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Introduction Kalidasa—his Life and Writings
Shakuntala a Play In Seven Acts
The Story of Shakuntala
The Two Minor Dramas
I.—: “malavika and Agnimitra”
II.—: “urvashi”
The Dynasty of Raghu
The Birth of the War-god
The Cloud-messenger
The Seasons

SHAKUNTALA

A PLAY IN SEVEN ACTS

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

King Dushyanta.

Bharata,nicknamed All-tamer, his son.

Madhavya,a clown, his companion.

His charioteer.

Raivataka,a door-keeper.

Bhadrasena,a general.

Karabhaka,a servant

Parvatayana,a chamberlain.

Somarata,a chaplain.

Kanva,hermit-father.

Sharngarava } his pupils

Sharadvata } his pupils

Harita } his pupils

Durvasas,an irascible sage.

The chief of police.

Suchaka } policemen

Januka } policemen

A fisherman.

Shakuntala,foster-child of Kanva

Ansuya } her friends

Priyamvada } her friends

Gautami,hermit-mother

Kashyapa,father of the gods.

Aditi,mother of the gods.

Matali,charioteer of heaven’s king.

Galava,a pupil in heaven.

Mishrakeshi,a heavenly nymph.

Stage-director and actress (in the prologue), hermits and hermit-women, two court poets, palace attendants, invisible fairies

The first four acts pass in Kanva’s forest hermitage; acts five and six in the king’s palace; act seven on a heavenly mountain. The time is perhaps seven years.

PROLOGUE

BENEDICTION UPON THE AUDIENCE

Eight forms has Shiva, lord of all and king:
And these are water, first created thing;
And fire, which speeds the sacrifice begun;
The priest; and time’s dividers, moon and sun;
The all-embracing ether, path of sound;
The earth, wherein all seeds of life are found;
And air, the breath of life: may he draw near,
Revealed in these, and bless those gathered here.

The stage-director.

Enough of this! (Turning toward the dressing-room.) Madam, if you are ready, pray come here. (Enter an actress.)

Actress.

Here I am, sir. What am I to do?

Director.

Our audience is very discriminating, and we are to offer them a new play, called Shakuntala and the ring of recognition, written by the famous Kalidasa. Every member of the cast must be on his mettle.

Actress.

Your arrangements are perfect. Nothing will go wrong.

Director(smiling).

To tell the truth, madam,

Until the wise are satisfied,
I cannot feel that skill is shown;
The best-trained mind requires support,
And does not trust itself alone.

Actress.

True. What shall we do first?

Director.

First, you must sing something to please the ears of the audience.

Actress.

What season of the year shall I sing about?

Director.

Why, sing about the pleasant summer which has just begun. For at this time of year

A mid-day plunge will temper heat;
The breeze is rich with forest flowers;
To slumber in the shade is sweet;
And charming are the twilight hours.

Actress(sings).

The siris-blossoms fair,
With pollen laden,
Are plucked to deck her hair
By many a maiden,
But gently; flowers like these
Are kissed by eager bees.

Director.

Well done! The whole theatre is captivated by your song, and sits as if painted. What play shall we give them to keep their good-will?

Actress.

Why, you just told me we were to give a new play called Shakuntala and the ring.

Director.

Thank you for reminding me. For the moment I had quite forgotten.

Your charming song had carried me away
As the deer enticed the hero of our play.

(Exeunt ambo.)

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!

The lines hang loose; the steeds unreined
Dart forward with a will.
Their ears are pricked; their necks are strained;
Their plumes lie straight and still.
They leave the rising dust behind;
They seem to float upon the wind.

King(joyfully).

See! The horses are gaining on the deer.

As onward and onward the chariot flies,
The small flashes large to my dizzy eyes.
What is cleft in twain, seems to blur and mate;
What is crooked in nature, seems to be straight.
Things at my side in an instant appear
Distant, and things in the distance, near.

A voice behind the scenes.

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.

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.

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.

King(ardently).

As the bee about her flies,
Swiftly her bewitching eyes
Turn to watch his flight.
She is practising to-day
Coquetry and glances’ play
Not from love, but fright.

(Jealously.)

- Eager bee, you lightly skim
- O’er the eyelid’s trembling rim
- Toward the cheek aquiver.
- Gently buzzing round her cheek,
- Whispering in her ear, you seek
- Secrets to deliver.
- While her hands that way and this
- Strike at you, you steal a kiss,
- Love’s all, honeymaker.
- I know nothing but her name,
- Not her caste, nor whence she came—
- You, my rival, take her.

Does she, till marriage only, keep her vow
As hermit-maid, that shames the ways of love?
Or must her soft eyes ever see, as now,
Soft eyes of friendly deer in peaceful grove?

Priyamvada.

Sir, we are under bonds to lead a life of virtue. But it is her father’s wish to give her to a suitable lover.

King(joyfully to himself).

O heart, your wish is won!
All doubt at last is done;
The thing you feared as fire,
Is the jewel of your desire.

Shakuntala(pettishly).

Anusuya, I’m going.

Anusuya.

What for?

Shakuntala.

I am going to tell Mother Gautami that Priyamvada is talking nonsense. (She rises.)

Anusuya.

My dear, we hermit people cannot neglect to entertain a distinguished guest, and go wandering about.

She is going! (He starts up as if to detain her, then checks his desires.) A thought is as vivid as an act, to a lover.

Though nurture, conquering nature, holds
Me back, it seems
As had I started and returned
In waking dreams.

Although she does not speak to me,
She listens while I speak;
Her eyes turn not to see my face,
But nothing else they seek.

A voice behind the scenes.

Hermits! Hermits! Prepare to defend the creatures in our pious grove. King Dushyanta is hunting in the neighbourhood.

The dust his horses’ hoofs have raised,
Red as the evening sky,
Falls like a locust-swarm on boughs
Where hanging garments dry.

King(aside).

Alas! My soldiers are disturbing the pious grove in their search for me.

The voice behind the scenes.

Hermits! Hermits! Here is an elephant who is terrifying old men, women, and children.

One tusk is splintered by a cruel blow
Against a blocking tree; his gait is slow,
For countless fettering vines impede and cling;
He puts the deer to flight; some evil thing
He seems, that comes our peaceful life to mar,
Fleeing in terror from the royal car.

They are gone. And I must go. The sight of Shakuntala has made me dread the return to the city. I will make my men camp at a distance from the pious grove. But I cannot turn my own thoughts from Shakuntala.

It is my body leaves my love, not I;
My body moves away, but not my mind;
For back to her my struggling fancies fly
Like silken banners borne against the wind. (Exit.)

ACT II

The Secret

(Enter the clown.)

Clown(sighing).

Damn! Damn! Damn! I’m tired of being friends with this sporting king. “There’s a deer!” he shouts, “There’s a boar!” And off he chases on a summer noon through woods where shade is few and far between. We drink hot, stinking water from the mountain streams, flavoured with leaves—nasty! At odd times we get a little tepid meat to eat. And the horses and the elephants make such a noise that I can’t even be comfortable at night. Then the hunters and the bird-chasers—damn ’em—wake me up bright and early. They do make an ear-splitting rumpus when they start for the woods. But even that isn’t the whole misery. There’s a new pimple growing on the old boil. He left us behind and went hunting a deer. And there in a hermitage they say he found—oh, dear! oh, dear! he found a hermit-girl named Shakuntala. Since then he hasn’t a thought of going back to town. I lay awake all night, thinking about it. What can I do? Well, I’ll see my friend when he is dressed and beautified. (He walks and looks about.) Hello! Here he comes, with his bow in his hand, and his girl in his heart. He is wearing a wreath of wild flowers! I’ll pretend to be all knocked up. Perhaps I can get a rest that way. (He stands, leaning on his staff. Enter the king, as described.)

King(to himself).

Although my darling is not lightly won,
She seemed to love me, and my hopes are bright;
Though love be balked ere joy be well begun,
A common longing is itself delight.

(Smiling.) Thus does a lover deceive himself. He judges his love’s feelings by his own desires.

Her glance was loving—but ’twas not for me;
Her step was slow—’twas grace, not coquetry;
Her speech was short—to her detaining friend.
In things like these love reads a selfish end!

King(to himself).

He says this. And I too, when I remember Kanva’s daughter, have little desire for the chase. For

The bow is strung, its arrow near;
And yet I cannot bend
That bow against the fawns who share
Soft glances with their friend.

King.

Bhadrasena, my enthusiasm is broken. Madhavya has been preaching against hunting.

General(aside to the clown).

Stick to it, friend Madhavya. I will humour the king a moment. (Aloud.) Your Majesty, he is a chattering idiot. Your Majesty may judge by his own case whether hunting is an evil. Consider:

The hunter’s form grows sinewy, strong, and light;
He learns, from beasts of prey, how wrath and fright
Affect the mind; his skill he loves to measure
With moving targets. ’Tis life’s chiefest pleasure.

Clown(angrily).

Get out! Get out with your strenuous life! The king has come to his senses. But you, you son of a slave-wench, can go chasing from forest to forest, till you fall into the jaws of some old bear that is looking for a deer or a jackal.

King.

Bhadrasena, I cannot take your advice, because I am in the vicinity of a hermitage. So for to-day

The hornèd buffalo may shake
The turbid water of the lake;
Shade-seeking deer may chew the cud,
Boars trample swamp-grass in the mud;
The bow I bend in hunting, may
Enjoy a listless holiday.

General.

Yes, your Majesty.

King.

Send back the archers who have gone ahead. And forbid the soldiers to vex the hermitage, or even to approach it. Remember:

There lurks a hidden fire in each
Religious hermit-bower;
Cool sun-stones kindle if assailed
By any foreign power.

General.

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.

The wealth we take from common men,
Wastes while we cherish;
These share with us such holiness
As ne’er can perish.

Voices behind the scenes.

Ah, we have found him.

King(listening).

The voices are grave and tranquil. These must be hermits. (Enter the door-keeper.)

Door-keeper.

Victory, O King. There are two hermit-youths at the gate.

King.

Bid them enter at once.

Door-keeper.

Yes, your Majesty. (He goes out, then returns with the youths.) Follow me.

First youth(looking at the king).

A majestic presence, yet it inspires confidence. Nor is this wonderful in a king who is half a saint. For to him

The splendid palace serves as hermitage;
His royal government, courageous, sage,
Adds daily to his merit; it is given
To him to win applause from choirs of heaven
Whose anthems to his glory rise and swell,
Proclaiming him a king, and saint as well.

Second youth.

My friend, is this Dushyanta, friend of Indra?

First youth.

It is.

Second youth.

Nor is it wonderful that one whose arm
Might bolt a city gate, should keep from harm
The whole broad earth dark-belted by the sea;
For when the gods in heaven with demons fight,
Dushyanta’s bow and Indra’s weapon bright
Are their reliance for the victory.

A king, and a girl of the calm hermit-grove,
Bred with the fawns, and a stranger to love!
Then do not imagine a serious quest;
The light words I uttered were spoken in jest.

Clown.

Oh, I understand that well enough.

The Love-making

(Enter a pupil, with sacred grass for the sacrifice.)

Pupil(with meditative astonishment).

How great is the power of King Dushyanta! Since his arrival our rites have been undisturbed.

He does not need to bend the bow;
For every evil thing,
Awaiting not the arrow, flees
From the twanging of the string.

Well, I will take this sacred grass to the priests, to strew the altar. (He walks and looks about, then speaks to some one not visible.) Priyamvada, for whom are you carrying this cuscus-salve and the fibrous lotus-leaves? (He listens.) What do you say? That Shakuntala has become seriously ill from the heat, and that these things are to relieve her suffering? Give her the best of care, Priyamvada. She is the very life of the hermit-father. And I will give Gautami the holy water for her. (Exit. Enter the lovelorn king.)

King(with a meditative sigh).

I know that stern religion’s power
Keeps guardian watch my maiden o’er;
Yet all my heart flows straight to her
Like water to the valley-floor.

Oh, mighty Love, thine arrows are made of flowers. How can they be so sharp? (He recalls something.) Ah, I understand.

Shiva’s devouring wrath still burns in thee,
As burns the eternal fire beneath the sea;
Else how couldst thou, thyself long since consumed,
Kindle the fire that flames so ruthlessly?

Indeed, the moon and thou inspire confidence, only to deceive the host of lovers.

Thy shafts are blossoms; coolness streams
From moon-rays: thus the poets sing;
But to the lovelorn, falsehood seems
To lurk in such imagining;
The moon darts fire from frosty beams;
Thy flowery arrows cut and sting.

And yet

If Love will trouble her
Whose great eyes madden me,
I greet him unafraid,
Though wounded ceaselessly.

O mighty god, wilt thou not show me mercy after such reproaches?

With tenderness unending
I cherished thee when small,
In vain—thy bow is bending;
On me thine arrows fall.
My care for thee to such a plight
Has brought me; and it serves me right.

I have driven off the powers of evil, and the hermits have dismissed me. Where shall I go now to rest from my weariness? (He sighs.) There is no rest for me except in seeing her whom I love. (He looks up.) She usually spends these hours of midday heat with her friends on the vine-wreathed banks of the Malini. I will go there. (He walks and looks about.) I believe the slender maiden has just passed through this corridor of young trees. For

The stems from which she gathered flowers
Are still unhealed;
The sap where twigs were broken off
Is uncongealed.

(He feels a breeze stirring.) This is a pleasant spot, with the wind among the trees.

Limbs that love’s fever seizes,
Their fervent welcome pay
To lotus-fragrant breezes
That bear the river-spray.

(He studies the ground.) Ah, Shakuntala must be in this reedy bower. For

In white sand at the door
Fresh footprints appear,
The toe lightly outlined,
The heel deep and clear.

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.

’Twas love that caused the burning pain;
’Tis love that eases it again;
As when, upon a sultry day,
Rain breaks, and washes grief away.

Shakuntala.

Then, if you think best, make the good king take pity upon me. If not, remember that I was.

King.

Her words end all doubt.

Priyamvada(aside toAnusuya).

Anusuya, she is far gone in love and cannot endure any delay.

Anusuya.

Priyamvada, can you think of any scheme by which we could carry out her wishes quickly and secretly?

Priyamvada.

We must plan about the “secretly.” The “quickly” is not hard.

Anusuya.

How so?

Priyamvada.

Why, the good king shows his love for her in his tender glances, and he has been wasting away, as if he were losing sleep.

King.

It is quite true.

- The hot tears, flowing down my cheek
- All night on my supporting arm
- And on its golden bracelet, seek
- To stain the gems and do them harm.
- The bracelet slipping o’er the scars
- Upon the wasted arm, that show
- My deeds in hunting and in wars,
- All night is moving to and fro.

Priyamvada(reflecting).

Well, she must write him a love-letter. And I will hide it in a bunch of flowers and see that it gets into the king’s hand as if it were a relic of the sacrifice.

Anusuya.

It is a pretty plan, dear, and it pleases me. What does Shakuntala say?

Shakuntala.

I suppose I must obey orders.

Priyamvada.

Then compose a pretty little love-song, with a hint of yourself in it.

Shakuntala.

I’ll try. But my heart trembles, for fear he will despise me.

King.

Here stands the eager lover, and you pale
For fear lest he disdain a love so kind:
The seeker may find fortune, or may fail;
But how could fortune, seeking, fail to find?

And again:

The ardent lover comes, and yet you fear
Lest he disdain love’s tribute, were it brought,
The hope of which has led his footsteps here—
Pearls need not seek, for they themselves are sought.

The two friends.

You are too modest about your own charms. Would anybody put up a parasol to keep off the soothing autumn moonlight?

Shakuntala(smiling).

I suppose I shall have to obey orders. (She meditates.)

King.

It is only natural that I should forget to wink when I see my darling. For

One clinging eyebrow lifted,
As fitting words she seeks,
Her face reveals her passion
For me in glowing cheeks.

Shakuntala.

Well, I have thought out a little song. But I haven’t anything to write with.

Priyamvada.

Here is a lotus-leaf, glossy as a parrot’s breast. You can cut the letters in it with your nails.

Shakuntala.

Now listen, and tell me whether it makes sense.

The two friends.

Please.

Shakuntala(reads).

I know not if I read your heart aright;
Why, pitiless, do you distress me so?
I only know that longing day and night
Tosses my restless body to and fro,
That yearns for you, the source of all its woe.

King(advancing).

Though Love torments you, slender maid,
Yet he consumes me quite,
As daylight shuts night-blooming flowers
And slays the moon outright.

The two friends(perceive the king and rise joyfully).

Welcome to the wish that is fulfilled without delay. (Shakuntalatries to rise.)

King.

Do not try to rise, beautiful Shakuntala.
Your limbs from which the strength is fled,
That crush the blossoms of your bed
And bruise the lotus-leaves, may be
Pardoned a breach of courtesy.

Though many queens divide my court,
But two support the throne;
Your friend will find a rival in
The sea-girt earth alone.

Shakuntala.

Are my friends gone?

King(looking about).

Do not be anxious, beautiful Shakuntala. Have you not a humble servant here, to take the place of your friends? Then tell me:

Shall I employ the moistened lotus-leaf
To fan away your weariness and grief?
Or take your lily feet upon my knee
And rub them till you rest more easily?

King(to himself).

- Though deeply longing, maids are coy
- And bid their wooers wait;
- Though eager for united joy
- In love, they hesitate.
- Love cannot torture them, nor move
- Their hearts to sudden mating;
- Perhaps they even torture love
- By their procrastinating.

Oh, my belovèd, my love for you is my whole life, yet you leave me and go away without a thought.

Your body, soft as siris-flowers,
Engages passion’s utmost powers;
How comes it that your heart is hard
As stalks that siris-blossoms guard?

Shakuntala.

When I hear this, I have no power to go.

King.

What have I to do here, where she is not? (He gazes on the ground.) Ah, I cannot go.

The perfumed lotus-chain
That once was worn by her
Fetters and keeps my heart
A hopeless prisoner. (He lifts it reverently.)

Shakuntala(looking at her arm).

Why, I was so weak and ill that when the lotus-bracelet fell off, I did not even notice it.

King(laying the lotus-bracelet on his heart).

Ah!

Once, dear, on your sweet arm it lay,
And on my heart shall ever stay;
Though you disdain to give me joy,
I find it in a lifeless toy.

Shakuntala.

I cannot hold back after that. I will use the bracelet as an excuse for my coming. (She approaches.)

King(seeing her. Joyfully).

The queen of my life! As soon as I complained, fate proved kind to me.

No sooner did the thirsty bird
With parching throat complain,
Than forming clouds in heaven stirred
And sent the streaming rain.

King(takingShakuntala’shand).

Ah!

When Shiva’s anger burned the tree
Of love in quenchless fire,
Did heavenly fate preserve a shoot
To deck my heart’s desire?

Shakuntala(feeling his touch).

Hasten, my dear, hasten.

King(joyfully to himself).

Now I am content. She speaks as a wife to her husband. (Aloud.) Beautiful Shakuntala, the clasp of the bracelet is not very firm. May I fasten it in another way?

Shakuntala(smiling).

If you like.

King(artfully delaying before he fastens it).

See, my beautiful girl!

The lotus-chain is dazzling white
As is the slender moon at night.
Perhaps it was the moon on high
That joined her horns and left the sky,
Believing that your lovely arm
Would, more than heaven, enhance her charm.

King.

Oh, my bewitching girl, have no fear of me. (Shakuntaladarts a glance at him, then looks down. The king raises her face. Aside.)

Her sweetly trembling lip
With virgin invitation
Provokes my soul to sip
Delighted fascination.

Shakuntala.

You seem slow, dear, in fulfilling your promise.

King.

The lotus over your ear is so near your eye, and so like it, that I was confused. (He gently blows her eye.)

Shakuntala.

Thank you. I can see quite well now. But I am ashamed not to make any return for your kindness.

King.

What more could I ask?

It ought to be enough for me
To hover round your fragrant face;
Is not the lotus-haunting bee
Content with perfume and with grace?

The flower-strewn bed whereon her body tossed;
The bracelet, fallen from her arm and lost;
The dear love-missive, in the lotus-leaf
Cut by her nails: assuage my absent grief
And occupy my eyes—I have no power,
Though she is gone, to leave the reedy bower.

(He reflects.) Alas! I did wrong to delay when I had found my love. So now

If she will grant me but one other meeting,
I’ll not delay; for happiness is fleeting;
So plans my foolish, self-defeated heart;
But when she comes, I play the coward’s part.

A voice behind the scenes.

O King!

The flames rise heavenward from the evening altar;
And round the sacrifices, blazing high,
Flesh-eating demons stalk, like red cloud-masses,
And cast colossal shadows on the sky.

King(listens. Resolutely).

Have no fear, hermits. I am here.

And again:

Night-blooming lilies, when the moon is hidden,
Have naught but memories of beauty left.
Hard, hard to bear! Her lot whom heaven has bidden
To live alone, of love and lover reft.

And again:

On jujube-trees the blushing dewdrops falter;
The peacock wakes and leaves the cottage thatch;
A deer is rising near the hoof-marked altar,
And stretching, stands, the day’s new life to catch.

And yet again:

The moon that topped the loftiest mountain ranges,
That slew the darkness in the midmost sky,
Is fallen from heaven, and all her glory changes:
So high to rise, so low at last to lie!

Know, Brahman, that your child,
Like the fire-pregnant tree,
Bears kingly seed that shall be born
For earth’s prosperity.

Harita.

From the holy power of Father Kanva.

Gautami.

A creation of his mind?

Harita.

Not quite. Listen. Father Kanva sent us to gather blossoms from the trees for Shakuntala, and then

One tree bore fruit, a silken marriage dress
That shamed the moon in its white loveliness;
Another gave us lac-dye for the feet;
From others, fairy hands extended, sweet
Like flowering twigs, as far as to the wrist,
And gave us gems, to adorn her as we list.

Priyamvada(looking atShakuntala).

A bee may be born in a hole in a tree, but she likes the honey of the lotus.

Gautami.

This gracious favour is a token of the queenly happiness which you are to enjoy in your husband’s palace. (Shakuntalashows embarrassment.)

Harita.

Father Kanva has gone to the bank of the Malini, to perform his ablutions. I will tell him of the favour shown us by the trees. (Exit.)

Anusuya.

My dear, we poor girls never saw such ornaments. How shall we adorn you? (She stops to think, and to look at the ornaments.) But we have seen pictures. Perhaps we can arrange them right.

Shakuntala.

I know how clever you are. (The two friends adorn her. EnterKanva,returning after his ablutions.)

Kanva.

- Shakuntala must go to-day;
- I miss her now at heart;
- I dare not speak a loving word
- Or choking tears will start.
- My eyes are dim with anxious thought;
- Love strikes me to the life:
- And yet I strove for pious peace—
- I have no child, no wife.
- What must a father feel, when come
- The pangs of parting from his child at home?

(He walks about.)

The two friends.

There, Shakuntala, we have arranged your ornaments. Now put on this beautiful silk dress. (Shakuntalarises and does so.)

Gautami.

My child, here is your father. The eyes with which he seems to embrace you are overflowing with tears of joy. You must greet him properly. (Shakuntalamakes a shamefaced reverence.)

Kanva.

My child,

Like Sharmishtha, Yayati’s wife,
Win favour measured by your worth;
And may you bear a kingly son
Like Puru, who shall rule the earth.

- She would not drink till she had wet
- Your roots, a sister’s duty,
- Nor pluck your flowers; she loves you yet
- Far more than selfish beauty.
- ’Twas festival in her pure life
- When budding blossoms showed;
- And now she leaves you as a wife—
- Oh, speed her on her road!

Sharngarava(listening to the song of koïl-birds).

Father,

The trees are answering your prayer
In cooing cuckoo-song,
Bidding Shakuntala farewell,
Their sister for so long.

Invisible beings.

May lily-dotted lakes delight your eye;
May shade-trees bid the heat of noonday cease;
May soft winds blow the lotus-pollen nigh;
May all your path be pleasantness and peace.

(All listen in astonishment.)

Gautami.

My child, the fairies of the pious grove bid you farewell. For they love the household. Pay reverence to the holy ones.

Shakuntala(does so. Aside toPriyamvada).

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.

Do not weep, my child. Be brave. Look at the path before you.

Be brave, and check the rising tears
That dim your lovely eyes;
Your feet are stumbling on the path
That so uneven lies.

Sharngarava.

Holy Father, the Scripture declares that one should accompany a departing loved one only to the first water. Pray give us your commands on the bank of this pond, and then return.

Kanva.

Then let us rest in the shade of this fig-tree. (All do so.) What commands would it be fitting for me to lay on King Dushyanta? (He reflects.)

Anusuya.

My dear, there is not a living thing in the whole hermitage that is not grieving to-day at saying good-bye to you. Look!

The sheldrake does not heed his mate
Who calls behind the lotus-leaf;
He drops the lily from his bill
And turns on you a glance of grief.

Kanva.

Son Sharngarava, when you present Shakuntala to the king, give him this message from me.

Remembering my religious worth,
Your own high race, the love poured forth
By her, forgetful of her friends,
Pay her what honour custom lends
To all your wives. And what fate gives
Beyond, will please her relatives.

Shakuntala(throwing her arms about her father).

I am torn from my father’s breast like a vine stripped from a sandal-tree on the Malabar hills. How can I live in another soil? (She weeps.)

Kanva.

My daughter, why distress yourself so?

A noble husband’s honourable wife,
You are to spend a busy, useful life
In the world’s eye; and soon, as eastern skies
Bring forth the sun, from you there shall arise
A child, a blessing and a comfort strong—
You will not miss me, dearest daughter, long.

Shakuntala(falling at his feet).

Farewell, Father.

Kanva.

My daughter, may all that come to you which I desire for you.

Shakuntala(going to her two friends).

Come, girls! Embrace me, both of you together.

The two friends(do so).

Dear, if the good king should perhaps be slow to recognise you, show him the ring with his own name engraved on it.

Shakuntala.

Your doubts make my heart beat faster.

The two friends.

Do not be afraid, dear. Love is timid.

Sharngarava(looking about).

Father, the sun is in midheaven. She must hasten.

Shakuntala(embracingKanvaonce more).

Father, when shall I see the pious grove again?

Kanva.

My daughter,

- When you have shared for many years
- The king’s thoughts with the earth,
- When to a son who knows no fears
- You shall have given birth,
- When, trusted to the son you love,
- Your royal labours cease,
- Come with your husband to the grove
- And end your days in peace.

A girl is held in trust, another’s treasure;
To arms of love my child to-day is given;
And now I feel a calm and sacred pleasure;
I have restored the pledge that came from heaven.

(Exeunt omnes.)

ACT V

Shakuntala’s Rejection

(Enter a chamberlain.)

Chamberlain(sighing).

Alas! To what a state am I reduced!

I once assumed the staff of reed
For custom’s sake alone,
As officer to guard at need
The ladies round the throne.
But years have passed away and made
It serve, my tottering steps to aid.

The king is within. I will tell him of the urgent business which demands his attention. (He takes a few steps.) But what is the business? (He recalls it.) Yes, I remember. Certain hermits, pupils of Kanva, desire to see his Majesty. Strange, strange!

The mind of age is like a lamp
Whose oil is running thin;
One moment it is shining bright,
Then darkness closes in.

(He walks and looks about.) Here is his Majesty.

He does not seek—until a father’s care
Is shown his subjects—rest in solitude;
As a great elephant recks not of the sun
Until his herd is sheltered in the wood.

In truth, I hesitate to announce the coming of Kanva’s pupils to the king. For he has this moment risen from the throne of justice. But kings are never weary. For

The sun unyokes his horses never;
Blows night and day the breeze;
Shesha upholds the world forever:
And kings are like to these.

(He walks about. Enter the king, the clown, and retinue according to rank.)

King(betraying the cares of office).

Every one is happy on attaining his desire—except a king. His difficulties increase with his power. Thus:

Security slays nothing but ambition;
With great possessions, troubles gather thick;
Pain grows, not lessens, with a king’s position,
As when one’s hand must hold the sunshade’s stick.

Two court poets behind the scenes.

Victory to your Majesty.

First poet.

The world you daily guard and bless,
Not heeding pain or weariness;
Thus is your nature made.
A tree will brave the noonday, when
The sun is fierce, that weary men
May rest beneath its shade.

Second poet.

Vice bows before the royal rod;
Strife ceases at your kingly nod;
You are our strong defender.
Friends come to all whose wealth is sure,
But you, alike to rich and poor,
Are friend both strong and tender.

King(rising).

Vetravati, conduct me to the fire-sanctuary.

Portress.

Follow me, your Majesty. (She walks about.) Your Majesty, here is the terrace of the fire-sanctuary. It is beautiful, for it has just been swept, and near at hand is the cow that yields the milk of sacrifice. Pray ascend it.

King(ascends and stands leaning on the shoulder of an attendant.)

Vetravati, with what purpose does Father Kanva send these hermits to me?

Do leaguèd powers of sin conspire
To balk religion’s pure desire?
Has wrong been done to beasts that roam
Contented round the hermits’ home?
Do plants no longer bud and flower,
To warn me of abuse of power?
These doubts and more assail my mind,
But leave me puzzled, lost, and blind.

Portress.

How could these things be in a hermitage that rests in the fame of the king’s arm? No, I imagine they have come to pay homage to their king, and to congratulate him on his pious rule.

(Enter the chaplain and the chamberlain, conducting the two pupils ofKanva,withGautamiandShakuntala.)

Chamberlain.

Follow me, if you please.

Sharngarava.

Friend Sharadvata,

The king is noble and to virtue true;
None dwelling here commit the deed of shame;
Yet we ascetics view the worldly crew
As in a house all lapped about with flame.

Sharadvata.

Sharngarava, your emotion on entering the city is quite just. As for me,

Free from the world and all its ways,
I see them spending worldly days
As clean men view men smeared with oil,
As pure men, those whom passions soil,
As waking men view men asleep,
As free men, those in bondage deep.

Chaplain.

That is why men like you are great.

Shakuntala(observing an evil omen).

Oh, why does my right eye throb?

Gautami.

Heaven avert the omen, my child. May happiness wait upon you. (They walk about.)

Chaplain(indicating the king).

O hermits, here is he who protects those of every station and of every age. He has already risen, and awaits you. Behold him.

Sharngarava.

Yes, it is admirable, but not surprising. For

Fruit-laden trees bend down to earth;
The water-pregnant clouds hang low;
Good men are not puffed up by power—
The unselfish are by nature so.

Portress.

Your Majesty, the hermits seem to be happy. They give you gracious looks.

King(observingShakuntala).

Ah!

Who is she, shrouded in the veil
That dims her beauty’s lustre,
Among the hermits like a flower
Round which the dead leaves cluster?

Shakuntala(to herself).

Oh, oh! So haughty and so slanderous!

Sharngarava.

“What is this insinuation?” What is your question? Surely you know the world’s ways well enough.

Because the world suspects a wife
Who does not share her husband’s lot,
Her kinsmen wish her to abide
With him, although he love her not.

King.

You cannot mean that this young woman is my wife.

Shakuntala(sadly to herself).

Oh, my heart, you feared it, and now it has come.

Sharngarava.

O King,

A king, and shrink when love is done,
Turn coward’s back on truth, and flee!

King.

What means this dreadful accusation?

Sharngarava(furiously).

O drunk with power! We might have known
That you were steeped in treachery.

King.

A stinging rebuke!

Gautami(toShakuntala).

Forget your shame, my child. I will remove your veil. Then your husband will recognise you. (She does so.)

King(observingShakuntala.To himself).

- As my heart ponders whether I could ever
- Have wed this woman that has come to me
- In tortured loveliness, as I endeavour
- To bring it back to mind, then like a bee
- That hovers round a jasmine flower at dawn,
- While frosty dews of morning still o’erweave it,
- And hesitates to sip ere they be gone,
- I cannot taste the sweet, and cannot leave it.

Portress(to herself).

What a virtuous king he is! Would any other man hesitate when he saw such a pearl of a woman coming of her own accord?

Sharngarava.

Have you nothing to say, O King?

King.

Hermit, I have taken thought. I cannot believe that this woman is my wife. She is plainly with child. How can I take her, confessing myself an adulterer?

Shakuntala(to herself).

Oh, oh, oh! He even casts doubt on our marriage. The vine of my hope climbed high, but it is broken now.

Sharngarava.

Not so.

You scorn the sage who rendered whole
His child befouled, and choked his grief,
Who freely gave you what you stole
And added honour to a thief!

Sharadvata.

Enough, Sharngarava. Shakuntala, we have said what we were sent to say. You hear his words. Answer him.

Shakuntala(to herself).

He loved me so. He is so changed. Why remind him? Ah, but I must clear my own character. Well, I will try. (Aloud.) My dear husband— (She stops.) No, he doubts my right to call him that. Your Majesty, it was pure love that opened my poor heart to you in the hermitage. Then you were kind to me and gave me your promise. Is it right for you to speak so now, and to reject me?

King(stopping his ears).

Peace, peace!

A stream that eats away the bank,
Grows foul, and undermines the tree.
So you would stain your honour, while
You plunge me into misery.

King.

Old hermit woman,

The female’s untaught cunning may be seen
In beasts, far more in women selfish-wise;
The cuckoo’s eggs are left to hatch and rear
By foster-parents, and away she flies.

Shakuntala(angrily).

Wretch! You judge all this by your own false heart. Would any other man do what you have done? To hide behind virtue, like a yawning well covered over with grass!

King(to himself).

But her anger is free from coquetry, because she has lived in the forest. See!

Her glance is straight; her eyes are flashing red;
Her speech is harsh, not drawlingly well-bred;
Her whole lip quivers, seems to shake with cold;
Her frown has straightened eyebrows arching bold.

No, she saw that I was doubtful, and her anger was feigned. Thus

When I refused but now
Hard-heartedly, to know
Of love or secret vow,
Her eyes grew red; and so,
Bending her arching brow,
She fiercely snapped Love’s bow.

(Aloud.) My good girl, Dushyanta’s conduct is known to the whole kingdom, but not this action.

Shakuntala.

Well, well. I had my way. I trusted a king, and put myself in his hands. He had a honey face and a heart of stone. (She covers her face with her dress and weeps.)

Sharngarava.

Thus does unbridled levity burn.

Be slow to love, but yet more slow
With secret mate;
With those whose hearts we do not know,
Love turns to hate.

King.

Why do you trust this girl, and accuse me of an imaginary crime?

Sharngarava(disdainfully).

You have learned your wisdom upside down.

It would be monstrous to believe
A girl who never lies;
Trust those who study to deceive
And think it very wise.

King.

Aha, my candid friend! Suppose I were to admit that I am such a man. What would happen if I deceived the girl?

Sharngarava.

Ruin.

King.

It is unthinkable that ruin should fall on Puru’s line.

Sharngarava.

Why bandy words? We have fulfilled our Father’s bidding. We are ready to return.

Leave her or take her, as you will;
She is your wife;
Husbands have power for good or ill
O’er woman’s life.

Gautami, lead the way. (They start to go.)

Shakuntala.

He has deceived me shamelessly. And will you leave me too? (She starts to follow.)

Gautami(turns around and sees her).

Sharngarava, my son, Shakuntala is following us, lamenting piteously. What can the poor child do with a husband base enough to reject her?

Sharngarava(turns angrily).

You self-willed girl! Do you dare show independence? (Shakuntalashrinks in fear.) Listen.

If you deserve such scorn and blame,
What will your father with your shame?
But if you know your vows are pure,
Obey your husband and endure.

Remain. We must go.

King.

Hermit, why deceive this woman? Remember:

Night-blossoms open to the moon,
Day-blossoms to the sun;
A man of honour ever strives
Another’s wife to shun.

Sharngarava.

O King, suppose you had forgotten your former actions in the midst of distractions. Should you now desert your wife—you who fear to fail in virtue?

King.

I ask you which is the heavier sin:

Not knowing whether I be mad
Or falsehood be in her,
Shall I desert a faithful wife
Or turn adulterer?

Chaplain.

When Kanva’s pupils had departed,
She tossed her arms, bemoaned her plight,
Accused her crushing fate—

King.

What then?

Chaplain.

Before our eyes a heavenly light
In woman’s form, but shining bright,
Seized her and vanished straight.

(All betray astonishment.)

King.

My teacher, we have already settled the matter. Why speculate in vain? Let us seek repose.

Chaplain.

Victory to your Majesty. (Exit.)

King.

Vetravati, I am bewildered. Conduct me to my apartment.

Portress.

Follow me, your Majesty.

King(walks about. To himself).

With a hermit-wife I had no part,
All memories evade me;
And yet my sad and stricken heart
Would more than half persuade me.

Don’t say that, master.

You can’t give up a lowdown trade
That your ancestors began;
A butcher butchers things, and yet
He’s the tenderest-hearted man.

- The mango branches are in bloom,
- Yet pollen does not form;
- The cuckoo’s song sticks in his throat,
- Although the days are warm;
- The amaranth-bud is formed, and yet
- Its power of growth is gone;
- The love-god timidly puts by
- The arrow he has drawn.

Mishrakeshi.

There is no doubt of it. This good king has wonderful power.

First maid.

A few days ago, sir, we were sent to his Majesty by his brother-in-law Mitravasu to decorate the garden. That is why we have heard nothing of this affair.

Chamberlain.

You must not do so again.

The two maids.

But we are curious. If we girls may know about it, pray tell us, sir. Why did his Majesty forbid the spring festival?

Mishrakeshi.

Kings are fond of celebrations. There must be some good reason.

Chamberlain(to himself).

It is in everybody’s mouth. Why should I not tell it? (Aloud.) Have you heard the gossip concerning Shakuntala’s rejection?

The two maids.

Yes, sir. The king’s brother-in-law told us, up to the point where the ring was recovered.

Chamberlain.

There is little more to tell. When his Majesty saw the ring, he remembered that he had indeed contracted a secret marriage with Shakuntala, and had rejected her under a delusion. And then he fell a prey to remorse.

He hates the things he loved; he intermits
The daily audience, nor in judgment sits;
Spends sleepless nights in tossing on his bed;
At times, when he by courtesy is led
To address a lady, speaks another name,
Then stands for minutes, sunk in helpless shame.

Mishrakeshi.

I am glad to hear it.

Chamberlain.

His Majesty’s sorrow has forbidden the festival.

The two maids.

It is only right.

A voice behind the scenes.

Follow me.

Chamberlain(listening).

Ah, his Majesty approaches. Go, and attend to your duties. (Exeunt the two maids. Enter the king, wearing a dress indicative of remorse; the clown, and the portress.)

Chamberlain(observing the king).

A beautiful figure charms in whatever state. Thus, his Majesty is pleasing even in his sorrow. For

All ornament is laid aside; he wears
One golden bracelet on his wasted arm;
His lip is scorched by sighs; and sleepless cares
Redden his eyes. Yet all can work no harm
On that magnificent beauty, wasting, but
Gaining in brilliance, like a diamond cut.

Mishrakeshi(observing the king).

No wonder Shakuntala pines for him, even though he dishonoured her by his rejection of her.

King(walks about slowly, sunk in thought).

Alas! My smitten heart, that once lay sleeping,
Heard in its dreams my fawn-eyed love’s laments,
And wakened now, awakens but to weeping,
To bitter grief, and tears of penitence.

Mishrakeshi.

That is the poor girl’s fate.

Clown(to himself).

He has got his Shakuntala-sickness again. I wish I knew how to cure him.

Chamberlain(advancing).

Victory to your Majesty. I have examined the garden. Your Majesty may visit its retreats.

King.

Vetravati, tell the minister Pishuna in my name that a sleepless night prevents me from mounting the throne of judgment. He is to investigate the citizens’ business and send me a memorandum.

Portress.

Yes, your Majesty. (Exit.)

King.

And you, Parvatayana, return to your post of duty.

Chamberlain.

Yes, your Majesty. (Exit.)

Clown.

You have got rid of the vermin. Now amuse yourself in this garden. It is delightful with the passing of the cold weather.

King(sighing).

My friend, the proverb makes no mistake. Misfortune finds the weak spot. See!

- No sooner did the darkness lift
- That clouded memory’s power,
- Than the god of love prepared his bow
- And shot the mango-flower.
- No sooner did the ring recall
- My banished maiden dear,
- No sooner do I vainly weep
- For her, than spring is here.

King.

My friend, I am quite forlorn. I keep thinking of her pitiful state when I rejected her. Thus:

When I denied her, then she tried
To join her people. “Stay,” one cried,
Her father’s representative.
She stopped, she turned, she could but give
A tear-dimmed glance to heartless me—
That arrow burns me poisonously.

Mishrakeshi.

How his fault distresses him!

Clown.

Well, I don’t doubt it was some heavenly being that carried her away.

King.

Who else would dare to touch a faithful wife? Her friends told me that Menaka was her mother. My heart persuades me that it was she, or companions of hers, who carried Shakuntala away.

Mishrakeshi.

His madness was wonderful, not his awakening reason.

Clown.

But in that case, you ought to take heart. You will meet her again.

King.

Mishrakeshi.

He speaks as if prompted by my curiosity.

King.

Listen, my friend. When I left the pious grove for the city, my darling wept and said: “But how long will you remember us, dear?”

Clown.

And then you said—

King.

Then I put this engraved ring on her finger, and said to her—

Clown.

Well, what?

King.

Count every day one letter of my name;
Before you reach the end, dear,
Will come to lead you to my palace halls
A guide whom I shall send, dear.

Then, through my madness, it fell out cruelly.

Mishrakeshi.

It was too charming an agreement to be frustrated by fate.

Clown.

But how did it get into a carp’s mouth, as if it had been a fish-hook?

King.

While she was worshipping the Ganges at Shachitirtha, it fell.

Clown.

I see.

Mishrakeshi.

That is why the virtuous king doubted his marriage with poor Shakuntala. Yet such love does not ask for a token. How could it have been?

King.

Well, I can only reproach this ring.

Clown(smiling).

And I will reproach this stick of mine. Why are you crooked when I am straight?

King(not hearing him).

How could you fail to linger
On her soft, tapering finger,
And in the water fall?

And yet

Things lifeless know not beauty;
But I—I scorned my duty,
The sweetest task of all.

Mishrakeshi.

He has given the answer which I had ready.

Clown.

But that is no reason why I should starve to death.

King(not heeding).

O my darling, my heart burns with repentance because I abandoned you without reason. Take pity on me. Let me see you again. (Enter a maid with a tablet.)

Maid.

Your Majesty, here is the picture of our lady. (She produces the tablet.)

King(gazing at it).

It is a beautiful picture. See!

A graceful arch of brows above great eyes;
Lips bathed in darting, smiling light that flies
Reflected from white teeth; a mouth as red
As red karkandhu-fruit; love’s brightness shed
O’er all her face in bursts of liquid charm—
The picture speaks, with living beauty warm.

Clown(looking at it).

The sketch is full of sweet meaning. My eyes seem to stumble over its uneven surface. What more can I say? I expect to see it come to life, and I feel like speaking to it.

Mishrakeshi.

The king is a clever painter. I seem to see the dear girl before me.

King.

My friend,

What in the picture is not fair,
Is badly done;
Yet something of her beauty there,
I feel, is won.

Mishrakeshi.

This is natural, when love is increased by remorse.

King(sighing).

I treated her with scorn and loathing ever;
Now o’er her pictured charms my heart will burst:
A traveller I, who scorned the mighty river,
And seeks in the mirage to quench his thirst.

Mishrakeshi.

Surely, every spot that the dear girl loved.

King.

Listen, my friend.

The stream of Malini, and on its sands
The swan-pairs resting; holy foot-hill lands
Of great Himalaya’s sacred ranges, where
The yaks are seen; and under trees that bear
Bark hermit-dresses on their branches high,
A doe that on the buck’s horn rubs her eye.

Your faithful, loving queen,
Perched on a flower, athirst,
Is waiting for you still,
Nor tastes the honey first.

Mishrakeshi.

A gentlemanly way to drive him off!

Clown.

This kind are obstinate, even when you warn them.

King(angrily).

Will you not obey my command? Then listen:

’Tis sweet as virgin blossoms on a tree,
The lip I kissed in love-feasts tenderly;
Sting that dear lip, O bee, with cruel power,
And you shall be imprisoned in a flower.

King.

My friend, how can I endure a grief that has no respite?

I cannot sleep at night
And meet her dreaming;
I cannot see the sketch
While tears are streaming.

Let King Dushyanta be proclaimed
To every sad soul kin
That mourns a kinsman loved and lost,
Yet did not plunge in sin.

King.

Alas! The ancestors of Dushyanta are in a doubtful case.

For I am childless, and they do not know,
When I am gone, what child of theirs will bring
The scriptural oblation; and their tears
Already mingle with my offering.

Mishrakeshi.

He is screened from the light, and is in darkness.

Maid.

Do not give way to grief, your Majesty. You are in the prime of your years, and the birth of a son to one of your other wives will make you blameless before your ancestors. (To herself.) He does not heed me. The proper medicine is needed for any disease.

King(betraying his sorrow).

Surely,

The royal line that flowed
A river pure and grand,
Dies in the childless king,
Like streams in desert sand. (He swoons.)

Why should the trembling, born
Of age, increasing, seize
Your limbs and bid them shake
Like fig-leaves in the breeze?

The moral stumblings of mine own,
The daily slips, are scarcely known;
Who then that rules a kingdom, can
Guide every deed of every man?

The voice.

Hurry, hurry!

King(hears the voice and quickens his steps).

Have no fear, my friend.

The voice.

Have no fear! When something has got me by the back of the neck, and is trying to break my bones like a piece of sugar-cane!

King(looks about).

A bow! a bow! (Enter a Greek woman with a bow.)

Greek woman.

A bow and arrows, your Majesty. And here are the finger-guards. (The king takes the bow and arrows.)

Another voice behind the scenes.

Writhe, while I drink the red blood flowing clear
And kill you, as a tiger kills a deer;
Let King Dushyanta grasp his bow; but how
Can all his kingly valour save you now?

King(angrily).

He scorns me, too! In one moment, miserable demon, you shall die. (Stringing his bow.) Where is the stairway, Parvatayana?

Chamberlain.

Here, your Majesty. (All make haste.)

King(looking about).

There is no one here.

The Clown’s voice.

Save me, save me! I see you, if you can’t see me. I am a mouse in the claws of the cat. I am done for.

King.

You are proud of your invisibility. But shall not my arrow see you? Stand still. Do not hope to escape by clinging to my friend.

My arrow, flying when the bow is bent,
Shall slay the wretch and spare the innocent;
When milk is mixed with water in a cup,
Swans leave the water, and the milk drink up.

(He takes aim. EnterMataliand the clown.)

Matali.

O King, as Indra, king of the gods, commands,

Seek foes among the evil powers alone;
For them your bow should bend;
Not cruel shafts, but glances soft and kind
Should fall upon a friend.

King(hastily withdrawing the arrow).

It is Matali. Welcome to the charioteer of heaven’s king.

Clown.

Well! He came within an inch of butchering me. And you welcome him.

Matali(smiling).

Hear, O King, for what purpose Indra sends me to you.

King.

I am all attention.

Matali.

There is a host of demons who call themselves Invincible—the brood of Kalanemi.

King.

So Narada has told me.

Matali.

Heaven’s king is powerless; you shall smite
His foes in battle soon;
Darkness that overcomes the day,
Is scattered by the moon.

Take your bow at once, enter my heavenly chariot, and set forth for victory.

King.

I am grateful for the honour which Indra shows me. But why did you act thus toward Madhavya?

Matali.

I will tell you. I saw that you were overpowered by some inner sorrow, and acted thus to rouse you. For

The spurnèd snake will swell his hood;
Fire blazes when ’tis stirred;
Brave men are roused to fighting mood
By some insulting word.

King.

Friend Madhavya, I must obey the bidding of heaven’s king. Go, acquaint the minister Pishuna with the matter, and add these words of mine:

Your wisdom only shall control
The kingdom for a time;
My bow is strung; a distant goal
Calls me, and tasks sublime.

Clown.

Very well. (Exit.)

Matali.

Enter the chariot. (The king does so. Exeunt omnes.)

ACT VII

(Enter, in a chariot that flies through the air, the king andMatali.)

King.

Matali, though I have done what Indra commanded, I think myself an unprofitable servant, when I remember his most gracious welcome.

Matali.

O King, know that each considers himself the other’s debtor. For

You count the service given
Small by the welcome paid,
Which to the king of heaven
Seems mean for such brave aid.

King.

Ah, no! For the honour given me at parting went far beyond imagination. Before the gods, he seated me beside him on his throne. And then

He smiled, because his son Jayanta’s heart
Beat quicker, by the self-same wish oppressed,
And placed about my neck the heavenly wreath
Still fragrant from the sandal on his breast.

Matali.

But what do you not deserve from heaven’s king? Remember:

Twice, from peace-loving Indra’s sway
The demon-thorn was plucked away:
First, by Man-lion’s crooked claws;
Again, by your smooth shafts to-day.

King.

This merely proves Indra’s majesty. Remember:

All servants owe success in enterprise
To honour paid before the great deed’s done;
Could dawn defeat the darkness otherwise
Than resting on the chariot of the sun?

Matali.

The feeling becomes you. (After a little.) See, O King! Your glory has the happiness of being published abroad in heaven.

With colours used by nymphs of heaven
To make their beauty shine,
Gods write upon the surface given
Of many a magic vine,
As worth their song, the simple story
Of those brave deeds that made your glory.

King.

Matali, when I passed before, I was intent on fighting the demons, and did not observe this region. Tell me. In which path of the winds are we?

Matali.

It is the windpath sanctified
By holy Vishnu’s second stride;
Which, freed from dust of passion, ever
Upholds the threefold heavenly river;
And, driving them with reins of light,
Guides the stars in wheeling flight.

King.

That is why serenity pervades me, body and soul. (He observes the path taken by the chariot.) It seems that we have descended into the region of the clouds.

Matali.

How do you perceive it?

King.

Plovers that fly from mountain-caves,
Steeds that quick-flashing lightning laves,
And chariot-wheels that drip with spray—
A path o’er pregnant clouds betray.

Matali.

You are right. And in a moment you will be in the world over which you bear rule.

King(looking down).

Matali, our quick descent gives the world of men a mysterious look. For

The plains appear to melt and fall
From mountain peaks that grow more tall;
The trunks of trees no longer hide
Nor in their leafy nests abide;
The river network now is clear,
For smaller streams at last appear:
It seems as if some being threw
The world to me, for clearer view.

Matali.

You are a good observer, O King. (He looks down, awe-struck.) There is a noble loveliness in the earth.

King.

Matali, what mountain is this, its flanks sinking into the eastern and into the western sea? It drips liquid gold like a cloud at sunset.

Matali.

O King, this is Gold Peak, the mountain of the fairy centaurs. Here it is that ascetics most fully attain to magic powers. See!

The ancient sage, Marichi’s son,
Child of the Uncreated One,
Father of superhuman life,
Dwells here austerely with his wife.

King(reverently).

I must not neglect the happy chance. I cannot go farther until I have walked humbly about the holy one.

Matali.

It is a worthy thought, O King. (The chariot descends.) We have come down to earth.

King(astonished).

Matali,

The wheels are mute on whirling rim;
Unstirred, the dust is lying there;
We do not bump the earth, but skim:
Still, still we seem to fly through air.

Matali.

Such is the glory of the chariot which obeys you and Indra.

King.

In which direction lies the hermitage of Marichi’s son?

Matali(pointing).

See!

Where stands the hermit, horridly austere,
Whom clinging vines are choking, tough and sere;
Half-buried in an ant-hill that has grown
About him, standing post-like and alone;
Sun-staring with dim eyes that know no rest,
The dead skin of a serpent on his breast:
So long he stood unmoved, insensate there
That birds build nests within his mat of hair.

King(gazing).

All honour to one who mortifies the flesh so terribly.

Matali(checking the chariot).

We have entered the hermitage of the ancient sage, whose wife Aditi tends the coral-trees.

King.

Here is deeper contentment than in heaven. I seem plunged in a pool of nectar.

Matali(stopping the chariot).

Descend, O King.

King(descending).

But how will you fare?

Matali.

The chariot obeys the word of command. I too will descend. (He does so.) Before you, O King, are the groves where the holiest hermits lead their self-denying life.

King.

I look with amazement both at their simplicity and at what they might enjoy.

Their appetites are fed with air
Where grows whatever is most fair;
They bathe religiously in pools
Which golden lily-pollen cools;
They pray within a jewelled home,
Are chaste where nymphs of heaven roam:
They mortify desire and sin
With things that others fast to win.

Matali.

The desires of the great aspire high. (He walks about and speaks to some one not visible.) Ancient Shakalya, how is Marichi’s holy son occupied? (He listens.) What do you say? That he is explaining to Aditi, in answer to her question, the duties of a faithful wife? My matter must await a fitter time. (He turns to the king.) Wait here, O King, in the shade of the ashoka tree, till I have announced your coming to the sire of Indra.

King.

Very well. (ExitMatali.The king’s arm throbs, a happy omen.)

I dare not hope for what I pray;
Why thrill—in vain?
For heavenly bliss once thrown away
Turns into pain.

A voice behind the scenes.

Don’t! You mustn’t be so foolhardy. Oh, you are always the same.

King(listening).

No naughtiness could feel at home in this spot. Who draws such a rebuke upon himself? (He looks towards the sound. In surprise.) It is a child, but no child in strength. And two hermit-women are trying to control him.

He drags a struggling lion cub,
The lioness’ milk half-sucked, half-missed,
Towzles his mane, and tries to drub
Him tame with small, imperious fist.

(Enter a small boy, as described, and two hermit-women.)

Boy.

Open your mouth, cub. I want to count your teeth.

First woman.

Naughty boy, why do you torment our pets? They are like children to us. Your energy seems to take the form of striking something. No wonder the hermits call you All-tamer.

King.

Why should my heart go out to this boy as if he were my own son? (He reflects.) No doubt my childless state makes me sentimental.

Second woman.

The lioness will spring at you if you don’t let her baby go.

Boy(smiling).

Oh, I’m dreadfully scared. (He bites his lip.)

King(in surprise).

The boy is seed of fire
Which, when it grows, will burn;
A tiny spark that soon
To awful flame may turn.

First woman.

Let the little lion go, dear. I will give you another plaything.

Boy.

Where is it? Give it to me. (He stretches out his hand.)

King(looking at the hand.)

He has one of the imperial birthmarks! For

Between the eager fingers grow
The close-knit webs together drawn,
Like some lone lily opening slow
To meet the kindling blush of dawn.

Second woman.

Suvrata, we can’t make him stop by talking. Go. In my cottage you will find a painted clay peacock that belongs to the hermit-boy Mankanaka. Bring him that.

First woman.

I will. (Exit.)

Boy.

Boy.

Dushyanta is my father, not you.

King(smiling).

You show I am right by contradicting me. (EnterShakuntala,wearing her hair in a single braid.)

Shakuntala(doubtfully).

I have heard that All-tamer’s amulet did not change when it should have done so. But I do not trust my own happiness. Yet perhaps it is as Mishrakeshi told me. (She walks about.)

King(looking atShakuntala.With plaintive joy).

It is she. It is Shakuntala.

The pale, worn face, the careless dress,
The single braid,
Show her still true, me pitiless,
The long vow paid.

’Twas madness, sweet, that could let slip
A tear to burden your dear lip;
On graceful lashes seen to-day,
I wipe it, and our grief, away. (He does so.)

’Tis King Dushyanta, he who goes before
Your son in battle, and who rules the earth,
Whose bow makes Indra’s weapon seem no more
Than a fine plaything, lacking sterner worth.

Aditi.

His valour might be inferred from his appearance.

Matali.

O King, the parents of the gods look upon you with a glance that betrays parental fondness. Approach them.

King.

Matali,

Sprung from the Creator’s children, do I see
Great Kashyapa and Mother Aditi?
The pair that did produce the sun in heaven,
To which each year twelve changing forms are given;
That brought the king of all the gods to birth,
Who rules in heaven, in hell, and on the earth;
That Vishnu, than the Uncreated higher,
Chose as his parents with a fond desire.

Matali.

It is indeed they.

King(falling before them).

Dushyanta, servant of Indra, does reverence to you both.

Kashyapa.

My son, rule the earth long.

Aditi.

And be invincible. (Shakuntalaand her son fall at their feet.)

Kashyapa.

My daughter,

Your husband equals Indra, king
Of gods; your son is like his son;
No further blessing need I bring:
Win bliss such as his wife has won.

Aditi.

My child, keep the favour of your husband. And may this fine boy be an honour to the families of both parents. Come, let us be seated. (All seat themselves.)

Kashyapa(indicating one after the other).

Faithful Shakuntala, the boy,
And you, O King, I see
A trinity to bless the world—
Faith, Treasure, Piety.

King.

Holy one, your favour shown to us is without parallel. You granted the fulfilment of our wishes before you called us to your presence. For, holy one,

The flower comes first, and then the fruit;
The clouds appear before the rain;
Effect comes after cause; but you
First helped, then made your favour plain.

Matali.

O King, such is the favour shown by the parents of the world.

King.

Holy one, I married this your maid-servant by the voluntary ceremony. When after a time her relatives brought her to me, my memory failed and I rejected her. In so doing, I sinned against Kanva, who is kin to you. But afterwards, when I saw the ring, I perceived that I had married her. And this seems very wonderful to me.

Like one who doubts an elephant,
Though seeing him stride by,
And yet believes when he has seen
The footprints left; so I.

The curse it was that brought defeat and pain;
The darkness flies; you are his queen again.
Reflections are not seen in dusty glass,
Which, cleaned, will mirror all the things that pass.

King.

It is most true, holy one.

Kashyapa.

My son, I hope you have greeted as he deserves the son whom Shakuntala has borne you, for whom I myself have performed the birth-rite and the other ceremonies.

King.

Holy one, the hope of my race centres in him.

Kashyapa.

Know then that his courage will make him emperor.

Journeying over every sea,
His car will travel easily;
The seven islands of the earth
Will bow before his matchless worth;
Because wild beasts to him were tame,
All-tamer was his common name;
As Bharata he shall be known,
For he will bear the world alone.

King.

I anticipate everything from him, since you have performed the rites for him.

Aditi.

Kanva also should be informed that his daughter’s wishes are fulfilled. But Menaka is waiting upon me here and cannot be spared.

Shakuntala(to herself).

The holy one has expressed my own desire.

Kashyapa.

Kanva knows the whole matter through his divine insight. (He reflects.) Yet he should hear from us the pleasant tidings, how his daughter and her son have been received by her husband. Who waits without? (Enter a pupil.)

Pupil.

I am here, holy one.

Kashyapa.

Galava, fly through the air at once, carrying pleasant tidings from me to holy Kanva. Tell him how Durvasas’ curse has come to an end, how Dushyanta recovered his memory, and has taken Shakuntala with her child to himself.

Pupil.

Yes, holy one. (Exit.)

Kashyapa(to the king).

My son, enter with child and wife the chariot of your friend Indra, and set out for your capital.

King.

Yes, holy one.

Kashyapa.

For now

May Indra send abundant rain,
Repaid by sacrificial gain;
With aid long mutually given,
Rule you on earth, and he in heaven.

King.

Holy one, I will do my best.

Kashyapa.

What more, my son, shall I do for you?

King.

Can there be more than this? Yet may this prayer be fulfilled.

May kingship benefit the land,
And wisdom grow in scholars’ band;
May Shiva see my faith on earth
And make me free of all rebirth.

(Exeunt omnes.)

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SHAKUNTALA A PLAY IN SEVEN ACTS - Kalidasa, Translations of Shakuntala and Other Works [400 AD]

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SHAKUNTALA A PLAY IN SEVEN ACTS

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ

PROLOGUE

BENEDICTION UPON THE AUDIENCE

The stage-director.

Actress.

Director.

Actress.

Director(smiling).

Actress.

Director.

Actress.

Director.

Actress(sings).

Director.

Actress.

Director.

ACT I

The Hunt

Charioteer(looking at the king and the deer).

King.

Charioteer.

King.

Charioteer.

King(joyfully).

A voice behind the scenes.

Charioteer(listening and looking).

King(hastily).

Charioteer.

Hermit(lifting his hand).

King(bowing low).

Hermit(joyfully).

King(bowing low).

The two hermits.

King.

The two hermits.

King.

The two hermits.

King.

Charioteer.

King(looking about).

Charioteer.

King.

Charioteer.

King(after a little).

Charioteer.

King(dismounts and looks at himself).

Charioteer.

King(walking and looking about).

A voice behind the scenes.

King(listening).

First friend.

Shakuntala.

Priyamvada.

Shakuntala.

King(to himself).

Shakuntala.

Priyamvada(laughing).

King.

Shakuntala(looking ahead).

Priyamvada.

Shakuntala.

Priyamvada.

Shakuntala.

SHAKUNTALA

A PLAY IN SEVEN ACTS