Hissed along, some brightly flashing, turbid some and ochre

dyed.

With my bow in that glad season to fair Sarju's stream I drove,

Bent to try my archer prowess in a dark and stately grove. There I lay in ambush hidden by the river's reedy side, Where the beasts that roam the forest sought at eve the cooling tide.

Hark! a sound of troubled water from the neighbouring stream I heard :

All was dark and still around me, not a breath the branches

stirred.

Eager to lay low the monster forth a glittering shaft I drew; Poisonous as serpent's venom from my string the arrow flew. Then I heard a bitter wailing and a voice of direst pain Calling out, Ah me, unhappy! Dearest father, I am slain!' Writhing on the bank in anguish sobbingly one cried, 'Ah me! Wherefore has this arrow smitten a poor harmless devotee? Here at eve to fill my pitcher to this lonely stream I came : Tell me whom I have offended, who my harmless act can blame.

Who could have the heart to kill me, me the guiltless her

mit's child,

Drinking from the stream and eating fruit and herbs he ga

thers wild?

Would the slayer strip my body? He will find but scanty

spoil :

Coat of bark and deerskin mantle hardly will repay his toil. "Tis not for myself I sorrow: from mine aged parents torn, Long their stay and only succour, 'tis for their sad fate I

mourn.

Who will feed them when I perish? wretched man, whoe'er

thou art,

Thou hast murdered father, mother, offspring, all with one

fell dart.'

Horror seized my soul within me, and my mind was well

nigh fled,

In the stilly calm of evening as I heard the words he said. Rushing forward through the bushes on the river-bank I spied Lying low a young ascetic with my shaft deep in his side. With his matted hair dishevelled, and his pitcher cast away, From his side the life blood ebbing, smeared with dust and gore he lay.

Then he fixt his eyes upon me: scarcely could my spirit

brook,

As these bitter words he uttered, that long last departing look: 'Only to fetch water came I: tell me, wherefore do I bleed? Have I sinned against thee, monarch? Done thee wrong in word or deed?

Ah! I'm not thine only victim: cruel king, thy heedless dart
Pierces too a father's bosom and an aged mother's heart.
They, my parents, blind and feeble, from this hand alone can
drink:

When I come not, thirsting, hoping, sadly down in death they 'll sink.

Naught from lore of studied Scripture, naught from penance

do I gain,

For my hapless father knows not his dear son is lying slain.
Ah! and if he knew me dying powerless to save were he,
As a tree can never rescue from the axe a fated tree.
Hasten to him, son of Raghu. Tell my father of my fate,
Lest his wrath like fire consume thee. Hasten, ere it be too

late.

There within the shady forest is my father's hermitage:

Go, entreat him, son of Raghu, lest he curse thee in his rage.' Thus he spake, and I down-kneeling, drew the arrow from

his side:

M

Drinking from the stream and eating fruit and herbs he

thers wild?

Would the slayer strip my body? He will find but sc

spoil :

Coat of bark and deerskin mantle hardly will repay his 'Tis not for myself I sorrow: from mine aged parents t Long their stay and only succour, 'tis for their sad

mourn.

Who will feed them when I perish? wretched man,

thou art,

Thou hast murdered father, mother, offspring, all w

fell dart.'

T

Horror seized

my

soul within

me, and my mind w

nigh fled,

In the stilly calm of evening as I heard the words h
Rushing forward through the bushes on the river-bar
Lying low a young ascetic with my shaft deep in hi
With his matted hair dishevelled, and his pitcher ca
From his side the life blood ebbing, smeared wit
gore he lay.

Then he fixt his eyes upon me: scarcely could

brook,