My heart is touched with sadness at the thought
”Çakuntalā must go to-day”; my throat
Is choked with flow of tears repressed; my sight
Is dimmed with pensiveness; but if the grief
Of an old forest hermit is so great,
How keen must be the pang a father feels
When freshly parted from a cherished child!
Then calling on the trees to give her a kindly farewell, he exclaims—
The trees, the kinsmen of her forest home,
Now to Çakuntalā give leave to go: