BOOK XI.
Scarcely had king Nala parted--Damayanti now refreshed, Wakened up, the slender-waisted--timorous in the desert wood.
When she did not see her husband--overpowered with grief and pain, Loud she shriek'd in her first anguish--"Where art thou, Nishadha's king?
Mighty king! my soul-protector--O, my lord! desert'st thou me.
Oh, I'm lost! undone for ever--helpless in the wild wood left; Faithful once to every duty--wert thou not, and true in word.
Art thou faithful to thy promise--to desert me thus in sleep.
Could'st thou then depart, forsaking--thy devoted, constant wife; Her in sooth that never wronged thee--wronged indeed, but not by her.
Keep'st thou thus thy solemn promise--oh, unfaithful lord of men, There, when all the gods were present--plighted to thy wedded wife?
Death is but decreed to mortals--at its own appointed time, Hence one moment, thus deserted[71]--one brief moment do I live .-- But thou'st had thy sport--enough then--now desist, O king of men, Mock not thou a trembling woman--show thee to me, O my lord! Yes, I see thee, there I see thee--hidden as thou think'st from sight, In the rushes why conceal thee ?--answer me, why speak'st thou not.
Wherefore now ungentle stay'st thou--like to one forsworn, aloof?
Wherefore wilt thou not approach me--to console me in my woe?
For myself I will not sorrow--nor for aught to me befalls.
Thou art all alone, my husband,--I will only mourn for thee.
How will't fare with thee, my Nala--thirsting, famished, faint with toil.
Nor beholding me await thee--underneath the trees at eve." Then, in all her depth of anguish--with her trouble as on fire, Hither, thither, went she weeping--all around she went and wailed.
Now springs up the desolate princess--now falls down in prostrate grief; Now she pines in silent sorrow--now she shrieks and wails aloud.
So consumed with inward misery--ever sighing more and more, Spake at length king Bhima's daughter--spake the still devoted wife: "He, by whose dire imprecation--Nala this dread suffering bears, May he far surpass in suffering--all that Nala suffers now, May the evil one, to evil--who the blameless Nala drives, Smitten by a curse as fatal--live a dark unblessed life." Thus her absent lord lamenting--that high-minded raja's queen, Every-where her lord went seeking--in the satyr-haunted wood.[72] Like a maniac, Bhima's daughter--wandered wailing here and there; And "alas! alas! my husband"-- every-where her cry was heard.
Her beyond all measure wailing--like the osprey screaming shrill, Miserably still deploring--still renewing her lament.
Suddenly king Bhima's daughter--as she wandered near his lair, Seized a huge gigantic serpent--in his raging famine fierce.
In the grasp of that fierce serpent--round about with terror girt, Not herself she pities only--pities she Nishadha's king.
"O my guardian, thus unguarded--in this savage forest seized, Seized by this terrific serpent--wherefore art not thou at hand?
How will't be, when thou rememberest--once again thy faithful wife, From this dreadful curse delivered--mind, and sense, and wealth returned?
When thou'rt weary, when thou'rt hungry--when thou'rt fainting with fatigue, Who will soothe, O blameless Nala--all thy weariness, thy woe." Then a huntsman as he wandered--in the forest jungle thick, As he heard her thus bewailing--in his utmost haste drew near.
In the grasp when he beheld her--of that long-eyed serpent fell, Instant did the nimble huntsman--rapidly as he came on, Pierce that unresisting serpent--with a sharp and mortal shaft: In her sight he slew that serpent--skill'd in slaughter of the chase.
Her released he from her peril--washed he then with water pure, And with sylvan food refreshed her--and with soothing words address'd: "Who art thou that roam'st the forest--with the eyes of the gazelle; How to this extreme of misery--noble lady, hast thou fallen ?" Damayanti, by the huntsman--thus in soothing tone addressed, All the story of her misery-told him, as it all befell; Her, scant-clothed in half a garment--with soft swelling limbs and breast, Form of youthful faultless beauty--and her fair and moonlike face, And her eyes with brows dark arching--and her softly-melting speech, Saw long time that wild beast hunter--kindled all his heart with love.
Then with winning voice that huntsman--bland beginning his discourse, Fain with amorous speech would soothe her--she his dark intent perceived.
Damayanti, chaste and faithful,--soon as she his meaning knew, In the transport of her anger--her indignant soul took fire.
In his wicked thought the dastard--her yet powerless to subdue, On the unsubdued stood gazing--as like some bright flame she shone.
Damayanti, in her sorrow--of her realm, her lord bereft, On the instant she found language--uttered loud her curse of wrath,[73]-- "As my pure and constant spirit--swerves not from Nishadha's lord, Instant so may this base hunter--lifeless fall upon the earth." Scarce that single word was uttered--suddenly that hunter bold Down upon the earth fell lifeless--like a lightning blasted tree..