Courtier. Of Chārudatta's virtues.
Sansthānaka. Virtues? He? You can go into his houshe and not find a thing to eat.
Courtier. No, no.
His loving-kindness unto such as we
Has brought him low at last;
From him could no man learn what insults be,
Or e'er his wealth was past.
This well-filled pool, that in its summer day
Gave others drink, itself is dried away.46
Sansthānaka. [Impatiently.] Who is the shon of a shlave-wench anyway?
Brave Shvetaketu is he, Pāndu's child?
Or Rādhā's shon, the ten-necked ogre wild?
Or Indradatta? or again, is he
Shon of brave Rāma and of fair Kuntī?
Or Dharmaputra? Ashvatthāman bold?
Perhaps Jatāyu's shelf, that vulture old?47
[19.19. S.
Courtier. Fool! I will tell you who Chārudatta is.
A tree of life to them whose sorrows grow,
Beneath its fruit of virtue bending low;
Father to good men; virtue's touchstone he;
The mirror of the learned; and the sea
Where all the tides of character unite;
A righteous man, whom pride could never blight;
A treasure-house, with human virtues stored;
Courtesy's essence, honor's precious hoard.
He doth to life its fullest meaning give,
So good is he; we others breathe, not live.48
Let us be gone.
Sansthānaka. Without Vasantasenā?
Courtier. Vasantasenā has disappeared.
Sansthānaka. How?
Courtier.