King

Plovers that fly from mountain-caves,Steeds that quick-flashing lightning laves,And chariot-wheels that drip with spray--A path o'er pregnant clouds betray.

The plains appear to melt and fallFrom mountain peaks that grow more tall;The trunks of trees no longer hideNor in their leafy nests abide;The river network now is clear,For smaller streams at last appear:It seems as if some being threwThe world to me, for clearer view.

Matali. O King, this is Gold Peak, the mountain of the fairycentaurs. Here it is that ascetics most fully attain to magic powers.See!

The ancient sage, Marichi's son,Child of the Uncreated One,Father of superhuman life,Dwells here austerely with his wife.

The wheels are mute on whirling rim;Unstirred, the dust is lying there;We do not bump the earth, but skim:Still, still we seem to fly through air.

Where stands the hermit, horridly austere,Whom clinging vines are choking, tough and sore;Half-buried in an ant-hill that has grownAbout him, standing post-like and alone;Sun-staring with dim eyes that know no rest,The dead skin of a serpent on his breast:So long he stood unmoved, insensate thereThat birds build nests within his mat of hair.

Matali. The chariot obeys the word of command. I too will descend.(He does so.) Before you, O King, are the groves where the holiesthermits lead their self-denying life.

Their appetites are fed with airWhere grows whatever is most fair;They bathe religiously in poolsWhich golden lily-pollen cools;They pray within a jewelled home,Are chaste where nymphs of heaven roam:They mortify desire and sinWith things that others fast to win.

I dare not hope for what I pray;Why thrill--in vain?For heavenly bliss once thrown awayTurns into pain.

He drags a struggling lion cub,The lioness' milk half-sucked, half-missed,Towzles his mane, and tries to drubHim tame with small, imperious fist.

The boy is seed of fireWhich, when it grows, will burn;A tiny spark that soonTo awful flame may turn.

King (looking at the hand.) He has one of the imperial birthmarks!For

Between the eager fingers growThe close-knit webs together drawn,Like some lone lily opening slowTo meet the kindling blush of dawn.

They show their little buds of teethIn peals of causeless laughter;They hide their trustful heads beneathYour heart. And stumbling afterCome sweet, unmeaning sounds that singTo you. The father warmsAnd loves the very dirt they bringUpon their little forms.

Your conduct in this place apart,Is most unfit;'Twould grieve your father's pious heartAnd trouble it.

To animals he is as goodAs good can be;You spoil it, like a black snake's broodIn sandal tree.

It makes me thrill to touch the boy,The stranger's son, to me unknown;What measureless content must fillThe man who calls the child his own!

Hermit-woman. I am astonished to see how much the boy looks likeyou, sir. You are not related. Besides, he is a perverse littlecreature and he does not know you. Yet he takes no dislike toyou.

In glittering palaces they dwellWhile men, and rule the country well;Then make the grove their home in age,And die in austere hermitage.

First woman. Look, All-tamer. Here is the bird, the shakunta.Isn't the shakunta lovely?

King (smiling). You show I am right by contradicting me. (EnterSHAKUNTALA, wearing her hair in a single braid.)

Shakuntala (doubtfully). I have heard that All-tamer's amulet didnot change when it should have done so. But I do not trust my ownhappiness. Yet perhaps it is as Mishrakeshi told me. (She walksabout.)

The pale, worn face, the careless dress,The single braid,Show her still true, me pitiless,The long vow paid.

Shakuntala (seeing the king pale with remorse. Doubtfully). It isnot my husband. Who is the man that soils my boy with his caresses?The amulet should protect him. Boy (running to his mother).Mother, he is a man that belongs to other people. And he calls me hisson.

King. My darling, the cruelty I showed you has turned to happiness.Will you not recognise me?

Black madness flies;Comes memory;Before my eyesMy love I see.

Eclipse flees far;Light follows soon;The loving starDraws to the moon.

The tears would choke you, sweet, in vain;My soul with victory is fed,Because I see your face again--No jewels, but the lips are red.

Dear, graceful wife, forget;Let the sin vanish;Strangely did madness striveReason to banish.

Thus blindness works in men,Love's joy to shake;Spurning a garland, lestIt prove a snake. (He falls at her feet.)

'Twas madness, sweet, that could let slipA tear to burden your dear lip;On graceful lashes seen to-day,I wipe it, and our grief, away. (He does so.)

'Tis King Dushyanta, he who goes beforeYour son in battle, and who rules the earth,Whose bow makes Indra's weapon seem no moreThan a fine plaything, lacking sterner worth.

Sprung from the Creator's children, do I seeGreat Kashyapa and Mother Aditi?The pair that did produce the sun in heaven,To which each year twelve changing forms are given;That brought the king of all the gods to birth,Who rules in heaven, in hell, and on the earth;That Vishnu, than the Uncreated higher,Chose as his parents with a fond desire.

Your husband equals Indra, kingOf gods; your son is like his son;No further blessing need I bring:Win bliss such as his wife has won.

Faithful Shakuntala, the boy,And you, O King, I seeA trinity to bless the world--Faith, Treasure, Piety.

The flower comes first, and then the fruit;The clouds appear before the rain;Effect comes after cause; but youFirst helped, then made your favour plain.

Like one who doubts an elephant,Though seeing him stride by,And yet believes when he has seenThe footprints left; so I.

The curse it was that brought defeat and pain;The darkness flies; you are his queen again.Reflections are not seen in dusty glass,Which, cleaned, will mirror all the things that pass.

Journeying over every sea,His car will travel easily;The seven islands of the earthWill bow before his matchless worth;Because wild beasts to him were tame,All-tamer was his common name;As Bharata he shall be known,For he will bear the world alone.

May Indra send abundant rain,Repaid by sacrificial gain;With aid long mutually given,Rule you on earth, and he in heaven.

May kingship benefit the land,And wisdom grow in scholars' band;May Shiva see my faith on earthAnd make me free of all rebirth.