ACT V.
SCENE.—A Room in the Palace.
The King DUSHYANTA and the Jester MÁ[T.]HAVYA are discovered seated.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA. [Listening.
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.
Hush! Let me listen.
A VOICE SINGS BEHIND THE SCENES.
How often hither didst thou rove,
Sweet bee, to kiss the mango's cheek;
Oh! leave not, then, thy early love,
The lily's honeyed lip to seek.
KING.
A most impassioned strain, truly!
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
Do you understand the meaning of the words?
KING. [Smiling.
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.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
Very well.
[Rising from his seat.]
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.
Go, go; you can disarm her wrath by a civil speech; but give her my message.
MÁ[T.]HAVYA.
What must be must be, I suppose.
[Exit.
KING. [Aside.
Strange! that song has filled me with a most peculiar sensation. A melancholy feeling has come over me, and I seem to yearn after some long-forgotten object of affection. Singular, indeed! but
Not seldom In our happy hours of ease,
When thought is still, the sight of some fair form,
Or mournful fall of music breathing low,
Will stir strange fancies, thrilling all the soul
With a mysterious sadness, and a sense
Of vague yet earnest longing. Can it be
That the dim memory of events long past,
Or friendships formed in other states of being[74],
Flits like a passing shadow o'er the spirit?
[Remains pensive and sad.
Enter the CHAMBERLAIN[75], named VÁTÁYANA.
CHAMBERLAIN.
Alas! to what an advanced period of life have I attained!
Even this wand betrays the lapse of years;
In youthful days 'twas but a useless badge
And symbol of my office; now it serves
As a support to prop my tottering steps.
Ah me! I feel very unwilling to announce to the King that a deputation of young hermits from the sage Kanwa has arrived, and craves an immediate audience. Certainly, his Majesty ought not to neglect a matter of sacred duty, yet I hardly like to trouble him when he has just risen from the judgment-seat. Well, well; a monarch's business is to sustain the world, and he must not expect much repose; because—
Onward, for ever onward, in his car
The unwearied Sun pursues his daily course,
Nor tarries to unyoke his glittering steeds.
And, ever moving, speeds the rushing Wind
Through boundless space, filling the universe
With his life-giving breezes. Day and night,
The King of Serpents on his thousand heads[76]
Upholds the incumbent earth; and even so,
Unceasing toil is aye the lot of kings,
Who, in return, draw nurture from their subjects.
I will therefore deliver my message.
[Walking on and looking about.]
Ah! here comes the King.
His subjects are his children; through the day,
Like a fond father, to supply their wants,
Incessantly he labours; wearied now,
The monarch seeks seclusion and repose;
E'en as the prince of elephants defies
The sun's fierce heat, and leads the fainting herd
To verdant pastures, ere his wayworn limbs
He yields to rest beneath the cooling shade.
[Approaching.]
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.
KING. [Respectfully.
A message from the sage Kanwa, did you say?
CHAMBERLAIN.
Even so, my liege.
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.
CHAMBERLAIN.
Your Majesty's commands shall be obeyed.
[Exit.
KING. [Rising and addressing his WARDER.
Vetravatí, lead the way to the chamber of the consecrated fire[77].
WARDER.
This way, Sire.
KING.
[Walking on, with the air of one oppressed by the cares of Government.
People are generally contented and happy when they have gained their desires; but kings have no sooner attained the object of their aspirations than all their troubles begin.
'Tis a fond thought that to attain the end
And object of ambition is to rest;
Success doth only mitigate the fever
Of anxious expectation; soon the fear
Of losing what we have, the constant care
Of guarding it, doth weary. Ceaseless toil
Must be the lot of him who with his hands
Supports the canopy that shields his subjects.
TWO HERALDS[78]. [Behind the scenes.
May the King be victorious!
FIRST HERALD.
Honour to him who labours day by day
For the world's weal, forgetful of his own;
Like some tall tree that with its stately head
Endures the solar beam, while underneath
It yields refreshing shelter to the weary.
SECOND HERALD.
Let but the monarch wield his threatening rod
And e'en the guilty tremble; at his voice
The rebel spirit cowers; his grateful subjects
Acknowledge him their guardian; rich and poor
Hail him a faithful friend—a loving kinsman.
KING.
Weary as I was before, this complimentary address has refreshed me.
[Walks on.
WARDER.
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.
KING. [Leans on the shoulders of his attendants and ascends_.
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.
WARDER.
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.
Enter the HERMITS leading [S']AKOONTALÁ, attended by GAUTAMÍ; and in advance of them, the CHAMBERLAIN and the DOMESTIC PRIEST.
CHAMBERLAIN.
This way, reverend Sirs, this way.
[S']ÁRNGARAVA
O [S']áradwata,
'Tis true the monarch lacks no royal grace,
Nor ever swerves from justice; true, his people,
Yea such as in life's humblest walks are found,
Refrain from evil courses; still to me,
A lonely hermit reared in solitude,
This throng appears bewildering, and I seem
To look upon a burning house, whose inmates
Are running to and fro in wild dismay.
[S']ÁRADWATA.
It is natural that the first sight of the King's capital should affect you in this manner; my own sensations are very similar.
As one just bathed beholds the man polluted;
As one late purified, the yet impure;
As one awake looks on the yet unawakened;
Or as the freeman gazes on the thrall,
So I regard this crowd of pleasure-seekers.
[S']AKOONTALÁ.
[Feeling a quivering sensation in her right eyelid [79], and suspecting a bad omen.
Alas! what means this throbbing of my right eyelid?
GAUTAMÍ.
Heaven avert the evil omen, my child! May the guardian deities of thy husband's family convert it into a sign of good fortune!
[Walks on.
PRIEST.
[Pointing to the King.
Most reverend Sirs, there stands the protector of the four classes of the people; the guardian of the four conditions of the priesthood[80]. He has just left the judgment-seat, and is waiting for you. Behold him!
[S']ÁRNGARAVA
Great Bráhman, we are happy in thinking that the King's power is exerted for the protection of all classes of his subjects. We have not come as petitioners—we have the fullest confidence in the generosity of his nature.
The loftiest trees bend humbly to the ground
Beneath the teeming burden of their fruit;
High in the vernal sky the pregnant clouds
Suspend their stately course, and, hanging low,
Scatter their sparkling treasures o'er the earth;
And such is true benevolence; the good
Are never rendered arrogant by riches.
WARDER.
So please your Majesty, I judge from the placid countenance of the hermits that they have no alarming message to deliver.
KING. [Looking at [S']AKOONTALÁ.
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.
WARDER.
So please your Majesty, my curiosity is also roused, but no conjecture occurs to my mind. This at least is certain, that she deserves to be looked at more closely.
KING.
True; but it is not right to gaze at another man's wife[120].
[S']AKOONTALÁ. [Placing her hand on her bosom. Aside.
O my heart, why this throbbing? Remember thy lord's affection, and take courage.
PRIEST. [Advancing.
These holy men have been received with all due honour. One of them has now a message to deliver from his spiritual superior. Will your Majesty deign to hear it?
KING.
I am all attention.
HERMITS. [Extending their hands.
Victory to the King!
KING.
Accept my respectful greeting.
HERMITS.
May the desires of your soul be accomplished!
KING.
I trust no one is molesting you in the prosecution of your religious rites.
HERMITS.
Who dares disturb our penitential rites
When thou art our protector? Can the night
Prevail to cast her shadows o'er the earth
While the sun's beams irradiate the sky?
KING.
Such, indeed, is the very meaning of my title—'Defender of the Just.' I trust the venerable Kanwa is in good health. The world is interested in his well-being.
HERMITS.
Holy men have health and prosperity in their own power. He bade us greet your Majesty, and, after kind inquiries, deliver this message.
KING.
Let me hear his commands.
[S']ÁRNGARAVA.
He bade us say that he feels happy in giving his sanction to the marriage which your Majesty contracted with this lady, his daughter, privately and by mutual agreement. Because,
By us thou art esteemed the most illustrious
Of noble husbands; and [S']akoontalá,
Virtue herself in human form revealed.
Great Brahmá hath in equal yoke united
A bride unto a husband worthy of her;
Henceforth let none make blasphemous complaint
That he is pleased with ill-assorted unions[81].
Since, therefore, she expects soon to be the mother of thy child, receive her into thy palace, that she may perform, in conjunction with thee, the ceremonies prescribed by religion on such an occasion.
GAUTAMÍ.
So please your Majesty, I would add a few words; but why should I intrude my sentiments when an opportunity of speaking my mind has never been allowed me?
She took no counsel with her kindred; thou
Didst not confer with thine, but all alone
Didst solemnize thy nuptials with thy wife.
Together, then, hold converse; let us leave you.
[S']AKOONTALÁ [Aside.
Ah! how I tremble for my lord's reply.
KING.
What strange proposal is this?
[S']AKOONTALÁ [Aside.
His words are like fire to me.
[S']ÁRNGARAVA
What do I hear? Dost thou, then, hesitate? Monarch, thou art well acquainted with the ways of the world, and knowest that
A wife, however virtuous and discreet,
If she live separate from her wedded lord,
Though under shelter of her parent's roof,
Is marked for vile suspicion. Let her dwell
Beside her husband, though he hold her not
In his affection. So her kinsmen will it.
KING.
Do you really mean to assert that I ever married this lady?
[S']AKOONTALÁ. [Despondingly. Aside.
O my heart, thy worst misgivings are confirmed.
[S']ÁRNGARAVA.
Is it becoming in a monarch to depart from the rules of justice, because he repents of his engagements?
KING.
I cannot answer a question which is based on a mere fabrication.
[S']ÁRNGARAVA.
Such inconstancy is fortunately not common, except in men intoxicated by power.
KING.
Is that remark aimed at me?
GAUTAMÍ.
Be not ashamed, my daughter. Let me remove thy veil for a little space. Thy husband will then recognize thee.
[Removes her veil.
KING.
[Gazing at [S']AKOONTALÁ. Aside.
What charms are here revealed before mine eyes!
Truly no blemish mars the symmetry
Of that fair form; yet can I ne'er believe
She is my wedded wife; and like a bee
That circles round the flower whose nectared cup
Teems with the dew of morning, I must pause
Ere eagerly I taste the proffered sweetness.
[Remains wrapped in thought.
WARDER.
How admirably does our royal master's behaviour prove his regard for justice! Who else would hesitate for a moment when good fortune offered for his acceptance a form of such rare beauty?
[S']ÁRNGARAVA.
Great King, why art thou silent?
KING.
Holy men, I have revolved the matter in my mind; but the more I think of it, the less able am I to recollect that I ever contracted an alliance with this lady. What answer, then, can I possibly give you when I do not believe myself to be her husband, and I plainly see that she is soon to become a mother?