Nala thus bereft of kingdom—with his wife to slavery sunk,
Forth king Bhima sent the Brahmins—Nala through the world to seek.
Thus the royal Bhima charged them—with abundant wealth supplied:—
"Go ye now and seek king Nala—Damayanti seek, my child:
And, achieved this weighty business—found Nishadha's royal lord,
Whosoe'er shall hither bring them—shall a thousand kine receive;
And a royal grant for maintenance[109]—of a village like a town.
If nor hither Damayanti—nor king Nala may be brought,
Know we where they are, rich guerdon—still we give, ten hundred kine."
Thus addressed, the joyful Brahmins—went to every clime of earth,
Through the cities, through the kingdoms—seeking Nala and his queen:
Nala, or king Bhima's daughter—in no place might they behold.
Then a Brahmin, named Sudeva—came to pleasant Chedi-pur;
There within the kingly palace—he Vidarbha's daughter saw,
Standing with the fair Sunanda—on a royal holiday.[110]
With her beauty once so peerless—worthy now of little praise,
Like the sun-light feebly shining—through the dimness of a cloud.
Gazing on the large-eyed princess—dull in look, and wasted still,
Lo, he thought, king Bhima's daughter—pondering thus within his mind.—

"Even as once I wont to see her—such is yonder woman's form,
I my work have done, beholding—like the goddess world-adored,
Like the full moon, darkly beauteous—with her fair and swelling breasts,
Her, the queen, that with her brightness—makes each clime devoid of gloom,
With her lotus eyes expanding—like Manmatha's queen divine;[111]
Like the moonlight in its fulness—the desire of all the world.
From Vidarbha's pleasant waters—her by cruel fate plucked up,
[112]Like a lotus flower uprooted—with the mire and dirt around:
Like the pallid night, when Rahu[113]—swallows up the darkened moon:
For her husband wan with sorrow—like a gentle stream dried up;
Like a pool, where droops the lotus—whence the affrighted birds have fled,
By the elephant's proboscis—in its quiet depths disturbed.
Tender, soft-limbed, in a palace—fit, of precious stones, to dwell.
Like the lotus stem, uprooted—parched and withered by the sun.
Fair in form, in soul as generous—worthy of all bliss, unbless'd,
Like the young moon's slender crescent—in the heavens by dark clouds veiled.
Widowed now of all love's pleasures—of her noble kin despoiled,
Wretched, bearing life, her husband—in her hope again to see.
To the unadorned, a husband[114]—is the chiefest ornament;
Of her husband if forsaken—she in splendour is not bright.
Difficult must be the trial—does king Nala, reft of her,
Still retain his wretched body—nor with sorrow pine away?
Her with her dark flowing tresses—with her long and lotus eyes,
Worthy of all joy, thus joyless—as I see, my soul is wrung.
To the furthest shore of sorrow—when will pass this beauteous queen?
To her husband reunited—as the moon's bride[115] to the moon?
Her recovering shall king Nala—to his happiness return,
King, albeit despoiled of kingdom—he his realm shall reassume;
In their age and virtues equal—equal in their noble race,
He alone of her is worthy—worthy she alone of him.
Me beseems it of that peerless—of that brave and prudent king,
To console the loyal consort—pining for her husband's sight.
Her will I address with comfort—with her moonlike glowing face.
Her with woe once unacquainted—woful now and lost in thought."
Thus when he had gazed and noted—all her marks, her features well,
To the daughter of king Bhima—thus the sage Sudeva spake:
"I am named Sudeva, lady—I, thy brother's chosen friend,
By king Bhima's royal mandate—hither come in search of thee.
Well thy sire, thy royal mother—well thy noble brethren fare,
And well fare those little infants—well and happy are they both.
For thy sake thy countless kindred—sit as though of sense bereft:
Seeking thee a hundred Brahmins—now are wandering o'er the earth."
She no sooner knew Sudeva—Damayanti, of her kin,
Many a question asked in order—and of every friend beloved.
And the daughter of Vidarbha—freely wept, so sudden thus
On Sudeva, best of Brahmins—gazing, on her brother's friend.
Her beheld the young Sunanda—weeping, wasted with distress,
As she thus her secret converse—with the wise Sudeva held.
Thus she spake unto her mother—"Lo, how fast our handmaid weeps,
Since her meeting with the Brahmin—who she is, thou now may'st know."
Forth the king of Chedi's mother—from the inner chamber went,
And she passed where with the Brahmin—that mysterious woman stood.
Them the mother queen Sudeva—bade before her presence stand;
And she asked, "Whose wife, whose daughter—may this noble stranger be?
From her kindred how dissevered—from her husband, the soft-eyed?
Is she known to thee, O Brahmin—canst thou tell from whence she came?
This I fain would hear, and clearly—all her strange and wonderous tale.
Tell me all that hath befallen—to this heaven-formed, plainly tell."
Best of Brahmins, thus Sudeva—by the mother queen addressed,
All the truth of Damayanti—sitting at his ease, declared.