Over rivers, over mountains—through the forests, over lakes,
Fleetly passed they, rapid gliding—like a bird along the air.
As the chariot swiftly travelled—lo, Bhangasuri the king
Saw his upper garment fallen—from the lofty chariot seat;
Though in urgent haste, no sooner—he his fallen mantle saw,
Than the king exclaimed to Nala—"Pause, and let us take it up:
Check, an instant, mighty-minded!—check thy fiery-footed steeds,
While Varshneya, swift dismounting—bears me back my fallen robe."
Nala answered, "Far behind us—doth thy fallen garment lie;
Ten miles,[122] lo, it lies behind us—turn we not, to gain it, back."
Answered thus by noble Nala—then Bhangasuri the king,
Bowed with fruit, within the forest—saw a tall Vibhitak[123] tree:
Gazing on that tree, the raja—spake to Vahuca in haste,
"Now, O charioteer, in numbers, thou shalt see my passing skill.
Each one knows not every science—none there is that all things knows:
Perfect skill in every knowledge—in one mind there may not be.
On yon tree are leaves how many?—Vahuca, how many fruit?
Say, how many are there fallen?—one above a hundred, there.
One leaf is there 'bove a hundred—and one fruit, O Vahuca!
And of leaves are five ten millions[124]—hanging on those branches two.
Those two branches if thou gather—and the twigs that on them grow,
On those two are fruits two thousand—and a hundred, less by five."
Then, when he had check'd the chariot—answered Vahuca the king,
"What thou speakest, to mine eyesight—all invisible appears;
Visible I'll make it, counting—on yon boughs the leaves and fruit:
Then, when we have strictly numbered—I mistrust mine eyes no more.
In thy presence, king, I'll number—yonder tall Vibhitak-tree.
Whether it may be, or may not—this not done, I cannot know.
I will number, thou beholding—all its fruits, O king of men,
But an instant let Varshneya—hold the bridles of the steeds."
To the charioteer the raja—answered, "Time is none to stay."
Vahuca replied, all eager—his own purpose to fulfil,
"Either stay thou here an instant—or go onward in thy speed,
With the charioteer Varshneya—go, for straight the road before."
Answered him king Rituparna—with a bland and soothing voice:
"Charioteer! on earth thine equal—Vahuca, there may not be;
By thy guidance, skilled in horses!—to Vidarbha I would go:
I in thee have placed reliance—interrupt not then our course:
Willingly will I obey thee—Vahuca, in what thou ask'st,
If this day we reach Vidarbha—ere the sun hath sunk in night."
Vahuca replied, "No sooner—have I numbered yonder fruit,
To Vidarbha will I hasten—grant me then my prayer, O king."
Then the raja, all reluctant—"Stay then, and begin to count;
Of one branch one part, O blameless—from the tall Vibhitak tree,
Man of truth, begin to number—and make glad thine inmost heart."
From the chariot quick alighting—Nala tore the branch away.
Then, his soul possess'd with wonder—to the raja thus he said;
"Having counted, an thou sawest—even so many fruits there are,
Marvellous thy power, O monarch—by mine eyes beheld and proved,
Of that wonder-working science—fain the secret would I hear."
Then the raja spake in answer—eager to pursue his way,
"I of dice possess the science—and in numbers thus am skilled."
Vahuca replied; "That science—if to me thou wilt impart,
In return, O king, receive thou—my surpassing skill in steeds."
Then the raja Rituparna—by his pressing need induced,
Eager for that skill in horses—"Be it so," thus 'gan to say;
"Well, O Vahuca, thou speakest—thou my skill in dice receive,
And of steeds thy wondrous knowledge—be to me a meet return."
Rituparna, all his science—saying this, to Nala gave.
Soon as he in dice grew skilful—Kali from his body passed:
He Karkotaka's foul poison—vomiting from out his mouth,
Went from forth his body Kali[125]—tortured by that fiery curse.
Nala, wasted by that conflict—came not instant to himself,
But, released from that dread venom—Kali his own form resumed:
And Nishadha's monarch, Nala—fain would curse him in his ire.
Him addressed the fearful Kali—trembling, and with folded hands;
"Lord of men, restrain thine anger—I will give thee matchless fame;
Indrasena's wrathful mother—laid on me her fatal curse,[126]
When by thee she was deserted—since that time, O king of men,
I have dwelt in thee in anguish—in the ecstacy of pain.
By the King of Serpents' poison—I have burned by night, by day;
To thy mercy now for refuge—flee I, hear my speech, O king:
Wheresoe'er men, unforgetful—through the world shall laud thy name,
Shall the awful dread of Kali[126]—never in their soul abide.
If thou wilt not curse me, trembling—and to thee for refuge fled."
Thus addressed, the royal Nala—all his rising wrath suppressed,
And the fearful Kali entered—in the cloven Vibhitak tree:[127]
To no eyes but those of Nala—visible, had Kali spoken.
Then the monarch of Nishadha—from his inward fever freed,
When away had vanished Kali—when the fruits he had numbered all,
Triumphing in joy unwonted—blazing in his splendour forth,
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