he on a beetling rock;
"Monarch, with broad chest capacious--monarch with the sinewy arm,
Me in this dread forest leaving--whither hast thou fled away?
Thou the holy Aswamedha--thou each sacrificial rite,
Hast performed, to me, me only--in thy holy faith thou'st failed.
That which thou, O best of husbands--in mine hearing hast declared,
Thy most solemn vow remember--call to mind thy plighted faith.
Of the swift-winged swans the language--uttered, monarch, by thy side,
That thyself, before my presence--didst renew, bethink thee well.
Thou the Vedas, thou the Angas--with the Upangas oft hast read,
Of each heaven-descended volume--one and simple is the truth.
Therefore, of thy foes the slayer!--reverence thou the sacred truth
Of thy solemn plighted promise--in my presence sworn so oft.
Am not I the loved so dearly--purely, sinlessly beloved;
In this dark and awful forest--wherefore dost thou not reply?
Here with monstrous jaws wide yawning--with his fierce and horrid form,
Gapes the forest king to slay me--and thou art not here to save.
None but I, thou'st said, for ever--none but I to thee am dear!
Make this oft-repeated language--make this oft-sworn promise true.
To thy queen bereft of reason--to thy weeping wife beloved,
Why repliest thou not--her only thou desir'st--she only thee.
Meagre, miserable, pallid--tainted with the dust and mire,
Scantly clad in half a garment--lone, with no protector near;
Like a large-eyed hind that wanders--separate from the wonted herd,
Thou regard'st me not, thus weeping--oh thou tamer of thy foes.
Mighty king, a lonely wanderer--in this vast and trackless wood,
Damayanti, I address thee--wherefore answerest not my voice?
Nobly born, and nobly minded--beautiful in every limb,
Do I not e'en now behold thee--in this mountain, first of men,
In this lion-haunted forest--in this tiger-howling wood,
Lying down or seated, standing--or in majesty and might
Moving, do I not behold thee--the enhancer of my woe?
Who shall I address, afflicted--wasted by my grief away;
'Hast thou haply seen my Nala--in the solitary wood?'
Who this day will show the monarch--wandering in the forest depth,
Beautiful and royal-minded--conqueror of an host of foes!
'Him thou seek'st with eyes of lotus--Nala, sovereign of men--
Lo, he's here!' whose voice of music--may I hear