Savitri.pdf

## 1.6 KRISHNA DWAIPAYANA VYASA ### MAHABHARATA (Sanskrit, c. 900-500 B.C.) ### BOOK III: VANA PARVA (SECTIONS 291-7) ## THE STORY OF SAVITRI Book III (Vana Parva) of the Mahabharata deals with the thirteen years of exile which the five Pandava brothers and their wife, Princess Draupadi, spend in...

## 1.6 KRISHNA DWAIPAYANA VYASA ### MAHABHARATA (Sanskrit, c. 900-500 B.C.) ### BOOK III: VANA PARVA (SECTIONS 291-7) ## THE STORY OF SAVITRI Book III (Vana Parva) of the Mahabharata deals with the thirteen years of exile which the five Pandava brothers and their wife, Princess Draupadi, spend in the Kamayaka forest. Among the many relatives, friends, and sages who visit and console them in the forest is rishi Markandeya. Yudhishthir, the eldest of the Pandava brothers, asks Markandeya whether any one man has undergone as much undeserved suffering as he has. The rishi then tells him the story of Rama, the prince of Ayodhya; his fourteen years of exile with his wife Sita and brother Lakshman; the abduction of Sita by Ravana, the king of Lanka; the slaying of Ravana and the rescue of Sita; and the final return of Rama to his kingdom (Sections 271-90). This story later becomes the subject of Valmiki's epic Ramayana (50,000 lines). Though Yudhishthir is somewhat relieved by listening to Rama's story, he asks the sage once again whether there has been any woman as chaste and faithful as Draupadi who, having faithfully followed her husband, has endured so much misery. Markandeya then relates the story of Savitri, the chaste wife, and the power of her chastity, or Pativrata Mahatmya (Sections 291-7). Savitri, along with other famous heroines in Indian literature (e.g. Sita in the epic Ramayana, Kannaki in the epic Shilappadikaram, and Shakuntala in the play Shakuntala), takes her place as an ideal woman, devoted to her husband like 'a shadow to the substance'. Yet of all these faithful and chaste women, Savitri alone wins her husband back from death, as if in a kind of success story wherein Love conquers Death. Her shrewd colloquy with Yama, the god of Death, projecting a kind of woman's logic, makes her even more magnificently woman-like, surpassing the faithful Achaian Alcestis, or Ithacan Penelope, or Hebraic Ruth. ### Age of Rishis The episode of Savitri included here is taken from the translation by Edwin Arnold, Indian Idylls, London: Trubner & Co., 1883. ## 1.6 PATIVRAТА МАНАТMYA: ## THE STORY OF SAVITRI There was a Raja, pious-minded, just, - King of the Madras, – valiant, wise, and true; Victorious over sense, a worshipper; Liberal in giving, prudent, dear alike To peasant and to townsman; one whose joy Lived in the weal of all men - Aswapati - Patient, and free of any woe, he reigned, Save that his manhood passing, left him alone, A childless lord; for this he grieved; for this Heavy observances he underwent, Subduing needs of flesh, and oftentimes Making high sacrifice to Savitri; While, for all food, at each sixth watch he took A little measured dole; and thus he did Through sixteen years (most excellent of Kings!) Till at the last, divinest Savitri Grew well-content, and, taking shining shape, Rose through the flames of sacrifice and showed Unto that prince her heavenly countenance. 'Raja,' the Goddess said - the Gift-bringer - 'Thy piety, thy purity, thy fasts, The largesse of thy hands, thy heart's wide love, Thy strength of faith, have pleased me. Choose some boon. Thy dearest wish, Monarch of Madra, ask; It is not meet such merit go in vain.' The Raja answered: 'Goddess, for the sake Of children I did bear these heavy vows: If thou art well-content, grant me, I pray, Fair babes, continuers of my royal line; This is the boon I choose, obeying law; For - say the holy seers - the first great law Is that a man leave seed.' The Goddess said: 'I knew thine answer, Raja, ere it came; And He, the Maker of all, hath heard my word That this might be, The self-existent One Consenteth. Born there shall be unto thee A girl more sweet than any eyes have seen; There is not found on earth so fair a maid! I that rejoice in the Great Father's will Know this and tell thee.' 'Ah! so may it be!' The Raja cried, once and again; and she, The Goddess, smiled again, and vanished so; While Aswapati to his palace went, There dwelled he, doing justice to all folk; Till, when the hour was good, the wise King lay With her that was his first and fairest wife, And she conceived a girl (a girl, my liege! Better than many boys), which wonder grew In darkness, - as the Moon among the stars Grows from a ring of silver to a round In the month's waxing days, - and when time came The Queen a daughter bore, with lotus-eyes, Lovely of mould. Joyous that Raja made The birth-feast; and because the fair gift fell From Savitri the Goddess, and because It was her day of sacrifice, they gave The name of 'Savitri' unto the child. In grace and beauty grew the maid, as if Lakshmi's own self had taken woman's form. Lakshmi: goddess of Prosperity, spouse of Vishnu. And when swift years her gracious youth made ripe, Like to an image of dark gold she seemed Gleaming, with waist so fine, and breasts so deep, And limbs so rounded. When she moved, all eyes Gazed after her, as though an Apsara Had lighted out of Swarga. Not one dared, Of all the noblest lords, to ask for wife That miracle, with eyes purple and soft As lotus-petals, that pure perfect maid, Whose face shed heavenly light where she did go. Once she had fasted, laved her head, and bowed Before the shrine of Agni, – as is meet, And sacrificed, and spoken what is set Unto the Brahmans – taking at their hands The unconsumed offerings, and so passed Into her father's presence - bright as Sri, If Sri were woman! - Meekly at his feet She laid the blossoms; meekly bent her head, Folded her palms, and stood, radiant with grace, Beside the Raja. He, beholding her Come to her growth, and thus divinely fair, Yet sued of none, was grieved at heart and spake: 'Daughter, 'tis time we wed thee, but none comes Asking thee; therefore, thou thyself some youth Choose for thy lord, a virtuous prince: whoso Is dear to thee, he shall be dear to me; For this the rule is by the sages taught – Hear the commandment, noble maid – "That sire Who giveth not his child in marriage Is blamable; and blamable that kin Who weddeth not; and blamable that son Who, when his father dieth, guardeth not His mother." Heeding this, the Raja said, 'Haste thee to choose, and so choose that I bear No guilt, dear child, before the all-secing Gods.' Thus spake he; from the royal presence then Elders and ministers dismissing. She, - Sweet Savitri, - low lying at his feet, With soft shame heard her father, and obeyed. Then, on a bright car mounting, companied By ministers and sages, Savitri Journeyed through groves and pleasant woodland-towns Where pious princes dwelled, in every spot Paying meet homage at the Brahmans' feet; And so from forest unto forest passed, In all the Tirthas making offerings: Thus did the Princess visit place by place. The King of Madra sat among his lords With Narada beside him, counselling: When - (son of Bharat!) entered Savitri; From passing through each haunt and hermitage, Returning with those sages. At the sight Of Narad seated by the Raja's side, Humbly she touched the earth before their feet With bended forehead. Then spake Narada: 'Whence cometh thy fair child? and wherefore, King, Being so ripe in beauty, giv'st thou not The Princess to a husband?' 'Even for that She journeyed,' quoth the Raja; 'being come, Hear for thyself, great Rishi, what high lord My daughter chooseth.' Then, being bid to speak Tirthas: pilgrimage centres. Of Narad and the Raja, Savitri Softly said this: 'In Chalva reigned a prince, Lordly and just, Dyumutsena named, Blind, and his only son not come to age; And this sad king an enemy betrayed Abusing his infirmity, whereby Of throne and kingdom was that king bereft; And with his queen and son, a banished man, He fled into the wood; and, 'neath its shades, A life of holiness doth daily lead. This Raja's son, born in the court, but bred 'Midst forest peace, - royal of blood, and named Prince Satyavan, – to him my choice is given.' 'Aho!' cried Narad, 'evil is this choice Which Savitri hath made, who, knowing not, Doth name the noble Satyavan her lord: For, noble is the Prince, sprung of a pair So just and faithful found in word and deed The Brahmans styled him "Truth-born" at his birth. Horses he loved, and ofttimes would he mould Coursers of clay, or paint them on the wall; Therefore "Chitraswa" was he also called.' Then spake the King: 'By this he shall have grown - Being of so fair birth - either a prince Of valour, or a wise and patient saint.' Quoth Narad: 'Like the sun is Satyavan For grace and glory; like Vrihaspati For counsel; like Mahendra's self for might; And hath the patience of th' all-bearing earth.' 'Is he a liberal giver?' asked the King; 'Loveth he virtue? Wears he noble airs? Goeth he like a prince, with sweet proud looks?" 'He is as glad to give, if he hath store, As Rantideva, Narada replied. 'Pious he is; and true as Shivi was, The son of Usinara; fair of form (Yayati was not fairer); sweet of looks (The Aswins not more gracious); gallant, kind, Reverent, self-governed, gentle, equitable, Modest, and constant. Justice lives in him, And Honour guides. Those who do love a man Praise him for manhood; they that seek a saint Laud him for purity, and passions tamed.' 'A prince thou showest us, the Raja said, 'All virtues owning. Tell me of some faults, If fault he hath,' 'None lives,' quoth Narada, 'But some fault mingles with his qualities; And Satyavan bears that he cannot mend. The blot which spoils his brightness, the defect Forbidding yonder Prince, Raja, is this, – 'Tis fated he shall die after a year: Count from today one year, he perisheth!' 'My Savitri,' the King cried; 'go, dear child, Some other husband choose. This hath one fault; But huge it is, and mars all nobleness: At the year's end he dies; - 'tis Narad's word, Whom the gods teach.' But Savitri replied: 'Once falls a heritage; once a maid yields Her maidenhood; once doth a father say, "Choose, I abide thy choice. These three things done, Are done forever. Be my Prince to live A year, or many years; be he so great As Narada hath said, or less than this; Once have I chosen him, and choose not twice! My heart resolved, my mouth hath spoken it, My hand shall execute; - this is my mind!' Quoth Narad: 'Yea, her mind is fixed, O King, And none will turn her from the path of truth! Also the virtues of Prince Satyavan Shall in no other man be found. Give thou Thy child to him. I gainsay not.' Therewith The Raja sighed: 'Nay, what must be, must be, She speaketh sooth: and I will give my child, For thou our Guru art.' Narada said: 'Frce be the gift of thy fair daughter, then; May happiness yet light! - Raja, I go.' So went that sage, returning to his place; And the King bade the nuptials be prepared. He bade that all things be prepared, - the robes, The golden cups; and summoned priest and sage, Brahman and Rity-yaj and Purohit; And, on a day named fortunate, set forth With Savitri. In the mid-wood they found Dyumutsena's sylvan court: the King, Alighting, paced with slow steps to the spot Where sat the blind lord underneath a sal, On mats woven of kusa grass. Then passed Due salutations; worship, as is meet: - All courteously the Raja spake his name, All courteously the blind King gave to him Earth, and a seat, and water in a jar; Then asked, "What, Maharaja, bringeth thee?' And Aswapati, answering, told him all. Brahman, Rity-yaj, Purohit: learned men, sacrificer, priest. With eyes fixed full upon Prince Satyavan He spake: 'This is my daughter, Savitri; Take her from me to be wife to thy son, According to the law; thou know'st the law.' Dyumutsena said: 'Forced from our throne, Wood-dwellers, hermits, keeping state no more, We follow right, and how would right be done If this most lovely lady we should house Here, in our woods, unfitting home for her?' Answered the Raja: 'Grief and joy we know, And what is real and seeming, - she and I; Nor fits this fear with our unshaken minds. Deny thou not the prayer of him who bows In friendliness before thee; put not by His wish who comes well-minded unto thee; Thy stateless state shows noble; thou and I Are of one rank; take then this maid of mine To be thy daughter, since she chooseth me Thy Satyavan for son.' The blind lord spake: 'It was of old my wish to grow akin, Raja, with thee, by marriage of our blood; But ever have I answered to myself, "Nay, for thy realm is lost; - forgo this hope!" Yet now, so let it be, since so thou wilt; My welcome guest thou art. Thy will is mine.' Then gathered in the forest all those priests, And with due rites the royal houses bound By nuptial tie. And when the Raja saw His daughter, as befits a princess, wed, Home went he, glad. And glad was Satyavan, Winning that beauteous spouse, with all gifts rich; And she rejoiced to be the wife of him, So chosen of her soul. But when her sire Departed, from her neck and arms she stripped Jewels and gold, and o'er her radiant form Folded the robe of bark and yellow cloth Which hermits use; and all hearts did she gain By gentle actions, soft self-government, Patience, and peace. The Queen had joy of her For tender services and mindful cares; The blind King took delight to know her days So holy, and her wise words so restrained; And with her lord in sweet converse she lived Gracious and loving, dutiful and dear. But while in the deep forest softly flowed This quiet life of love and holiness, The swift moons sped; and always in the heart Of Savitri, by day and night, there dwelt The words of Narada, – those dreadful wordst Now, when the pleasant days were passed, which brought The day of Doom, and Satyavan must die (For hour by hour the Princess counted them, Keeping the words of Narada in heart), Bethinking on the fourth noon he should die, She set herself to make the 'Threefold Fast', Three days and nights forgoing food and sleep; Which, when the King Dyumutsena heard, Sorrowful he arose, and spake her thus; 'Daughter, a heavy task thou takest on; Hardly the saintliest soul might such abide,' But Savitri gave answer: 'Have no heed: What I do set myself I will perform; The vow is made, and I shall keep the vow.' 'If it be made,' quoth he, 'it must be kept; We cannot bid thee break thy word, once given.' With that the King forbade not, and she sat Still, as though carved of wood, three days and nights. But when the third night passed, and brought the day Whereon her lord must die, she rose betimes, Made offering on the altar flames, and sang Softly the morning prayers; then, with clasped palms Laid on her bosom, meekly came to greet The King and Queen, and lowlily salute The grey-haired Brahmans. Thereupon those saints - Resident in the woods - made answer mild Unto the Princess: 'Be it well with thee, And with thy lord, for these good deeds of thine. 'May it be well!' she answered; in her heart Full mournfully that hour of fate awaiting Foretold of Narad. 'Daughter, thy vow is kept. Come, now, and eat.' But Savitri replied: 'When the sun sinks This evening, I will eat, - that is my vow.' So when they could not change her, afterward Came Satyavan, the Prince, bound for the woods, An axe upon his shoulder; unto whom Wistfully spake the Princess: 'Dearest Lord, Go not alone today; let me come too; I cannot be apart from thee today.' 'Why not "today"?" quoth Satyavan. 'The wood Is strange to thee, Beloved, and its paths Rough for thy tender feet; besides, with fast Thy soft limbs faint; how wilt thou walk with me?' 'I am not weak nor weary,' she replied, 'And I can walk. Say me not nay, sweet Lord, I have so great a heart to go with thee.' 'If thou hast such good heart,' answered the Prince, 'I shall say yea; but first entreat the leave Of those we reverence, lest a wrong be done.' So, pure and dutiful, she sought that place Where sat the King and Queen, and, bending low, Murmured request: 'My husband goeth straight To the great forest, gathering fruits and flowers; I pray your leave that I may be with him, To make the Agnihotra sacrifice Fetcheth he those, and will not be gainsaid, But surely goeth. Let me go. A year Hath rolled since I did fare from th' hermitage To see our groves in bloom. I have much will To see them now.' The old King gently said: 'In sooth it is a year since she was given To be our son's wife, and I mind me not Of any boon the loving heart hath asked, Nor any one untimely word she spake; Let it be as she prayeth. Go, my child; Have care of Satyavan, and take thy way.' So, being permitted of them both, she went, - That beauteous lady, – at her husband's side, With aching heart, albeit her face was bright. Flower-laden trees her large eyes lighted on, Green glades where pea-fowl sported, crystal streams, And soaring hills whose green sides burned with bloom, Which oft the Prince would bid her gaze upon; But she as oft turned those great eyes from them To look on him, her husband, who must die (For always in her mind were Narad's words). And so she walked behind him, guarding him, Bethinking at what hour her lord must die, Her true heart torn in twain, one half to him Close-cleaving, one half watching if Death come. Then, having reached where woodland fruits did grow, They gathered those, and filled a basket full; And afterwards the Prince plied hard his axe, Cutting the sacred fuel. Presently There crept a pang upon him; a fierce throe Burned through his brows, and, all asweat, he came Feebly to Savitri, and moaned: 'O wife, I am thus suddenly too weak for work; My veins throb, Savitri; my blood runs fire; It is as if a threefold fork were plunged Into my brain. Let me lie down, fair Love! Indeed, I cannot stand upon my feet.' Thereon that noble lady, hastening near, Stayed him, that would have fallen, with quick arms; And, sitting on the earth, laid her lord's head Tenderly in her lap. So bent she, mute, Fanning his face, and thinking 'twas the day – The hour – which Narad named – the sure fixed date Of dreadful end - when, lo! before her rose A shade majestic. Red his garments were, His body vast and dark, like ficry suns The eyes which burned beneath his forehead-cloth; Armed was he with a noose, awful of mien. This Form tremendous stood by Satyavan, Fixing its gaze upon him. At the sight The fearful Princess started to her feet. Heedfully laying on the grass his head, Up started she, with beating heart, and joined Her palms for supplication, and spake thus In accents tremulous: 'Thou sccm'st some god; Thy mien is more than mortal; make me know What god thou art, and what thy purpose here.' And Yama said (the dreadful God of death); 'Thou art a faithful wife, O Savitri, True to thy vows, pious, and dutiful; Therefore I answer thee. Yama I am! This Prince, thy lord, licth at point to die; Him will I straightway bind and bear from life; This is my office, and for this I come.' Then Savitri spake sadly: 'It is taught, Thy messengers are sent to fetch the dying; Why is it, Mightiest, thou art come thyself?' In pity of her love, the Pitiless Answered, - the King of all the Dead replied: 'This was a Prince unparalleled, thy lord; Virtuous as fair, a sea of goodly gifts, Not to be summoned by a meaner voice Than Yama's own: therefore is Yama come.' With that the gloomy God fitted his noose, And forced forth from the Prince the soul of him – Subtile, a thumb in length - which being reft, Breath stayed, blood stopped, his body's grace was gone And all life's warmth to stony coldness turned. Then, binding it, the Silent Presence bore Satyavan's soul away toward the South. But Savitri the Princess followed him: Being so bold in wifely purity, So holy by her love: and so upheld, She followed him. Presently Yama turned. 'Go back,' quoth he; 'pay him the funeral dues, Enough, O Savitri! is wrought for love; Go back! too far already hast thou come.' Then Savitri made answer: 'I must go Where my lord goes, or where my lord is borne; Nought other is my duty. Nay, I think, By reason of my vows, my services Done to the Gurus, and my faultless love, Grant but thy grace, I shall unhindered go. The sages teach that to walk seven steps, One with another, maketh good men friends; Beseech thee, let me say a verse to thee: - Be master of thyself, if thou wilt be Servant of Duty. Such as thou shalt see Not self-subduing, do no deeds of good In youth or age, in household or in wood. But wise men know that virtue is best bliss, And all by some one way may reach to this. It needs not men should pass through orders four To come to knowledge: doing right is more Than any learning; therefore sages say Best and most excellent is Virtue's way.' Spake Yama then: 'Return! yet I am moved By those soft words; justly their accents fell, And sweet and reasonable was their sense. See, now, thou faultless one. Except this life I bear away, ask any boon from me; It shall not be denied.' Savitri said: 'Let, then, the King, my husband's father, have His eyesight back, and be his strength restored, And let him live anew, strong as the sun.' 'I give this gift,' Yama replied: 'thy wish, Blameless, shall be fulfilled. But now go back; Already art thou wearied, and our road Is hard and long. Turn back, lest thou, too, die.' The Princess answered: 'Weary am I not, So I walk nigh my lord. Where he is borne, Thither wend I. Most mighty of the gods, I follow whereso'er thou takest him. A verse is writ on this, if thou wouldst hear: There is nought better than to be With noble souls in company: There is nought dearer than to wend With good friends faithful to the end. This is the love whose fruit is sweet; Therefore to bide therein is meet.' Spake Yama, smiling: 'Beautiful! Thy words Delight me; they are excellent, and teach Wisdom unto the wise, singing soft truth. Look, now! except the life of Satyavan, Ask yet another - any - boon from me.' Savitri said: 'Let, then, the pious King, My husband's father, who hath lost his throne, Have back the Raj; and let him rule his realm In happy righteousness. This boon I ask.' 'He shall have back the throne,' Yama replied, 'And he shall reign in righteousness: these things Will surely fall. But thou, gaining thy wish, Return anon; so shalt thou 'scape sore ill.' 'Ah, awful God! who hold'st the world in leash,' The Princess said, 'restraining evil men, And leading good men, - even unconscious, - there Where they attain, hear yet these famous words: The constant virtues of the good are tenderness and love To all that lives - in earth, air, sea - great, small – below, above, Compassionate of heart, they keep a gentle thought for each, Kind in their actions, mild in will, and pitiful of speech; Who pitieth not he hath not faith; full many an one so lives But when an enemy seeks help the good man gladly gives.' 'As water to the thirsting, Yama said, 'Princess, thy words melodious are to me. Except the life of Satyavan thy lord, Ask one boon yet again, for I will grant.' Answer made Savitri: 'The King, my sire, Hath no male child. Let him see many sons Begotten of his body, who may keep The royal line long regnant. This I ask.' 'So it shall be! the Lord of death replied; 'A hundred fair preservers of his race Thy sire shall boast. But this wish being won, Return, dear Princess; thou hast come too far.' 'It is not far for me,' quoth Savitri, 'Since I am near my husband; nay, my heart Is set to go as far as to the end; But hear these other verses, if thou wilt: By that sunlit name thou bearest, Thou, Vaivaswata! art dearest; Those that as their Lord proclaim thee, King of Righteousness do name thee; Better than themselves the wise Trust the righteous. Each relies Most upon the good, and makes Friendship with them. Friendship takes Fear from hearts; yet friends betray, In good men we may trust alway.' 'Sweet lady, Yama said, 'never were words Spoke better; never truer heard by ear; Lo! I am pleased with thee. Except this soul, Ask one gift yet again, and get thee home.' 'I ask thee, then,' quickly the Princess cried, 'Sons, many sons, born of my body: boys; Satyavan's children; lovely, valiant, strong. Continuers of their line. Grant this, kind God." 'I grant it, Yama answered; 'thou shalt bear Those sons thy heart desireth, valiant, strong. Therefore go back, that years be given thee. Too long a path thou treadest, dark and rough.” But, sweeter than before, the Princess sang: 'In paths of peace and virtue Always the good remain; And sorrow shall not stay with them, Nor long access of pain; At meeting or at parting Joys to their bosom strike; For good to good is friendly, And virtue loves her like. The great sun goes his journey By their strong truth impelled; By their pure lives and penances Is earth itself upheld; Of all which live or shall live Upon its hills and fields, Pure hearts are the "protectors", For virtue saves and shields. 'Never are noble spirits Poor while their like survive; True love has gems to render, And virtue wealth to give. Never is lost or wasted The goodness of the good; Never against a mercy, Against a right, it stood; And seeing this, that virtue Is always friend to all, The virtuous and true-hearted, Men their "protectors" call.' 'Line for line, Princess! as thou sangest so,' Quoth Yama, 'all that lovely praise of good, Grateful to hallowed minds, lofty in sound, And couched in dulcet numbers - word by word - Dearer thou grew'st to me. O thou great heart, Perfect and firm! ask any boon from me, Ask an incomparable boon!' She cried - Swiftly, no longer stayed: 'Not heaven I crave, Nor heavenly joys, nor bliss incomparable, Hard to be granted even by thee; but him, My sweet lord's life, without which I am dead; Give me that gift of gifts! I will not take Aught less without him, - not one boon, - no praise, No splendours, no rewards, - not even those sons Whom thou didst promise. Ah, thou wilt not, now, Bear hence the father of them, and my hope! Make thy free word good; give me Satyavan Alive once more,' And thereupon the God - The Lord of Justice, high Vaivaswata - Loosened the noose and freed the Prince's soul, And gave it to the lady, saying this, With eyes grown tender: 'See, thou sweetest queen Of women, brightest jewel of thy kind! Here is thy husband. He shall live and reign Side by side with thee, - saved by thee, - in peace, And fame, and wealth, and health, many long years; For pious sacrifices world-renowned. Boys shalt thou bear to him, as I did grant, – Kshatriya kings, fathers of kings to be, Sustainers of thy line. Also, thy sire Shall see his name upheld by sons of sons, Like the immortals, valiant, Malavas.' These gifts the awful Yama gave, and went Unto his place; but Savitri – made glad, Having her husband's soul - sped to the glade Where his corse lay. She saw it there, and ran, And, sitting on the earth, lifted its head, And lulled it on her lap full tenderly. Thereat warm life returned; the white lips moved; The fixed eyes brightened, gazed, and gazed again; As when one starts from sleep and sees a face The well-beloved's - grow clear, and, smiling, wakes, So Satyavan. 'Long have I slumbered, Dear,' He sighed, 'why didst thou not arouse me? Where Is gone that gloomy man that haled at me?? Answered the Princess: 'Long, indeed, thy sleep, Dear Lord, and deep; for he that haled at thee Was Yama, God of Death; but he is gone; And thou, being rested and awake, rise now, If thou canst rise; for, look, the night is near!' Thus, newly living, newly waked, the Prince Glanced all around upon the blackening groves, And whispered: 'I came forth to pluck the fruits, O slender-waisted, with thee; then, some pang Shot through my temples while I howed the wood, And I lay down upon thy lap, dear wife, And slept. This do I well remember. Next - Was it a dream, - that vast, dark, mighty One Whom I beheld? Oh, if thou saw'st and know'st, Was it in fancy, or in truth, he came?' Softly she answered: 'Night is falling fast; Tomorrow I will tell thee all, dear Lord. Get to thy feet, and let us seek our home. Guide us, ye Gods! the gloom spreads fast around; The creatures of the forest are abroad, Which roam and cry by night. I hear the leaves Rustle with beasts that creep. I hear this way The yells of prowling jackals; beasts do haunt In the southern wood; their noises make me fear." 'The wood is black with shadows,' quoth the Prince; 'You would not know the path; you could not see it; We cannot go.' She said: 'There was today A fire within this forest, and it burned A withered tree; yonder the branches flame, I'll fetch a lighted brand and kindle wood: See! there is fuel here. Art thou so vexed Because we cannot go? Grieve not. The path Is hidden, and thy limbs are not yet knit. Tomorrow, when the ways grows clear, depart; But, if thou wilt, let us abide tonight.' And Satyavan replied: 'The pains are gone Which racked my brow; my limbs seem strong again; Fain would I reach our home, if thou wilt aid. Ever betimes I have been wont to come At evening to the place where those we love Await us. Ah, what trouble they will know, Father and mother, searching now for us! They prayed me hasten back. How they will weep, Not seeing me; for there is none save me To guard them. "Quick return," they said; "our lives Live upon thine; thou art our eyes, our breath, Our home of lineage; unto thee we look For funeral cakes, for mourning feasts, for all." What will these do alone, not seeing me, Who am their stay? Shame on the idle sleep And foolish dreams which cost them all this pain! I cannot tarry here. My sire belike, Having no eyes, asks at this very hour News of me from each one that walks the wood. Let us depart. Not, Savitri, for us Think I, but for those reverend ones at home, Mourning me now. If they fare well, 'tis well With me; if ill, nought's well; what would please them Is wise and good to do.' Thereat he beat Faint hands, eager to go; and Savitri, Seeing him weeping, wiped his tears away, And gently spake: 'If I have kept the fast, Made sacrifices, given gifts, and wrought Service to holy men, may this black night Be bright to those and thee; for we will go, I think I never spoke a false word once In all my life, not even in jest; I pray My truth may help tonight them, thee, and me!' 'Let us set forth,' he cried; 'if any harm Hath fallen on those so dear, I could not live; I swear it by my soul! As