True to their word the sons of Pandu went with Draupadi into exile,
and passed twelve years in the wilderness; and many were the
incidents which checkered their forest life. Krishna, who had stood
by Yudhishthir in his prosperity, now came to visit him in his
adversity; he consoled Draupadi in her distress, and gave good advice
to the brothers. Draupadi with a woman's pride and anger still
thought of her wrongs and insults, and urged Yudhishthir to disregard
the conditions of exile and recover his kingdom. Bhima too was of the
same mind, but Yudhishthir would not be moved from his plighted word.
The great _rishi_ Vyasa came to visit Yudhishthir, and advised Arjun,
great archer as he was, to acquire celestial arms by penance and
worship. Arjun followed the advice, met the god SIVA in the guise
of a hunter, pleased him by his prowess in combat, and obtained his
blessings and the _pasupata_ weapon. Arjun then went to INDRA'S
heaven and obtained other celestial arms.
In the meanwhile Duryodhan, not content with sending his cousins to
exile, wished to humiliate them still more by appearing before them
in all his regal power and splendour. Matters how ever turned out
differently from what he expected, and he became involved in a
quarrel with some _gandharvas_, a class of aerial beings. Duryodhan
was taken captive by them, and it was the Pandav brothers who
released him from his captivity, and allowed him to return to his
kingdom in peace. This act of generosity rankled in his bosom and
deepened his hatred.
Jayadratha, king of the Sindhu or Indus country, and a friend and
ally of Duryodhan, came to the woods, and in the absence of the
Pandav brothers carried off Draupadi. The Pandavs however pursued the
king, chastised him for his misconduct, and rescued Draupadi.
Still more interesting than these various incidents are the tales and
legends with which this book is replete. Great saints came to see
Yudhishthir in his exile, and narrated to him legends of ancient
times and of former kings. One of these beautiful episodes, the tale
of Nala and Damayanti, has been translated into graceful English
verse by Dean Milman, and is known to many English readers. The
legend of Agastya who drained the ocean dry; of Parasu-Rama a
Brahman who killed the Kshatriyas of the earth; of Bhagiratha who
brought down the Ganges from the skies to the earth; of Manu and the
universal deluge; of Vishnu and various other gods; of Rama and his
deeds which form the subject of the Epic _Ramayana_;--these and
various other legends have been inter woven in the account of the
forest-life of the Pandavs, and make it a veritable storehouse of
ancient Hindu tales and traditions.
Among these various legends and tales I have selected one which is
singular and striking. The great truth proclaimed under the thin
guise of an eastern allegory is that a True Woman's Love is not
conquered by Death. The story is known by Hindu women high and low,
rich and poor, in all parts of India; and on a certain night in the
year millions of Hindu women celebrate a rite in honour of the woman
whose love was not conquered by death. Legends like these, though
they take away from the unity and conciseness of the Epic, impart a
moral instruction to the millions of India the value of which cannot
be overestimated.
I
Forest Life
In the dark and pathless forest long the Pandav brothers strayed,
In the bosom of the jungle with the fair Draupadi stayed,
And they killed the forest red-deer, hewed the gnarled forest wood,
From the stream she fetched the water, cooked the humble daily food,
In the morn she swept the cottage, lit the cheerful fire at eve,
But at night in lonesome silence oft her woman's heart would grieve,
Insults rankled in her bosom and her tresses were unbound,--
So she vowed,--till fitting vengeance had the base insulters found!
Oft when evening's shades descended, mantling o'er the wood and lea,
When Draupadi by the cottage cooked the food beneath the tree,
_Rishis_ came to good Yudhishthir, sat beside his evening fires,
Many olden tales recited, legends of our ancient sires.
Markandeya, holy _rishi_, once unto Yudhishthir came,
When his heart was sorrow-laden with the memories of his shame,
"Pardon, rishi!" said Yudhishthir, "if unbidden tears will start,
But the woes of fair Draupadi grieve a banished husband's heart,
By her tears the saintly woman broke my bondage worse than death,
By my sins she suffers exile and misfortune's freezing breath!
Dost thou, sage and saintly _rishi_, know of wife or woman born,
By such nameless sorrow smitten, by such strange misfortune torn?
Hast thou in thy ancient legends heard of true and faithful wife,
With a stronger wife's affection, with a sadder woman's life?"
"Listen, monarch!" said the _rishi_, "to a tale of ancient date,
How Savitri loved and suffered, how she strove and conquered Fate!"
II
The Tale of Savitri
In the country of the Madras lived a king in days of old,
Faithful to the holy BRAHMA, pure in heart and righteous-souled,
He was loved in town and country, in the court and hermit's den,
Sacrificer to the bright gods, helper to his brother men,
But the monarch, Aswapati, son or daughter had he none,
Old in years and sunk in anguish, and his days were almost done!
Vows he took and holy penance, and with pious rules conformed,
Spare in diet as _brahmachari_ many sacred rites performed,
Sang the sacred hymn, _savitri_, to the gods oblations gave,
Through the lifelong day he fasted, uncomplaining, meek and brave!
Year by year he gathered virtue, rose in merit and in might,
Till the goddess of _savitri_ smiled upon his sacred rite,
From the fire upon the altar, which a holy radiance flung,
In the form of beauteous maiden, goddess of _savitri_ sprung!
And she spake in gentle accents, blessed the monarch good and brave,
Blessed his rites and holy penance and a boon unto him gave:
"Penance and thy sacrifices can the powers immortal move,
And the pureness of thy conduct doth thy heart's affection prove,
Ask thy boon, king Aswapati, from creation's Ancient Sire,
True to virtue's sacred mandate speak thy inmost heart's desire."
"For an offspring brave and kingly," so the saintly king replied,
"Holy rites and sacrifices and this penance I have tried,
If these rites and sacrifices move thy favour and thy grace,
Grant me offspring, Prayer-Maiden, worthy of my noble race!"
"Have thy object," spake the maiden, "Madra's pious-hearted king,
From SWAYMBHU, Self-created, blessings unto thee I bring!
For HE lists to mortal's prayer springing from a heart like thine,
And HE wills,--a noble daughter grace thy famed and royal line!
Aswapati, glad and grateful, take the blessing which I bring,
Part in joy and part in silence, bow unto Creation's King!"
Vanished then the Prayer-Maiden, and the king of noble fame,
Aswapati, Lord of coursers, to his royal city came,
Days of hope and nights of gladness Madra's happy monarch passed,
Till his queen of noble offspring gladsome promise gave at last!
As the moon each night increaseth, chasing darksome nightly gloom,
Grew the unborn babe in splendour in its happy mother's womb,
And in fulness of the season came a girl with lotus-eye,
Father's hope and joy of mother, gift of kindly gods on high!
And the king performed its birth-rites with a glad and grateful mind,
And the people blessed the dear one with their wishes good and kind,
As _Savitri_, Prayer-Maiden, had the beauteous offspring given,
Brahmans named the child _Savitri_, holy gift of bounteous Heaven!
Grew the child in brighter beauty like a goddess from above,
And each passing season added fresher sweetness, deeper love,
Came with youth its lovelier graces, as the buds their leaves unfold,
Slender waist and rounded bosom, image as of burnished gold,
_Deva-Kanya!_ born a goddess, so they said in all the land,
Princely suitors struck with splendour ventured not to seek her hand!
Once upon a time it happened on a bright and festive day,
Fresh from bath the beauteous maiden to the altar came to pray,
And with cakes and pure libations duly fed the Sacred Flame,
Then like SRI in heavenly radiance to her royal father came,
Bowed unto his feet in silence, sacred flowers beside him laid,
And her hands she folded meekly, sweetly her obeisance made,
With a father's pride, upon her gazed the ruler of the land,
But a strain of sadness lingered, for no suitor claimed her hand.
"Daughter," whispered Aswapati, "now, methinks, the time is come,
Thou shouldst choose a princely suitor, grace a royal husband's home,
Choose thyself a noble husband worthy of thy noble hand,
Choose a true and upright monarch, pride and glory of his land,
As thou choosest, gentle daughter, in thy loving heart's desire,
Blessing and his free permission will bestow thy happy sire!
For our sacred _sastras_ sanction, holy Brahmans oft relate,
That the duty-loving father sees his girl in wedded state,
That the duty-loving husband watches o'er his consort's ways,
That the duty-loving offspring tends his mother's widowed days,
Therefore choose a loving husband, daughter of my house and love,
So thy father earn no censure or from men or gods above!"
Fair Savitri bowed unto him, and for parting blessings prayed,
Then she left her father's palace, and in distant regions strayed,
With her guard and aged courtiers whom her watchful father sent,
Mounted on her golden chariot unto sylvan woodlands went.
Then in pleasant woods and jungle wandered she from day to day,
Unto _asrams_, hermitages, pious-hearted held her way,
Oft she stayed in holy _tirthas_ washed by sacred limpid streams,
Food she gave unto the hungry, wealth beyond their fondest dreams!
Many days and months are over, and it once did so befall,
When the king and _rishi_ Narad sat within the royal hall,
From her journeys near and distant and from places known to fame,
Fair Savitri with the courtiers to her father's palace came,
Came and saw her royal father, _rishi_ Narad by his seat,
Bent her head in salutation, bowed unto their holy feet.
III
The Fated Bridegroom
"Whence comes she," so Narad questioned, "whither was Savitri led,
Wherefore to a happy husband hath Savitri not been wed?"
"Nay! to choose her lord and husband," so the virtuous monarch said,
"Fair Savitri long hath wandered and in holy _tirthas_ stayed,
Maiden! speak unto the _rishi_, and thy choice and secret tell!"
Then a blush suffused her forehead, soft and slow her accents fell!
"Listen, father! Salwa's monarch was of old a king of might,
Righteous-hearted Dyumat-sena, feeble now and void of sight,
Foemen robbed him of his kingdom when in age he lost his sight,
And from town and spacious empire was the monarch forced to flight,
With his queen and with his infant did the feeble monarch stray,
And the jungle was his palace, darksome was his weary way.
Holy vows assumed the monarch and in penance passed his life,
In the wild woods nursed his infant and with wild fruits fed his wife,
Years have gone in rigid penance, and that child is now a youth,
Him I choose my lord and husband, Satyavan, Soul of Truth!"
Thoughtful was the _rishi_ Narad, doleful were the words he said:
"Sad disaster waits Savitri if this royal youth she wed!
Truth-beloving is his father, truthful is the royal dame,
Truth and virtue rule his actions, Satyavan is his name,
Steeds he loved in days of boyhood and to paint them was his joy,
Hence they called him young Chitraswa, art-beloving gallant boy!
But O pious-hearted monarch! fair Savitri hath in sooth
Courted Fate and sad disaster in that noble gallant youth!"
"Tell me," questioned Aswapati, "for I may not guess thy thought,
Wherefore is my daughter's action with a sad disaster fraught?
Is the youth of noble lustre, gifted in the gifts of art,
Blest with wisdom, prowess, patience daring, dauntless in his heart?"
"SURYA'S lustre in him shineth," so the _rishi_ Narad said,
"BRIHASPATI'S wisdom dwelleth in the young Satyavan's head,
Like MAHENDRA in his prowess, and in patience like the Earth,
Yet O king! a sad disaster marks the gentle youth from birth!"
"Tell me, _rishi_, then thy reason," so the anxious monarch cried,
"Why to youth so great and gifted may this maid be not allied?
Is Satyavan free in bounty, gentle-hearted, full of grace,
Duly versed in sacred knowledge, fair in mind and fair in face?"
"Free in gifts like Rantideva," so the holy _rishi_ said,
"Versed in lore like monarch Sivi, who all ancient monarchs led,
Like Yayati open-hearted and like CHANDRA in his grace,
Like the handsome heavenly ASVINS fair and radiant in his face,
Meek and graced with patient virtue he controls his noble mind,
Modest in his kindly actions, true to friends and ever kind,
And the hermits of the forest praise him for his righteous truth,
Nathless, king, thy daughter may not wed this noble-hearted youth!"
"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!"_
"Monarch!" uttered then the _rishi_, "fixed is she in mind and heart,
From her troth the true Savitri never, never will depart!
More than mortal's share of virtue unto Satyavan is given,
Let the true maid wed her chosen, leave the rest to gracious Heaven!"
"_Rishi_ and preceptor holy!" so the weeping monarch prayed,
"Heaven avert all future evils, and thy mandate is obeyed!"
Narad wished him joy and gladness, blessed the loving youth and maid,
Forest hermits on their wedding every fervent blessing laid.
IV
Overtaken by Fate
Twelve-month in the darksome forest by her true and chosen lord,
Lived Savitri, served his parents by her thought and deed and word,
Bark of tree supplied her garments draped upon her bosom fair,
Or the red cloth as in _asrams_ holy women love to wear,
And the aged queen she tended with a fond and filial pride,
Served the old and sightless monarch like a daughter by his side,
And with love and gentle sweetness pleased her husband and her lord,
But in secret, night and morning, pondered still on Narad's word!
Nearer came the fatal morning by the holy Narad told,
Fair Savitri reckoned daily and her heart was still and cold,
Three short days remaining only! and she took a vow severe
Of _triratra_, three nights' penance, holy fasts and vigils drear!
Of Savitri's rigid penance heard the king with anxious woe,
Spake to her in loving accents, so the vow she might forgo:
"Hard the penance, gentle daughter, and thy woman's limbs are frail,
After three nights' fasts and vigils sure thy tender health may fail!"
"Be not anxious, loving father," meekly thus Savitri prayed,
"Penance I have undertaken, will unto the gods be made."
Much misdoubting then the monarch gave his sad and slow assent,
Pale with fast and unseen tear-drops, lonesome nights Savitri spent.
Nearer came the fatal morning, and to-morrow he shall die,
Dark, dark hours of nightly silence! Tearless, sleepless is her eye!
"Dawns that dread and fated morning!" said Savitri, bloodless, brave,
Prayed her fervent prayers in silence, to the Fire oblations gave,
Bowed unto the forest Brahmans, to the parents kind and good,
Joined her hands in salutation and in reverent silence stood.
With the usual morning blessing, "_Widow may'st thou never be_,"
Anchorites and aged Brahmans blessed Savitri fervently,
O! that blessing fell upon her like the rain on thirsty air,
Struggling hope inspired her bosom as she drank those accents fair!
But returned the dark remembrance of the _rishi_ Narad's word,
Pale she watched the creeping sunbeams, mused upon her fated lord!
"Daughter, now thy fast is over," so the loving parents said,
"Take thy diet after penance, for thy morning prayers are prayed,"
"Pardon, father," said Savitri, "let this other day be done,"
Unshed tear-drops filled her eyelids, glistened in the morning sun!
Young Satyavan, tall and stately, ponderous axe on shoulder hung,
For the distant darksome jungle issued forth serene and strong,
But unto him came Savitri and in sweetest accents prayed,
As upon his manly bosom gently she her forehead laid:
"Long I wished to see the jungle where steals not the solar ray,
Take me to the darksome forest, husband, let me go to-day!"
"Come not, love," he sweetly answered with a loving husband's care,
"Thou art all unused to labour, forest paths thou may'st not dare,
And with recent fasts and vigils pale and bloodless is thy face,
And thy steps are weak and feeble, jungle paths thou may'st not trace."
"Fasts and vigils make me stronger," said the wife with wifely pride,
"Toil I shall not feel nor languor when my lord is by my side,
For I feel a woman's longing with my lord to trace the way,
Grant me, husband ever gracious, with thee let me go to-day!"
Answered then the loving husband, as his hands in hers he wove,
"Ask permission from my parents in the trackless woods to rove."
Then Savitri to the monarch urged her longing strange request,
After duteous salutation thus her humble prayer addrest:
"To the jungle goes my husband, fuel and the fruit to seek,
I would follow if my mother and my loving father speak,
Twelve-month from this narrow _asram_ hath Savitri stepped nor strayed,
In this cottage true and faithful ever hath Savitri stayed,
For the sacrificial fuel wends my lord his lonesome way,
Please my kind and loving parents, I would follow him to-day."
"Never since her wedding morning," so the loving king replied,
"Wish or thought Savitri whispered, for a boon or object sighed,
Daughter, thy request is granted, safely in the forest roam,
Safely with thy lord and husband, seek again thy cottage home."
Bowing to her loving parents did the fair Savitri part,
Smile upon her pallid features, anguish in her inmost heart!
Round her sylvan green woods blossomed 'neath a cloudless Indian sky,
Flocks of pea-fowls gorgeous plumaged flew before her wondering eye,
Woodland rills and crystal nullahs gently roll'd o'er rocky bed,
Flower-decked hills in dewy brightness towering glittered overhead,
Birds of song and beauteous feather trilled a note in every grove,
Sweeter accents fell upon her, from her husband's lips of love!
Still with thoughtful eye Savitri watched her dear and fated lord,
Flail of grief was in her bosom but her pale lips shaped no word,
And she listened to her husband, still on anxious thought intent,
Cleft in two her throbbing bosom, as in silence still she went!
Gaily with the gathered wild-fruits did the prince his basket fill,
Hewed the interlaced branches with his might and practised skill,
Till the drops stood on his forehead, weary was his aching head,
Faint he came unto Savitri and in faltering accents said:
"Cruel ache is on my forehead, fond and ever faithful wife,
And I feel a hundred needles pierce me and torment my life,
And my feeble footsteps falter, and my senses seem to reel,
Fain would I beside thee linger, for a sleep doth o'er me steal."
With a wild and speechless terror pale Savitri held her lord,
On her lap his head she rested as she laid him on the sward,
Narad's fatal words remembered as she watched her husband's head,
Burning lip and pallid forehead, and the dark and creeping shade,
Clasped him in her beating bosom, kissed his lips with panting breath,
Darker grew the lonesome forest, and he slept the sleep of death!
V
Triumph over Fate
In the bosom of the shadows rose a Vision dark and dread,
Shape of gloom in inky garment, and a crown was on his head!
Gleaming form of sable splendour, blood-red was his sparkling eye,
And a fatal noose he carried, grim and godlike, dark and high!
And he stood in solemn silence, looked in silence on the dead,
And Savitri on the greensward gently placed her husband's head,
And a tremor shook Savitri, but a woman's love is strong,
With her hands upon her bosom thus she spake with quivering tongue:
"More than mortal is thy glory, and a radiant god thou be,
Tell me what bright name thou bearest, and thy message unto me."
"Know me," thus responded YAMA, "mighty monarch of the dead,
Mortals leaving earthly mansion to my darksome realms are led,
Since with woman's full affection thou hast loved thy husband dear,
Hence before thee, faithful woman, YAMA doth in form appear,
But his days and loves are ended, and he leaves his faithful wife,
In this noose I bind and carry spark of his immortal life,
Virtue graced his life and action, spotless was his princely heart,
Hence for him I came in person, princess, let thy husband part."
YAMA from Satyavan's body, pale and bloodless, cold and dumb,
Drew the vital spark, _purusha_, smaller than the human thumb,
In his noose the spark he fastened, silent went his darksome way,
Left the body shorn of lustre to its rigid cold decay.
Southward went the dark-hued YAMA with the youth's immortal life,
And, for woman's love abideth, followed still the faithful wife.
"Turn, Savitri," outspake YAMA, "for thy husband loved and lost,
Do the rites due unto mortals by their Fate predestined crost,
For thy wifely duty ceases, follow not in fruitless woe,
And no farther living creature may with monarch YAMA go!"
"But I may not choose but follow where thou takest my husband's life,
For Eternal Law divides not loving man and faithful wife!
For my love and my affection, for a woman's sacred woe,
Grant me in thy godlike mercy farther still with him I go!
Fourfold are our human duties: first, to study holy lore;
Then to live as good householders, feed the hungry at our door;
Then to pass our days in penance; last to fix our thoughts above;
But the final goal of virtue, it is Truth and deathless Love!"
"True and holy are thy precepts," listening YAMA made reply,
"And they fill my heart with gladness and with pious purpose high,
I would bless thee, fair Savitri, but the dead come not to life,
Ask for other boon and blessing, faithful, true and virtuous wife!"
"Since you so permit me, YAMA," so the good Savitri said,
"For my husband's banished father let my dearest suit be made,
Sightless in the darksome forest dwells the monarch faint and weak,
Grant him sight and grant him vigour, YAMA, in thy mercy speak!"
"Duteous daughter," YAMA answered, "be thy pious wishes given,
And his eyes shall be restored to the cheerful light of heaven,
Turn, Savitri, faint and weary, follow not in fruitless woe,
And no farther living creature may with monarch YAMA go!"
"Faint nor weary is Savitri," so the noble princess said,
"Since she waits upon her husband, gracious Monarch of the dead,
What befalls the wedded husband still befalls the faithful wife,
Where he leads she ever follows, be it death or be it life!
And our sacred writ ordaineth and our pious _rishis_ sing,
Transient meeting with the holy doth its countless blessings bring,
Longer friendship with the holy purifies the mortal birth,
Lasting union with the holy is the bright sky on the earth!
Union with the pure and holy is immortal heavenly life,
For Eternal Law divides not loving man and faithful wife!"
"Blessed are thy words," said YAMA, "blessed is thy pious thought,
With a higher purer wisdom are thy holy lessons fraught,
I would bless thee, fair Savitri, but the dead come not to life,
Ask for other boon and blessing, faithful, true and virtuous wife!"
"Since you so permit me, YAMA," so the good Savitri said,
"Once more for my husband's father be my supplication made,
Lost his kingdom, in the forest dwells the monarch faint and weak,
Grant him back his wealth and kingdom, YAMA, in thy mercy speak!"
"Loving daughter!" YAMA answered, "wealth and kingdom I bestow,
Turn, Savitri, living mortal may not with King YAMA go!"
Still Savitri, meek and faithful, followed her departed lord,
YAMA still with higher wisdom listened to her saintly word,
And the Sable King was vanquished, and he turned on her again,
And his words fell on Savitri like the cooling summer rain,
"Noble woman, speak thy wishes, name thy boon and purpose high,
What the pious mortal asketh gods in heaven may not deny!"
"Thou hast," so Savitri answered, "granted father's realm and might,
To his vain and sightless eyeballs hast restored their blessed sight,
Grant him that the line of monarchs may not all untimely end,
That his kingdom to Satyavan's and Savitri's sons descend!"
"Have thy object," answered YAMA, "and thy lord shall live again,
He shall live to be a father, and your children too shall reign,
For a woman's troth abideth longer than the fleeting breath,
And a woman's love abideth higher than the doom of Death!"
VI
Return Home
Vanished then the Sable Monarch, and Savitri held her way
Where in dense and darksome forest still her husband lifeless lay,
And she sat upon the greensward by the cold unconscious dead,
On her lap with deeper kindness placed her consort's lifeless head,
And that touch of true affection thrilled him back to waking life,
As returned from distant regions gazed the prince upon his wife!
"Have I lain too long and slumbered, sweet Savitri, faithful spouse?
But I dreamt a Sable Person, in a noose took forth my life!"
"Pillowed on this lap," she answered, "long upon the earth you lay,
And the Sable Person, husband, he hath come and passed away,
Rise and leave this darksome forest if thou feelest light and strong,
For the night is on the jungle and our way is dark and long."
Rising as from happy slumber looked the young prince on all around,
Saw the wide-extending jungle mantling all the darksome ground,
"Yes," he said, "I now remember, ever loving faithful dame,
We in search of fruit and fuel to this lonesome forest came,
As I hewed the gnarled branches, cruel anguish filled my brain,
And I laid me on the greensward with a throbbing piercing pain,
Pillowed on thy gentle bosom, solaced by thy gentle love,
I was soothed, and drowsy slumber fell on me from skies above.
All was dark and then I witnessed, was it but a fleeting dream,
God or Vision, dark and dreadful, in the deepening shadows gleam!
Was this dream my fair Savitri, dost thou of this Vision know?
Tell me, for before my eyesight still the Vision seems to glow!"
"Darkness thickens," said Savitri, "and the evening waxeth late,
When the morrow's light returneth I shall all these scenes narrate,
Now arise, for darkness gathers, deeper grows the gloomy night,
And thy loving anxious parents trembling wait thy welcome sight,
Hark the rangers of the forest! how their voices strike the ear!
Prowlers of the darksome jungle! how they fill my breast with fear!
Forest-fire is raging yonder, for I see a distant gleam,
And the rising evening breezes help the red and radiant beam,
Let me fetch a burning faggot and prepare a friendly light,
With these fallen withered branches chase the shadows of the night,
And if feeble still thy footsteps,--long and weary is our way,--
By the fire repose, my husband, and return by light of day."
"For my parents, fondly anxious," Satyavan thus made reply,
"Pains my heart and yearns my bosom, let us to their cottage hie,
When I tarried in the jungle or by day or dewy eve,
Searching in the hermitages often did my parents grieve,
And with father's soft reproaches and with mother's loving fears,
Chid me for my tardy footsteps, dewed me with their gentle tears!
Think then of my father's sorrow, of my mother's woeful plight,
If afar in wood and jungle pass we now the livelong night,
Wife beloved, I may not fathom what mishap or load of care,
Unknown dangers, unseen sorrows, even now my parents share!"
Gentle drops of filial sorrow trickled down his manly eye,
Pond Savitri sweetly speaking softly wiped the tear-drops dry:
"Trust me, husband, if Savitri hath been faithful in her love,
If she hath with pious offerings served the righteous gods above,
If she hath a sister's kindness unto brother men performed,
If she hath in speech and action unto holy truth conformed,
Unknown blessings, mighty gladness, trust thy ever faithful wife,
And not sorrows or disasters wait this eve our parents' life!"
Then she rose and tied her tresses, gently helped her lord to rise,
Walked with him the pathless jungle, looked with love into his eyes,
On her neck his clasping left arm sweetly winds in soft embrace,
Round his waist Savitri's right arm doth sweetly interlace,
Thus they walked the darksome jungle, silent stars looked from above,
And the hushed and throbbing midnight watched Savitri's deathless love.
