Vrihadasva spake.
To Sudeva as she listened—uttering thus his strange discourse:
All the dust that mole concealing—young Sunanda washed away.
By the obscuring dust unclouded—shining out that mole appeared;
On the brow of Damayanti—like the unclouded moon in heaven.
Gazing on that mole, Sunanda—and the mother of the king,
Wept as fondly they embraced her—and an instant silent stood.
Then her tears awhile suppressing—thus the royal mother spake:
"Thou art mine own sister's daughter—by that beauteous mole made known;
I, Oh beauteous, and thy mother—of that lofty-minded king,
Are the daughters, king Sudaman—he that in Dasarna[116] reigns;
She was wedded to king Bhima—and to Viravahu I.
In my fathers home, Dasarna—once I saw thee, newly born.
As to me thy father's lineage—is akin, so mine to thee;
Whatsoe'er my power commandeth—Damayanti, all is thine."
To the queen did Damayanti—in the gladness of her heart,
Having bowed in courteous homage—to her mother's sister, speak:
"While unknown I might continue—gladly dwelt I here with thee;
Every want supplied on th' instant—guarded by thy gentle care.
Yet than even this pleasant dwelling—a more pleasant may there be;
Long a banished woman, mother!—give me leave from hence to part,
Thither where my infant children—dwell my tender little ones,
Orphaned of their sire, in sorrow—orphaned, ah, how long of me!
If thou yet wilt grant a favour—o'er all other favours dear,
To Vidarbha would I journey—quick the palanquin command."
"Be it so," her mother's sister—joyful, instant made reply.
Guarded by a mighty army—with th' approval of her son,
Sent the queen, that happy lady—in a palanquin, by men
Borne aloft, and well provided—with all raiment, drink, and food.
Thus the princess to Vidarbha—after brief delay returned.
Her her whole assembled kindred—welcomed home with pride and joy,
All in health she found her kinsmen-and that lovely infant pair,
With her mother, with her father—and her sister troop of friends.
To the gods she paid her worship—to the Brahmins in her joy;
So the queenly Damayanti—all in noblest guise performed.
And her royal sire Sudeva—with the thousand kine made glad,
Joyous to behold his daughter,—with a village and much wealth.
There, when in her father's palace—she the quiet night had passed,
In these words the noble lady—to her mother gan to speak:
"If in life thou would'st preserve me—mother, hear the truth I speak;
Home to bring the hero Nala—be it now thy chiefest toil."
Thus addressed by Damayanti—very sorrowful the queen
Clouded all her face with weeping—not a word in answer spake.
But the princess, thus afflicted—when the female train beheld,
"Woe! oh woe!" they shrieked together—all in pitying sadness wept.
To the mighty raja Bhima—did the queen that speech relate.
"'Damayanti, Lo thy daughter—for her husband sits and mourns.'
Breaking through all bashful silence—thus, oh king, to me she spake:
'Be it now thy servants' business—to find out the king of men.'"
Urged by her the king his Brahmins—to his will obedient all,
Sent around to every region—"Be your care the king to find."
Then those Brahmins at the mandate—of Vidarbha's royal lord,
First drew near to Damayanti—"Lo, now set we forth," they said.
Then to them spake Bhima's daughter—"In all realms be this your speech,
Wheresoever men assemble—this repeat again, again:
Whither went'st thou then, oh gamester!—half my garment severing off,
Leaving me within the forest—all forsaken, thy beloved.
Even as thou commandedst, sits she—sadly waiting thy return.
Parched with sorrow sits that woman—in her scant half garment glad.
Oh to her thus ever weeping—in the extreme of her distress,
Grant thy pity, noble hero—answer to her earnest prayer.
Be this also said, to move him—to compassionate my state,
(By the wind within the forest—fanned, intensely burns the fire).[117]
Ever by her consort cherished—and sustained the wife should be.
Why hast thou forgot that maxim—thou in every duty skilled.
Thou wert ever called the generous—thou the gentle and the wise.
Art thou now estranged from pity—through my sad injurious fate.
Prince of men, O grant thy pity—grant it, lord of men, to me;
'Mercy is the chief of duties,'—oft from thine own lips I've heard.
Thus as ye are ever speaking—should there any one reply,
Mark him well, lest he be Nala—who he is, and where he dwells.
He who to this speech hath listened—and hath thus his answer made,
Be his words, O best of Brahmins—treasured and brought home to me,
Lest he haply should discover—that by my command ye speak,
That again ye may approach him—do ye this without delay.
Whether he be of the wealthy—whether of the poor he be;
Be he covetous of riches—learn ye all he would desire."
Thus addressed, went forth the Brahmins—to the realms on every side,
Seeking out the royal Nala—in his dark concealed distress.
They through royal cities, hamlets—pastoral dwellings, hermits' cells,
Nala every-where went seeking—yet those Brahmins found him not.
All in every part went speaking—in the language they were taught;
In the words of Damayanti—spake they in the ears of men.
BOOK XVIII.
Long the time that passed, a Brahmin—wise Parnada was his name,
Home returning to the city—thus to Bhima's daughter spake:
"Damayanti! royal Nala—as I sought Nishadha's king,
Came I to Ayodhya's city—the Bhangasuri's abode.
Stood before me, eager listening—to the words thou bad'st us speak,
He, the prosperous Rituparna—all excelling! such his name.
Thus as spake I, answered nothing—Rituparna, king of men;
Nor of all that full assemblage—more than once addressed by me.
By the king dismissed, when sate I—in a solitary place,
One of Rituparna's household—Vahuca, his name, drew near,
Charioteer of that great raja—with short arms and all deformed,
Skilled to drive the rapid chariot—skilled the viands to prepare.
He, when much he'd groaned in anguish—and had wept again, again,
First his courteous salutation—made, then spake in words like these:
Even in the extreme of misery—noble women still preserve,
Over their ownselves the mastery—by their virtues winning heaven;
Of their faithless lords abandoned—anger feel not even then.
In the breastplate of their virtue—noble women live unharmed.
By the wretched, by the senseless—by the lost to every joy,
She by such a lord forsaken—yet to anger will not yield.
Against him his sustenance seeking—of his robe by birds despoiled,
Him consumed with utmost misery—still no wrath the dark-hued feels;
Treated well, or ill entreated—when her husband she beholds,
Spoiled of bliss, bereft of kingdom—famine-wasted, worn with woe.
Having heard the stranger's language—hither hasted I to come.
Thou hast heard, be thine the judgment—to the king relate thou all."
To Parnada having listened—with her eyes o'erflowed with tears,
Secretly went Damayanti—and her mother thus addressed:
"Let not what I speak to Bhima—O my mother, be made known—
In thy presence to Sudeva—best of Brahmins, I would speak.
Let not this my secret counsel—to king Bhima be disclosed;
This the object we must compass—if thy daughter thou wouldst please,
As myself was to my kindred—swiftly by Sudeva brought,
With the same good fortune swiftly—may Sudeva part from hence,
Home to bring the royal Nala—mother, to Ayodhya's town."
Resting from his toil, Parnada—of the Brahmin race the best,
Did the daughter of Vidarbha—honour, and with wealth reward.
"Brahmin! home if come my Nala—richer guerdon will I give;
Much hast thou achieved, and wisely—so as none but thou has done.
That again with my lost husband—noblest Brahmin, I may meet."
Thus addressed, his grateful homage—and his benedictions paid,
Having thus achieved his mission—home the wise Parnada went.
Then accosting good Sudeva—Damayanti thus began,
And before her mother's presence—in her pain and grief she spake:
"Go, Sudeva, to the city—where Ayodhya's raja dwells,
Speak thou thus to Rituparna—Come, as of thine own accord.
Once again her Swayembara—does king Bhima's daughter hold;
Damayanti, thither hasten—all the kings and sons of kings;
Closely now the time is reckoned—when to-morrow's dawn appears;
If that thou would'st win the Princess—speed thou, tamer of thy foes.
When the sun is in his rising—she a second lord will choose:
Whether lives or is not living—royal Nala, no one knows."
Thus, as he received his mission—hastening to the king, he spake,
To the royal Rituparna—spake Sudeva, in these words.
BOOK XIX.
Hearing thus Sudeva's language—Rituparna, king of men
With a gentle voice and blandly—thus to Vahuca began.
"Where the princess Damayanti—doth her Swayembara hold
In one day to far Vidarbha—Vahuca, I fain would go."
In these words the unknown Nala—by his royal lord addressed
All his heart was torn with anguish—thus the lofty-minded thought—
"Can she speak thus, Damayanti—thus with sorrow frantic act?
Is't a stratagem thus subtly—for my sake devised and plann'd?
To desire this deed unholy[118]—is that holy princess driven
Wrong'd by me, her basest husband—miserable, mind-estranged!
Fickle is the heart of woman—grievous too is my offence!
Hence she thus might act ignobly—in her exile, reft of friends,
Soul-disturbed by her great sorrow—in the excess of her despair.
No! she could not thus have acted—she with noble offspring blest.
Where the truth, and where the falsehood—setting forth, I best shall judge,
I the will of Rituparna—for mine own sake, will obey."
Thus within his mind revolving—Vahuca, his wretched mind,
With his folded hands addressed he—Rituparna, king of men:
"I thy mandate will accomplish—I will go, O king of men,
In a single day, O raja—to Vidarbha's royal town."
Vahuca of all the coursers—did a close inspection make
Entering in the royal stable—by Bhangasuri's command.
Ever urged by Rituparna—Vahuca, in horses skilled,
Long within himself debating—which the fleetest steeds to choose,
He approached four slender coursers—fit, and powerful for the road,
Blending mighty strength with fleetness—high in courage and in blood;
Free from all the well-known vices—broad of nostril—large of jaw;
With the ten good marks distinguished[119]—born in Sindhu[120]—fleet as wind.
As he gazed upon those coursers—spoke the king, almost in wrath:
"Is then thus fulfilled our mandate?—think not to deceive us so.
How will these my coursers bear us—slight in strength and slightly breathed—
How can such a way be travelled—and so long, by steeds like these?"—