e world.
From Vidarbha's pleasant waters--her by cruel fate plucked up,
[112]Like a lotus flower uprooted--with the mire and dirt around:
Like the pallid night, when Rahu[113]--swallows up the darkened moon:
For her husband wan with sorrow--like a gentle stream dried up;
Like a pool, where droops the lotus--whence the affrighted birds have fled,
By the elephant's proboscis--in its quiet depths disturbed.
Tender, soft-limbed, in a palace--fit, of precious stones, to dwell.
Like the lotus stem, uprooted--parched and withered by the sun.
Fair in form, in soul as generous--worthy of all bliss, unbless'd,
Like the young moon's slender crescent--in the heavens by dark clouds
veiled.
Widowed now of all love's pleasures--of her noble kin despoiled,
Wretched, bearing life, her husband--in her hope again to see.
To the unadorned, a husband[114]--is the chiefest ornament;
Of her husband if forsaken--she in splendour is not bright.
Difficult must be the trial--does king Nala, reft of her,
Still retain his wretched body--nor with sorrow pine away?
Her with her dark flowing tresses--with her long and lotus eyes,
Worthy of all joy, thus joyless--as I see, my soul is wrung.
To the furthest shore of sorrow--when will pass this beauteous queen?
To her husband reunited--as the moon's bride[115] to the moon?
Her recovering shall king Nala--to his happiness return,
King, albeit despoiled of kingdom--he his realm shall reassume;
In their age and virtues equal--equal in their noble race,
He alone of her is worthy--worthy she alone of him.
Me beseems it of that peerless--of that brave and prudent king,
To console the loyal consort--pining for her husband's sight.
Her will I address with comfort--with her moonlike glowing face.
Her with woe once unacquainted--woful now and lost in thought."
Thus when he had gazed and noted--all her marks, her features well,
To the daughter of king Bhima--thus the sage Sudeva spake:
"I am named Sudeva, lady--I, thy brother's chosen friend,
By king Bhima's royal mandate--hither come in search of thee.
Well thy sire, thy royal mother--well thy noble brethren fare,
And well fare those little infants--well and happy are they both.
For thy sake thy countless kindred--sit as though of sense bereft:
Seeking thee a hundred Brahmins--now are wandering o'er the earth."