And the king Rúpadhara, hearing of it, came to meet him delighted, and the two kings met and embraced one another. Then the king Pṛithvírúpa entered his city with him, being, so to speak, drunk in by the eyes of the ladies of the city. Then the queen Hemalatá and the king Rúpadhara, seeing that he was a suitable husband for their daughter, rejoiced. And that king Pṛithvírúpa remained there, and Rúpadhara honoured him with entertainment in accordance with his own magnificence.
And the next day, the long-desiring Rúpalatá ascended the altar in an auspicious moment, and he with exultation received her hand in marriage. And when they beheld one another’s beauty, the expanded eye of each was extended to the ear, as if to inform that organ that the report it had heard before was true. When the parched grain was thrown, Rúpadhara gave jewels in such abundance to the happy couple, that men thought he was a perfect mine of jewels. And after his daughter’s marriage had taken place, he honoured the painter and the two mendicants with dresses and ornaments, and bestowed gifts on all the others. Then that king Pṛithvírúpa, remaining in that city with his attendants, enjoyed the best meat and drink the isle could produce. The day was spent in singing and dancing, and at night the eager king entered the private apartments of Rúpalatá, in which jewelled couches were spread, which was adorned with jewelled pavement, the circuit of which was propped on jewelled pillars, and which was lit up with jewel-lamps. And in the morning he was woke up by the bards and heralds reciting, and he rose up and remained as the moon in heaven.
Thus king Pṛithvírúpa remained ten days in that island, amusing himself with ever-fresh enjoyments furnished by his father-in-law. On the eleventh day, the king, with the consent of the astrologers, set out with Rúpalatá, after the auspicious ceremony had been performed for him. And he was escorted by his father-in-law as far as the shore of the sea, and accompanied by his retainers, he embarked on the ships with his wife. He crossed the sea in eight days, and his army, that was encamped on the shore, joined him, and the king Udáracharita came to meet him, and then he went to Putrapura. There king Pṛithvírúpa rested some days, and was entertained by that king, and then he set out from that place. And he mounted his beloved Rúpalatá on the elephant Jayamangala, and he himself mounted an elephant named Kalyáṇagiri. And the king, proceeding by continual stages, in due course reached his good city of Pratishṭhána, where flags and banners were waving. Then, after beholding Rúpalatá, the ladies of the city lost at once all pride in their own beauty, and gazed on her with eyes unwinking from wonder. Then king Pṛithvírúpa entered his palace, making high festival, and he gave to that painter villages and wealth, and he honoured those two hermits with wealth as they deserved, and gave complimentary presents to the chiefs, ministers and Rájpúts. Then that king, having attained his object, enjoyed there this world’s happiness in the society of Rúpalatá.
After the minister Gomukha had told Naraváhanadatta this tale with the object of amusing him, he went on to say to the impatient prince,—“Thus the resolute endure painful separation for a long time, but how is it that you cannot endure it even for one night, O king? For to-morrow your Highness shall marry Alankáravatí.” When Gomukha had said this, Marubhúti the son of Yaugandharáyaṇa came up at that instant, and said, “What stuff will you not prate, being ungalled, and never having felt the agony of love? A man possesses firmness and discernment and morality, only so long as he does not come within the range of the arrows of Love. Happy in the world are Sarasvatí, Skanda, and Buddha, these three, who have brushed off and flung away love, like a blade of grass clinging to the skirt of the robe.” When Marubhúti said this, Naraváhanadatta, perceiving that Gomukha was distressed, said in order to comfort him,—“What Gomukha said to me was appropriate, and it was said to amuse me, for what loving friend exults over one in the agony of separation? One afflicted by the pain of separation should be comforted by his friends to the best of their ability, and the sequel should be left to the disposal of the five-arrowed god.” Talking in this style, and hearing various tales from his attendants, Naraváhanadatta somehow managed to get through that night. And when morning came, he rose up and performed his necessary duties, and saw Kánchanaprabhá descending from heaven, accompanied by her husband Alankáraśíla, and her son Dharmaśíla, and that Alankáravatí her daughter; and they all descended from the chariot and came near him, and he welcomed them as was fitting, and they saluted him in like manner. And in the meanwhile thousands of other Vidyádharas descended from heaven, carrying loads of gold, jewels, and other valuables; and after hearing of this occurrence, the king of Vatsa came there with his ministers and his queens, delighted at the advancement of his son. After the king of Vatsa had performed the rites of hospitality duly, the king Alankáraśíla said to him, bowing graciously,—“King, this is my daughter Alankáravatí, and when she was born, she was declared by a voice, that came from heaven, to be destined to be the wife of this thy son Naraváhanadatta, the future emperor of all the Vidyádhara kings. So I will give her to him, for this is a favourable moment for them; for this reason I have come here with all these.” The king of Vatsa welcomed that speech of the Vidyádhara sovereign’s, saying, “It is a great favour that you do me.” Then the ruler of the Vidyádharas sprinkled with water, produced in the hollow of his hand by virtue of his science, the ground of the courtyard. Immediately there was produced there an altar of gold, covered with a heavenly cloth, and a pavilion, not made with hands, for the preliminary ceremony, composed of various jewels. Then the successful king Alankáraśíla said to Naraváhanadatta—“Rise up, the favourable moment has arrived—bathe.” After he had bathed, and had the marriage-thread put on, the king Alankáraśíla, being delighted, gave him with all his heart his daughter, after bringing her to the altar in her bridal dress. And when the grain was thrown into the fire, he and his son gave to his daughter thousands of loads of jewels, gold, garments and ornaments, and heavenly nymphs. And after the marriage was over, he honoured them all, and then took his leave of them, and with his wife and son departed, as he came, through the air. Then the king of Vatsa, seeing his son destined to advancement, being honoured by the bending kings of the Vidyádharas, was delighted, and prolonged that feast to a great length. And Naraváhanadatta, having obtained Alaṅkáravatí, charming on account of her good conduct, and of noble virtues, like a skilful poet who has obtained a style, charming on account of its excellent metre, and of splendid merits, remained delighted with her.[9]
[1] i. e., connected in some way with Buddha. See Böhtlingk and Roth s. v.
[2] i. e., the Himálaya.
[3] This seems to agree with the story as told in the Bhágavata Puráṇa. For various forms of the Ráma legend, see the translation of the Uttara Ráma Charita by M. Félix Nève.
[4] The story of Genovefa in Simrock’s Deutsche Volksbücher, Vol. I, p. 371, bears a striking resemblance to that of Sítá. The way in which Schmerzensreich and his father retire to the forest at the end of the story is quite Indian. In the Greek novel of Hysminias and Hysmine the innocence of the heroine is tested by the fountain of Diana (Scriptores Erotici, p. 595). For parallels to the story of Genoveva or Genovefa see Prym und Socin, Syrische Märchen, LII, and the Introduction, p. xxii.
[5] One of the five trees of Paradise. For the golden lotuses, see [Chapter XXV]. In [Ch. LII] we find trees with trunks of gold and leaves and fruit of jewels. A similar tree is found in the mediæval romance of king Alexander. Dunlop compares the golden vine carried away by Pompey. Liebrecht remarks that there was also a golden vine over the gate of the temple at Jerusalem, and compares the golden lotus made by the Chinese emperor Tunghwan. He refers also to Huon of Bordeaux, Ysaie le Triste, and Grimm’s Kindermärchen 130 and 133. (Liebrecht’s Dunlop, p. 184). See also Milton’s Paradise Lost, IV. 220 and 256. Cp. Thalaba the Destroyer, Book I, 30. The passage in the Pseudo-Callisthenes will be found in III, 28, Karl Mueller’s Edition.