all parts of India; and on a certain night in the
year millions of Hindu women celebrate a rite in honour of the woman
whose love was not conquered by death. Legends like these, though
they take away from the unity and conciseness of the Epic, impart a
moral instruction to the millions of India the value of which cannot
be overestimated.

The portion translated in this Book forms Sections ccxcii. And
ccxciii., a part of Section ccxciv. and Sections ccxcv. and ccxcvi.
of Book iii. of the original text.

I

Forest Life

In the dark and pathless forest long the Pandav brothers strayed,
In the bosom of the jungle with the fair Draupadi stayed,

And they killed the forest red-deer, hewed the gnarled forest wood,
From the stream she fetched the water, cooked the humble daily food,

In the morn she swept the cottage, lit the cheerful fire at eve,
But at night in lonesome silence oft her woman's heart would grieve,

Insults rankled in her bosom and her tresses were unbound,--
So she vowed,--till fitting vengeance had the base insulters found!

Oft when evening's shades descended, mantling o'er the wood and lea,
When Draupadi by the cottage cooked the food beneath the tree,

_Rishis_ came to good Yudhishthir, sat beside his evening fires,
Many olden tales recited, legends of our ancient sires.

Markandeya, holy _rishi_, once unto Yudhishthir came,
When his heart was sorrow-laden with the memories of his shame,

"Pardon, rishi!" said Yudhishthir, "if unbidden tears will start,
But the woes of fair Draupadi grieve a banished husband's heart,

By her tears the saintly woman broke my bondage worse than death,
By my sins she suffers exile and misfortune's freezing breath!

Dost thou, sage and saintly _rishi_, know of wife or woman born,
By such nameless sorrow smitten, by such strange misfortune torn?

Hast thou in thy ancient legends heard of true and faithful wife,
With a stronger wife's affection, with a sadder woman's life?"

"Listen, monarch!" said the _rishi_, "to a tale of ancient date,
How Savitri loved and suffered, how she strove and conquered Fate!"

II

The Tale of Savitri

In the country of the Madras lived a king in days of old,
Faithful to the holy BRAHMA, pure in heart and righteous-souled,

He was loved in town and country, in the court and hermit's den,
Sacrificer to the bright gods, helper to his brother men,

But the monarch, Aswapati, son or daughter had he none,
Old in years and sunk in