Translations Of Shakuntala And Other Works Part 4

_King_ (_looking about_). One would know, without being told, that this is the precinct of a pious grove.

_Charioteer_. How so? _King_. Do you not see? Why, here

Are rice-grains, dropped from bills of parrot chicks Beneath the trees; and pounding-stones where sticks A little almond-oil; and trustful deer That do not run away as we draw near; And river-paths that are besprinkled yet From trickling hermit-garments, clean and wet.

Besides,

The roots of trees are washed by many a stream That breezes ruffle; and the flowers' red gleam Is dimmed by pious smoke; and fearless fawns Move softly on the close-cropped forest lawns.

_Charioteer_. It is all true.

_King_ (_after a little_). We must not disturb the hermitage. Stop here while I dismount.

_Charioteer_. I am holding the reins. Dismount, your Majesty.

_King_ (_dismounts and looks at himself_). One should wear modest garments on entering a hermitage. Take these jewels and the bow. (_He gives them to the charioteer_.) Before I return from my visit to the hermits, have the horses' backs wet down.

_Charioteer_. Yes, your Majesty. (_Exit_.)

_King_ (_walking and looking about_). The hermitage! Well, I will enter. (_As he does so, he feels a throbbing in his arm_.)

A tranquil spot! Why should I thrill?

Love cannot enter there-- Yet to inevitable things Doors open everywhere.

_A voice behind the scenes_. This way, girls!

_King_ (_listening_). I think I hear some one to the right of the grove. I must find out. (_He walks and looks about_.) Ah, here are hermit-girls, with watering-pots just big enough for them to handle.

They are coming in this direction to water the young trees. They are charming!

The city maids, for all their pains, Seem not so sweet and good; Our garden blossoms yield to these Flower-children of the wood.

I will draw back into the shade and wait for them. (_He stands, gazing toward them. Enter_ SHAKUNTALA, _as described, and her two friends_.)

_First friend_. It seems to me, dear, that Father Kanva cares more for the hermitage trees than he does for you. You are delicate as a jasmine blossom, yet he tells you to fill the trenches about the trees.

_Shakuntala_. Oh, it isn't Father's bidding so much. I feel like a real sister to them. (_She waters the trees_.)

_Priyamvada_. Shakuntala, we have watered the trees that blossom in the summer-time. Now let's sprinkle those whose flowering-time is past. That will be a better deed, because we shall not be working for a reward.

_Shakuntala_. What a pretty idea! (_She does so_.)

_King_ (_to himself_). And this is Kanva's daughter, Shakuntala. (_In surprise_.) The good Father does wrong to make her wear the hermit's dress of bark.

The sage who yokes her artless charm With pious pain and grief, Would try to cut the toughest vine With a soft, blue lotus-leaf.

Well, I will step behind a tree and see how she acts with her friends. (_He conceals himself_.)

_Shakuntala_. Oh, a.n.u.suya! Priyamvada has fastened this bark dress so tight that it hurts. Please loosen it. (a.n.u.sUYA _does so_.)

_Priyamvada_ (_laughing_). You had better blame your own budding charms for that.

_King_. She is quite right.

Beneath the barken dress Upon the shoulder tied, In maiden loveliness Her young breast seems to hide,

As when a flower amid The leaves by autumn tossed-- Pale, withered leaves--lies hid, And half its grace is lost.

Yet in truth the bark dress is not an enemy to her beauty. It serves as an added ornament. For

The meanest vesture glows On beauty that enchants: The lotus lovelier shows Amid dull water-plants;

The moon in added splendour Shines for its spot of dark; Yet more the maiden slender Charms in her dress of bark.

_Shakuntala_ (_looking ahead_). Oh, girls, that mango-tree is trying to tell me something with his branches that move in the wind like fingers. I must go and see him. (_She does so_.)

_Priyamvada_. There, Shakuntala, stand right where you are a minute.

_Shakuntala_. Why?

_Priyamvada_. When I see you there, it looks as if a vine were clinging to the mango-tree.

_Shakuntala_. I see why they call you the flatterer.

_King_. But the flattery is true.

Her arms are tender shoots; her lips Are blossoms red and warm; Bewitching youth begins to flower In beauty on her form.

_a.n.u.suya_. Oh, Shakuntala! Here is the jasmine-vine that you named Light of the Grove. She has chosen the mango-tree as her husband.

_Shakuntala_ (_approaches and looks at it, joyfully_). What a pretty pair they make. The jasmine shows her youth in her fresh flowers, and the mango-tree shows his strength in his ripening fruit. (_She stands gazing at them_.)

_Priyamvada_ (_smiling_). a.n.u.suya, do you know why Shakuntala looks so hard at the Light of the Grove?

_a.n.u.suya_. No. Why?

_Priyamvada_. She is thinking how the Light of the Grove has found a good tree, and hoping that she will meet a fine lover.

_Shakuntala_. That's what you want for yourself. (_She tips her watering-pot_.)

_a.n.u.suya_. Look, Shakuntala! Here is the spring-creeper that Father Kanva tended with his own hands--just as he did you. You are forgetting her.

_Shakuntala_. I'd forget myself sooner. (_She goes to the creeper and looks at it, joyfully_.) Wonderful! Wonderful! Priyamvada, I have something pleasant to tell you.

_Priyamvada_. What is it, dear?

_Shakuntala_. It is out of season, but the spring-creeper is covered with buds down to the very root.

_The two friends_ (_running up_). Really?