[_They all walk round_.
KANWA [_repeats a prayer in the metre of the Rig-veda_].--
Holy flames, that gleam around
Every altar's hallowed ground;
Holy flames, whose frequent food
Is the consecrated wood,
And for whose encircling bed,
Sacred Kusa-grass is spread;
Holy flames, that waft to heaven
Sweet oblations daily given,
Mortal guilt to purge away;--
Hear, oh hear me, when I pray--
Purify my child this day!
Now then, my daughter, set out on thy journey. [_Looking on one side_.]
Where are thy attendants, Sarngarava and the others?
YOUNG HERMIT [_entering_].--Here we are, most venerable father.
KANWA.--Lead the way for thy sister.
SARNGARAVA.--Come, Sakoontala, let us proceed.
[_All move away_.
KANWA.--Hear me, ye trees that surround our hermitage!
Sakoontala ne'er moistened in the stream
Her own parched lips, till she had fondly poured
Its purest water on your thirsty roots;
And oft, when she would fain have decked her hair
With your thick-clustering blossoms, in her love
She robbed you not e'en of a single flower.
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