the subject-matter seemed to call for such a change. Perhaps the chief
consideration that induced me to adopt this mode of metrical
translation was, that the free and unfettered character of the verse
enabled me to preserve more of the freshness and vigour of the
original. If the poetical ideas of Kalidasa have not been expressed in
language as musical as his own, I have at least done my best to avoid
diluting them by unwarrantable paraphrases or additions. If the
English verses are prosaic, I have the satisfaction of knowing that by
resisting the allurements of rhyme, I have done all in my power to
avoid substituting a fictitious and meagre poem of my own for the
grand, yet simple and chaste creation of Kalidasa.
The unrestricted liberty of employing hypermetrical lines of eleven
syllables, sanctioned by the highest authority in dramatic
composition, has, I think, facilitated the attainment of this object.
One of our own poets has said in relation to such lines: 'Let it be
remembered that they supply us with another cadence; that they add, as
it were, a string to the instrument; and--by enabling the poet to
relax at pleasure, to rise and fall with his subject--contribute what
most is wanted, compass and variety. They are nearest to the flow of
an unstudied eloquence, and should therefore be used in the drama[4].'
Shakespeare does not scruple to avail himself of this licence four or
five times in succession, as in the well-known passage beginning--
'To be or not to be, that is the question';
and even Milton uses the same freedom once or twice in every page.
The poetical merit of Kalidasa's '[S']akoontala' is so universally
admitted that any remarks on this head would be superfluous. I will
merely observe that, in the opinion of learned natives, the Fourth
Act, which describes the departure of [S']akoontala from the hermitage,
contains the most obvious beauties; and that no one can read this Act,
nor indeed any part of the play, without being struck with the
richness and elevation of its author's genius, the exuberance and glow
of his fancy, his ardent love of the beautiful, his deep sympathy with
Nature and Nature's loveliest scenes, his profound knowledge of the
human heart, his delicate appreciation of its most refined feelings,
his familiarity with its conflicting sentiments and emotions. But in
proportion to the acknowledged excellence of Kalidasa's composition,
and in proportion to my own increasing admira
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