Malayan Literature Part 3

How thou hast made me weep! O Queen, art thou Without compa.s.sion?"

All possessed with rage The Queen replied: "I do not pity thee.

I hate thee, when I see thee. Open not Thy mouth again." The wicked Queen then seized The lovely tresses of the beauteous maid, And took a piece of wood with which to strike; But Bidasari wept and swooned away.

The King's voice sounded through the corridor, As he returned. The Queen then hastened forth And left a _mandar_ there to close and guard Fair Bidasari's room, that nothing should Be seen. Then asked the King of her, "Whom hast Thou beaten now?" The hypocrite replied, "It was a child that disobeyed my will."

"Are there not others for that discipline?

Is it for thee to strike?" His _siri_ then He took, and kissed the Queen with fondest love.

All the _dyangs_ fair Bidasari's plight Observed, and kindly pity filled their b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"How cruel is the conduct of the Queen!"

They said. "She made us bring her to her side But to maltreat the child the livelong day.

It seems as if she wished to slay her quite."

Then secretly they went, with some to watch, And sprinkled Bidasari's brow. To life She came, and opened those dear wistful eyes.

"My friends," she said, "I pray ye, let me go Back home again unto my father's house."

"Oh, trust in G.o.d, my child," said one in tears.

"My lot is written from eternity.

Oh, pray the princess great to take my life,"

The poor child cried; "I can no longer stand; My bones are feeble. Oh, she has no heart!"

But the _dyangs_, for fear the Queen might see, All fled.

Meanwhile the merchant and his wife Wept all the day, and sighed for their dear child, Sweet Bidasari. Nor did gentle sleep Caress their eyes at night. Each day they sent Rich presents of all kinds, and half of them Were for the child. But naught the wicked Queen To Bidasari gave. So five days pa.s.sed And then Dyang Menzara forth they sent.

The merchant said: "Oh, tell the mighty Queen That I must Bidasari see. I'll bring Her back in three days' time." The good _Dyang_ went to the queen and bowing low: "The merchant fain would see his child," she said.

At this the features of the Queen grew hard.

"Did they not give their child to me? Now scarce A day has pa.s.sed, and they must see her face.

Is it thine own wish or the merchant's? I Have said the girl could go where'er she would.

Can I not have her taken back myself?"

Then the _dyang_ bowed, beat her breast, and went, Sad that she could not Bidasari see, And quaking at the anger of the Queen.

Of the _dyang_, fair Bidasari heard The voice, and felt her heart break that she could Not speak to her and send a message home.

Upon the morrow, when the King had gone Among his ministers and men of state, The Queen again to Bidasari's room Repaired, to beat her more. As soon as she Beheld the Queen, poor Bidasari prayed To her, "O sovereign lady great, permit That I may go unto my father's house."

The princess shook with rage, her face on fire.

"If thou but sayest a word, I'll slay thee here."

To whom could Bidasari turn? She bent Before the will of G.o.d, and in a sweet Voice said: "O Lord, my G.o.d, have pity now Upon me, for the cruel world has none.

Grant now the Queen's desire and let me die, For she reproacheth me, though naught I've done.

My parents have forgotten me, nor send A word." The angry princess struck again Her piteous face, and as she swooned away A napkin took to twist into a cord And strangle her. She summoned to her aid Dang Ratna Wali. "Help me pluck this weed; I wish to kill her." But the woman fled, As base as cruel. Bidasari's ghost Arose before her. Yet the child came back To consciousness, and thought amid her tears: "I'll tell the story of the golden fish Unto the Queen, that she may know it all; For I can but a little while endure These pains." She spoke then to the Queen and said: "O Queen, thou dost desire that I shall die.

Seek out a little casket that doth lie All hidden in the fish-pond at our house.

Within it is a fish. Have it brought here And I will tell thee what it signifies."

The princess called Dyang Sendari: "Go And bring here the _dyangs_, with no delay From out the merchant's house." When they arrived: "Go, now, _dyangs_, for Bidasari saith There is a little casket in the pond Where she is wont to bathe. Go bring it me, In silence, letting no one see ye come."

Then the _dyangs_ replied: "Oh, hear our prayer For Bidasari. How her parents grieve!

Oh, pardon, princess, let her go with us."

The Queen with smiles responded: "The young girl Is very happy here, and full of joy.

Her parents must not grieve, for in two days If Bidasari doth desire to go I'll send her freely. She is vexed that ye Come here so often." The _dyangs_ bowed low, And smiled, and called enticingly: "Come forth, O charming child, pure soul; it is not right To treat us so, for we have come to see Thy lovely face, and in its beauty bask."

Sweet Bidasari heard, and could not speak, But answered with her tears. The cruel Queen Said to them: "Speak no more. But if ye bring The little casket, ye will fill the heart Of Bidasari with great joy." Forth fared Then the _dyangs_, and found the casket small, And brought it to the palace of the Queen.

Again to Bidasari called the good _Dyangs_: "Oh, come, dear heart, and take it from Our hands yourself." "She sleeps," the princess said.

"Come back to-morrow." So they bowed and went.

The princess hastened with the casket rich To Bidasari's room, and opened it Before her eyes. Within it was a box Of agate, beautiful to see, and filled With water wherein swam a little fish Of form most ravishing. The princess stood Amazed to see with eyes of fire a fish That swam. Then was she glad, and spoke with joy To Bidasari: "Say what signifies The fish to thee? What shall I do with it?"

Then Bidasari bowed and said: "My soul Is in that fish. At dawn must thou remove It from the water, and at night replace.

"Leave it not here and there, but hang it from Thy neck. If this thou dost, I soon shall die.

My words are true. Neglect no single day To do as I have said, and in three days Thou'lt see me dead."

The Queen felt in her heart A joy unspeakable. She took the fish And wore it on a ribbon round her neck.

Unto the Queen then Bidasari spoke, "Oh, give my body to my parents dear When I am dead." Again the young maid swooned.

The Queen believed her dead, and ceased to beat Her more. But she yet lived, though seeming dead.

The joyful Queen a white cloth over her Then spread, and called aloud to the _dyangs_, "Take Bidasari to her father's house."

They groaned and trembled when they saw that she Was dead, and said with many tears: "Alas!

O dearest one, O gold all virginal!

What shall we say when we thy parents see?

They'll beat their b.r.e.a.s.t.s and die of grief. They gave Thee to the King because they trusted us."

But the proud Queen, her face all red with hate: "Why stay ye? Take the wretched girl away."

They saw the Queen's great rage, and bore the maid Upon their shoulders forth, and carried her Unto her father's house at dead of night.

Fear seized the merchant. "Say what bring ye here?

Tell me, _dyangs_." They placed her on the ground.

The merchant and his wife, beside themselves, With tears embraced her form. "I trusted in The Queen, and so I sent my child to her.

O daughter dear, so young, so pure, so sweet, What hast thou done that could the Queen displease, That she should send thee home like this to me?

How could the Queen treat Bidasari so?

For seven days she imprisoned her and sent Her home in death. Ah, n.o.ble child! alas!

Thy father's heart will break, no more to hear Thy voice. Speak to thy father, O my child, My pearl, my gem of women, purest gold, Branch of my heart; canst thou not quiet me?

O Bidasari, why art thou so still?

Arise, my pretty child, arise and play With all thy maids. Here is thy mother, come To greet thee. Bid her welcome. Why art thou So motionless? Hast thou no pity, dear, To see thy father overwhelmed with woe?

My heart is bursting with despair because Thou'rt lost to me."

Long time the merchant thus Lamented. "What have I to live for now?

Since thou art dead, thy father too shall die.

It is his lot both night and day to sigh For thee. My G.o.d, I cannot understand Why this dear child should thus a victim be!

'Tis the _dyangs_ who have this evil wrought."

Then, through the whole _campong_, the merchants all Made lamentations, rolling on the ground, With noise of thunder, and their hearts on fire.

They sought to speak and could not. Then began Again the merchant, and unto his friends Told his misfortune, asking back his child.

The Queen's _dyangs_ shed tears, and gently said: "Speak not so loudly. Thou dost know that we Are but poor servants, and we tremble lest The Queen should hear. If any one of us Had done this wrong, we'd tell it to the King.

Fate only is at fault. Oh, be not wroth With us. Our will was good. We had no end Except to see thy lovely daughter great And powerful. Naught the King hath known of this.

It was the Queen's mad jealousy and hate."

The merchant and his wife accepted these, The _dyangs'_ words. "It is as they declare.

The Queen was jealous and embittered thus Against our Bidasari. To your home Return, _dyangs_. I fear me that the Queen May learn of your delay and punish ye."

They bowed and went, with hearts of burning grief.

The merchant and his wife then lifted up Poor Bidasari. They were all but dead With sorrow. On his knees the father took The body wrapped in crimson silk. He felt A warmth. Then he remembered that within The water was her vital spirit still, And, placing her upon a mat, sent Dang Poulam, the casket from the pond to bring.

But 'twas not there. Then all the household searched, But found it not. The merchant beat his breast.

"Branch of my heart," he said, "we all had thought Thou wouldst become a princess. I have lost My reason. I hoped now to summon back Thy spirit vital, but the casket's lost.

My hope is gone. It may be the _dyangs_ Have stolen it. They're faithful to the Queen.

We may not trust in them. They're filled with hate And trickery." Unconscious all the time Lay Bidasari; but at midnight's hour She for the first time moved. They torches brought And there behind Egyptian curtains, right And left, ignited them, with many lamps'

Soft flames. The servants watched and waited there.

The father, always at his daughter's side, With fixed glance looked for life to come once more Back to his darling one. She moved again.

With opening eyes she saw and recognized Her own soft couch, her parents, and her maids.

She tried but could not speak. Her hot tears fell, She slowly turned and looked with fondest love Upon her parents.

When the merchant saw That Bidasari's spirit had returned, He took her on his knees and gave her rice.

She could not walk because such pain she felt.

She thought upon the Queen and wept afresh.

They dried her tears, and placed within her mouth What food she liked. The merchant tenderly Said, "Bidasari, dear, what has thou wrought To cause the Queen against thee thus to act?"