Reading section 40

[_Exit Anasúyá. Priyamvadá takes down the flowers._

A VOICE [_behind the scenes_].--Gautamí, bid Śárngarava and the others hold themselves in readiness to escort Śakoontalá.

PRIYAMVADÁ [_listening_].--Quick, quick, Anasúyá! They are calling the hermits who are to go with Śakoontalá to Hastinápur.

ANASÚYÁ [_reëntering, with the perfumed unguents in her hand_].--Come along then, Priyamvadá; I am ready to go with you. [_They walk away_.

PRIYAMVADÁ [_looking_].--See! there sits Śakoontalá, her locks arranged even at this early hour of the morning. The holy women of the hermitage are congratulating her, and invoking blessings on her head, while they present her with wedding-gifts and offerings of consecrated wild-rice. Let us join them. [_They approach_.

_Śakoontalá is seen seated, with women surrounding her, occupied in the manner described_.

FIRST WOMAN [_to Śakoontalá_].--My child, may'st thou receive the title of "Chief-queen," and may thy husband delight to honor thee above all others!

SECOND WOMAN.--My child, may'st thou be the mother of a hero!

THIRD WOMAN.--My child, may'st thou be highly honored by thy lord!

[_Exeunt all the women, excepting Gautamí, after blessing Śakoontalá._

PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ [_approaching_].--Dear Śakoontalá, we are come to assist you at your toilet, and may a blessing attend it!

ŚAKOONTALÁ.--Welcome, dear friends, welcome. Sit down here.

PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ [_taking the baskets containing the bridal decorations, and sitting down_].--Now, then, dearest, prepare to let us dress you. We must first rub your limbs with these perfumed unguents.

ŚAKOONTALÁ.--I ought indeed to be grateful for your kind offices, now that I am so soon to be deprived of them. Dear, dear friends, perhaps I shall never be dressed by you again. [_Bursts into tears_.

PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ.--Weep not, dearest, tears are out of season on such a happy occasion.

[_They wipe away her tears and begin to dress her_.

PRIYAMVADÁ.--Alas! these simple flowers and rude ornaments which our hermitage offers in abundance, do not set off your beauty as it deserves.

_Enter two young Hermits, bearing costly presents_.

BOTH HERMITS.--Here are ornaments suitable for a queen.

[_The women look at them in astonishment_.

GAUTAMÍ.--Why, Nárada, my son, whence came these?

FIRST HERMIT.--You owe them to the devotion of Father Kanwa.

GAUTAMÍ.--Did he create them by the power of his own mind?

SECOND HERMIT.--Certainly not; but you shall hear. The venerable sage ordered us to collect flowers for Śakoontalá from the forest-trees; and we went to the wood for that purpose, when Straightway depending from a neighboring tree Appeared a robe of linen tissue, pure And spotless as a moon-beam--mystic pledge Of bridal happiness; another tree Distilled a roseate dye wherewith to stain The lady's feet; and other branches near Glistened with rare and costly ornaments. While, 'midst the leaves, the hands of forest-nymphs, Vying in beauty with the opening buds, Presented us with sylvan offerings.

PRIYAMVADÁ [_looking at Śakoontalá_].--The wood-nymphs have done you honor, indeed. This favor doubtless signifies that you are soon to be received as a happy wife into your husband's house, and are from this forward to become the partner of his royal fortunes. [_Śakoontalá appears confused_.

FIRST HERMIT.--Come, Gautama; Father Kanwa has finished his ablutions. Let us go and inform him of the favor we have received from the deities who preside over our trees.

SECOND HERMIT.--By all means. [_Exeunt._

PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ.--Alas! what are we to do? We are unused to such splendid decorations, and are at a loss how to arrange them. Our knowledge of painting must be our guide. We will dispose the ornaments as we have seen them in pictures.

ŚAKOONTALÁ.--Whatever pleases you, dear girls, will please me. I have perfect confidence in your taste. [_They commence dressing her_.

_Enter Kanwa, having just finished his ablutions_.

KANWA.--This day my loved one leaves me, and my heart Is heavy with its grief: the streams of sorrow Choked at the source, repress my faltering voice. I have no words to speak; mine eyes are dimmed By the dark shadows of the thoughts that rise Within my soul. If such the force of grief In an old hermit parted from his nursling, What anguish must the stricken parent feel-- Bereft forever of an only daughter? [_Advances towards Śakoontalá_

PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ.--Now, dearest Śakoontalá, we have finished decorating you. You have only to put on the two linen mantles. [_Śakoontalá rises and puts them on_.

GAUTAMÍ.--Daughter, see, here comes thy foster-father; he is eager to fold thee in his arms; his eyes swim with tears of joy. Hasten to do him reverence.

ŚAKOONTALÁ [_reverently_].--My father, I salute you.

KANWA.--My daughter, May'st thou be highly honored by thy lord, E'en as Yayáti Śarmishthá adored! And, as she bore him Puru; so may'st thou Bring forth a son to whom the world shall bow!

GAUTAMÍ.--Most venerable father, she accepts your benediction as if she already possessed the boon it confers.

KANWA.--Now come this way, my child, and walk reverently round these sacrificial fires. [_They all walk round_.

KANWA [_repeats a prayer in the metre of the Rig-veda_].-- Holy flames, that gleam around Every altar's hallowed ground; Holy flames, whose frequent food Is the consecrated wood, And for whose encircling bed, Sacred Kuśa-grass is spread; Holy flames, that waft to heaven Sweet oblations daily given, Mortal guilt to purge away;-- Hear, oh hear me, when I pray-- Purify my child this day! Now then, my daughter, set out on thy journey. [_Looking on one side_.] Where are thy attendants, Śárngarava and the others?

YOUNG HERMIT [_entering_].--Here we are, most venerable father.

KANWA.--Lead the way for thy sister.

SÁRNGARAVA.--Come, Śakoontalá, let us proceed. [_All move away_.

KANWA.--Hear me, ye trees that surround our hermitage! Śakoontalá ne'er moistened in the stream Her own parched lips, till she had fondly poured Its purest water on your thirsty roots; And oft, when she would fain have decked her hair With your thick-clustering blossoms, in her love She robbed you not e'en of a single flower. Her highest joy was ever to behold The early glory of your opening buds: Oh, then, dismiss her with a kind farewell! This very day she quits her father's home, To seek the palace of her wedded lord. [_The note of a Köil is heard_. Hark! heard'st thou not the answer of the trees, Our sylvan sisters, warbled in the note Of the melodious Köil? they dismiss Their dear Śakoontalá with loving wishes.

VOICES [_in the air_].-- Fare thee well, journey pleasantly on amid streams Where the lotuses bloom, and the sun's glowing beams Never pierce the deep shade of the wide-spreading trees, While gently around thee shall sport the cool breeze; Then light be thy footsteps and easy thy tread, Beneath thee shall carpets of lilies be spread. Journey on to thy lord, let thy spirit be gay, For the smiles of all Nature shall gladden thy way. [_All listen with astonishment_.

GAUTAMÍ.--Daughter! the nymphs of the wood, who love thee with the affection of a sister, dismiss thee with kind wishes for thy happiness. Take thou leave of them reverentially.

ŚAKOONTALÁ [_bowing respectfully and walking on. Aside to her friend_].--Eager as I am, dear Priyamvadá, to see my husband once more, yet my feet refuse to move, now that I am quitting forever the home of my girlhood.

PRIYAMVADÁ.--You are not the only one, dearest, to feel the bitterness of parting. As the time of separation approaches, the whole grove seems to share your anguish. In sorrow for thy loss, the herd of deer Forget to browse; the peacock on the lawn Ceases its dance; the very trees around us Shed their pale leaves, like tears, upon the ground.

ŚAKOONTALÁ [_recollecting herself_].--My father, let me, before I go, bid adieu to my pet jasmine, the Moonlight of the Grove. I love the plant almost as a sister.

KANWA.--Yes, yes, my child, I remember thy sisterly affection for the creeper. Here it is on the right.

ŚAKOONTALÁ [_approaching the jasmine_],--My beloved jasmine, most brilliant of climbing plants, how sweet it is to see thee cling thus fondly to thy husband, the mango-tree; yet, prithee, turn thy twining arms for a moment in this direction to embrace thy sister; she is going far away, and may never see thee again.

KANWA.--Daughter, the cherished purpose of my heart Has ever been to wed thee to a spouse That should be worthy of thee; such a spouse Hast thou thyself, by thine own merits, won. To him thou goest, and about his neck Soon shalt thou cling confidingly, as now Thy favorite jasmine twines its loving arms Around the sturdy mango. Leave thou it To its protector--e'en as I consign Thee to thy lord, and henceforth from my mind Banish all anxious thought on thy behalf. Proceed on thy journey, my child.

ŚAKOONTALÁ [_to Priyamvadá and Anasúyá_].--To you, my sweet companions, I leave it as a keepsake. Take charge of it when I am gone.

PRIYAMVADÁ AND ANASÚYÁ [_bursting into tears_].--And to whose charge do you leave us, dearest? Who will care for us when you are gone?

KANWA.--For shame, Anasúyá! dry your tears. Is this the way to cheer your friend at a time when she needs your support and consolation? [_All move on_.

ŚAKOONTALÁ.--My father, see you there my pet deer, grazing close to the hermitage? She expects soon to fawn, and even now the weight of the little one she carries hinders her movements. Do not forget to send me word when she becomes a mother.

KANWA.--I will not forget it.

ŚAKOONTALÁ [_feeling herself drawn back_].--What can this be, fastened to my dress? [_Turns round_.

KANWA.--My daughter, It is the little fawn, thy foster-child. Poor helpless orphan! it remembers well How with a mother's tenderness and love Thou didst protect it, and with grains of rice From thine own hand didst daily nourish it; And, ever and anon, when some sharp thorn Had pierced its mouth, how gently thou didst tend The bleeding wound, and pour in healing balm. The grateful nursling clings to its protectress, Mutely imploring leave to follow her.

ŚAKOONTALÁ.--My poor little fawn, dost thou ask to follow an unhappy woman who hesitates not to desert her companions? When thy mother died, soon after thy birth, I supplied her place, and reared thee with my own hand; and now that thy second mother is about to leave thee, who will care for thee? My father, be thou a mother to her. My child, go back, and be a daughter to my father. [_Moves on, weeping_.

KANWA.--Weep not, my daughter, check the gathering tear That lurks beneath thine eyelid, ere it flow And weaken thy resolve; be firm and true-- True to thyself and me; the path of life Will lead o'er hill and plain, o'er rough and smooth, And all must feel the steepness of the way; Though rugged be thy course, press boldly on.

SÁRNGARAVA.--Venerable sire! the sacred precept is--"Accompany thy friend as far as the margin of the first stream." Here then, we are arrived at the border of a lake. It is time for you to give us your final instructions and return.