he would one day dash Duḥśasana to pieces and drink his blood' (II. 2302). In the end a compromise was agreed upon. The kingdom was given up to Duryodhana for twelve years; and the five Pandavas, with Draupadi, were required to live for that period in the woods, and to pass the thirteenth concealed under assumed names in various disguises.

They accordingly retired to the Kamyaka forest, and took up their abode on the banks of the Sarasvati.

While they were resident in the forest, various episodes occurred, thus:

Arjuna went to the Himalaya mountains to perform severe penance, and thereby obtain celestial arms. After some time Siva, to reward him and prove his bravery, approached him as a Kirāta or wild mountaineer living by the chase, at the moment that a demon named Mūka, in the form of a boar, was making an attack upon him. Siva and Arjuna both shot together at the boar, which fell dead, and both claimed to have hit him first. This served as a pretext for Siva, as the Kirāta, to quarrel with Arjuna, and have a battle with him. Arjuna fought long with the Kirata, but could not conquer him. At last he recognized the god, and threw himself at his feet. Siva, pleased with his bravery, gave him the celebrated weapon Pasupata, to enable him to conquer Karna and the Kuru princes in war (III. 1650, 1664).

Many legends were also repeated to console and amuse the Pandu princes in their time of exile. For instance, we have here introduced (III. 12746-12804) the epic version of the tradition of the Deluge (the earliest account

1 This threat he fulfilled. The incident is noticeable as it is the subject of the well-known drama by Bhaṭṭa-nārāyana called Veņi-samhāra, 'braidbinding,' which describes how the braided hair torn by Duḥśāsana was again bound together by Bhima, who is made to say Svayam aham samharāmi, 'I myself will again bind the braid together.' See Sahityadarpaṇa, p. 169.

2 This forms the subject of a celebrated poem by Bhāravi called the Kirātārjunīya. Siva was regarded as the god of the Kirātas, who were evidently a race of aborigines much respected by the Hindus for their bravery and skill in archery.

of which occurs in the Satapatha-brāhmaṇa, see p. 32 of this volume), as follows:

Manu, the Hindu Noah (not the grandson of Brahma, and reputed author of the Code, but the seventh Manu, or Manu of the present period, called Vaivasvata, and regarded as one of the progenitors of the human race, Manu I. 61, 62), is represented as conciliating the favour of the Supreme Being by his austerities in an age of universal depravity. A fish, which was an incarnation of Brahma (cf. p. 329), appeared to him whilst engaged in penance on the margin of a river, and accosting him, craved protection from the larger fish. Manu complied, and placed him in a glass vessel. Having outgrown this, he requested to be taken to a more roomy receptacle. Manu then placed him in a lake. Still the fish grew, till the lake, though three leagues long, could not contain him. He next asked to be taken to the Ganges; but even the Ganges was soon too small, and the fish was finally transferred to the ocean. There he continued to expand, till at last, addressing Manu, he warned him of the coming Deluge.

Manu, however, was to be preserved by the help of the fish, who commanded him to build a ship and go on board, not with his own wife and children, but with the seven Rishis or patriarchs; and not with pairs of animals, but with the seeds of all existing things. The flood came; Manu went on board, and fastened the ship, as directed, to a horn in the fish's head. He was then drawn along1-(I translate nearly literally): Along the ocean in that stately ship was borne the lord of men, and through Its dancing, tumbling billows, and its roaring waters; and the bark, Tossed to and fro by violent winds, reeled on the surface of the deep, Staggering and trembling like a drunken woman. Land was seen no more, Nor far horizon, nor the space between; for everywhere around Spread the wild waste of waters, reeking atmosphere, and boundless sky. And now when all the world was deluged, nought appeared above the waves But Manu and the seven sages, and the fish that drew the bark. Unwearied thus for years on years the fish propelled the ship across The heaped-up waters, till at length it bore the vessel to the peak Of Himavan; then, softly smiling, thus the fish addressed the sage: Haste now to bind thy ship to this high crag. Know me the lord of all,

1 There is still a later account of the Deluge in the Bhāgavata-purāṇa, where the fish is represented as an incarnation of Vishņu. The god's object in descending as a fish seems to have been to steer the ship. In the Assyrian account (as interpreted by Mr. G. Smith) sailors and a helmsman are taken on board.

The great creator Brahma, mightier than all might-omnipotent.
By me in fish-like shape hast thou been saved in dire emergency.
From Manu all creation, gods, Asuras, men, must be produced;
By him the world must be created-that which moves and moveth not.
Another tale told in this section of the poem (III. 16619,
&c.) may be cited for its true poetic feeling and pathos-
qualities in which it is scarcely excelled by the story of
Admetus and Alcestis. I subjoin the briefest epitome :

Sāvitrī, the beautiful daughter of a king Asvapati, loved Satyavān, the son of an old hermit, but was warned by a seer to overcome her attachment, as Satyavan was a doomed man, having only one year to live. But Savitri replies1:

Whether his years be few or many, be he gifted with all grace

Or graceless, him my heart hath chosen, and it chooseth not again. The king's daughter and the hermit's son were therefore married, and the bride strove to forget the ominous prophecy; but as the last day of the year approached, her anxiety became irrepressible. She exhausted herself in prayers and penances, hoping to stay the hand of the destroyer; yet all the while dared not reveal the fatal secret to her husband. At last the dreaded day arrived, and Satyavan set out to cut wood in the forest. His wife asked leave to accompany him, and walked behind her husband, smiling, but with a heavy heart. Satyavan soon made the wood resound with his hatchet, when suddenly a thrill of agony shot through his temples, and feeling himself falling, he called out to his wife to support him.

Then she received her fainting husband in her arms, and sat herself
On the cold ground, and gently laid his drooping head upon her lap;
Sorrowing, she call'd to mind the sage's prophecy, and reckoned up
The days and hours. All in an instant she beheld an awful shape
Standing before her, dressed in blood-red garments, with a glittering crown
Upon his head his form, though glowing like the sun, was yet obscure,
And eyes he had like flames, a noose depended from his hand; and he
Was terrible to look upon, as by her husband's side he stood
And gazed upon him with a fiery glance. Shuddering she started up
And laid her dying Satyavān upon the ground, and with her hands
Joined reverently, she thus with beating heart addressed the Shape:

1 I translate as closely as I can to the original. This and other select specimens of Indian poetry have been more freely and poetically translated by Mr. R. Griffiths.

Surely thou art a god, such form as thine must more than mortal be! Tell me, thou godlike being, who thou art, and wherefore art thou here?

The figure replied that he was Yama, king of the dead; that her husband's time was come, and that he must bind and take his spirit:

Then from her husband's body forced he out and firmly with his cord
Bound and detained the spirit, clothed in form no larger than a thumb1.
Forthwith the body, reft of vital being and deprived of breath,
Lost all its grace and beauty, and became ghastly and motionless.

After binding the spirit, Yama proceeds with it towards the quarter of which he is guardian-the south. The faithful wife follows him closely. Yama bids her go home and prepare her husband's funeral rites; but she persists in following, till Yama, pleased with her devotion, grants her any boon she pleases, except the life of her husband. She chooses that her husband's father, who is blind, may recover his sight. Yama consents, and bids her now return home. Still she persists in following. Two other boons are granted in the same way, and still Savitri follows closely on the heels of the king of death. At last, overcome by her constancy, Yama grants a boon without exception. The delighted Savitri exclaims

Nought, mighty king, this time hast thou excepted: let my husband live;
Without him I desire not happiness, nor even heaven itself;
Without him I must die. 'So be it! faithful wife,' replied the king of death;
'Thus I release him;' and with that he loosed the cord that bound his soul.

During the residence of the five brothers in the forest, Jayad-ratha attempted to carry off Draupadi, while they were absent on a shooting excursion. This resembles in some respects the story of Sita's forcible abduction by Rāvana in the Rāmāyaṇa (III. 15572), which story, therefore, is here told (15945. See p. 368 of this volume).

In the thirteenth year of exile, the Pandavas journeyed to the court of king Virața, and entered his service in different disguises :

Yudhi-shthira called himself a Brahman and took the name of Kanka (23); Arjuna named himself Vrṛihan-nalā, and pretending to be a eunuch (tritiyām prakritim gataḥ), adopted a sort of woman's dress, putting bracelets on his arms and ear-rings in his ears, in order, as he said, to

hide the scars caused by his bow-string. He undertook in this capacity to teach dancing, music, and singing to the daughter of Virața and the other women of the palace, and soon gained their good graces (IV. 310).

One day when Virāța and four of the Pandavas were absent, Duryodhana and his brothers made an expedition against Virāța's capital, Matsya, and carried off some cattle. Uttara the son of Virața (in the absence of his father) determined to follow and attack the Kuru army, if any one could be found to act as his charioteer. Vṛihan-nala (Arjuna) undertook this office, and promised to bring back fine clothes and ornaments for Uttarā and the other women of the palace (IV. 1226). When they arrived in sight of the Kuru army, the courage of Uttara, who was a mere youth, failed him. Vrihan-nalā then made him act as charioteer, while he himself (Arjuna) undertook to fight the Kauravas. Upon that great prodigies occurred. Terror seized Bhishma, Duryodhana, and their followers, who suspected that Vṛihan-nala was Arjuna in disguise, and even the horses shed tears1 (IV. 1290). Duryodhana, however, declared that if he turned out to be Arjuna, he would have to wander in exile for a second period of twelve years. Meanwhile Arjuna revealed himself to Uttara, and explained also the disguises of his brothers and Draupadi. Uttara, to test his veracity, inquired whether he could repeat Arjuna's ten names, and what each meant. Arjuna enumerated them (Arjuna, Phalguna, Jishņu, Kirīțin, Svetavāhana, Bībhatsu, Vijaya, Krishna, Savyasaćin, Dhananjaya), and explained their derivation2 (IV. 1380). Uttara then declared that he was satisfied, and no longer afraid of the Kuru army (IV. 1393).

Arjuna next put off his bracelets and woman's attire, strung his bow Gāṇḍīva, and assumed all his other weapons, which had been concealed in a Sami tree. They are described as addressing him suppliantly, and saying, 'We are your servants, ready to carry out your commands "' (IV. 1421). He also removed Uttara's standard and placed his own ape-emblazoned banner in front of the chariot. Then was fought a great battle between Arjuna and the Kauravas. In the end the whole Kuru army fled before him, and all the property and cattle of Virāța was recovered. Arjuna told Uttara to conceal the real circumstances of the battle, but to send messengers to his father's capital announcing his victory, which so delighted Virața that he ordered the whole city to be decorated.

1 Compare Homer, Iliad XVII. 426.

2 See Arjuna's other names in note 4, p. 382.

3 Compare note 1, p. 402.