Shakuntala and Other Works

ACT I

THE HUNT

(Enter, in a chariot, pursuing a deer, KING DUSHYANTA, bow and arrow in hand; and a charioteer.)

Charioteer (Looking at the king and the deer). Your Majesty,

I see you hunt the spotted deer With shafts to end his race, As though God Shiva should appear In his immortal chase.

King. Charioteer, the deer has led us a long chase. And even now

His neck in beauty bends As backward looks he sends At my pursuing car That threatens death from far. Fear shrinks to half the body small; See how he fears the arrow's fall!

The path he takes is strewed With blades of grass half-chewed From jaws wide with the stress Of fevered weariness. He leaps so often and so high, He does not seem to run, but fly.

(In surprise.) Pursue as I may, I can hardly keep him in sight.

Charioteer. Your Majesty, I have been holding the horses back because the ground was rough. This checked us and gave the deer a lead. Now we are on level ground, and you will easily overtake him.

King. Then let the reins hang loose.

Charioteer. Yes, your Majesty. (He counterfeits rapid motion.) Look, your Majesty!

Clown. (laughing). You are like a man who gets tired of good dates and longs for sour tamarind. All the pearls of the palace are yours, and you want this girl!

King. My friend, you have not seen her, or you could not talk so.

Clown. She must be charming if she surprises you.

King. Oh, my friend, she needs not many words.

She is God's vision, of pure thought Composed in His creative mind; His reveries of beauty wrought The peerless pearl of womankind. So plays my fancy when I see How great is God, how lovely she.

Clown. How the women must hate her!

King. This too is in my thought.

She seems a flower whose fragrance none has tasted, A gem uncut by workman's tool, A branch no desecrating hands have wasted, Fresh honey, beautifully cool.

No man on earth deserves to taste her beauty, Her blameless loveliness and worth, Unless he has fulfilled man's perfect duty— And is there such a one on earth?

Clown. Marry her quick, then, before the poor girl falls into the hands of some oily-headed hermit.

King. She is dependent on her father, and he is not here.

Clown. But how does she feel toward you?

Anusuya. Shakuntala dear, you have not told us what is going on in your mind. But I have heard old, romantic stories, and I can't help thinking that you are in a state like that of a lady in love. Please tell us what hurts you. We have to understand the disease before we can even try to cure it.

King. Anusuya expresses my own thoughts.

Shakuntala. It hurts me terribly. I can't tell you all at once.

Priyamvada. Anusuya is right, dear. Why do you hide your trouble? You are wasting away every day. You are nothing but a beautiful shadow.

King. Priyamvada is right. See!

Her cheeks grow thin; her breast and shoulders fail; Her waist is weary and her face is pale: She fades for love; oh, pitifully sweet! As vine-leaves wither in the scorching heat.

Shakuntala (sighing). I could not tell any one else. But I shall be a burden to you.

The two friends. That is why we insist on knowing, dear. Grief must be shared to be endured.

King.

To friends who share her joy and grief She tells what sorrow laid her here; She turned to look her love again When first I saw her—yet I fear!

Shakuntala. Ever since I saw the good king who protects the pious grove—(She stops and fidgets.)

The two friends. Go on, dear.

Shakuntala. I love him, and it makes me feel like this.

The two friends. Good, good! You have found a lover worthy of your devotion. But of course, a great river always runs into the sea.

King (joyfully). I have heard what I longed to hear.

Shakuntala (does so. Aside to PRIYAMVADA). Priyamvada, I long to see my husband, and yet my feet will hardly move. It is hard, hard to leave the hermitage.

Priyamvada. You are not the only one to feel sad at this farewell. See how the whole grove feels at parting from you.

The grass drops from the feeding doe; The peahen stops her dance; Pale, trembling leaves are falling slow, The tears of clinging plants.

Shakuntala (recalling something). Father, I must say good-bye to the spring-creeper, my sister among the vines.

Kanva. I know your love for her. See! Here she is at your right hand.

Shakuntala (approaches the vine and embraces it). Vine sister, embrace me too with your arms, these branches. I shall be far away from you after to-day. Father, you must care for her as you did for me.

Kanva.

My child, you found the lover who Had long been sought by me; No longer need I watch for you; I'll give the vine a lover true, This handsome mango-tree.

And now start on your journey. Shakuntala (going to the two friends). Dear girls, I leave her in your care too.

The two friends. But who will care for poor us? (They shed tears.)

God of the distant north, the Snowy Range O'er other mountains towers imperially; Earth's measuring-rod, being great and free from change, Sinks to the eastern and the western sea.

Whose countless wealth of natural gems is not Too deeply blemished by the cruel snow; One fault for many virtues is forgot, The moon's one stain for beams that endless flow.

Where demigods enjoy the shade of clouds Girding his lower crests, but often seek, When startled by the sudden rain that shrouds His waist, some loftier, ever sunlit peak.

Where bark of birch-trees makes, when torn in strips And streaked with mountain minerals that blend To written words 'neath dainty finger-tips, Such dear love-letters as the fairies send.

Whose organ-pipes are stems of bamboo, which Are filled from cavern-winds that know no rest, As if the mountain strove to set the pitch For songs that angels sing upon his crest.

Where magic herbs that glitter in the night Are lamps that need no oil within them, when They fill cave-dwellings with their shimmering light And shine upon the loves of mountain men.

Who offers roof and refuge in his caves To timid darkness shrinking from the day; A lofty soul is generous; he saves Such honest cowards as for protection pray,

Who brings to birth the plants of sacrifice; Who steadies earth, so strong is he and broad. The great Creator, for this service' price, Made him the king of mountains, and a god.