# Sarangadhara II

The noon was far advanced; the monarch let The tents, and sought were freshening to the eye The forest trees a shady bower made Wearied with morning's mirth, all nature sank to rest And not the slightest stir was there, save where The streamlet gurgled over the distant slope, And butterflies, like the spirits of the wood, among The foliage moved. And there he laid him down Upon the grass, and wearied with chase Soon sunk to sleep and dreamt.
"It was moonlight And with his queen beloved, long through the park He walked in converse sweet, till he reached The summer house, and like a baby held Her in his arms, a hideous shape came o'er her And he dropped her in fright; and there was blood, And broken limbs lay strewn upon the floor ! He woke in fright, and passing hastily On to the tents, he cried to horse" and rode
Away.
But how was she the object dear Of all his anxious thoughts ? She when the prince Ran roughshod over the park like a wide colt And left the cloak behind, felt like a lover who In dream obtains his lay's wished embrace But walking feels the pillow in his arms. Sorely distressed she felt and from her eyes Rolled down big drops. In silent grief awhile She stood, and in her heart the feelings changed To wounded worth, and anger next followed; But revenge last took possession of her heart.
She leaned upon the gate and thought on what To do; cried "He shall rue" and tore as mad Her costly robe, and broke her bangles o'er A post, and as if to lock her thoughts in sleep 'Gainst every feeling soft, emptied a glass And lay upon the floor.
But when she woke It was night. She rose not, but still with face Pillowed on crossed arms, she brought to mild The event of the morn, till coming where The prince with countenance stern contemptuous looked On her and turned away, her bosom burned Once more with dire revenge, and in the fit She like a fury lifted up her head; and saw The king seated beside her, anxiously Looking over the prostrate form before. The Queen at once withdrew her face and dropped It over again upon her crossed arms. "What means the girl," he said, "this torn robe And broken bangles strewn upon the floor !
And why withdraw the face in haste; as if You saw some hateful fried in me ? Is there No better bedding than a floor ? Arise And speak ! for me the riddle is hard to read." But when he held her arm tolift her up, "O ! touch me not my lord," she cried, "I am fouled, Fouled by a stranger's touch within thy house, Like harlot slighted. Ah ! 'this woman's fate To bear ill. "Slighted and fouled ! every And who the wretch that touched ? For my life Tomorrow's morning shall not see him whole !" "Vow not so, King for shy should one be blamed That fate decreed me this ? First brought by guile, I have to brook indignity in the Court. This morn, thy son, knowing you gone to hunt, Came with the story of a pigeon field; Desired to see my park, and in this place This very place, laid violent hands on me; Said I was once his bride destined, and spoke Of love, but when I, drawing yonder sword, Prepared to die rather than yield to his wish. He like a coward field, and left me here Distressed. I am defiled and thee but ill Befit ! Henceforth an ascetic shall I live In forest caves secluded from the world, But harm him not, thy son, for it is my fate And not his fault, "Enough", he said, and walked
With haughty steps away.
It was the time When, from their haunts, deities to shrines return And starts slip out from heaven's azure vault Where on their silver thrones through all the night A heavently hour they keep; and beasts of prey Completely wearied with their fruitless search Homeward retrace their cautious steps. 'Twas then
Upon a rock beneath a forest lime That with a thousand eyes her fragnance wept, Loud wailing lay, in agony deep, a prince With severed legs and arms; and none was near Except the workers of the deed who watched With heavy, hearts from distance over the scene, But who you shape than like a shadow walks The nighted wood ? Some ghost whose haunts disturbed The prince's wail ? Oh no ! it is the saint
Whom of at early morn the woodman meets Crossing with speed of wind the forest tracts. Has he then heart prince's cry ? He did, And is presently at his side "Alas ! Innocent prince", he cried, and from his pot Sprinkled the holy water over his from. At once the bleeding stopped, and in his arm Holding the swooning prince, the holy saint Winds wift over forest flew.
CONCLUSION
The sun has set: but, linger yet his rays Over the odorous heights of easteren peaks, Where, stopping in her thoughtless speed, the fawn With baby - wonder eyes the setting day, That, twitching now has mantle bright, walked down The slops of the western mount. The forest lay In all its twilight grandeur robed in shades.
But who be she that like a goddess sat Upon a rock that edged a noiseless stream And shiplike rose amidst a leafy sea ? All clad in purest white; one diamond lace Alone adorned her neck and dangling rested Over her fairy breast. Long did she trace
With thoughtful eye the evening evolutions Of earth and sky, while each image that graced Her orbs wooed back some relic of the past Or golden thoughts that blossomed in her breast. Softly she rose from reverie and withdrew Her palm from 'neath her rosy check and touched A Veena with flowerets decked, charmed the wood;
Chorus : With power and pelf so falsely fair, The world is all to thee; O speak no more; O speak no more, The world is not for me.
With tempting hues the lilies blow Upon the lake of Life; But all below, unseen they grow The weeds of sin and strife, The plant of wealth on guile is grown And watered is with sin; The craft of power on blood is built Its sails are puffed with din, O not to me that power and wealth O not to me the world; In muddied streams there life doth flow And vapours dim are curled, Mine be these woods, these hills, these dales Mine be the crystal stream; Like wildbird in these happy vales A happy heart I roam, The prince that was by me undone Lives in the cave below; His limbs would all be whole again In dozen moons or so, I tend him like a mother true It is a joy to me; The holy saint of wondrous powers Says Gods have forgiven me, And when the Prince is strong and whole And to his raj shall hie; My loved lord the king of kings Will come and live with me, And here beside this pleasant stream A home we'll build of straw; And here relieved from wordly cares His easy head shall rest; Though spurred by fate from faith it's strayed Upon this dear breast, And in the noon the gentle winds, Shall make us flower beds meet; And little fawns with fish eyes Shall frolic at our feet, As oft I pass the twilight lake I spy the naiad fair; Like lightning over the dark-blue skies She sinks her then and there, But I shall hind behind some brake When moon is shining bright; When she to ripples walks the lake With tread so airy light, Then half above the water's face The naiad glides along Planting among the furrowed waves Her lilies bright and young.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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