The holy sage possesses magic power
In virtue of his penance; she, his ward,
Under the shadow of his tutelage,
Rests in security, I know it well;
Yet sooner shall the rushing cataract
In foaming eddies re-ascend the steep,
Than my fond heart turn back from its pursuit.

God of love! God of the flowery shafts [47]! we lovers are cruelly
deceived by thee, and by the Moon, however deserving of confidence
you may both appear.

For not to us do these thine arrows seem
Pointed with tender flowerets; not to us
Doth the pale Moon irradiate the earth
With beams of silver fraught with cooling dews;
But on our fevered frames the moon-beams fall
Like darts of fire, and every flower-tipt shaft
Of Kama[47], as it probes our throbbing hearts,
Seems to be barbed with hardest adamant.

Adorable god of love! hast thou no pity for me?

[_In a tone of anguish_.]

How can thy arrows be so sharp when they are pointed with
flowers? Ah! I know the reason:

E'en now in thine unbodied essence lurks
The fire of [S']iva's anger[48], like the flame
That ever hidden in the secret depths
Of ocean, smoulders there unseen[49]. How else
Could'st thou, all immaterial as thou art,
Inflame our hearts thus fiercely?--thou, whose form
Was scorched to ashes by a sudden flash
From the offended god's terrific eye.

Yet, methinks,

Welcome this anguish, welcome to my heart
These rankling wounds inflicted by the god,
Who on his scutcheon bears the monster-fish[50]
Slain by his prowess; welcome death itself,
So that, commissioned by the lord of love,
This fair one be my executioner.
Adorable divinity! Can I by no reproaches excite your commiseration?
Have I not daily offered at thy shrine
Innumerable vows, the only food
Of thine ethereal essence? Are my prayers
Thus to be slighted? Is it meet that thou
Should'st aim thy shafts at thy true votary's heart,
Drawing thy bow-string even to thy ear?

[_Pacing up and down in a melancholy manner_.]

Now that the holy men have completed their rites, and have no
more need of my services, how shall I dispel my melancholy?

[_Sighing_.]

I have but one resource. Oh for another sight of the Idol of my
soul! I will seek her.

[_Glancing at the sun_.]

In all probability, as the sun's heat is now at its height,
[S']akoontala is passing her time under the shade of the bowers on
the banks of the Malini, attended by her maidens. I w