Vain is the hope of meeting her in dreams,
For slumber, night by night, forsakes my couch.
And now that I would fain assuage my grief
By gazing on her portrait, here before me,
Tears of despairing love obscure my sight.”
Monier Williams.
Sakoontalâ may justly be called the pearl of Eastern dramatic poetry. It has been translated into every European tongue, and has elicited the admiration of all civilized nations. In the language of Goethe:—
“Would’st thou the young year’s blossom and the fruits of its decline,
And all by which the soul is charmed, enraptured, feasted, fed—
Would’st thou the earth and heaven itself in one sole name combine?