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قراءة كتاب Ancient Ballads and Legends of Hindustan
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اللغة: English
الصفحة رقم: 5
last—
Opened no flower can ever shut.
In converse with the gray-haired sage
She learnt the story of the youth,
His name and place and parentage—
Of royal race he was in truth.
Satyavan was he hight,—his sire
Dyoumatsen had been Salva's king,
But old and blind, opponents dire
Had gathered round him in a ring
And snatched the sceptre from his hand;
Now,—with his queen and only son
He lived a hermit in the land,
And gentler hermit was there none.
She learnt the story of the youth,
His name and place and parentage—
Of royal race he was in truth.
Satyavan was he hight,—his sire
Dyoumatsen had been Salva's king,
But old and blind, opponents dire
Had gathered round him in a ring
And snatched the sceptre from his hand;
Now,—with his queen and only son
He lived a hermit in the land,
And gentler hermit was there none.
With many tears was said and heard
The story,—and with praise sincere
Of Prince Satyavan; every word
Sent up a flush on cheek and ear,
Unnoticed. Hark! The bells remind
'Tis time to go,—she went away,
Leaving her virgin heart behind,
And richer for the loss. A ray,
Shot down from heaven, appeared to tinge
All objects with supernal light,
The thatches had a rainbow fringe,
The cornfields looked more green and bright.
The story,—and with praise sincere
Of Prince Satyavan; every word
Sent up a flush on cheek and ear,
Unnoticed. Hark! The bells remind
'Tis time to go,—she went away,
Leaving her virgin heart behind,
And richer for the loss. A ray,
Shot down from heaven, appeared to tinge
All objects with supernal light,
The thatches had a rainbow fringe,
The cornfields looked more green and bright.
Savitri's first care was to tell
Her mother all her feelings new;
The queen her own fears to dispel
To the king's private chamber flew.
"Now what is it, my gentle queen,
That makes thee hurry in this wise?"
She told him, smiles and tears between,
All she had heard; the king with sighs
Sadly replied:—"I fear me much!
Whence is his race and what his creed?
Not knowing aught, can we in such
A matter delicate, proceed?"
Her mother all her feelings new;
The queen her own fears to dispel
To the king's private chamber flew.
"Now what is it, my gentle queen,
That makes thee hurry in this wise?"
She told him, smiles and tears between,
All she had heard; the king with sighs
Sadly replied:—"I fear me much!
Whence is his race and what his creed?
Not knowing aught, can we in such
A matter delicate, proceed?"
As if the king's doubts to allay,
Came Narad Muni to the place
A few days after. Old and gray,
All loved to see the gossip's face,
Great Brahma's son,—adored of men,
Long absent, doubly welcome he
Unto the monarch, hoping then
By his assistance, clear to see.
No god in heaven, nor king on earth,
But Narad knew his history,—
The sun's, the moon's, the planets' birth
Was not to him a mystery.
Came Narad Muni to the place
A few days after. Old and gray,
All loved to see the gossip's face,
Great Brahma's son,—adored of men,
Long absent, doubly welcome he
Unto the monarch, hoping then
By his assistance, clear to see.
No god in heaven, nor king on earth,
But Narad knew his history,—
The sun's, the moon's, the planets' birth
Was not to him a mystery.
"Now welcome, welcome, dear old friend,
All hail, and welcome once again!"
The greeting had not reached its end,
When glided like a music-strain
Savitri's presence through the room.—
"And who is this bright creature, say,
Whose radiance lights the chamber's gloom—
Is she an Apsara or fay?"
"No son thy servant hath, alas!
This is my one,—my only child;"—
"And married?"—"No."—"The seasons pass,
Make haste, O king,"—he said, and smiled.
All hail, and welcome once again!"
The greeting had not reached its end,
When glided like a music-strain
Savitri's presence through the room.—
"And who is this bright creature, say,
Whose radiance lights the chamber's gloom—
Is she an Apsara or fay?"
"No son thy servant hath, alas!
This is my one,—my only child;"—
"And married?"—"No."—"The seasons pass,
Make haste, O king,"—he said, and smiled.
"That is the very theme, O sage,
In which thy wisdom ripe I need;
Seen hath she at the hermitage
A youth to whom in very deed
Her heart inclines."—"And who is he?"
"My daughter, tell his name and race,
Speak as to men who best love thee."
She turned to them her modest face,
And answered quietly and clear.—
"Ah, no! ah, no!—It cannot be—
Choose out another husband, dear,"—
The Muni cried,—"or woe is me!"
In which thy wisdom ripe I need;
Seen hath she at the hermitage
A youth to whom in very deed
Her heart inclines."—"And who is he?"
"My daughter, tell his name and race,
Speak as to men who best love thee."
She turned to them her modest face,
And answered quietly and clear.—
"Ah, no! ah, no!—It cannot be—
Choose out another husband, dear,"—
The Muni cried,—"or woe is me!"
"And why should I? When I have given
My heart away, though but in thought,
Can I take back? Forbid it, Heaven!
It were a deadly sin, I wot.
And why should I? I know no crime
In him or his."—"Believe me, child,
My reasons shall be clear in time,
I speak not like a madman wild;
Trust me in this."—"I cannot break
A plighted faith,—I cannot bear
A wounded conscience."—"Oh, forsake
This fancy, hence may spring despair."—
My heart away, though but in thought,
Can I take back? Forbid it, Heaven!
It were a deadly sin, I wot.
And why should I? I know no crime
In him or his."—"Believe me, child,
My reasons shall be clear in time,
I speak not like a madman wild;
Trust me in this."—"I cannot break
A plighted faith,—I cannot bear
A wounded conscience."—"Oh, forsake
This fancy, hence may spring despair."—
"It may not be."—The father heard
By turns the speakers, and in doubt
Thus interposed a gentle word,—
"Friend should to friend his mind speak out,
Is he not worthy? tell us."—"Nay,
All worthiness is in Satyavan,
And no one can my praise gainsay:
Of solar race—more god than man!
Great Soorasen, his ancestor,
And Dyoumatsen his father blind
Are known to fame: I can aver
No kings have been so good and kind."
By turns the speakers, and in doubt
Thus interposed a gentle word,—
"Friend should to friend his mind speak out,
Is he not worthy? tell us."—"Nay,
All worthiness is in Satyavan,
And no one can my praise gainsay:
Of solar race—more god than man!
Great Soorasen, his ancestor,
And Dyoumatsen his father blind
Are known to fame: I can aver
No kings have been so good and kind."
"Then where, O Muni, is the bar?
If wealth be gone, and kingdom lost,
His merit still remains a star,
Nor melts his lineage like the frost.
For riches, worldly power, or rank
I care not,—I would have my son
Pure, wise, and brave,—the Fates I thank
I see no hindrance, no, not one."
"Since thou insistest, King, to hear
The fatal truth,—I tell you,—I,
Upon this day as rounds the year
The young Prince Satyavan shall die."
If wealth be gone, and kingdom lost,
His merit still remains a star,
Nor melts his lineage like the frost.
For riches, worldly power, or rank
I care not,—I would have my son
Pure, wise, and brave,—the Fates I thank
I see no hindrance, no, not one."
"Since thou insistest, King, to hear
The fatal truth,—I tell you,—I,
Upon this day as rounds the year
The young Prince Satyavan shall die."
This was enough. The monarch knew
The future was no sealèd book
To Brahma's son. A clammy dew
Spread on his brow,—he gently took
Savitri's palm in his, and said:
"No child can give away her hand,
A pledge is nought unsanctionèd;
And here, if right I understand,
There was no pledge at all,—a thought,
A shadow,—barely crossed the
The future was no sealèd book
To Brahma's son. A clammy dew
Spread on his brow,—he gently took
Savitri's palm in his, and said:
"No child can give away her hand,
A pledge is nought unsanctionèd;
And here, if right I understand,
There was no pledge at all,—a thought,
A shadow,—barely crossed the