[Exit with his companions.
KING.—Charioteer, urge on the horses. We will at least purify our souls by a sight of this hallowed retreat.
CHARIOTEER.—Your Majesty is obeyed.
[Drives the chariot with great velocity.
KING [looking all about him].—Charioteer, even without being told, I should have known that these were the precincts of a grove consecrated to penitential rites.
CHARIOTEER.—How so?
KING.—Do not you observe?
Beneath the trees, whose hollow trunks afford
Secure retreat to many a nestling brood
Of parrots, scattered grains of rice lie strewn.
Lo! here and there are seen the polished slabs
That serve to bruise the fruit of Ingudí.
The gentle roe-deer, taught to trust in man,
Unstartled hear our voices. On the paths
Appear the traces of bark-woven vests
Borne dripping from the limpid fount of waters.
And mark! Laved are the roots of trees by deep canals,
Whose glassy waters tremble in the breeze;
The sprouting verdure of the leaves is dimmed
By dusky wreaths of upward curling smoke
From burnt oblations; and on new-mown lawns
Around our car graze leisurely the fawns.
CHARIOTEER.—I observe it all.
KING [advancing a little further].—The inhabitants of this sacred retreat must not be disturbed. Stay the chariot, that I may alight.