ACT II.
SCENE.—_A plain on the skirts of the forest.
Enter the Jester_ [32] MÁ[T.]HAVYA, in a melancholy mood.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA. [Sighing.
Heigh-ho! what an unlucky fellow I am! worn to a shadow by my royal friend's sporting propensities. 'Here's a deer!' 'There goes a boar!' 'Yonder's a tiger!' This is the only burden of our talk, while in the heat of the meridian sun we toil on from jungle to jungle, wandering about in the paths of the woods, where the trees afford us no shelter. Are we thirsty? We have nothing to drink but the dirty water of some mountain stream mixed with dry leaves, which give it a most pungent flavour. Are we hungry? We have nothing to eat but roast game[33], which we must swallow down at odd times, as best we can. Even at night there is no peace to be had. Sleeping is out of the question, with joints all strained by dancing attendance upon my sporting friend; or if I do happen to doze, I am awakened at the very earliest dawn by the horrible din of a lot of rascally beaters and huntsmen, who must needs surround the wood before sunrise, and deafen me with their clatter. Nor are these my only troubles. Here's a fresh grievance, like a new boil rising upon an old one! Yesterday, while we were lagging behind, my royal friend entered yonder hermitage after a deer; and there, as ill-luck would have it, caught sight of a beautiful girl, called [S']akoontalá, the hermit's daughter. From that moment, not another thought about returning to the city! and all last night not a wink of sleep did he get for thinking of the damsel. What is to be done? At any rate I will be on the watch for him as soon as he has finished his toilet.
[Walking and looking about.]
Oh! here he comes, attended by the Yavana women[34], with bows in their hands, wearing garlands of wild flowers. What shall I do? I have it. I will pretend to stand in the easiest attitude for resting my bruised and crippled limbs.
[Stands leaning on a staff.
Enter King DUSHYANTA, followed by a retinue, in the manner described.
KING.
True, by no easy conquest may I win her,
Yet are my hopes encouraged by her mien,
Love is not yet triumphant; but, methinks,
The hearts of both are ripe for his delights.
[Smiling.
Ah! thus does the lover delude himself; judging of the state of his loved one's feelings by his own desires. But yet,
The stolen glance with half-averted eye,
The hesitating gait, the quick rebuke
Addressed to her companion, who would fain
Have stayed her counterfeit departure; these
Are signs not unpropitious to my suit.
So eagerly the lover feeds his hopes,
Claiming each trivial gesture for his own.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
[Still in the same attitude.
Ah, friends, my hands cannot move to greet you with the usual salutation. I can only just command my lips to wish your Majesty victory.
KING.
Why, what has paralysed your limbs?
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
You might as well ask me how my eye comes to water after you have poked your finger into it.
KING.
I don't understand you; speak more intelligibly.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
Ah, my dear friend, is yonder upright reed transformed into a crooked plant by its own act, or by the force of the current?
KING.
The current of the river causes it, I suppose.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
Ay; just as you are the cause of my crippled limbs.
KING.
How so?
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
Here are you living the life of a wild man of the woods in a savage unfrequented region, while your State-affairs are left to shift for themselves; and as for poor me, I am no longer master of my own limbs, but have to follow you about day after day in your chases after wild animals, till my bones are all crippled and out of joint. Do, my dear friend, let me have one day's rest.
KING. [Aside.
This fellow little knows, while he talks in this manner, that my mind is wholly engrossed by recollections of the hermit's daughter, and quite as disinclined to the chase as his own.
No longer can I bend my well-braced bow
Against the timid deer; nor e'er again
With well-aimed arrows can I think to harm
These her beloved associates, who enjoy
The privilege of her companionship;
Teaching her tender glances in return.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA. [Looking in the King's face.
I may as well speak to the winds, for any attention you pay to my requests. I suppose you have something on your mind, and are talking it over to yourself.
KING. [Smiling.
I was only thinking that I ought not to disregard a friend's request.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
Then may the King live for ever!
[Moves off.
KING.
Stay a moment, my dear friend. I have something else to say to you.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
Say on, then.
KING.
When you have rested, you must assist me in another business which will give you no fatigue.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
In eating something nice, I hope.
KING.
You shall know at some future time.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
No time better than the present.
KING.
What ho, there!
WARDER. [Entering.
What are your Majesty's commands?
KING.
O Raivatika, bid the General of the forces attend.
WARDER.
I will, Sire.
[Exit and re-enters with the GENERAL.]
Come forward, General; his Majesty is looking towards you, and has some order to give you.
GENERAL. [Looking at the KING.
Though hunting is known to produce ill effects, my royal master has derived only benefit from it. For
Like the majestic elephant that roams
O'er mountain wilds, so does the King display
A stalwart frame, instinct with vigorous life.
His brawny arms and manly chest are scored
By frequent passage of the sounding string;
Unharmed he bears the midday sun; no toil
His mighty spirit daunts; his sturdy limbs,
Stripped of redundant flesh, relinquish nought
Of their robust proportions, but appear
In muscle, nerve, and sinewy fibre cased.
[Approaching the KING.
Victory to the King! We have tracked the wild beasts to their lairs in the forest. Why delay, when everything is ready?
KING.
My friend Má[T.]Havya here has been disparaging the chase, till he has taken away all my relish for it.
GENERAL. [Aside to MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
Persevere in your opposition, my good fellow; I will sound the
King's real feelings, and humour him accordingly.
[Aloud.
The blockhead talks nonsense, and your Majesty in your own person furnishes the best proof of it. Observe, Sire, the advantage and pleasure the hunter derives from the chase.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA. [Angrily.
Away! tempter, away! The King has recovered his senses, and is himself again. As for you, you may, if you choose, wander about from forest to forest, till some old bear seizes you by the nose, and makes a mouthful of you.
KING.
My good General, as we are just now in the neighbourhood of a consecrated grove, your panegyric upon hunting is somewhat ill-timed, and I cannot assent to all you have said. For the present,
All undisturbed the buffaloes shall sport
In yonder pool, and with their ponderous horns
Scatter its tranquil waters, while the deer,
Couched here and there in groups beneath the shade
Of spreading branches, ruminate in peace.
And all securely shall the herd of boars
Feed on the marshy sedge; and thou, my bow,
With slackened string, enjoy a long repose.
GENERAL.
So please your Majesty, it shall be as you desire.
KING.
Recall, then, the beaters who were sent in advance to surround the forest. My troops must not be allowed to disturb this sacred retreat, and irritate its pious inhabitants.
Know that within the calm and cold recluse
Lurks unperceived a germ of smothered flame,
All-potent to destroy; a latent fire
That rashly kindled bursts with fury forth;
As in the disc of crystal[35] that remains
Cool to the touch, until the solar ray
Falls on its polished surface, and excites
The burning heat that lies within concealed.
GENERAL.
Your Majesty's commands shall be obeyed.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
Off with you, you son of a slave! Your nonsense won't go down here, my fine fellow.
[Exit GENERAL.
KING. [Looking at his attendants.
Here, women, take my hunting-dress; and you, Raivatika, keep guard carefully outside.
ATTENDANTS.
We will, Sire.
[Exeunt.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
Now that you have got rid of these plagues, who have been buzzing about us like so many flies, sit down, do, on that stone slab, with the shade of the tree as your canopy, and I will seat myself by you quite comfortably.
KING.
Go you, and sit down first.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
Come along, then.
[Both walk on a little way, and seat themselves.
KING.
Má[T.]Havya, it may be said of you that you have never beheld anything worth seeing; for your eyes have not yet looked upon the loveliest object in creation.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
How can you say so, when I see your Majesty before me at this moment?
KING.
It is very natural that every one should consider his own friend perfect; but I was alluding to [S']akoontalá, the brightest ornament of these hallowed groves.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA. [Aside.
I understand well enough, but I am not going to humour him.
[Aloud.
If, as you intimate, she is a hermit's daughter, you cannot lawfully ask her in marriage. You may as well then dismiss her from your mind, for any good the mere sight of her can do.
KING.
Think you that a descendant of the mighty Puru could fix his affections on an unlawful object?
Though, as men say, the offspring of the sage,
The maiden to a nymph celestial owes
Her being, and by her mother left on earth,
Was found and nurtured by the holy man
As his own daughter, in this hermitage.
So, when dissevered from its parent stalk,
Some falling blossom of the jasmine[36], wafted
Upon the sturdy sun-flower, is preserved
By its support from premature decay.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA. [Smiling.
This passion of yours for a rustic maiden, when you have so many gems of women at home in your palace, seems to me very like the fancy of a man who is tired of sweet dates, and longs for sour tamarinds as a variety.
KING.
You have not seen her, or you would not talk in this fashion.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
I can quite understand it must require something surpassingly attractive to excite the admiration of such a great man as you.
KING.
I will describe her, my dear friend, in a few words,
Man's all-wise Maker, wishing to create
A faultless form, whose matchless symmetry
Should far transcend Creation's choicest works,
Did call together by his mighty will,
And garner up in his eternal mind,
A bright assemblage of all lovely things;
And then, as in a picture, fashion them
Into one perfect and ideal form—
Such the divine, the wondrous prototype,
Whence her fair shape was moulded into being.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
If that's the case, she must indeed throw all other beauties into the shade.
KING.
To my mind she really does.
This peerless maid is like a fragrant flower,
Whose perfumed breath has never been diffused;
A tender bud, that no profaning hand
Has dared to sever from its parent stalk;
A gem of priceless water, just released
Pure and unblemished from its glittering bed.
Or may the maiden haply be compared
To sweetest honey, that no mortal lip
Has sipped; or, rather, to the mellowed fruit
Of virtuous actions in some former birth[37],
Now brought to full perfection? Lives the man
Whom bounteous heaven has destined to espouse her?
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
Make haste, then, to her aid; you have no time to lose, if you don't wish this fruit of all the virtues to drop into the mouth of some greasy-headed rustic of devout habits.
KING.
The lady is not her own mistress, and her foster-father is not at home.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
Well, but tell me, did she look at all kindly upon you?
KING.
Maidens brought up in a hermitage are naturally
shy and reserved; but for all that
She did look towards me, though she quick withdrew
Her stealthy glances when she met my gaze;
She smiled upon me sweetly, but disguised
With maiden grace the secret of her smiles.
Coy love was half unveiled; then, sudden checked
By modesty, left half to be divined.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
Why, of course, my dear friend, you never could seriously expect that at the very first sight she would fall over head ears in love with you, and without more ado come and sit in your lap.
KING.
When we parted from each other, she betrayed
her liking for me by clearer indications, but still with the
utmost modesty.
Scarce had the fair one from my presence passed,
When, suddenly, without apparent cause,
She stopped; and, counterfeiting pain, exclaimed,
'My foot is wounded by this prickly grass,'
Then, glancing at me tenderly, she feigned
Another charming pretext for delay,
Pretending that a bush had caught her robe
And turned as if to disentangle it.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA
I trust you have laid in a good stock of provisions, for I see you intend making this consecrated grove your game-preserve, and will be roaming here in quest of sport for some time to come.
KING.
You must know, my good fellow, that I have been recognised by some of the inmates of the hermitage. Now I want the assistance of your fertile invention, in devising some excuse for going there again.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
There is but one expedient that I can suggest. You are the King, are you not?
KING.
What then?
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
Say you have come for the sixth part of their grain [38], which they owe you for tribute.
KING.
No, no, foolish man; those hermits pay me a very different kind of tribute, which I value more than heaps of gold or jewels; observe,
The tribute which my other subjects bring
Must moulder into dust, but holy men
Present me with a portion of the fruits
Of penitential services and prayers—
A precious and imperishable gift.
A VOICE BEHIND THE SCENES.
We are fortunate; here is the object of our search.
KING. [Listening.
Surely those must be the voices of hermits, to judge by their deep tones.
WARDER. [Entering.
Victory to the King! two young hermits are in waiting outside, and solicit an audience of your Majesty.
KING.
Introduce them Immediately.
WARDER.
I will, my liege.
[Goes out, and re-enters with TWO YOUNG HERMITS.]
This way, Sirs, this way.
[Both the HERMITS _look at the KING.
FIRST HERMIT.
How majestic is his mien, and yet what confidence it inspires! But this might be expected in a king, whose character and habits have earned for him a title only one degree removed from that of a Sage [39].
In this secluded grove, whose sacred joys
All may participate, he deigns to dwell
Like one of us; and daily treasures up
A store of purest merit for himself,
By the protection of our holy rites.
In his own person wondrously are joined
Both majesty and saintlike holiness;
And often chanted by inspired bards [40],
His hallowed title of 'Imperial Sage'
Ascends in joyous accents to the skies.
SECOND HERMIT.
Bear in mind, Gautama, that this is the great Dushyanta, the friend of Indra.
FIRST HERMIT.
What of that?
SECOND HERMIT.
Where is the wonder if his nervous arm,
Puissant and massive as the iron bar
That binds a castle-gateway, singly sways
The sceptre of the universal earth,
E'en to its dark-green boundary of waters?
Or if the gods, beholden to his aid
In their fierce warfare with the powers of hell [41],
Should blend his name with Indra's in their songs
Of victory, and gratefully accord
No lower meed of praise to his braced bow,
Than to the thunders of the god of heaven?
BOTH THE HERMITS. [Approaching.
Victory to the King!
KING. [Rising from his seat.
Hail to you both!
BOTH THE HERMITS.
Heaven bless your Majesty!
[They offer fruits.
KING. [Respectfully receiving the offering.
Tell me, I pray you, the object of your visit.
BOTH THE HERMITS.
The inhabitants of the hermitage, having heard of your Majesty's sojourn in our neighbourhood, make this humble petition:—
KING.
What are their commands?
BOTH THE HERMITS.
In the absence of our Superior, the great sage Kanwa, evil demons are disturbing our sacrificial rites [42]. Deign, therefore, accompanied by your charioteer, to take up your abode in our hermitage for a few days.
KING.
I am honoured by your invitation.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA. [Aside.
Most opportune and convenient, certainly!
KING. [Smiling.
Ho, there, Raivatika! Tell the charioteer from me to bring round the chariot with my bow.
WARDER.
I will, Sire.
[Exit.
BOTH THE HERMITS. [Joyfully.
Well it becomes the King by acts of grace
To emulate the virtues of his race.
Such acts thy lofty destiny attest;
Thy mission is to succour the distressed.
KING. [Bowing to the HERMITS.
Go first, reverend Sirs, I will follow you immediately.
BOTH THE HERMITS.
May victory attend you!
[Exeunt.
KING.
My dear Má[T.]Havya, are not you full of longing to see
[S']akoontalá?
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
To tell you the truth, though I was just now brimful of desire to see her, I have not a drop left since this piece of news about the demons.
KING.
Never fear; you shall keep close to me for protection.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
Well, you must be my guardian-angel, and act the part of a very
Vishnu [43] to me.
WARDER. [Entering.
Sire, the chariot is ready, and only waits to conduct you to victory. But here is a messenger named Karabhaka, just arrived from your capital, with a message from the Queen, your mother.
KING. [Respectfully.
How say you? a messenger from the venerable Queen?
WARDER.
Even so.
KING.
Introduce him at once.
WARDER.
I will, Sire.
[Goes out and re-enters with KARABHAKA.]
Behold the King. Approach.
KARABHAKA.
Victory to the King! The Queen-mother bids me say that in four days from the present time she intends celebrating a solemn ceremony for the advancement and preservation of her son. She expects that your Majesty will honour her with your presence on that occasion.
KING.
This places me in a dilemma. Here, on the one hand, is the commission of these holy men to be executed; and, on the other, the command of my revered parent to be obeyed. Both duties are too sacred to be neglected. What is to be done?
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
You will have to take up an intermediate position between the two, like King Tri[s']anku [44], who was suspended between heaven and earth, because the sage Vi[s']wámitra commanded him to mount up to heaven, and the gods ordered him down again.
KING.
I am certainly very much perplexed. For here,
Two different duties are required of me
In widely distant places; how can I
In my own person satisfy them both?
Thus is my mind distracted, and impelled
In opposite directions like a stream
That, driven back by rocks, still rushes on,
Forming two currents in its eddying course.
[Reflecting.]
Friend Má[T.]Havya, as you were my playfellow in childhood, the Queen has already received you like a second son; go you, then, back to her, and tell her of my solemn engagement to assist these holy men. You can supply my place in the ceremony, and act the part of a son to the Queen.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
With the greatest pleasure in the world; but don't suppose that I am really coward enough to have the slightest fear of those trumpery demons.
KING.
Oh! of course not; a great Bráhman like you could not possibly give way to such weakness.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
You must let me travel in a manner suitable to the King's younger brother.
KING.
Yes, I shall send my retinue with you, that there may be no farther disturbance in this sacred forest.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA, [With a strut.
Already I feel quite like a young prince.
KING. [Aside.
This is a giddy fellow, and in all probability he will let out the truth about my present pursuit to the women of the palace. What is to be done? I must say something to deceive him.
[Aloud to MÁ[T.]HAVYA, taking him by the hand.]
Dear friend, I am going to the hermitage wholly and solely out of respect for its pious inhabitants, and not because I have really any liking for [S']akoontalá, the hermit's daughter. Observe:—
What suitable communion could there be
Between a monarch and a rustic girl?
I did but feign an idle passion, friend,
Take not in earnest what was said in jest.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
Don't distress yourself; I quite understand.
[Exeunt.
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