever of a compassionate disposition, have acted so unfeelingly? But tell me, my husband, how did the remembrance of thine unfortunate wife return to thy mind?"

"Kanwa: I will tell thee; listen:— When thou hast passed a long and blissful life As King Dushyanta's queen, and jointly shared With all the earth his ever-watchful care; And hast beheld thine own heroic son, Matchless in arms, united to a bride In happy wedlock; when his aged sire, Thy faithful husband, hath to him resigned The helm of state; then, weary of the world, Together with Dushyanta thou shalt seek The calm seclusion of thy former home; There amid holy scenes to be at peace, Till thy pure spirit gain its last release."

"Kanwa: Daughter, thy fears are groundless. Soon shall thy lord prefer thee to the rank Of his own consort; and unnumbered cares Befitting his imperial dignity Shall constantly engross thee. Then the bliss Of bearing him a son—a noble boy, Bright as the day-star, shall transport thy soul With new delights, and little shalt thou reck Of the light sorrow that afflicts thee now At parting from thy father and thy friends."

"Kanwa: How, O my child, shall my bereaved heart Forget its bitterness, when, day by day, Full in my sight shall grow the tender plants Reared by thy care, or sprang from hallowed grain Which thy loved hands have strewn around the door— A frequent offering to our household gods? Go, my daughter, and may thy journey be prosperous."

"King: As soon as my heart's anguish is removed, and its wounds are healed, I will tell thee all. Oh! let me, fair one, chase away the drop That still bedews the fringes of thine eye; And let me thus efface the memory Of every tear that stained thy velvet cheek, Unnoticed and unheeded by thy lord, When in his madness he rejected thee."

"SHAKOONTALÁ: Nay; I can never more place confidence in it. Let my husband retain it."

"SHAKOONTALÁ: May my husband be victorious—"

"Kanwa: Listen, then, my daughter. When thou reachest thy husband's palace, and art admitted into his family, Honour thy betters; ever be respectful To those above thee; and, should others share Thy husband's love, ne'er yield thyself a prey to jealousy; but ever be a friend, A loving friend, to those who rival thee In his affections. Should thy wedded lord Treat thee with harshness, thou most never be Harsh in return, but patient and submissive; Be to thy menials courteous, and to all Placed under thee, considerate and kind; Be never self-indulgent, but avoid Excess in pleasure; and, when fortune smiles, Be not puffed up. Thus to thy husband's house Wilt thou a blessing prove, and not a curse. What thinks Gautamí of this advice?"

"King: O fair one, though the utterance of thy prayer Be lost amid the torrent of thy tears, Yet does the sight of thy fair countenance And of thy pallid lips, all unadorned And colourless in sorrow for my absence, Make me already more than conqueror."

"Gautamí: An excellent compendium, truly, of every wife's duties! Lay it well to heart, my daughter."

"Shárngarava: A most suitable message! I will take care to deliver it correctly."

"King: Behold me, best and loveliest of women, Delivered from the cloud of fatal darkness That erst oppressed my memory. Again Behold us brought together by the grace Of the great lord of Heaven. So the moon Shines forth from dim eclipse, to blend his rays With the soft lustre of his Rohiní."

"Child: Mother, who is this man?"

"Priyamvadá and Anasúyá: Holy father, the sacred grove will be a desert without Sakoontalá. How can we ever return to it?"

"SHAKOONTALÁ: My father, see you there my pet deer, grazing close to the hermitage? She expects soon to fawn, and even now the weight of the little one she carries hinders her movements. Do not forget to send me word when she becomes a mother."