Page 107.

Śaivya, a king whom earth obeyed,

Once to a hawk a promise made.

The following is a free version of this very ancient story which occurs more than once in the Mahábhárat:

The Suppliant Dove.

Chased by a hawk there came a dove

With worn and weary wing,

And took her stand upon the hand

Of Káśí's mighty king.

The monarch smoothed her ruffled plumes

And laid her on his breast,

And cried, “No fear shall vex thee here,

Rest, pretty egg-born, rest!

Fair Káśí's realm is rich and wide,

With golden harvests gay,

But all that's mine will I resign

Ere I my guest betray.”

But panting for his half won spoil

The hawk was close behind.

And with wild cry and eager eye

Came swooping down the wind:

“This bird,” he cried, “my destined prize,

'Tis not for thee to shield:

'Tis mine by right and toilsome flight

O'er hill and dale and field.

Hunger and thirst oppress me sore,

And I am faint with toil:

Thou shouldst not stay a bird of prey

Who claims his rightful spoil.

They say thou art a glorious king,

And justice is thy care:

Then justly reign in thy domain,

Nor rob the birds of air.”

Then cried the king: “A cow or deer

For thee shall straightway bleed,

Or let a ram or tender lamb

Be slain, for thee to feed.

Mine oath forbids me to betray

My little twice-born guest:

See how she clings with trembling wings

To her protector's breast.”

“No flesh of lambs,” the hawk replied,

“No blood of deer for me;

The falcon loves to feed on doves

And such is Heaven's decree.

But if affection for the dove

Thy pitying heart has stirred,

Let thine own flesh my maw refresh,

Weighed down against the bird.”

He carved the flesh from off his side,

And threw it in the scale,

While women's cries smote on the skies

With loud lament and wail.

He hacked the flesh from side and arm,

From chest and back and thigh,

But still above the little dove

The monarch's scale stood high.

He heaped the scale with piles of flesh,

With sinews, blood and skin,

And when alone was left him bone

He threw himself therein.

Then thundered voices through the air;

The sky grew black as night;

And fever took the earth that shook

To see that wondrous sight.

The blessed Gods, from every sphere,

By Indra led, came nigh:

While drum and flute and shell and lute

Made music in the sky.

They rained immortal chaplets down,

Which hands celestial twine,

And softly shed upon his head

Pure Amrit, drink divine.

Then God and Seraph, Bard and Nymph

Their heavenly voices raised,

And a glad throng with dance and song

The glorious monarch praised.

They set him on a golden car

That blazed with many a gem;

Then swiftly through the air they flew,

And bore him home with them.

Thus Káśí's lord, by noble deed,

Won heaven and deathless fame:

And when the weak protection seek

From thee, do thou the same.

Scenes from the Rámáyan, &c.