a hundred years!

_Vasantasena._ [_Joyfully._] And I too am brought back to life again.

_Goha._ The king is at the place of sacrifice. Let us report to him
what has taken place. [_The two headsmen start to go away._]

_Sansthanaka._ [_Perceives Vasantasena. In terror._] Goodnessh! who
brought the shlave back to life? Thish is the end of me. Good!
I 'll run away. [_He runs away._]

_Goha._ [_Returning._] Well, did n't we have orders from the king to
put the man to death who murdered Vasantasena? Let us hunt
for the king's brother-in-law. [_Exeunt the two headsmen._

P. 281.1]

_Charudatta._ [_In amazement._]

Who saves me from the uplifted weapon's scorn,
When in Death's jaws I struggled all forlorn,
A streaming cloud above the rainless corn? 38

[_He gazes at her._]

Is this Vasantasena's counterfeit?
Or she herself, from heaven above descended?
Or do I but in madness see my sweet?
Or has her precious life not yet been ended? 39

Or again:

Did she return from heaven,
That I might rescued be?
Was her form to another given?
Is this that other she? 40

_Vasantasena._ [_Rises tearfully and falls at his feet._] O noble
Charudatta, I am indeed the wretch for whose sake you are fallen upon
this unworthy plight.

_Voices behind the scenes._ A miracle, a miracle! Vasantasena lives.
[_The bystanders repeat the words._]

_Charudatta._ [_Listens, then rises suddenly, embraces Vasantasena,
and closes his eyes. In a voice trembling with emotion._] My love!
You _are_ Vasantasena!

_Vasantasena._ That same unhappy woman.

_Charudatta._ [_Gazes upon her. Joyfully._] Can it be? Vasantasena
herself? [_In utter happiness._]

Her bosom bathed in streaming tears,
When in Death's power I fell,
Whence is she come to slay my fears,
Like heavenly magic's spell? 41

Vasantasena! Oh, my beloved!

Unto my body, whence the life was fleeting,
And all for thee, thou knewest life to give.
Oh, magic wonderful in lovers' meeting!
What power besides could make the dead man live? 42

[172.17. S.

But see, my beloved!

My blood-red garment seems a bridegroom's cloak,
Death's garland seems to me a bridal wreath;
My love is near.
And marriage music seems the fatal stroke
Of