ly engross thee. Then the bliss
Of bearing him a son--a noble boy,
Bright as the day-star--shall transport thy soul
With new delights, and little shalt thou reck
Of the light sorrow that afflicts thee now
At parting from thy father and thy friends.

[_Sakoontala throws herself at her foster-father's feet_.

KANWA.--Blessings on thee, my child! May all my hopes of thee be
realized!

SAKOONTALA [_approaching her friends_].--Come, my two loved companions,
embrace me--both of you together.

PRIYAMVADA AND ANASUYA [_embracing her_].--Dear Sakoontala, remember, if
the King should by any chance be slow in recognizing you, you have only
to show him this ring, on which his own name is engraved.

SAKOONTALA.--The bare thought of it puts me in a tremor.

PRIYAMVADA AND ANASUYA.--There is no real cause for fear, dearest.
Excessive affection is too apt to suspect evil where none exists.

SARNGARAVA.--Come, lady, we must hasten on. The sun is rising in the
heavens.

SAKOONTALA [_looking towards the hermitage_].--Dear father, when shall I
ever see this hallowed grove again?

KANWA.--I will tell thee; listen--
When thou hast passed a long and blissful life
As King Dushyanta's queen, and jointly shared
With all the earth his ever-watchful care;
And hast beheld thine own heroic son,
Matchless in arms, united to a spouse
In happy wedlock; when his aged sire,
Thy faithful husband, hath to him resigned
The helm of state; then, weary of the world,
Together with Dushyanta thou shalt seek
The calm seclusion of thy former home:--
There amid holy scenes to be at peace,
Till thy pure spirit gain its last release.

GAUTAMI.--Come, my child, the favorable time for our journey is fast
passing. Let thy father return. Venerable Sire, be thou the first to
move homewards, or these last words will never end.

KANWA.--Daughter, detain me no longer. My religious duties must not be
interrupted.

SAKOONTALA [_again embracing her foster-father_].--Beloved father, thy
frame is much enfeebled by penitential exercises. Do not, oh! do not,
allow thyself to sorrow too much on my account.

KANWA [_sighing_].--How, O my child, shall my bereaved heart
Forget its bitterness, when, day by day,
Full in my sight shall grow the tender plants
Reared by thy care, or sprung from hallowed grain
Which thy loved hands have strewn around the door--
A frequent