  With the evening in Vidarbha—men at watch, as they drew near, Mighty Rituparna's coming—to king Bhima did proclaim. Then that king, by Bhima's mandate—entered in Kundina's walls, All the region round him echoing But the echoing of that chariot—when king Nala's horses heard, In their joy they pawed and trampled Damayanti, too, the rushing—of king Nala's chariot heard. As a cloud that hoarsely thunders—at the coming of the rains. All her heart was thrilled with wonder—at that old familiar sound. On they seemed to come, as Nala—drove of yore his trampling steeds: Like it seemed to Bhima's daughter—and e'en so to Nala's steeds. On the palace roofs the peacocks—th' elephants within their stalls, And the horses heard the rolling—of the mighty monarch's car. Elephants and peacocks hearing—the fleet chariot rattling on, Up they raised their necks and clamoured—as at sound of coming rain. Damayanti spake. "How the rolling of yon chariot—filling, as it seems, th' earth, Thrills my soul with unknown transport—it is Nala, king of men. If this day I see not Nala—with his glowing moonlike face, Him, the king with countless virtues—I shall perish without doubt. If this day within th' embraces—of that hero's clasping arms, I the gentle pressure feel not—without doubt I shall not live. If 'tis not, like cloud of thunder—he that comes, Nishadha's king, In his might like the strong lion—like the raging elephant, Comes he not, the prince of princes—I shall perish without doubt. Not a falsehood I remember—I remember no offence; Not an idle word remember—in his noble converse free. Lofty, patient, like a hero—liberal beyond all kings, Nought ignoble, as the eunuch—even in private, may he do. As I think upon his virtues—as I think by day, by night, All my heart is rent with anguish—widowed of in own beloved." Thus lamenting, she ascended—as with frenzied mind possessed, To the palace roof's high terrace—to behold the king of men. In the middle court high seated—in the car, the lord of earth, Rituparna with Varshneya—and with Vahuca she saw, When Varshneya from that chariot—and when Vahuca came down, He let loose those noble coursers—and he stopped the glowing car. From that chariot-seat descended—Rituparna, king of men, To the noble monarch Bhima—he drew near, for strength renowned. Him received with highest honour—Bhima, for without due cause, Deemed not he, the mighty raja—with such urgent speed had come. "Wherefore com'st thou! hail and welcome"—thus that gracious king enquires; For his daughter's sake he knew not—that the lord of men had come. But the raja Rituparna—great in wisdom as in might, When nor king within the palace—nor king's son he could behold, Nor of Swayembara heard he—nor assembled Brahmins saw. Thus within his mind deep pondering—spoke of Kosala the lord. "Hither, O majestic Bhima—to salute thee am I come." But king Bhima smiled in secret—as he thought within his mind, Passing through so many cities—for this cause he set not forth; For this cause of little moment—to our court he hath not come: What the real cause, hereafter—haply I may chance to know." After royal entertainment—then the king his guest dismissed: "Take then thy repose," thus said he—"weary of thy journey, rest." He refreshed, with courteous homage—of that courteous king took leave, Ushered by the royal servants—to th' appointed chamber went: There retired king Rituparna—with Varshneya in his suite. Vahuca, meantime, the chariot—to the chariot-house had led, There the coursers he unharnessed—skilfully he dressed them there, And with gentle words caressed them—on the chariot seat sate down. But the woeful Damayanti—when Bhangasuri she'd seen, And the charioteer Varshneya—and the seeming Vahuca, Thought within Vidarbha's princess—"Whose was that fleet chariot's sound? Such it seems as noble Nala's—yet no Nala do I see. Hath the charioteer Varshneya—Nala's noble science learned? Therefore did the thundering chariot—sound as driven by Nala's self? Or may royal Rituparna—like the skilful Nala drive, Therefore did the rolling chariot—seem as of Nishadha's king?" Thus when Damayanti pondered—in the silence of her soul, Sent she then her beauteous handmaid—to that king her messenger. |
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