y Puru could fix his
affections on an unlawful object?
Though, as men say, the offspring of the sage,
The maiden to a nymph celestial owes
Her being, and by her mother left on earth,
Was found and nurtured by the holy man
As his own daughter, in this hermitage;--
So, when dissevered from its parent stalk,
Some falling blossom of the jasmine, wafted
Upon the sturdy sunflower, is preserved
By its support from premature decay.

MATHAVYA [_smiling_].--This passion of yours for a rustic maiden, when
you have so many gems of women at home in your palace, seems to me very
like the fancy of a man who is tired of sweet dates, and longs for sour
tamarinds as a variety.

KING.--You have not seen her, or you would not talk in this fashion.

MATHAVYA.--I can quite understand it must require something surpassingly
attractive to excite the admiration of such a great man as you.

KING.--I will describe her, my dear friend, in a few words--
Man's all-wise Maker, wishing to create
A faultless form, whose matchless symmetry
Should far transcend Creation's choicest works,
Did call together by his mighty will,
And garner up in his eternal mind,
A bright assemblage of all lovely things:--
And then, as in a picture, fashion them
Into one perfect and ideal form.
Such the divine, the wondrous prototype,
Whence her fair shape was moulded into being.

MATHAVYA.--If that's the case, she must indeed throw all other beauties
into the shade.

KING.--To my mind she really does.
This peerless maid is like a fragrant flower,
Whose perfumed breath has never been diffused;
A tender bud, that no profaning hand
Has dared to sever from its parent stalk;
A gem of priceless water, just released
Pure and unblemished from its glittering bed.
Or may the maiden haply be compared
To sweetest honey, that no mortal lip
Has sipped; or, rather to the mellowed fruit
Of virtuous actions in some former birth,
Now brought to full perfection? Lives the man
Whom bounteous heaven has destined to espouse her?

MATHAVYA.--Make haste, then, to her aid; you have no time to lose, if
you don't wish this fruit of all the virtues to drop into the mouth of
some greasy-headed rustic of devout habits.

KING.--The lady is not her own mistress, and her foster-father is not at
home.

MATHAVYA.--Well, but tell me, did she look at all kindly upon yo