The lotus with the Saivala entwined
Is not a whit less brilliant: dusky spots
Heighten the lustre of the cold-rayed moon:
This lovely maiden in her dress of bark
Seems all the lovelier. E'en the meanest garb
Gives to true beauty fresh attractiveness.
SAKOONTALA [_looking before her_].--Yon Kesara-tree beckons to me with
its young shoots, which, as the breeze waves them to and fro, appear
like slender fingers. I will go and attend to it. [_Walks towards it_.
PRIYAMVADA.--Dear Sakoontala, prithee, rest in that attitude one moment.
SAKOONTALA.--Why so?
PRIYAMVADA.--The Kesara-tree, whilst your graceful form bends about its
stem, appears as if it were wedded to some lovely twining creeper.
SAKOONTALA.--Ah! saucy girl, you are most appropriately named Priyamvada
("Speaker of flattering things").
KING.--What Priyamvada says, though complimentary, is nevertheless true.
Verily,
Her ruddy lip vies with the opening bud;
Her graceful arms are as the twining stalks;
And her whole form is radiant with the glow
Of youthful beauty, as the tree with bloom.
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