eBooks Base 2000

There haps to man
Nothing unless by destiny. Why else,
Seeing that never have I wrought one wrong,
From childhood's hours, in thought or word or deed,
Hath this woe chanced? May be--meseems it may!--
The mighty gods, at my Swayamvara
Slighted by me for Nala's dearest sake,
Are wroth, and by their dread displeasure thus
To loss and loneliness I am consigned!"
So--woe-begone and wild--this noble wife,
Deserted Damayanti, poured her griefs:
And afterwards, with certain Brahmanas
Saved from the rout--good men who knew the Veds--
Sadly her road she finished, like the moon
That goeth clouded in the month of rain.
Thus travelling long, the Princess drew at last
Nigh to a city, at the evening hour.
The dwelling-place it was of Chedi's Chief,
The just Subahu. Through its lofty gates
Painfully passed she, clad in half a cloth;
And as she entered--sorrow-stricken, wan,
Foot-weary, stained with mire, with unsmoothed hair,
Unbathed, and eyes of madness--those who saw,
Wondered and stared, and watched her as she toiled
Down the long city street.


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