SECTION LXIX.
The very same night that the envoys entered the city, Bharata saw an evil dream. And seeing that evil dream during the short hours, the son of that king of kings exceedingly burned in grief. And rinding him aggrieved, his sweet speeched associates, endeavouring to chase the heaviness, began to converse on a variety of subjects. Some played on instruments; some for the purpose of pacifying his mind, danced (the courtezans); others performed scenes variously fraught with the sentiment of mirth. But although his friends intending to allay his agitation set about enacting passages calculated to amuse family circles, that magnanimous descendant of Raghu did not indulge in laughter. Then a dear friend addressed Bharata, as he sat surrounded by his friends, "Surrounded by your friends, why do you not, my friend, join in the mirth?" Thus asked by his friend, Bharata answered, "Listen why this depression has overtaken me. In a dream I beheld my father, pale, with his hair loosely flowing about, plunging from the summit of a mountain into a dirty pool filled with cow-dung. And I saw him floating on a sink of cow-dung, and yet with a momentary laugh drinking oil by means of his joined hands. Then feeding on rice mixed with sessame, he again and again hanging his head down, dives into oil with his limbs rubbed with oil. And in my dream I saw the ocean dried up, and the moon fallen on the earth, and the earth as if invaded by enfolding darkness, and the tusk of the elephant on which the monarch rides falling in fragments, and flaming fire suddenly extinguished, and the earth rent, and the trees withered, and all the mountains befching smoke. . And I saw the king seated on a sable seat of iron, clad in a sable garb; and women black and yellow beating him. And bearing a garland of red flowers, with his body daubed with red sandal, he was fast proceeding to the south in a car yoked with asses. And women clad in red garment were laughing at him, and a grim-visaged Rākshasa was seen by me as dragging him. This was the dream that I saw this terrible night. Either I, or Rāma, or the king, or Lakshmana is to breathe our last. The smoke of the funeral pyre of him will be shortly visible that goes in the car yoked with asses. It is for this reason that I am poor of spirit, and that I do not respond to your words. Further, my throat is parched, and my mind ill at ease. Ground of fear find I none, yet am I subject to fear. My voice is untuned, and my grace fled, and I begin to despise my life, nor know I the reason why. Bringing to mind this various-looking dream which I had not thought of before, and remembering the king of incomprehensible presence, this fear goeth not from my heart."