Bound by that malignant treaty—Kali with his dark ally,
Haunted they the stately palace—where Nishadha's monarch ruled;
Watching still the fatal instant—in Nishadha long they dwelt.
Twelve long years had passed ere Kali—saw that fatal instant come.
Nala after act uncleanly—the ablution half performed,[56]
Prayed at eve, with feet unwashen—Kali seized the fatal hour.
Into Nala straight he entered—and possessed his inmost soul.
Pushkara in haste he summoned—come with Nala play at dice,
Ever in the gainful hazard—by my subtle aid thou'lt win,
Even the kingdom of Nishadha—even from Nala all his realm.
Pushkara by Kali summoned—to his brother Nala came,
In the dice of dice embodied[57]—Dwapara stood silent by.
Pushkara the hero-slayer—to king Nala standing near:
"Play we with the dice, my brother,"—thus again, again he said.
Long the lofty-minded raja—that bold challenge might not brook,
In Vidarbha's princess' presence—deemed he now the time for play.
For his wealth, his golden treasures—for his chariots, for his robes,
Then possessed by Kali, Nala—in the game was worsted still.
He with love of gaming maddened,—of his faithful friends not one
Might arrest the desperate frenzy—of the conqueror of his foes.
Came the citizens assembling—with the counsellors of state,
To behold the king approached they—to restrain his dread disease.
Then the charioteer advancing[58]—thus to Damayanti spake:
"All the city, noble princess—stands assembled at the gate,
Say thou to Nishadha's monarch—'All his subjects here are met;
Ill they brook this dire misfortune[59]—in their justice-loving king'."
Then, her voice half choked with anguish—spake the sorrow-stricken queen,
Spirit-broken, Bhima's daughter—to Nishadha's sovereign spake,
"Raja, lo! the assembled city—at the gate their king to see:
With the counsellors of wisdom—by their loyal duty led.
Deign thou, monarch, to admit them,"—thus again, again she said.
To the queen with beauteous eyelids—uttering thus her sad lament,
Still possessed by wicked Kali—answered not the king a word.
Then those counsellors of wisdom—and those loyal citizens,
"'Tis not he," exclaimed in sorrow,—and in shame and grief went home.
Thus of Pushkara and Nala—still went on that fatal play;
Many a weary month it lasted—and still lost the king of men.