No More Learning

«From the mouths of the aged an epic poem has been collected, equaling
the Iliad in length and completeness; nay,- if we can forget for a moment
all that we in our youth learned to call beautiful, — not less beautiful. A Finn
is not a Greek, and a Wainamoinen was not a Homer. But if the poet may
take his colors from that nature by which he is surrounded, if he may depict
the men with whom he lives, the Kalevala) possesses merits not dissimilar
from those of the Iliad: and will claim its place as the fifth national epic of
the world, side by side with the Ionian Songs,' with the Mahābhārata, the
(Shabnāmeh,) and the Nibelungen. ) »
>
As exemplifying the style and method of the Kalevala, I may
give the opening and closing lines in the translation of Mr. Crawford.
as that more adequately conveys a notion of the original than any
other save that of the Hungarian, Barna.
PROEM
M
ASTERED by desire impulsive,
By a mighty inward urging,
I am ready now for singing,
Ready to begin the chanting
Of our nation's ancient folk-song,
Handed down from bygone ages.
In my mouth the words are melting,
From my lips the tones are gliding,
From my tongue they wish to hasten;
When my willing teeth are parted,
When my ready mouth is opened,
Songs of ancient wit and wisdom
Hasten from me not unwilling.


## p. 8451 (#51) ############################################

THE KALEVALA
8451
Golden friend, and dearest brother,
Brother dear of mine in childhood,
Come and sing with me the stories,
Come and chant with me the legends,
Legends of the times forgotten,
Since we now are here together,
Come together from our roamings.
Seldom do we come for singing,
Seldom to the one, the other,
O'er this cold and cruel country,
O'er the poor soil of the Northland.
Let us clasp our hands together
That we thus may best remember.
Join we now in merry singing,
Chant we now the oldest folk-lore,
That the dear ones all may hear them,
That the well-inclined inay hear them,
Of this rising' generation.
These are words in childhood taught me,
Songs preserved from distant ages;
Legends they that once were taken
From the belt of Wainamoinen,
From the forge of Ilmarinen,
From the sword of Kaukomieli,
From the bow of Youkahainen,
From the pastures of the Northland,
From the meads of Kalevala.
These my dear old father sang me
When at work with knife and hatchet:
These my tender mother taught me
When she twirled the flying spindle,
When a child upon the matting
By her feet I rolled and tumbled.
Incantations were not wanting
Over Sampo and o'er Louhi,
Sampo growing old in singing,
Louhi ceasing her enchantment.
In the songs died wise Wipunen,
At the games died Lemminkainen.
There are many other legends,
Incantations that were taught me,
That I found along the wayside,
Gathered in the fragrant copses,
Blown me from the forest branches,


## p. 8452 (#52) ############################################

8452
THE KALEVALA
Culled among the plumes of pine-trees,
Scented from the vines and flowers,
Whispered to me as I followed
Flocks in land of honeyed meadows,
Over hillocks green and golden,
After sable-haired Murikki,
And the many-colored Kimmo.
Many runes the cold has told me,
Many lays the rain has brought me,
Other songs the winds have sung me;
Many birds from many forests,
Oft have sung me lays in concord;
Waves of sea, and ocean billows,
Music from the many waters,
Music from the whole creation,
Oft have been my guide and master.
Sentences the trees created,
Rolled together into bundles,
Moved them to my ancient dwelling,
On the sledges to my cottage,
Tied them to my garret rafters,
Hung them on my dwelling-portals,
Laid them in a chest of boxes,
Boxes lined with shining copper.
Long they lay within my dwelling
Through the chilling winds of winter,
In my dwelling-place for ages.
Shall I bring these songs together?
From the cold and frost collect them?
Shall I bring this nest of boxes,
Keepers of these golden legends,
To the table in my cabin,
Underneath the painted rafters,
In this house renowned and ancient ?
Shall I now these boxes open,
Boxes filled with wondrous stories ?
Shall I now the end unfasten
Of this ball of ancient wisdom ?
These ancestral lays unravel ?
Let me sing an old-time legend,
That shall echo forth the praises
Of the beer that I have tasted,
Of the sparkling beer of barley.
Bring to me a foaming goblet


## p. 8453 (#53) ############################################

THE KALEVALA
8453
Of the barley of my fathers,
Lest my singing grow too weary,
Singing from the water only.
Bring me too a cup of strong beer;
It will add to our enchantment,
To the pleasure of the evening,
Northland's long and dreary evening,
For the beauty of the day-dawn,
For the pleasure of the morning,
The beginning of the new day.
Often I have heard them chanting,
Often I have heard them singing,
That the nights come to us singly,
That the Moon beams on us singly,
That the Sun shines on us singly;
Singly also, Wainamoinen,
The renowned and wise enchanter,
Born from everlasting Ether
Of his mother, Ether's daughter.
These beautiful lines from the prologue may aptly be followed by
the last lines from the rune of Mariatta, which describe the passing of
the hero, Wainamoinen.
As the years passed, Wainamoinen
Recognized his waning powers:
Empty-handed, heavy-hearted,
Sang his farewell song to Northland,
To the people of Wainola;
Sang himself a boat of copper.
Beautiful his bark of magic;
At the helm sat the magician,
Sat the ancient wisdom-singer.
Westward, westward, sailed the hero
O'er the blue-black of the waters,
Singing as he left Wainola,
This his plaintive song and echo:-
“Suns may rise and set in Suomi,
Rise and set for generations,
When the North will learn my teachings,
Will recall my wisdom-sayings,
Hungry for the true religion.
Then will Suomi need my coming,
Watch for me at dawn of morning,
That I may bring back the Sampo,


## p. 8454 (#54) ############################################

8454
THE KALEVALA
Bring anew the harp of joyance,
Bring again the golden moonlight,
Bring again the silver sunshine,
Peace and plenty to the Northland. ”
Thus the ancient Wainamoinen,
In his copper-banded vessel,
Left his tribe in Kalevala,
Sailing o'er the rolling billows,
Sailing through the azure vapors,
Sailing through the dusk of evening,
Sailing to the fiery sunset,
To the higher-landed regions,
To the lower verge of heaven;
Quickly gained the far horizon,
Gained the purple-colored harbor.
There his bark he firmly anchored,
Rested in his boat of copper;
But he left his harp of magic,
Left his songs and wisdom-sayings,
To the lasting joy of Suomi.
SEE
79
Truly, Wainamoinen has left his songs and wisdom-sayings in the
heart and in the brain of his people, of which the Kalevala' is the
mirror.
Wcian Sharjo


## p. 8455 (#55) ############################################

8455
KĀLIDĀSA
(Presumably, Sixth Century A. D. )
BY A. V. WILLIAMS JACKSON
K
»
ĀLIDĀSA is the poet in Sanskrit literature whose name may
best be compared with Shakespeare. No less an authority
than Sir William Jones styled him “the Indian Shake-
speare ) when he made Kālidāsa's name known to the Western World
by translating his romantic play Çakuntalā' into English. Çakun-
"
talā' has ever been a magic word for enchantment since Goethe,
with somewhat of a poet's ecstasy, wrote those oft-quoted lines which
may be rendered:
“Would'st thou tell of the blossoms of Spring, and paint the ripe fruits of the
Autumn,
All that may charm and delight with fullness and joy manifold;
Would'st thou combine in one word the enchantments of Earth and of
Heaven, -
I'll name, O Çakuntalā, thee; in thy name alone all is told. ”
Or as the original stanza runs:-
«Willst du die Blüthe des frühen, die Früchte des späteren Jahres,
Willst du was reizt und entzückt, willst du was sättigt und nährt,
Willst du den Himmel, die Erde mit Einem Namen begreifen,
Nenn ich, Sakuntala, dich, und so ist Alles gesagt. ”
The same enthusiasm for Kālidāsa and Çakuntalā' is echoed in
the writings of Schiller, and by many writers who have since found
much to admire in this poet of mediæval India.
Respecting the life of this gifted playwright and lyrical writer,
however, we have little if any authentic information. The era in
which he lived has been the subject of much discussion. The native
tradition favors the first century B. C. as the time when he flourished;
but the consensus of scholarly opinion points to the middle of the
sixth century A. D. as probably the time when Kālidāsa lived and
wrote at the court of King Vikramāditya. Vikrama's reign was a
renaissance period in Sanskrit letters, and Kālidāsa's name is spoken
of as one of the nine jewels" of Vikrama's throne; and his work is
closely associated with the literary revival, as is shown under 'Indian


## p. 8456 (#56) ############################################

8456
KĀLIDĀSA
attcedi
mitei.
ombas
as the
Kalda
Tegara
SIL
ten a
haste
rev
is
dema
pass
DIS
La
reason
li
Literature in the present volumes. The poet's graphic and beautiful
descriptions of the city Ujjain, and his familiarity with court life, show
that he probably enjoyed for a long time the patronage of his royal
protector; although the epilogue of his drama Vikramorvaçi' seems
to indicate straitened circumstances. The poet's fondness for the
Himālayas and mountain pictures, combined with other facts, seems
to point toward a Kashmir home. There is reason to believe that
he had traveled somewhat. Certain characteristics of his own nature,
moreover, are undoubtedly reflected in the tenderness, grace, beauty,
delicacy, and passionate feeling that is found in his poetry. There is
a story that like Marlowe, his death was violent, — that he perished
by the hand of a woman, who to win a monarch's favor, claimed
one of Kālidāsa's improvised verses as her own, and murdered the
poet lest the truth should be discovered. But enough of such gossip!
This graceful, sensitive, yet thoroughly manly poet is firni and secure
in his title to noble and lasting fame.
Kālidāsa's renown does not rest alone on his drainatic work, but
it rests also upon his lyrical, descriptive, and narrative poetry. Of
his three dramas, Cakuntalā,' Vikramorvaçi,' and Mālavikāgnimi-
tra, the last named is probably the earlier in point of composition.
There is no
to doubt Kālidāsa's authorship. It is a play
written on the conventional lines of several Hindu dramas which fol-
lowed it,-a play of court life and romantic incident. The love of
King Agnimitra for the dancing-girl Mālavikā, a handmaid to the
queen, forms its subject. In spite of the opposition of the queen and
the jealousy of a younger consort, the king finds an opportunity to
express his admiration; and after many amusing or distressing inci-
dents the girl is found to be a princess in disguise, and all ends
happily in union and general reconciliation. The scene in which the
fair Mālavikā exhibits her skill in dancing before the king and queen,
with the revered Buddhist nun as referee in judging which of the
two rival professors has proved himself the better teacher, is quite
cleverly arranged, and a selection from it is given below. As the
plot is confined to court life and to social intercourse in the pal-
ace, the play forms a contrast to the “Çakuntalā,' in which the plot
is partly engaged with the supernatural; or a contrast again to the
Vikramorvaçi (Nymph Won by Heroism), in which the mythical,
marvelous, and supermundane abound. The plots of the two latter
plays are described under Indian Literature); and the comments
that are made here are added simply by way of supplementing the
main points there presented regarding Kālidāsa as a dramatic poet.
In the field of the romantic epopee, Kālidāsa ranks first in his
Raghuvança,' or 'Line of Raghu,' -a poem in eighteen cantos tra-
cing the descendants of the solar kings, or the line from which the
아
​(


## p. 8457 (#57) ############################################

KĀLIDĀSA
8457
>
great Rāma is sprung. Parts of the poem are Vergilian in tone, but
according to our taste they lack the classic restraint of the Roman
writer. Similar in character is Kālidāsa's narrative from Kumāra-
sambhava,' or Birth of the War Prince, which may be read as far
as the seventh canto in Griffith's rhymed translation. In respect to
Kālidāsa's lyrical poetry, it is not necessary to add anything here
regarding the Ritusanhara,' a sort of Sanskrit Thomson's 'Seasons,'
which has been sufficiently discussed under Indian Literature. ' A
few additional words, however, may be devoted to Kālidāsa's lyrical
masterpiece, Meghadūta,' (the Cloud-Messenger. ) This love message
which the banished Yaksha (demigod) intrusts to the cloud to con-
vey to his beloved, has almost the feeling of a Shelley. The poem
is short, — not much over a hundred stanzas; but the beauty of its
description of natural phenomena, and the fineness of its lyrical
passion, render it worthy of the reputation which it enjoys in India
and of the attention which some lovers of poetry in the Occident
have given it.
As a poet, Kālidāsa combines art with nature. His language and
his style have all the finish and skillful elaboration, without the
labored workmanship and meretricious faults, that mark the later
development and decay of Sanskrit art-poetry. In his writings the
literary student will find certain elements that recall the renaissance
spirit of Marlowe or of Keats rather than the soul of Shakespeare.
One might be reminded in his lyrical poetry and descriptive narra-
tive, for example, of the lavishness and exuberance of Marlowe, or of
the beauty, color, and passionate effusiveness of Keats. He excels in
poetic outbursts of pure fancy, but he can reflect in philosophic tone,
and can be stirred by the pomp of war and the trumpet's blare; yet
these passages are not common. His description of natural scenery
and his love of animals seem almost Wordsworthian; for nature is
nearer to the heart of Kālidāsa than to almost any other poet's heart.
In dramatic work, if such comparison be possible, his hand is rather
the hand of the earlier Shakespeare, or the touch of the later roman-
tic Shakespeare, than the Shakespeare of the great tragic period; for
the Hindu dramatic canon practically excluded Kālidāsa from tragic
subjects. Taken for all in all, he is a poet worthy to be studied by
a poet and by any true lover of poetry, and his work well merits a
place in the best literature of the world.
Airwickauns
is Jackson


## p. 8458 (#58) ############################################

8458
KĀLIDĀSA
slo
FROM MĀLAVIKĀGNIMITRA)
Then are seen, after the orchestral arrangements have been completed, the
King, with his friend, seated on a throne, the Queen Dhārini, and
the retinue in order of rank.
King – Reverend madam! which of the two professors shall
first exhibit to us the skill which he has infused into his pupil ?
Parivrăjikā— Even supposing their attainments to be equal,
Ganadāsa ought surely to be preferred on account of his being
the elder.
King — Well, Maudgalya, go and tell these gentlemen this,
and then go about your business.
Chamberlain - As the King commands.
Ganadāsa [entering] — King, there is a composition of Çar-
mistha, consisting of four parts in medium time: your Highness
ought to hear attentively one-fourth of it performed with appro-
priate gestures.
King - Professor! I am most respectively attentive.
[Exit Ganadāsa.
King [aside to Vidīshaka, the Buffoon]- Friend, my eye, eager
to behold her who is concealed by the curtain, through impa-
tience seems to be endeavoring to draw it up.
Vidũshaka ſaside] - Ha! the honey of your eyes is approach-
ing, but the bee is near; therefore look on with caution.
Then Mālavikā enters, with the teacher of dancing contemplating the cle-
gant movement of her limbs
Vidūshaka [aside]— Look, your Highness. Her beauty does
not fall short of the picture (with which you fell in love).
King [aside] - Friend, my mind anticipated that her beauty
could not possibly come up to that represented in the picture;
but now I think that the painter by whom she was taken studied
his model but carelessly.
Ganadāsa — My dear child, dismiss your timidity; be composed.
King - Oh, the perfection of her beauty in every posture!
For her face has long eyes and the splendor of an autumn
moon; her two arms are gracefully curved at the shoulders; her
chest is compact, having firm and swelling breasts; her sides are
as if planed off; her waist may be spanned by the hand; her hips


## p. 8459 (#59) ############################################

KĀLIDASA
8459
slope elegantly, her feet have curving toes, her body is as grace-
ful as the ideal in the mind of the teacher of dancing.
(Malavikā, having approached, sings the composition, consisting of four
parts. ]
Mālavikā (singing] -
My beloved is hard to obtain; be thou without hope with
respect to him, O my heart! Ha! the outer corner of my
left eye throbs somewhat: how is this man, seen after a long
time, to be obtained ? My lord, consider that I am devoted
to thee with ardent longing.
(She goes through a pantomime expressive of the sentiment. ]
Vidūshaka [aside]— Ha! ha! this lady may be said to have
made use of the composition in four parts for the purpose of
flinging herself at your head.
King [aside to Vidūshaka] – My friend, this is the state of the
hearts of both of us. Certainly she, by accompanying the words
"know that I am devoted to thee,” that came in her song, with
expressive action pointing at her own body,- seeing no other
way of telling her love, owing to the neighborhood of Dhārinī,-
addressed herself to me under pretense of courting a beautiful
youth.
(Malavikā at the end of her song makes as if she would leave the stage. ]
Vidushaka — Stop, lady! you have somewhat
somewhat neglected the
proper order; I will ask about it, if you please.
Ganadäsa — My dear child, stop a minute; you shall go after
your performance has been pronounced faultless.
Mālavikā turns round and stands still. ]
King [to himself]- Ah, her beauty gains fresh splendor in
every posture. For her standing attitude, in which she is pla-
cing on her hip her left hand, the bracelet of which clings
motionless at the wrist, and making her other hand hang down
loosely like the branch of a çyama-tree, and casting down her
eye on the inlaid pavement on which she is pushing about a
flower with her toe, an attitude in which the upper part of her
body is upright, is more attractive even than her dancing.
Translation of C. H. Tawney.


## p. 8460 (#60) ############################################

8460
KĀLIDĀSA
FROM THE RAGHUVANÇA)
HYMN ADDRESSED TO VISHNU BY THE DEITIES
G"
LORY to Thee, who art first the creator of the universe, next
its upholder, and finally its destroyer; glory to Thee in
this threefold character. As water falling from the sky,
though having but one flavor, assumes different flavors in differ-
ent bodies, so Thou, associated with the three qualities [Sattva,
Rajas, and Tamas, or Goodness, Passion, and Darkness), assumest
[three) states [those of creator, preserver, and destroyer), though
Thyself unchanged. Immeasurable, Thou measurest the worlds;
desiring nothing, Thou art the fulfiller of desires; unconquered,
Thou art a conqueror; utterly indiscernible, Thou art the cause
of all that is discerned. Though one, Thou, from one or another
cause, assumest this or that condition; Thy variations are com-
pared to those which crystal undergoes from the contact of dif-
ferent colors. Thou art known as abiding in [our] hearts, and
yet as remote; as free from affection, ascetic, merciful, untouched
by sin, primeval, and imperishable. Thou knowest all things,
Thyself unknown; sprung from Thyself for self-existent], Thou
art the source of all things; Thou art the lord of all, Thyself
without a master; though but one, Thou assumest all forms.
Thou art declared to be He who is celebrated in the seven
Sāma-hymns, to be He who sleeps on the waters of the seven
oceans, whose face is lighted up by the god of seven rays (Fire],
and who is the one refuge of the seven worlds. Knowledge
which gains the four classes of fruit (virtue, pleasure, wealth, and
final liberation), the division of time into four yugas [ages], the
fourfold division of the people into castes, — all these things come
from Thee, the four-faced. Yogins [devoutly contemplative men]
with minds subdued by exercise recognize Thee, the luminous,
abiding in their hearts; (and so attain] to liberation from earthly
existence. Who comprehends the truth regarding Thee, who
art unborn, and yet becomest born; who art passionless, yet slay-
est thine enemies; who sleepest, and yet art awake? Thou art
capable of enjoying sounds and other objects of sense; of prac-
ticing severe austerity, of protecting thy creatures, and of living
in indifference to all external things. The roads leading to per-
fection, which vary according to the different revealed systems,
all end in Thee, as the waves of the Ganges flow to the ocean.


## p. 8461 (#61) ############################################

KĀLIDĀSA
8461
For those passionless men whose hearts are fixed on Thee, who
have committed to Thee their works, Thou art a refuge, so that
they escape further mundane births. Thy glory, as manifested
to the senses in the earth and other objects, is yet incompre-
hensible: what shall be said of Thyself, who canst be proved
only by the authority of Scripture and by inference? Seeing that
the remembrance of Thee alone purifies a man, – the rewards of
other mental acts also, when directed towards Thee, are thereby
indicated. As the waters exceed the ocean, and as the beams of
light exceed the sun, so Thy acts transcend our praises. There
is nothing for Thee to attain which Thou hast not already at-
tained: kindness to the world is the only motive for Thy birth
and for Thy actions. If this our hymn now comes to a close
after celebrating Thy greatness, the reason of this is our exhaust-
ion, or our inability to say more, not that there is any limit to
Thy attributes.
Translation of J. Muir.
FROM `ÇAKUNTALĀ; OR, THE LOST RING)
Scene: A Forest. Enter King Dushyanta, armed with a bow and arrow,
in a chariot, chasing an antelope, attended by his Charioteer.
CHAR
HARIOTEER [looking at the deer and then at the King] -Great Prince,
When on the antelope I bend my gaze,
And on your Majesty, whose mighty bow
Has its string firmly braced, — before my eyes
The god that wields the trident seems revealed,
Chasing the deer that flies from him in vain.
King — Charioteer, this feet antelope has drawn us far from my
attendants. See! there he runs:
Aye and anon his graceful neck he bends
To cast a glance at the pursuing car;
And dreading now the swift-descending shaft,
Contracts into itself his slender frame:
About his path, in scattered fragments strewn,
The half-chewed grass falls from his panting mouth;
See! in his airy bounds he seems to fly,
And leaves no trace upon th' elastic turf.
(With astonishment]- How now! swift as is our pursuit, I scarce can
see him.


## p. 8462 (#62) ############################################

8462
KALIDASA
Charioteer -- Sire, the ground here is full of hollows; I have there-
fore drawn in the reins and checked the speed of the chariot. Hence
the deer has somewhat gained upon us. Now that we are passing
over level ground, we shall have no difficulty in overtaking him.
King — Loosen the reins, then.
Charioteer — The King is obeyed. (Drives the chariot at full speed. ]
Great Prince, see! see!
Responsive to the slackened rein, the steeds,
Chafing with eager rivalry, career
With emulative fleetness o'er the plain;
Their necks outstretched, their waving plumes that late
Fluttered above their brows, are motionless!
Their sprightly ears, but now erect, bent low;
Themselves unsullied by the circling dust
That vainly follows on their rapid course.
King ( joyously) – In good sooth, the horses seem as if they would
outstrip the steeds of Indra and the Sun.
That which but now showed to my view minute
Quickly assumes dimension; that which seemed
A moment since disjoined in diverse parts
Looks suddenly like one compacted whole;
That which is really crooked in its shape,
In the far distance left, grows regular;
Wondrous the chariot's speed, that in a breath
Makes the near distant and the distant near.
Now, Charioteer, see me kill the deer. [Takes aim. ]
A voice behind the scenes — - Hold, O King! this deer belongs to our
hermitage. Kill it not! kill it not!
Charioteer [listening and looking] — Great King, some hermits have
stationed themselves so as to screen the antelope at the very moment
of its coming within range of your arrow.
King (hastily] — Then stop the horses.
Charioteer (stops the chariot]—I obey.
Enter a Hermit, and two others with him
Hermit (raising his hand]- This deer, O King, belongs to our her-
mitage. Kill it not! kill it not!
Now heaven forbid this barbed shaft descend
Upon the fragile body of a fawn,
Like fire upon a heap of tender flowers!
Can thy steel bolts no meeter quarry find
Than the warm life-blood of a harmless deer?
Restore, great Prince, thy weapon to its quiver.
More it becomes thy arms to shield the weak,
Than to bring anguish on the innocent.


## p. 8463 (#63) ############################################

KALIDASA
8463
King (replaces the arrow in its quiver) – 'Tis done.
Hermit — Worthy is this action of a Prince, the light of Puru's race.
Well does this act befit a Prince like thee,
Right worthy is it of thine ancestry.
Thy guerdon be a son of peerless worth,
Whose wide dominion shall embrace the earth.
Both the other Hermits [raising their hands] — May Heaven indeed
grant thee a son, a sovereign of the earth from sea to sea!
King (bowing]-I accept with gratitude a Brahman's benediction.
Here enter Çakuntalā, with her two female companions, and carrying a
watering-pot for sprinkling the flowers
Çakuntalā — This way, my dear companions, this way.
Anasūya — Dear Çakuntalā, one would think that father Kanwa had
more affection for the shrubs of the hermitage even than for you,
seeing he assigns to you, who are yourself as delicate as the fresh-
blown jasmine, the task of filling with water the trenches which
encircle their roots.
Çakuntalā — Dear Anasūyā, although I am charged by my good
father with this duty, yet I cannot regard it as a task. I really feel
a sisterly love for these plants. [Continues watering the shrubs. ]
King — Can this be the daughter of Kanwa ? The saintly man,
though descended from the great Kāçyapa, must be very deficient in
judgment to habituate such a maiden to the life of a recluse.
The sage who would this form of artless grace
Inure to penance, thoughtlessly attempts
To cleave in twain the hard acacia's stem
With the soft edge of a blue lotos leaf.
Well! concealed behind this tree, I will watch her without raising
her suspicions. [Conceals himself. ]
Çakuntalā — Good Anasūyā, Priyamvadā has drawn this bark dress
too tightly about my chest. I pray thee, loosen it a little.
Anasāyā — I will. (Loosens it. ]
Priyamvadā (smiling] – Why do you lay the blame on me? Blame
rather your own blooming youthfulness, which imparts fullness to your
bosom.
King — A most just observation !
This youthful form, whose bosom's swelling charms
By the bark's knotted tissue are concealed,
Like some fair bud close folded in its sheath,
Gives not to view the blooming of its beauty.
But what am I saying? In real truth, this bark dress, though ill
suited to her figure, sets it off like an ornament.


## p. 8464 (#64) ############################################

8464
KALIDASA
Home
Ca
face.
X
chart
The lotos with the Saivala entwined
Is not a whit less brilliant; dusky spots
Heighten the lustre of the cold-rayed moon:
This lovely maiden in her dress of bark
Seems all the lovelier. E'en the meanest garb
Gives to true beauty fresh attractiveness.
Cakuntalā [looking before her] - Yon Kēsara-tree beckons to me
with its young shoots, which, as the breeze waves them to and fro,
appear like slender fingers. I will go and attend to it. [Walks
towards it. ]
Priyamvadā - Dear Çakuntalā, prithee, rest in that attitude one
moment.
Çakuntalā — Why so?
Priyamvadā — The Kēsara-tree, whilst your graceful form bends
about its stem, appears as if it were wedded to some lovely twining
creeper.
Çakuntală — Ah! saucy girl, you are most appropriately named
Priyamvadā (speaker of flattering things].
King — What Priyamvadā says, though complimentary, is never-
theless true. Verily,-
Her ruddy lip vies with the opening bud;
Her graceful arms are as the twining stalks;
And her whole form is radiant with the glow
Of youthful beauty, as the tree with bloom.
Anasuyā — See, dear Çakuntalā, here is the young jasmine, which
you named “the Moonlight of the Grove,” the self-elected wife of the
mango-tree. Have you forgotten it ?
Çakuntalā - Rather will I forget myself. [Approaching the plant and
looking at it. ] How delightful is the season when the jasmine-creeper
and the mango-tree seem thus to unite in mutual embraces! The
fresh blossoms of the jasmine resemble the bloom of a young bride,
and the newly formed shoots of the mango appear to make it her
natural protector. (Continues gazing at it. ]
Priyamvadā (smiling]— Do you know, my Anasūyā, why Çakuntalā
gazes so intently at the jasmine?
Anasāyā — No, indeed; I cannot imagine. I pray thee tell me.
Priyamvadā — She is wishing that as the jasmine is united to a
suitable tree, so in like manner she may obtain a husband worthy of
her.
Cakuntala - Speak for yourself, girl; this is the thought in your
own mind. [Continues watering the flowers. ]
King – Would that my union with her were permissible! and yet
I hardly dare hope that the maiden is sprung from a caste different
from that of the head of the hermitage. But away with doubt:
>
H
c


## p. 8465 (#65) ############################################

KĀLIDĀSA
8465
O me
fro,
Walks
e one
bends
wining
named
That she is free to wed a warrior-king
My heart attests. For, in conflicting doubts,
The secret promptings of the good man's soul
Are an unerring index of the truth.
However, come what may, I will ascertain the fact.
Çakuntala (in a flurry)- Ah! a bee, disturbed by the sprinkling of
the water, has left the young jasmine, and is trying to settle on my
face. [Attempts to drive it away. ]
King (gazing at her ardently] - Beautiful! there is something
charming even in her repulse.
Where'er the bee his eager onset plies,
Now here, now there, she darts her kindling eyes:
What love hath yet to teach, fear teaches now,
The furtive glances and the frowning brow.
[In a tone of envy]
Ah, happy bee! how boldly dost thou try
To steal the lustre from her sparkling eye;
And in thy circling movements hover near,
To murmur tender secrets in her ear,
Or, as she coyly waves her hand, to sip
Voluptuous nectar from her lower lip!
While rising doubts my heart's fond hopes destroy,
Thou dost the fullness of her charms enjoy.
Çakuntalā — This impertinent bee will not rest quiet. I must move
elsewhere.
[Moving a few steps off, and casting a glance around. 1
How now! he is following me here. Help! my dear friends, help!
deliver me from the attacks of this troublesome insect.
Priyamvadā and Anasīyā — How can we deliver you? Call Dush-
yanta to your aid. The sacred groves are under the King's special
protection.
King - An excellent opportunity for me to show myself. Fear
[Checks himself when the words are half uttered. Aside. ] . But
stay, if I introduce myself in this manner, they will know me to be
the King. Be it so: I will accost them, nevertheless.
never.
ne, which
fe of the
Plant and
--creeper
es! The
& bride,
it her
not
.
Suntala
[The King, filled with admiration, declares his love for Çakuntalā, and in
the next act he is espoused to her according to the Gandharva ceremonial.
He then departs from the hermitage and returns to the royal city; but leaves
with Çakuntală a precious ring, which she is to present when she claims him
as her lawful husband. The play continues, and shows how the fair Çakun-
talā, so deeply enamored, becomes absent-minded and neglects to do some act
of homage to an aged hermit; who consequently pronounces a curse upon her
that her beloved shall absolutely forget her until he sees the magic ring, which
alone has power to remove the curse. King Dushyanta accordingly loses all
recollection of Çakuntalā; and Çakuntalā's foster-father, the saintly Kanwa,
ne.
a to a
thy of
your
ad yet
afferent
bt:
XV-530


## p. 8466 (#66) ############################################

8466
KĀLIDĀSA
do, un
determines to send his daughter to the King, that her child may be born
under the royal roof. The Fourth Act opens with the day of Çakuntalā's
departure from the hermitage. ]
Dition
beares
.
Scene : The neighborhood of the hermitage. Enter one of Kanwa's Pupils,
just arisen from his couch at the dawn of day.
P. TIE
King
serer
Pc
ASSIST
band
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se
fort
is
to
ܕ
Pupil — My master, the venerable Kanwa, who is but lately re-
turned from his pilgrimage, has ordered me to ascertain how the
time goes. I have therefore come into the open air to see if it be
still dark. [Walking and looking about. ] Oh! the dawn has already
.
broken.
Lo! in one quarter of the sky, the Moon,
Lord of the herbs and night-expanding flowers,
Sinks towards his bed behind the western hills;
While in the east, preceded by the Dawn,
His blushing charioteer, the glorious Sun,
Begins his course, and far into the gloom
Casts the first radiance of his Orient beams.
Hail! co-eternal orbs, that rise to set,
And set to rise again; symbols divine
Of man's reverses, life's vicissitudes.
And now
While the round Moon withdraws his looming disk
Beneath the western sky, the full-blown flower
Of the night-loving lotos sheds her leaves
In sorrow for his loss, bequeathing naught
But the sweet memory of her loveliness
To my bereaved sight: e'en as the bride
Disconsolately mourns her absent lord,
And yields her heart a prey to anxious grief.
Anasūya [entering abruptly) — Little as I know of the ways of the
world, I cannot help thinking that King Dushyanta is treating Çakun-
talā very improperly.
Pupil — Well, I must let my reverend preceptor know that it is
time to offer the burnt oblation.
[Exit.
Anasuyā —I am broad awake, but what shall I do? I have no
energy to go about my usual occupations. My hands and feet seem to
have lost their power. Well, Love has gained his object; and Love
only is to blame for having induced our dear friend, in the innocence
of her heart, to confide in such a perfidious man. Possibly however
the imprecation of Durvāsas may be already taking effect. Indeed,
I cannot otherwise account for the King's strange conduct, in allow-
ing so long a time to elapse without even a letter; and that too
after so many promises and protestations. I cannot think what to
K


## p. 8467 (#67) ############################################

KĀLIDĀSA
8467
do, unless we send him the ring which was to be the token of recog-
nition. But which of these austere hermits could we ask to be the
bearer of it? Then again, Father Kanwa has just returned from his
pilgrimage; and how am I to inform him of Sakuntalā's marriage to
King Dushyanta, and her expectation of being soon a mother? I
?
never could bring myself to tell him, even if I felt that Çakuntalā
had been in fault, which she certainly has not. What is to be done ?
Priyamvadā [entering joyfully) – Quick, quick! Anasuya! come and
assist in the joyful preparations for Çakuntala's departure to her hus-
band's palace.
Anasūya — My dear girl, what can you mean ?
Priyamvadā — Listen, now, and I will tell you all about it. I went
just now to Çakuntalā, to inquire whether she had slept comfortably.
Anasāyā — Well, well; go on.
Priyamvadā — She was sitting with her face bowed down to the
very ground with shame when Father Kanwa entered, and embracing
her, of his own accord offered her his congratulations. "I give thee
joy, my child,” he said: “we have had an auspicious omen. The
priest who offered the oblation dropped it into the very centre of
the sacred fire, though thick smoke obstructed his vision. Hence-
forth thou wilt cease to be an object of compassion. This very day
I purpose sending thee, under the charge of certain trusty hermits,
to the King's palace; and shall deliver thee into the hands of thy
husband, as I would commit knowledge to the keeping of a wise and
faithful student. ”
.
(Çakuntalā's touching farewell to the hermitage, and her tender leave-
taking of her young friends, are dramatically presented with much delicacy of
feeling. Two hermits, and an aged matron, Gautami, accompany her on the
journey. Her arrival at the palace, in the Fifth Act, is announced to the
King by the Chamberlain of State. ]
Chamberlain— Well, well: a monarch's business is to sustain the
world, and he must not expect much repose; because
Onward, forever onward, in his car
The unwearied Sun pursues his daily course,
Nor tarries to unyoke his glittering steeds;
And ever moving, speeds the rushing Wind
Through boundless space, filling the universe
With his life-giving breezes; day and night
The King of Serpents on his thousand heads
Upholds the incumbent earth: and even so,
Unceasing toil is aye the lot of kings,
Who, in return, draw nurture from their subjects.


## p. 8468 (#68) ############################################

8468
KĀLIDĀSA
Call
piete
thing
Alul
addres
betrar
I will therefore deliver my message. [Walking on and looking about. ]
Ah! here comes the King :
His subjects are his children; through the day,
Like a fond father, to supply their wants
Incessantly he labors: wearied now,
The monarch seeks seclusion and repose;
E'en as the prince of elephants defies
The sun's fierce heat, and leads the fainting herd
To verdant pastures, ere his way-worn limbs
He yields to rest beneath the cooling shade.
(Approaching) – Victory to the King! So please your Majesty, some
hermits who live in a forest near the Snowy Mountains have arrived
here, bringing certain women with them. They have a message to
deliver from the sage Kanwa, and desire an audience. I await your
Majesty's commands.
King [respectfully] – A message from the sage Kanwa, did you
KE
say?
Chamberlain - Even so, my liege.
King — Tell my domestic priest Somarāta to receive the hermits
with due honor, according to the prescribed form.
2007
วง
[The hermits introduce Çakuntalā, accompanied by Gautami; and deliver
the message from her father sanctioning her marriage with the King, and
requesting her honorable reception into the palace. ]
10
al
fa
King — Holy men, I have revolved the matter in my mind; but
the more I think of it, the less able am I to recollect that I ever
contracted an alliance with this lady. What answer, then, can I pos-
sibly give you when I do not believe myself to be her husband, and
I plainly see that she is soon to become a mother?
Çakuntalā [aside]—Woe! woe! Is our very marriage to be called
in question by my own husband ? Ah me! is this to be the end of
all my bright visions of wedded happiness?
Çarngarava — Beware!
Beware how thou insult the holy Sage!
Remember how he generously allowed
Thy secret union with his foster-child;
And how, when thou didst rob him of his treasure,
He sought to furnish thee excuse, when rather
He should have cursed thee for a ravisher.
Çāradwata — Çārngarava, speak to him no more. Çakuntalā, our
part is performed; we have said all we had to say, and the King has
replied in the manner thou hast heard. It is now thy turn to give
him convincing evidence of thy marriage.


## p. 8469 (#69) ############################################

KĀLIDĀSA
8469
*****
Çakuntalā — Since his feeling towards me has undergone a com-
plete revolution, what will it avail to revive old recollections ? One
thing is clear,-I shall soon have to mourn my own widowhood.
(Aloud. ] My revered husband - [Stops short. ] But no—I dare not
address thee by this title, since thou hast refused to acknowledge
our union. Noble descendant of Puru! It is not worthy of thee to
betray an innocent-minded girl, and disown her in such terms, after
having so lately and so solemnly plighted thy vows to her in the
hermitage.
[stopping his ears]—I will hear no more. Be such a crime
far from my thoughts!
What evil spirit can possess thee, lady,
That thou dost seek to sully my good name
By base aspersions ? like a swollen torrent,
That, leaping from its narrow bed, o’erthrows
The tree upon its bank, and strives to blend
Its turbid waters with the crystal stream?
Çakuntalā — If then thou really believest me to be the wife of
another, and thy present conduct proceeds from some cloud that
obscures thy recollection, I will easily convince thee by this token.
King - An excellent idea!
Cakuntala (feeling for the ring]— Alas! alas! woe is me! There is
no ring on my finger! (Looks with anguish at Gautami. ]
Gautami — The ring must have slipped off when thou wast in the
act of offering homage to the holy water of Çachi's sacred pool, near
Çakrāvatāra.
King (smiling] – People may well talk of the readiness of woman's
invention! Here is an instance of it.
Çakuntalā — Say rather, of the omnipotence of fate.
I will men-
tion another circumstance, which may yet convince thee.
King — By all means let me hear it at once.
Çakuntalā — One day, while we were seated in a jasmine bower,
thou didst pour into the hollow of thine hand some water, sprinkled
by a recent shower in the cup of a lotos blossom
King -I am listening; proceed.
Çakuntala - At that instant, my adopted child, the little fawn,
with soft long eyes, came running towards us. Upon which, before
tasting the water thyself, thou didst kindly offer some to the little
creature, saying fondly, “Drink first, gentle fawn. ” But she could
not be induced to drink from the hand of a stranger; though imme-
diately afterwards, when I took the water in my own hand, she
drank with perfect confidence. Then, with a smile, thou didst say,
"Every creature confides naturally in its own kind. You are both
inhabitants of the same forest, and have learnt to trust each other. ”


## p. 8470 (#70) ############################################

8470
KĀLIDĀSA
be
FD
Bria
[King Dushyanta vainly tries to recall Çakuntalā to mind, but the fatal
power of the old sage's curse still clouds his memory. All efforts failing,
Çakuntalā is suddenly swept from sight by a whirlwind and carried to a
remote mountain; where in a hallowed spot, she gives birth to a son, the
ancestor of future kings.