] Now that the holy men
have completed their rites, and have no more need of my services, how
shall I dispel my melancholy? [_Sighing._ I have but one resource. Oh
for another sight of the idol of my soul! I will seek her. [_Glancing at
the sun._] In all probability, as the sun's heat is now at its height,
Sakoontala is passing her time under the shade of the bowers on the
banks of the Malini, attended by her maidens. I will go and look for her
there. [_Walking and looking about._] I suspect the fair one has but
just passed by this avenue of young-trees.
Here, as she tripped along, her fingers plucked
The opening buds: these lacerated plants,
Shorn of their fairest blossoms by her hand,
Seem like dismembered trunks, whose recent wounds
Are still unclosed; while from the bleeding socket
Of many a severed stalk, the milky juice
Still slowly trickles, and betrays her path.
[_Feeling a breeze._] What a delicious breeze meets me in this spot!
Here may the zephyr, fragrant with the scent
Of lotuses, and laden with the spray
Caught from the waters of the rippling stream,
Fold in its close embrace my fevered limbs.
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