[S']AKOONTALÁ; OR, THE LOST RING.
PROLOGUE.
BENEDICTION.
Í[S']a preserve you [1]! he who is revealed
In these eight forms[2] by man perceptible—
Water, of all creation's works the first;
The Fire that bears on high the sacrifice
Presented with solemnity to heaven;
The Priest, the holy offerer of gifts;
The Sun and Moon, those two majestic orbs,
Eternal marshallers of day and night;
The subtle Ether, vehicle of sound,
Diffused throughout the boundless universe;
The Earth, by sages called 'The place of birth
Of all material essences and things';
And Air, which giveth life to all that breathe.
STAGE-MANAGER.
[After the recitation of the benediction.]
[Looking toward the living-room.]
Lady, when you have finished attiring yourself, come this way.
ACTRESS.
[Entering.]
Here I am, Sir; what are your commands?
STAGE-MANAGER.
We are here before the eyes of an audience of educated and discerning men[3]; and have to represent in their presence a new drama composed by Kálidása, called '[S']akoontalá; or, the Lost Ring[4].' Let the whole company exert themselves to do justice to their several parts.
ACTRESS.
You, Sir, have so judiciously managed the cast of the characters, that nothing will be defective in the acting.
STAGE-MANAGER.
Lady, I will tell you the exact state of the case,
No skill in acting can I deem complete,
Till from the wise the actor gain applause;
Know that the heart e'en of the truly skilful,
Shrinks from too boastful confidence in self.
ACTRESS. [Modestly.]
You judge correctly And now, what are your commands?
STAGE-MANAGER.
What can you do better than engage the attention of the audience by some captivating melody?
ACTRESS.
Which among the seasons shall I select as the subject of my song?
STAGE-MANAGER.
You surely ought to give the preference to the present Summer season[5] that has but recently commenced, a season so rich in enjoyment. For now
Unceasing are the charms of halcyon days,
When the cool bath exhilarates the frame;
When sylvan gales are laden with the scent
Of fragrant Pátalas[6]; when soothing sleep
Creeps softly on beneath the deepening shade;
And when, at last, the dulcet calm of eve
Entrancing steals o'er every yielding sense.
ACTRESS.
I will:—
[Sings.]
Fond maids, the chosen of their hearts to please,
Entwine their ears with sweet [S']irísha flowers[7],
Whose fragrant lips attract the kiss of bees
That softly murmur through the summer hours.
STAGE-MANAGER.
Charmingly sung! The audience are motionless as statues, their souls riveted by the enchanting strain. What subject shall we select for representation, that we may ensure a continuance of their favour?
ACTRESS.
Why not the same, Sir, announced by you at first? Let the drama called '[S']akoontalá; or, the Lost Ring,' be the subject of our dramatic performance.
STAGE-MANAGER.
Rightly reminded! For the moment I had forgotten it.
Your song's transporting melody decoyed
My thoughts, and rapt with ecstasy my soul;
As now the bounding antelope allures
The King Dushyanta[8] on the chase intent.
[Exeunt.