Transcriber's note:
1. The spelling, accents, and diacritical marks of Sanskrit words is not consistent through the book. The original spelling, accents, and diacritical marks are retained.
2. The in-line notes refer to lines in the poems. These have been converted to footnotes for easy reference. The information regarding the line referred to is however retained.
NALA AND DAMAYANTI
AND OTHER POEMS
TRANSLATED FROM THE SANSCRIT INTO ENGLISH VERSE, WITH MYTHOLOGICAL
AND CRITICAL NOTES.
BY THE
REV. HENRY HART MILMAN, M. A.
PREBENDARY OF WESTMINSTER; MINISTER OF ST. MARGARET'S; AND LATE PROFESSOR
OF POETRY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD.
Seal
OXFORD: D. A. TALBOYS.
M DCCC XXXV
TO MY MOTHER,
TO WHOM THESE TRANSLATIONS HAVE AFFORDED
MUCH PLEASURE,
AND TO WHOM, AT HER ADVANCED AGE,
TO HAVE AFFORDED PLEASURE
IS THE MOST GRATIFYING REWARD OF LITERARY
LABOUR,
THIS VOLUME IS INSCRIBED,
BY HER AFFECTIONATE SON.
CONTENTS:
PREFACE.
Those friends who have taken an interest in my literary productions
may feel some surprise at my appearance in the character of a
translator of Sanscrit poetry. To those, and indeed to all who may
take up the present volume, I owe some explanation of my pretensions
as a faithful interpreter of my original text. Those pretensions are
very humble; and I can unfeignedly say, that if the field had been
likely to be occupied by others, who might unite poetical powers with
a profound knowledge of the sacred language of India, I should have
withdrawn at once from the competition. But, in fact, in this country
the students of oriental literature, endowed with a taste and feeling
for poetry, are so few in number, that any attempt to make known the
peculiar character of those remarkable works, the old mythological
epics of India, may be received with indulgence by all who are
interested in the history of poetry. Mr. Wilson alone, since Sir W.
Jones, has united a poetical genius with deep Sanscrit scholarship;
but he has in general preferred the later and more polished
period—that of Kalidasa and the dramatists—to the ruder, yet in my
opinion, not less curious and poetical strains of the older epic
bards.
A brief account of the manner in which I became engaged in these
studies, will best explain the extent of my proficiency. During the
two last years in which I held the office of Professor of Poetry in
the University of Oxford, having exhausted the subject which I had
chosen for my terminal course, I was at a loss for some materials for
the few remaining lectures before my office should expire. I had been
led by the ardent curiosity, which I have ever felt to acquire some
knowledge of the poetry of all ages and nations—to examine some of
the publications of French and German, as well as English scholars, on
the subject of Indian poetry; chiefly those of the Schlegels, of Bopp,
and of De Chezy. I was struck with the singularity and captivated by
the extreme beauty, as it appeared to me, of some of the extracts,
especially those from the great epic poems, the Mahabharata and the
Ramayana, in their Homeric simplicity so totally opposite to the
ordinary notions entertained of all eastern poetry. I was induced to
attempt, without any instruction, and with the few elementary works
which could be procured, the Grammars of Wilkins and Bopp, the
Glossaries of Bopp and Rosen (Mr. Wilson's Dictionary was then out of
print and could not be purchased), to obtain some knowledge of this
wonderful and mysterious language. The study grew upon me, and would
have been pursued with more ardour, perhaps with more success, but for
the constant interruption of more imperative professional and literary
avocations. In itself the Sanscrit is an inexhaustible subject of
interest; in its grammatical structure more regular, artificial, and
copious than the most perfect of the western languages; in its origin,
the parent from which the older Greek, the Latin and the Teutonic
tongues seem to branch out and develop themselves upon distinct and
discernible principles.
I ventured to communicate to the Members of the University who
attended my lectures, my discoveries, as it were, in the unknown
region of Indian poetry, and to introduce translations of such
passages as appeared to me of peculiar singularity or beauty. Though I
was still moving in the leading-strings of my learned guides, I had
obtained sufficient acquaintance with the language to compare their
interpretations with the original text. I afterwards embodied some
parts of my lectures in an article in the Quarterly Review, in order
to contribute as far as was in my power to open this new and almost
untrodden field of literature to the English reader.
Still I should not have presumed to form these translations into a
separate work, nor acceded to the proposal of the publisher of the
present volume, who has himself deserved so well of the students of
oriental lore by his excellent translation, or rather recomposition of
Adelung's "Historical Sketch of Sanscrit Literature," but for the
encouragement and assistance of Mr. Wilson, now, the University may be
proud to say, the Boden Professor of Sanscrit at Oxford. To his most
friendly care in revising these sheets, I owe the correction of many
errors; and Sanscrit scholars will find in the notes some observations
on the text, which will contribute to elucidate the poem of Nala.
Under the sanction of Mr. Wilson's revision, I may venture to hope
that the translation is, at least, an accurate version of the
original; and I cannot too strongly express my gratitude for the
labour which Mr. Wilson has been so kind as to expend on my imperfect
and unpretending work.
The versification, or rather the metrical system, which I have
adopted, is an experiment, how far a successful one must be judged by
others. The original verse in which the vast epics of Vyasa and
Valmiki are composed is called the Sloka, which is thus described by
Schlegel in his Indische Bibliothek, p. 36: "The oldest, most simple,
and most generally adopted measure is the Sloka; a distich of two
sixteen syllable-lines, divided at the eighth syllable." According to
our prosodial marks, the following is the scheme:—
Prosidial Marks
The first four syllables are bound by no rule; the second half, on the
contrary, is unalterably fixed, excepting that the last syllable has
the common licence of termination. In the second half verse, I do not
remember a single instance of deviation from this, though sometimes,
but very seldom, the first half verse ends with another quadrisyllable
foot. The reader who is curious on the subject, may compare Mr.
Colebrooke's elaborate essays on Sanscrit poetry, Kosegarten's preface
to his Translation of Nala, and Bopp's preface to his Translation of
Selections from the Mahabharata.
In the first translations which I attempted, a few passages from the
Bhagavat-Gita, I adhered as nearly as possible to the measure of the
original; in the Nala, in order to give the narrative a more easy and
trochaic flow, I omitted one syllable, and in some degree changed the
structure of the verse.
July 1835.
NALA AND DAMAYANTI.
The episode of Nala is extracted from the Vanaparvam, the third part
of the Mahabharata, the great Indian poem, which contains 100,000
slokas, or distichs. The sage, Vrihadasva, relates the story of Nala
to king Yudishthira, in order to console him under the miseries to
which he was exposed by bad success in play. By the terms of the
gaming transaction, in which he was worsted by Sakuni, who threw the
dice for Duryodhana, he was condemned to wander with his brothers for
twelve years in the forest. The adventures of Nala showed how that
king, having been in the same manner unfortunate with the dice, had
suffered still greater toil and misery, and had at length recovered
his kingdom and his wife. The popularity of this fable with the
natives, is sufficiently proved by the numerous poetic versions of the
story. The Nalodaya, a poem ascribed to Kalidas, should first be
mentioned. A new edition of this work has been recently published by
Ferdinand Benary; we have a notice of it in the Quarterly Review: it
seems to bear the same relation to the simple and national episode of
the Mahabharata, as the seicentesti of Italy to Dante or Arìosto, or
Gongora to the poem of the Cid. Another poem called Naishadha, in
twenty-two books, does not complete the story, but only carries it as
far as the fifteenth book. There is a Tamulic version of the same
story, translated by Kindersley, in his specimens of Hindu Literature.
The third book of the poem of Sriharsha, containing 135 slokas, is
entirely occupied with the conversation between Damayanti and the
swans (the geese), in which the birds to excite her love, dwell with
diffuse eloquence on the praises of Nala.
NALA AND DAMAYANTI.
BOOK I.
Lived of yore, a raja, Nala,—Virasena's mighty son,
Gifted he with every virtue,—beauteous, skilled in taming steeds:
Head of all the kings of mortals—like the monarch of the gods,
Over, over all exalted[1]—in his splendour like the sun:
Holy, deep-read in the Vedas[2]—in Nishadha lord of earth;[3]
Loving dice, of truth unblemished[4]—chieftain of a mighty host.
The admired of noble women—generous, with each sense subdued.[5]
Guardian of the state; of archers—best, a present Manu[6] he.
So there dwelt in high Vidarbha[7]—Bhima, terrible in strength,[8]
With all virtues blest, but childless—long for children had he pined.
Many an holy act, on offspring[9]—still intent, had he performed.
To his court there came a Brahmin,—Damana the seer was named.
Him the child-desiring Bhima—in all duties skilled, received,
Feasted with his royal consort—in his hospitable hall.[10]
Pleased on him the grateful Daman,—and his queen a boon bestowed,
One sweet girl, the pearl of maidens—and three fair and noble sons.
Damayanti, Dama Dánta—and illustrious Damana,
Richly gifted with all virtues—mighty, fearful in their might.
Damayanti with her beauty—with her brilliance, brightness, grace,
Through the worlds unrivalled glory—won the slender-waisted maid.
Her, arrived at bloom of beauty,—sate a hundred slaves around,
And a hundred virgin handmaids—as around great Indra's queen.[11]
In her court shone Bhima's daughter—decked with every ornament,
Mid her handmaids, like the lightning[12]—shone she with her faultless[13] form;
Like the long-eyed queen of beauty—without rival, without peer.
Never mid the gods immortal—never mid the Yaksha race,[14]
Nor 'mong men was maid so lovely—ever heard of, ever seen,
As the soul-disturbing maiden—that disturbed the souls of gods.
Nala too, 'mong kings the tiger[15]—peerless among earthly men,
Like Kandarpa in his beauty[16]—like that bright-embodied God.
All around Vidarbha's princess—praised they Nala in their joy.
Ever praised they Damayanti—round Nishadha's noble king.
Hearing so each others virtues—all unseen they 'gan to love.
Thus of each, O son of Kunti,[17]—the deep silent passion grew.
Nala, in his heart impatient—longer that deep love to bear,
To the grove, in secret, wandered—by the palace' inmost court.
There the swans he saw disporting[18]—with their wings bedropped with gold:
Through the grove thus lightly moving—one of these bright birds he caught.
But the bird, in human language—thus the wondering king addressed:
"Slay me not, O gentle monarch!—I will do thee service true;
So in Damayanti's presence—will I praise Nishadha's king,
Never after shall the maiden—think of mortal man but thee."
Thus addressed, at once the monarch—let the bright-winged bird depart.
Flew away the swans rejoicing—to Vidarbha straight they flew;
To Vidharba's stately city:—there by Damayanti's feet,
Down with drooping plumes they settled—and she gazed upon the flock,
Wondering at their forms so graceful—where amid her maids she sate.
Sportively began the damsels—all around to chase the birds;
Scattering flew the swans before them—all about the lovely grove.
Lightly ran the nimble maidens,—every one her bird pursued;
But the swan that through the forest—gentle Damayanti chased,
Suddenly, in human language—spake to Damayanti thus.—
"Damayanti, in Nishadha—Nala dwells, the noble king—
Like the Aswinas in beauty,[19]—peerless among men is he.
O incomparable princess—to this hero wert thou wed,
Noble birth and perfect beauty—not unworthy fruit had borne.
Gods, Gandharvas,[20] men, the Serpents,[21]—and the Rakshasas[22] we've seen,
All we've seen—of noble Nala—never have we seen the peer.
Pearl art thou among all women—Nala is the pride of men.
If the peerless wed the peerless—blessed must the union be."
When the bird thus strangely speaking—gentle Damayanti heard,
Answered thus the wondering maiden—"Thus to Nala, speak thou too."
"Be it so," replied the egg-born—to Vidarbha's beauteous maid.
Home then flew he to Nishadha—and to Nala told it all.
BOOK II.
Damayanti, ever after—she the swan's sweet speech had heard—
With herself she dwelt no longer—all herself with Nala dwelt.
Lost in thought she sate dejected—pale her melancholy cheek,
Damayanti sate and yielded—all her soul to sighs of grief.
Upward gazing, meditative—with a wild distracted look,
Wan was all her soft complexion—and with passion heart-possessed,[23]
Nor in sleep nor gentle converse—nor in banquets found she joy;
Night nor day she could not slumber—Woe! oh woe! she wept and said.
Her no longer her own mistress—from her looks, her gesture, knew
Damayanti's virgin handmaids—to Vidarbha's monarch they
Told how pined his gentle daughter—for the sovereign of men.
This from Damayanti's maidens—when the royal Bhima heard,
In his mind he gravely pondered—for his child what best were done.
"Wherefore is my gentle daughter—from herself in mind estranged?"
When the lord of earth his daughter—saw in blooming youth mature,
Knew he for the Swayembara[24]—Damayanti's time was come.
Straight the lord of many peasants[25]—summoned all the chiefs of earth,
"Come ye to the Swayembara—all ye heroes of the world!"
Damayanti's Swayembara—soon as heard the kings of men,
All obeyed king Bhima's summons—all to Bhima's court drew near;
Elephants, and steeds, and chariots—swarmed along the sounding land;
All with rich and various garlands[26]—with his stately army each—
All the lofty-minded rajas—Bhima with the arm of strength,
As beseemed, received with honour—on their thrones of state they sate.
At this very hour the wisest—of the sages, the divine,
Moving in their might ascended—up from earth to Indra's world.[27]
Great in holiness and wisdom—Narada and Parvata[28]
Honoured entered they the palace—of the monarch of the gods.
Them salutes the cloud-compeller[29]—of their everlasting weal,
Of their weal the worlds pervading—courteous asks the immortal lord.
Narada spake.
Well it fares with us, Immortal—in our weal the world partakes—
In the world, O cloud-compeller—well it fares with all her kings.
Vrihadasva spake.
He that Bali slew and Vritra—asked of Narada again—
All earth's just and righteous rulers—reckless of their lives in fight—
Who the shafts' descending death-blow—meet with unaverted eye—
Theirs this everlasting kingdom[30]—even as Kamadhuk is mine.[31]
Where are they, the Kshetriya heroes?—wherefore see I not approach
All the earth's majestic guardians—all mine ever-honoured guests.
Thus addressed by holy Sakra[32]—Narada replied and said:
"Hear me now, O cloud-compeller—why earth's kings appear not here.
Of Vidarbha's king the daughter—Damayanti, the renowned;
Through the earth the loveliest women—in her beauty she transcends—
Soon she holds her Swayembara—soon her lord the maid will choose.
Thither all the kings are hastening—thither all the sons of kings.
Suitors for her hand the rajas—her of all the world the pearl,
O thou mighty giant slayer!—one and all approach to woo."
As they spake, the world-protectors[33]—with the god of fire drew near;
Of the immortals all, the highest—stood before the king of gods.
As they all stood silent hearing—Narada's majestic speech,
All exclaimed in sudden rapture—thither we likewise will go;
All the immortals on the instant,—with their chariots, with their hosts,
Hastened down towards Vidarbha—where the lords of earth were met.
Nala, too, no sooner heard he—of that concourse of the kings,
Set he forth, with soul all sanguine—full of Damayanti's love.
Saw the gods, king Nala standing—on the surface of the earth;
Standing in transcendent beauty—equal to the god of love.[34]
Him beheld the world's high guardians—in his radiance like the sun;
Each arrested stood and silent—at his peerless form amazed.
All their chariots the celestials—in the midway air have checked.
Through the blue air then descending—they Nishadha's king address.
Ho! what, ho! Nishadha's monarch—Nala, king, for truth renowned;
Do our bidding, bear our message—O, most excellent of men.
BOOK III.
Nala made his solemn promise,—"all your bidding will I do;"
Then with folded hands adoring—humbly of their will enquired.
"Who are ye? to whom must Nala—as your welcome herald go?
What is my commanded service?—tell me, mighty gods, the truth."
Spake the sovereign of Nishadha—Indra answered thus and said:—
"Know us, the Immortals, hither—come for Damayanti's love.
Indra I, and yon is Agni,—and the king of waters there—
Slayer he of mortal bodies,—Yama, too, is here, O king!
Thou, O Nala, of our coming,—must to Damayanti tell:
Thee to see, the world's dread guardians—Indra and the rest came down,
Indra, Agni, Varun, Yama,—each to seek thine hand are come.
One of these celestial beings,—choose, O maiden, for thy lord."
Nala, thus addressed by Indra—with his folded hands replied:
"Thus with one accord commanding—on this mission send not me.
How can man, himself enamoured—for another plead his cause?
Spare me then, ye gods, in mercy—this unwelcome service, spare."
The Gods spake.
"I will do your bidding freely—thus thou'st said, Nishadha's king;
Wilt thou now belie thy promise?—Nala, go, nor more delay."
By the gods adjured so sternly—thus rejoined Nishadha's king—
"Strictly guarded is yon palace—how may I find entrance there?"
"Thou shalt enter;" thus did Indra—to the unwilling king reply.
In the bower of Damayanti—as they spake, king Nala stood.
There he saw Vidarbha's maiden—girt with all her virgin bands;
In her glowing beauty shining—all excelling in her form;
Every limb in smooth proportion—slender waist and lovely eyes;
Even the moon's soft gleam disdaining—in her own o'erpowering light.
As he gazed, his love grew warmer—to the softly smiling maid,
Yet to keep his truth, his duty—all his passion he suppressed.
Then Nishadha's king beholding—all those maids with beauteous limbs
From their seats sprang up in wonder—at his matchless form amazed.
In their rapture to king Nala—all admiring, homage paid;
Yet, not venturing to accost him,—in their secret souls adored.
"Oh the beauty! oh the splendour!—oh the mighty hero's strength!
Who is he, or God, or Yaksha—or Gandharba may he be."
Not one single word to utter,—dared that fair-limbed maiden band;
All struck dumb before his beauty—in their bashful silence stood.
Smiling, first, upon the monarch—as on her he gently smiled,
Damayanti, in her wonder—to the hero Nala spake:—
"Who art thou of form so beauteous—thou that wakenest all my love;
Cam'st thou here like an immortal—I would know thee, sinless chief.
How hast entered in our palace?—how hast entered all unseen?
Watchful are our chamber wardens—stern the mandate of the king."
By the maiden of Vidarbha—Nala thus addressed, replied:—
"Know, O loveliest, I am Nala—here the messenger of gods,
Gods desirous to possess thee;—one of these, the lord of heaven
Indra, Agni, Varun, Yama,—choose thou, princess, for thy lord.
Through their power, their power almighty—I have entered here unseen;
As I entered in thy chamber—none hath seen, and none might stay.
This, the object of my mission,—fairest, from the highest gods,
Thou hast heard me, noble princess—even as thou wilt, decide."
BOOK IV.
To the gods performed her homage—smiled she, and to Nala spake:—
"Pledge to me thy faith,[35] O raja—how that faith, may I requite?
I myself, and whatsoever—in the world I have, is thine
In full trust is thine[36]—O grant me—in thy turn thy love, O king!
Tis the swan's enamouring language—that hath kindled all my soul.
Only for thy sake, O hero—are the assembled rajas met.
But if thou mine homage scornest—scornest me, all honoured king,
Poison for thy sake, fire, water,—the vile noose will I endure."[37]
So, when spake Vidarbha's maiden—Nala answered thus, and said:—
"With the world's dread guardians present—wilt thou mortal husband choose?
We with them, the world's creators—with these mighty lords compared,
Lowlier than the dust they tread on—raise to them thy loftier mind.
Man the gods displeasing, hastens—to inevitable death—
Fair limbed! from that fate preserve me—choose the all excelling gods.
Robes by earthly dust unsullied—crowns of amaranthine flowers,
Every bright celestial glory—wedded to the gods, enjoy.
He, who all the world compressing[38]—with devouring might consumes,
Sovereign of the gods, Hutása,—where is she who would not wed?
He, in awe of whose dread sceptre[39]—all the assembled hosts of men,
Cultivate eternal justice—where is she who would not wed?
Him the all-righteous, lofty minded,—slayer of the infernal host,[40]
Of all gods, the mighty monarch,—who is she that would not wed?
Nor let trembling doubt arrest thee—in thy mind if thou couldst choose.[41]
Varuna, amongst earth's guardians,—hear the language of a friend."
To the sovereign of Nishadha—Damayanti spake, and said,
And her eyes grew dim with moisture—flowing from her inward grief:—
"To the gods, to all, my homage—king of earth, I humbly pay;
Yet thee only, thee, my husband—may I choose, Be this my vow!"
Answered he the trembling maiden—as with folded hands she stood,
"Bound upon this solemn mission—mine own cause how dare I urge.
Plighted by a sacred promise—to the everlasting gods;
Thus engaged to plead for others—for myself I may not plead.
This my duty; yet hereafter—come I on my own behalf,
Then I'll plead mine own cause boldly—weigh it, beauteous, in thy thought."
Damayanti smiled serenely,—and with tear-impeded speech,
Uttered brokenly and slowly—thus to royal Nala spake:—
"Yet I see a way of refuge—'tis a blameless way, O king;
Whence no sin to thee, O raja,—may by any chance arise.
Thou, O noblest of all mortals—and the gods by Indra led,
Come and enter in together—where the Swayembara meets;
Then will I, before the presence—of the guardians of the world,
Name thee, lord of men! my husband—nor to thee may blame accrue."
By the maiden of Vidarbha—royal Nala thus addressed,
Back again returned, where waited—eager, the expecting gods.
Him, the guardians of the world, the mighty—ere he yet drew near, beheld,
Him they saw, and bade him instant—all his tidings to unfold—
"Was she seen of thee, O monarch—Damayanti with soft smile?
Spake she of us all? what said she?—tell, O blameless lord of earth."
Nala spake.
To the bower of Damayanti—on your solemn mission sent,
Entered I the lofty portal—by the aged warders watched;
Mortal eye might not behold me—there as swift I entered in;
None save that fair raja's daughter—through your all prevailing power.
And her virgin handmaids, saw I—and by them in turn was seen;
And they all in mute amazement—gazed upon me as I stood.
I described your godlike presence—but the maid with beauteous face
Chooses me, bereft of reason—O most excellent of gods!
Thus she spake, that maiden princess,—"Let the gods together come,
Come with thee, Oh king of mortals,—where the Swayembara meets;
There will I, before their presence—choose thee, raja, for my lord.
So to thee, O strong armed warrior—may no blame, no fault ensue."
Thus it was, even as I tell you—word for word did it befall.
Plainly have I spoke, the judgment—rests with you, of gods the chief!
BOOK V.
Came the day of happy omen[42]—moonday meet, and moment apt;
Bhima to the Swayembara—summoned all the lords of earth.
One and all, upon the instant—rose th' enamoured lords of earth,
Suitors all to Damayanti—in their loving haste they came.
They, the court with golden columns[43]—rich, and glittering portal arch,
Like the lions on the mountains—entered they the hall of state.
There the lords of earth were seated—each upon his several throne;
All their fragrant garlands wearing—all with pendant ear-gems rich.
Arms were seen robust and vigorous—as the ponderous battle mace,
Some like the five-headed serpents—delicate in shape and hue:[44]
With bright locks profuse and flowing—fine formed nose, and eye and brow,
Shone the faces of the rajas—like the radiant stars in heaven.
As with serpents, Bhogavati[45]—the wide hall was full of kings;
As the mountain caves with tigers—with the tiger-warriors full.
Damayanti in her beauty—entered on that stately scene,
With her dazzling light entrancing—every eye and every soul.
O'er her lovely person gliding—all the eyes of those proud kings;
There were fixed, there moveless rested—as they gazed upon the maid.
Then as they proclaimed the rajas—(by his name was each proclaimed)
In dismay saw Bhima's daughter—five in garb, in form the same.
On those forms, all undistinguished—each from each, she stood and gazed.
In her doubt Vidarbha's princess—Nala's form might not discern,[46]
Whichsoe'er the form she gazed on—him her Nala, him she thought.
She within her secret spirit—deeply pondering, stood and thought:
"How shall I the gods distinguish?—royal Nala how discern?"
Pondering thus Vidarbha's maiden—in the anguish of her heart—
Th' attributes of the immortals—sought, as heard of yore, to see.
"Th' attributes of each celestial—that our aged sires describe,
As on earth they stand before me—not of one may I discern."
Long she pondered in her silence—and again, again she thought.
To the gods, her only refuge—turned she at this trying hour.
With her voice and with her spirit—she her humble homage paid.
Folding both her hands and trembling—to the gods the maiden spake:
"As when heard the swan's sweet language—chose I then Nishadha's king,
By this truth I here adjure ye—oh, ye gods, reveal my lord;
As in word or thought I swerve not—from my faith, all-knowing powers,
By this truth I here adjure ye—oh, ye gods, reveal my lord.
As the gods themselves have destined—for my lord Nishadha's king;
By this truth I here adjure ye—oh, ye gods, my lord reveal.
As my vow, so pledged to Nala—holily must be maintained,
By this truth I here adjure ye—oh, ye gods, my lord reveal.
Each the form divine assume ye—earth's protectors, mighty lords;
So shall I discern my Nala—I shall know the king of men."
As they heard sad Damayanti—uttering thus her piteous prayer,
At her high resolve they wonder—steadfast truth and fervent love,
Holiness of soul, and wisdom—to her lord her constant faith.
As she prayed, the gods obedient—stood with attributes revealed:
With unmoistened skins the Immortals—saw she, and with moveless eyes;[47]
Fresh their dust-unsullied garlands—hovered they, nor touched the earth.
On his shadow garland-drooping[48]—soiled with dust and moist with sweat,
On the earth Nishadha's monarch—stood confessed, with twinkling eyes;
On the gods an instant gazed she—then upon the king of men;
And of right king Bhima's daughter—named Nishadha's king her lord.
Modestly the large-eyed maiden—lifted up his garment's hem,
Round his shoulders threw she lightly—the bright zone of radiant flowers;
So she chose him for her husband—Nala, that high-hearted maid.
Then alas! alas! burst wildly,—from that conclave of the kings,
And "well done, well done," as loudly—from the gods and sages broke;
All in their extatic wonder—glorified Nishadha's king.
Then to royal Damayanti—Virasena's kingly son,
To that slender waisted damsel—spake he comfort in his joy;
"Since thou'st own'd me for thine husband—in the presence of the gods,
For thy faithful consort know me—aye delighting in thy words.
While this spirit fills this body—maiden with the smile serene!
Thine am I, so long thine only—this the solemn truth I vow."
Thus he gladdened Damayanti—with the assurance of his faith;
And the happy pair devoutly[49]—worshipped then the present gods.
Chosen thus Nishadha's monarch—the bright guardians of the world,
In their gladness all on Nala—eight transcendant gifts bestowed;
To discern the visible godhead—in the sacrifice, a gait
Firm and noble, Sachi's husband—Indra to king Nala gave.
Agni gave his own bright presence[50]—whensoe'er the monarch called.
All the worlds instinct with splendour—through his power Hutasa gave.
Subtle taste in food gave Yama—and in virtue eminence;
Varun gave obedient water—to be present at his call;
Garlands too of matchless fragrance;—each his double blessing gave.[51]
Thus bestowed their gracious favours—to the heavens the gods returned;
And the rajas, who with wonder—Nala's marriage saw confirmed
With the gentle Damayanti—as they came, in joy returned.
Thus the kings of earth departed;—Bhima in his joy and pride,
Solemnized the stately bridals—of the maiden and the king.
Fitting time when there he'd sojourned,—best of men, Nishadha's king;
Courteous parting with king Bhima—to his native city went.
Having gained the pearl of women—the majestic lord of earth
Lived in bliss, as with his Sachi,[52]—he that those old giants slew.
In his joy the elated monarch—shining radiant as the sun,
Ruled the subjects of his kingdom—with a just and equal sway.
Of the horse the famous offering[53]—like Nahucha's mighty son,
Every sacrifice performed he—with rich gifts to holy men.
And full oft in flowering gardens—and delicious shady groves,
Like a god, the royal Nala—took with Damayanti joy.
So begat from Damayanti—Nala, of heroic soul,
Indrasena one fair daughter—Indrasen one beauteous son.
Thus in sacrifice and pleasance—took his joy the king of men,
So the earth with riches teeming—ruled the sovereign of the earth.
BOOK VI.