not wanting."

Inasmuch as he attributes the same qualities to some of the Hala poems
in which we have been unable to find them, it is obvious that his
conception of "deep and truly romantic tenderness" is different from
ours, and it is useless to quarrel about words. Hala's collection,
being an anthology of the best love-songs of many poets, is much more
representative and valuable than if the verses were all by the same
poet. If Hindoo bards and bayaderes had a capacity for true altruistic
love-sentiment, these seven hundred songs could hardly have failed to
reveal it. But to make doubly sure that we are not misrepresenting a
phase of the history of civilization, let us examine the Hindoo dramas
most noted as love-stories, especially those of Kalidasa, whose
_Sakuntala_ in particular was triumphantly held up by some of my
critics as a refutation of my theory that none of the ancient
civilized nations knew romantic love. I shall first briefly summarize
the love-stories told in these dramas, and then point out what they
reveal in regard to the Hindoo conception of love as based,
presumably, on their experiences.

I. THE STORY OF SAKUNTALA

Once upon a time there lived on the banks of the Gautami River a
hermit named Kaucika. He was of royal blood and had made so much
progress with his saintly exercises of penitence that he was on the
point of being able to defy the laws of Nature, and the gods
themselves began to fear his power. To deprive him of it they sent
down a beautiful _apsara_ (celestial bayaderes) to tempt him. He could
not resist her charms, and broke his vows. A daughter was born who
received the name of Sakuntala, and was given in charge of another
saint, named Kanva, who brought her up lovingly as if she had been his
own daughter. She has grown up to be a maiden of more than human
beauty, when one day she is seen by the king, who, while hunting, has
strayed within the sacred precincts while the saint is away on a holy
errand. He is at once fascinated by her beauty--a beauty, as he says
to himself, such as is seldom found in royal chambers--a wild vine
more lovely than any garden-plant--and she, too, confesses to her
companions that since she has seen him she is overcome by a feeling
which seems out of place in this abode of penitence.

The king cannot bear the idea of returning to his palace, but encamps
near the grove of the penitents. He fears that he may not be able to
win the girl's love, and sh