“Tell me, rishi,” said the monarch, “for thy sense from me is hid,
Has this prince some fatal blemish, wherefore is this match forbid?”
“Fatal fault!” exclaimed the rishi, “fault that wipeth all his grace,
Fault, that human power nor effort, rite nor penance can efface!
Fatal fault or destined sorrow! for it is decreed on high,
On this day, a twelve-month later, this ill-fated prince will die!”
Shook the startled king in terror, and in fear and trembling cried:
“Unto short-lived, fated bridegroom ne'er my child shall be allied!
Come, Savitri, dear-loved maiden! choose another happier lord,
Rishi Narad speaketh wisdom, list unto his holy word!
Every grace and every virtue is effaced by cruel Fate,
On this day, a twelve-month later, leaves the prince his mortal state!”
“Father!” answered thus the maiden, soft and sad her accents fell,
“I have heard thy honoured mandate, holy Narad counsels well,
Pardon witless maiden's feelings! but beneath the eye of Heaven,
Only once a maiden chooseth, twice her troth may not be given!
Long his life or be it narrow, and his virtues great or none,
Brave Satyavan is my husband, he my heart and troth hath won!
What a maiden's heart hath chosen that a maiden's lips confess,
True to him, thy poor Savitri goes into the wilderness!”