XCV. So shall my thanks repay thy gentle deed, So by the breezes wafted, shalt thou speed To pleasant regions where thou fain wouldst be, May the sweet rain ne'er fail thee; and thy bride, Flashing upon thy breast or sporting at thy side.' XCVI. The mourner ceased; the airy envoy heard; Kuvera's breast with soft compassion stirred. His ear in mercy to the tale he bent That led his yielding spirit to relent, And made him, ere the term was nigh, restore The exile languishing in banishment, And freely bade him, all his trials o'er, Live with his love again with joy for evermore. THE SUPPLIANT DOVE. Chased by a hawk, there came a dove With worn and weary wing, And took her stand upon the hand Of Kasi's noble king. The monarch smoothed her ruffled plumes And cried, 'No fear shall vex thee here, Rest, pretty egg-born, rest! Fair Kasi's realm is rich and wide, With golden harvests gay, But all that's mine will I resign ¡Benares. Ere I my guest betray.' But, panting for his half-won spoil, The hawk was close behind, And with wild eye and eager cry Came swooping down the wind: 'Tis mine by right and toilsome flight Hunger and thirst oppress me sore, And I am faint with toil: Thou shouldst not stay a bird of prey They say thou art a glorious king, And justice is thy care: Then justly reign in thy domain, Nor rob the birds of air.' Then cried the king: A cow' or deer For thee shall straightway bleed, Or let a ram or tender lamb Be slain, for thee to feed. I have retained the cow at the risk of hurting the feelings of some sensitive Hindus. This apologue was composed before the cow was sacrosanct. Mine oath forbids me to betray My little twice-born guest: See, how she clings, with trembling wings, To her protector's breast.' No flesh of lambs,' the hawk replied, 'No blood of deer for me; The falcon loves to feed on doves, And such is Heaven's decree. But if affection for the dove Thy pitying heart has stirred, Let thine own flesh my maw refresh, He carved the flesh from off his side, And threw it in the scale, While women's cries smote on the skies With loud lament and wail. He hacked the flesh from side and arm, From chest and back and thigh, But still above the little dove The monarch's scale stood high. He heaped the scale with piles of flesh, And when alone was left him bone He threw himself therein. Then thundered voices through the air; The sky grew black as night; And fever took the earth that shook To see that wondrous sight. The blessed Gods, from every sphere, By Indra led, came nigh; While drum and flute and shell and lute Made music in the sky. They rained immortal chaplets down, Which hands celestial twine, And softly shed upon his head Pure Amrit, drink divine. Then God and Seraph, Bard and Nymph Their heavenly voices raised, And a glad throng with dance and song The glorious monarch praised. They set him on a golden car That blazed with many a gem; Then swiftly through the air they flew, And bore him home with them. |