Maiden! speak unto the rishi, and thy choice and secret tell!”
Then a blush suffused her forehead, soft and slow her accents fell!
“Listen, father! Salwa's monarch was of old a king of might,
Righteous-hearted Dyumat-sena, feeble now and void of sight,
Foemen robbed him of his kingdom when in age he lost his sight,
And from town and spacious empire was the monarch forced to flight,
With his queen and with his infant did the feeble monarch stray,
And the jungle was his palace, darksome was his weary way.
Holy vows assumed the monarch and in penance passed his life,
In the wild woods nursed his infant and with wild fruits fed his wife,
Years have gone in rigid penance, and that child is now a youth,
Him I choose my lord and husband, Satyavan, Soul of Truth!”
Thoughtful was the rishi Narad, doleful were the words he said:
“Sad disaster waits Savitri if this royal youth she wed!
Truth-beloving is his father, truthful is the royal dame,
Truth and virtue rule his actions, Satyavan is his name,
Steeds he loved in days of boyhood and to paint them was his joy,
Hence they called him young Chitraswa, art-beloving gallant boy!
But O pious-hearted monarch! fair Savitri hath in sooth
Courted Fate and sad disaster in that noble gallant youth!”