BOOK XIV.
Damayanti when deserting—royal Nala fled, ere long
Blazing in the forest jungle—he a mighty fire beheld;
Thence as of a living being—from the midst a voice he heard:
"Hasten, Nala!" oft and loudly—"Punyasloka, haste," it cried.
"Fear thou not," king Nala answered—plunging in the ruddy flame;
There he saw the king of serpents—lying, coiled into a ring.
There with folded hands the serpent—trembling, thus to Nala spake:
"Me, Karkotaka, the Serpent—know, thou sovereign of men;
Narada, the famous hermit[102]—I deceived, the holy sage;
He in righteous indignation—smote me with this awful curse:
Stay thou there as one unmoving—till king Nala passing by,
Lead thee hence; save only Nala—none can free thee from this curse.
Through this potent execration—I no step have power to move;
I the way to bliss will show thee—if thou sav'st me from this fate.
I will show thee noble friendship—serpent none is like to me;
Lightly shall I weigh, uplift me—in thy hand, with speed, O king."
Thus when spake the king of serpents—to a finger's size he shrank;
Him when Nala lightly lifted—to the unburning space he passed.
To the air all cool and temperate—brought him, by the flame unreached.
As he fain on th' earth would place him—thus Karkotaka began.
"Move thou now, O king, and slowly—as thou movest, count thy steps.
Then the best of all good fortune—will I give thee, mighty armed!"
Ere the tenth step he had counted[103]—him the sudden serpent bit:
As he bit him, on the instant—all his kingly form was changed.
There he stood, and gazed in wonder—Nala, on his altered form.
In his proper shape the serpent—saw the sovereign of men.
Then Karkotaka the serpent—thus to Nala comfort spake:
"Through my power thy form is altered—lest thou should'st be known of men.
He through whom thou'rt thus afflicted—Nala, with intensest grief,
Through my poison, shall in anguish—ever dwell within thy soul.
All his body steeped in poison—till he free thee from thy woe,
Shall he dwell within thee prison'd—in the ecstacy of pain.
So from him, by whom, thou blameless!—sufferest such unworthy wrong,
By the curse I lay upon him—my deliverance shall be wrought.
Fear not thou the tusked wild boar—foeman fear not thou, O king,
Neither Brahmin fear, nor Sages[104]—safe through my prevailing power.
King, this salutary poison—gives to thee nor grief nor pain;
In the battle, chief of Rajas—victory is ever thine.
Go thou forth, thyself thus naming—Vahuca, the charioteer,
To the royal Rituparna—in the dice all-skilful he;
To Ayodhya's pleasant city—sovereign of Nishadha! go;
He his skill in dice will give thee—for thy skill in taming steeds:
Of Ikshwàku's noble lineage—he will be thy best of friends.
Thou the skill in dice possessing—soon wilt rise again to bliss;
With thy consort reunited—yield not up thy soul to grief.
Thou thy kingdom, thou thy children—wilt regain, the truth I speak.
When again thou would'st behold thee—in thy proper form, O king,
Summon me to thy remembrance—and this garment put thou on:
In this garment clad resum'st thou—instantly thy proper form."
Saying thus, of vests celestial—gave he to the king a pair.[105]
And king Nala, thus instructed—gifted with these magic robes,
Instantly the king of serpents—vanished from his sight away.
BOOK XV.
Vanished thus the King of Serpents—set Nishadha's raja forth,
Rituparna's royal city—on the tenth day entered he.
Straight before the royal presence—"Vahuca am I," he said,
"In the skill of taming horses—on the earth is not my peer;
Use me, where the difficult counsel—where thou want'st the dexterous hand;
In the art of dressing viands[106]—I am skilful above all.
Whatsoe'er the art, whatever—be most difficult to do,
I will strive to execute it—take me to thy service, king."
Rituparna spake.
"Vahuca, I bid thee welcome—all this service shalt thou do,
On my horses' rapid motion—deeply is my mind engaged.
Take thou then on thee the office—that my steeds be fleet of foot,
Of my horse be thou the master—hundred hundreds is thy pay:[107]
Ever shalt thou have for comrades—Varshneya and Jivala:
With these two pursue thy pleasure—Vahuca, abide with me."
Thus addressed, did Nala, honoured—by king Rituparna long,
With Varshneya in that city—and with Jivala abide:
There abode he, sadly thinking—of Vidarbha's daughter still.
In the evening, every evening—uttered he this single verse;
"Where is she, by thirst and hunger—worn, and weary, pious still,
Thinking of her unwise husband—in whose presence is she now!"
Thus the raja, ever speaking—Jivala one night addressed;
"Who is she, for whom thou grievest?—Vahuca, I fain would hear."
[108]Answered thus the royal Nala—"To a man of sense bereft,
Once belonged a peerless lady—most infirm of word was he;
From some cause from her dissevered—went that frantic man away,
In his foolish soul thus parted—wanders he, by sorrow racked;
Night and day, and still for ever—by his parching grief consumed:
Nightly brooding o'er his sorrows—sings he this sad single verse.
O'er the whole wide earth a wanderer—chance-alighting in some place,
Dwells that woful man, unworthy,—ever wakeful with his grief.
Him that noble lady following—in the forest lone and dread,
Lives, of that bad man forsaken—hard it is to say, she lives!
Lone, and young, the ways unknowing—undeserving of such fate,
Pines she there with thirst and hunger—hard it is to say, she lives.
In that vast and awful forest—haunted by fierce beasts of prey,
By her lord she roams forsaken—hapless, by that luckless lord."
Thus remembering Damayanti—did Nishadha's king unknown,
Long within that dwelling sojourn—in the palace of the king.