by Kalidasa
Shakuntala. Holy women, I salute you.
Gautami. My child, may you receive the happy title "queen," showing that your husband honours you.
Hermit-women. My dear, may you become the mother of a hero. (Exeunt all but GAUTAMI.)
The two friends (approaching). Did you have a good bath, dear?
Shakuntala. Good morning, girls. Sit here.
The two friends (seating themselves). Now stand straight, while we go through the happy ceremony.
Shakuntala. It has happened often enough, but I ought to be very grateful to-day. Shall I ever be adorned by my friends again? (She weeps.)
The two friends. You ought not to weep, dear, at this happy time. (They wipe the tears away and adorn her.)
Priyamvada. You are so beautiful, you ought to have the finest gems. It seems like an insult to give you these hermitage things. (Enter HARITA, a hermit-youth with ornaments.) Harita. Here are ornaments for our lady. (The women look at them in astonishment.)
Gautami. Harita, my son, whence come these things?
Harita. From the holy power of Father Kanva.
Gautami. A creation of his mind?
Harita. Not quite. Listen. Father Kanva sent us to gather blossoms from the trees for Shakuntala, and then
One tree bore fruit, a silken marriage dress
That shamed the moon in its white loveliness;
Another gave us lac-dye for the feet;
From others, fairy hands extended, sweet
Like flowering twigs, as far as to the wrist,
And gave us gems, to adorn her as we list.
Priyamvada (Looking at SHAKUNTALA). A bee may be born in a hole in a tree, but she likes the honey of the lotus.
Gautami. This gracious favour is a token of the queenly happiness which you are to enjoy in your husband's palace. (SHAKUNTALA shows embarrassment.)
Harita. Father Kanva has gone to the bank of the Malini, to perform his ablutions. I will tell him of the favour shown us by the trees. (Exit.)
Anusuya. My dear, we poor girls never saw such ornaments. How shall we adorn you? (She stops to think, and to look at the ornaments.) But we have seen pictures. Perhaps we can arrange them right.
Shakuntala. I know how clever you are. (The two friends adorn her. Enter KANVA, returning after his ablutions.)
Kanva.
Shakuntala must go to-day;
I miss her now at heart;
I dare not speak a loving word
Or choking tears will start.
My eyes are dim with anxious thought;
Love strikes me to the life:
And yet I strove for pious peace—
I have no child, no wife.
What must a father feel, when come
The pangs of parting from his child at home?
(He walks about.) The two friends. There, Shakuntala, we have arranged your ornaments. Now put on this beautiful silk dress. (SHAKUNTALA rises and does so.)
Gautami. My child, here is your father. The eyes with which he seems to embrace you are overflowing with tears of joy. You must greet him properly. (SHAKUNTALA makes a shamefaced reverence.)
Kanva. My child,
Like Sharmishtha, Yayati's wife,
Win favour measured by your worth;
And may you bear a kingly son
Like Puru, who shall rule the earth.
Gautami. My child, this is not a prayer, but a benediction.
Kanva. My daughter, walk from left to right about the fires in which the offering has just been thrown. (All walk about.)
The holy fires around the altar kindle,
And at their margins sacred grass is piled;
Beneath their sacrificial odours dwindle
Misfortunes. May the fires protect you, child!
(SHAKUNTALA walks about them from left to right.)
Kanva. Now you may start, my daughter. (He glances about.) Where are Sharngarava and Sharadvata? (Enter the two pupils.)
The two pupils. We are here, Father.
Kanva. Sharngarava, my son, lead the way for your sister.
Sharngarava. Follow me. (They all walk about.)
Kanva. O trees of the pious grove, in which the fairies dwell,
She would not drink till she had wet
Your roots, a sister's duty,
Nor pluck your flowers; she loves you yet
Far more than selfish beauty.
'Twas festival in her pure life
When budding blossoms showed;
And now she leaves you as a wife—
Oh, speed her on her road!
Sharngarava (listening to the song of koïl-birds). Father,
The trees are answering your prayer
In cooing cuckoo-song,
Bidding Shakuntala farewell,
Their sister for so long.
Invisible beings,
May lily-dotted lakes delight your eye;
May shade-trees bid the heat of noonday cease;
May soft winds blow the lotus-pollen nigh;
May all your path be pleasantness and peace.
(All listen in astonishment.)
Gautami. My child, the fairies of the pious grove bid you farewell. For they love the household. Pay reverence to the holy ones.
Shakuntala (does so. Aside to PRIYAMVADA). Priyamvada, I long to see my husband, and yet my feet will hardly move. It is hard, hard to leave the hermitage.
Priyamvada. You are not the only one to feel sad at this farewell. See how the whole grove feels at parting from you.
The grass drops from the feeding doe;
The peahen stops her dance;
Pale, trembling leaves are falling slow,
The tears of clinging plants.
Shakuntala (recalling something). Father, I must say good-bye to the spring-creeper, my sister among the vines.
Kanva. I know your love for her. See! Here she is at your right hand.
Shakuntala (approaches the vine and embraces it). Vine sister, embrace me too with your arms, these branches. I shall be far away from you after to-day. Father, you must care for her as you did for me.
Kanva.
My child, you found the lover who
Had long been sought by me;
No longer need I watch for you;
I'll give the vine a lover true,
This handsome mango-tree.
And now start on your journey. Shakuntala (going to the two friends). Dear girls, I leave her in your care too.
The two friends. But who will care for poor us? (They shed tears.)
Kanva. Anusuya! Priyamvada! Do not weep. It is you who should cheer Shakuntala. (All walk about.)
Shakuntala. Father, there is the pregnant doe, wandering about near the cottage. When she becomes a happy mother, you must send some one to bring me the good news. Do not forget.
Kanva. I shall not forget, my child.
Shakuntala (stumbling) Oh, oh! Who is it that keeps pulling at my dress, as if to hinder me? (She turns round to see.)
Kanva.
It is the fawn whose lip, when torn
By kusha-grass, you soothed with oil;
The fawn who gladly nibbled corn
Held in your hand; with loving toil
You have adopted him, and he
Would never leave you willingly.
Shakuntala. My dear, why should you follow me when I am going away from home? Your mother died when you were born and I brought you up. Now I am leaving you, and Father Kanva will take care of you. Go back, dear! Go back! (She walks away, weeping.)
Kanva. Do not weep, my child. Be brave. Look at the path before you.
Be brave, and check the rising tears
That dim your lovely eyes;
Your feet are stumbling on the path
That so uneven lies.
Sharngarava. Holy Father, the Scripture declares that one should accompany a departing loved one only to the first water. Pray give us your commands on the bank of this pond, and then return.
Kanva. Th
en let us rest in the shade of this fig-tree. (All do so.) What commands would it be fitting for me to lay on King Dushyanta? (He reflects.)
Anusuya. My dear, there is not a living thing in the whole hermitage that is not grieving to-day at saying good-bye to you. Look!
The sheldrake does not heed his mate
Who calls behind the lotus-leaf;
He drops the lily from his bill
And turns on you a glance of grief.
Kanva. Son Sharngarava, when you present Shakuntala to the king, give him this message from me.
Remembering my religious worth,
Your own high race, the love poured forth
By her, forgetful of her friends,
Pay her what honour custom lends
To all your wives. And what fate gives
Beyond, will please her relatives.
Sharngarava. I will not forget your message, Father.
Kanva (turning to SHAKUNTALA). My child, I must now give you my counsel. Though I live in the forest, I have some knowledge of the world.
Sharngarava. True wisdom, Father, gives insight into everything.
Kanva. My child, when you have entered your husband's home,
Obey your elders; and be very kind
To rivals; never be perversely blind
And angry with your husband, even though he
Should prove less faithful than a man might be;
Be as courteous to servants as you may,
Not puffed with pride in this your happy day:
Thus does a maiden grow into a wife;
But self-willed women are the curse of life.
But what does Gautami say?
Gautami. This is advice sufficient for a bride. (To SHAKUNTALA.) You will not forget, my child.
Kanva. Come, my daughter, embrace me and your friends.
Shakuntala. Oh, Father! Must my friends turn back too?
Kanva. My daughter, they too must some day be given in marriage. Therefore they may not go to court. Gautami will go with you.
Shakuntala (throwing her arms about her father). I am torn from my father's breast like a vine stripped from a sandal-tree on the Malabar hills. How can I live in another soil? (She weeps.)
Kanva. My daughter, why distress yourself so?
A noble husband's honourable wife,
You are to spend a busy, useful life
In the world's eye; and soon, as eastern skies
Bring forth the sun, from you there shall arise
A child, a blessing and a comfort strong—
You will not miss me, dearest daughter, long.
Shakuntala (falling at his feet). Farewell, Father.
Kanva. My daughter, may all that come to you which I desire for you.
Shakuntala (going to her two friends). Come, girls! Embrace me, both of you together.
The two friends (do so). Dear, if the good king should perhaps be slow to recognise you, show him the ring with his own name engraved on it.
Shakuntala. Your doubts make my heart beat faster.
The two friends. Do not be afraid, dear. Love is timid.
Sharngarava (looking about). Father, the sun is in mid-heaven. She must hasten.
Shakuntala (embracing KANVA once more). Father, when shall I see the pious grove again?
Kanva. My daughter,
When you have shared for many years
The king's thoughts with the earth,
When to a son who knows no fears
You shall have given birth,
When, trusted to the son you love,
Your royal labours cease,
Come with your husband to the grove
And end your days in peace.
Gautami. My child, the hour of your departure is slipping by. Bid your father turn back. No, she would never do that. Pray turn back, sir.
Kanva. Child, you interrupt my duties in the pious grove.
Shakuntala. Yes, Father. You will be busy in the grove. You will not miss me. But oh! I miss you. Kanva. How can you think me so indifferent? (He sighs.)
My lonely sorrow will not go,
For seeds you scattered here
Before the cottage door, will grow;
And I shall see them, dear.
Go. And peace go with you. (Exit SHAKUNTALA, with GAUTAMI, SHARNGARAVA, and SHARADVATA.)
The two friends (gazing long after her. Mournfully). Oh, oh! Shakuntala is lost among the trees.
Kanva. Anusuya! Priyamvada! Your companion is gone. Choke down your grief and follow me. (They start to go back.)
The two friends. Father, the grove seems empty without Shakuntala.
Kanva. So love interprets. (He walks about, sunk in thought.) Ah! I have sent Shakuntala away, and now I am myself again. For
A girl is held in trust, another's treasure;
To arms of love my child to-day is given;
And now I feel a calm and sacred pleasure;
I have restored the pledge that came from heaven.
(Exeunt omnes.)
ACT V
SHAKUNTALA'S REJECTION
(Enter a chamberlain.)
Chamberlain (sighing). Alas! To what a state am I reduced!
I once assumed the staff of reed
For custom's sake alone,
As officer to guard at need.
The ladies round the throne.
But years have passed away and made
It serve, my tottering steps to aid.
The king is within. I will tell him of the urgent business which demands his attention. (He takes a few steps.) But what is the business? (He recalls it.) Yes, I remember. Certain hermits, pupils of Kanva, desire to see his Majesty. Strange, strange!
The mind of age is like a lamp
Whose oil is running thin;
One moment it is shining bright,
Then darkness closes in.
(He walks and looks about.) Here is his Majesty.
He does not seek—until a father's care
Is shown his subjects—rest in solitude;
As a great elephant recks not of the sun
Until his herd is sheltered in the wood.
In truth, I hesitate to announce the coming of Kanva's pupils to the king. For he has this moment risen from the throne of justice. But kings are never weary. For
The sun unyokes his horses never;
Blows night and day the breeze;
Shesha upholds the world forever:
And kings are like to these.
(He walks about. Enter the king, the clown, and retinue according to rank.) King (betraying the cares of office). Every one is happy on attaining his desire—except a king. His difficulties increase with his power. Thus:
Security slays nothing but ambition;
With great possessions, troubles gather thick;
Pain grows, not lessens, with a king's position,
As when one's hand must hold the sunshade's stick.
Two court poets behind the scenes. Victory to your Majesty.
First poet.
The world you daily guard and bless,
Not heeding pain or weariness;
Thus is your nature made.
A tree will brave the noonday, when
The sun is fierce, that weary men
May rest beneath its shade.
Second poet.
Vice bows before the royal rod;
Strife ceases at your kingly nod;
You are our strong defender.
Friends come to all whose wealth is sure,
But you, alike to rich and poor,
Are friend both strong and tender.
King (listening). Strange! I was wearied by the demands of my office, but this renews my spirit.
Clown. Does a bull forget that he is tired when you call him the leader of the herd?
King (smiling). Well, let us sit down. (They seat themselves, and the retinue arranges itself. A lute is heard behind the scenes.)
Clown (listening). My friend, listen to what is going on in t
he music-room. Some one is playing a lute, and keeping good time. I suppose Lady Hansavati is practising.
King. Be quiet. I wish to listen.
Chamberlain (looks at the king). Ah, the king is occupied. I must await his leisure. (He stands aside.)
A song behind the scenes.
You who kissed the mango-flower,
Honey-loving bee,
Gave her all your passion's power,
Ah, so tenderly!
How can you be tempted so
By the lily, pet?
Fresher honey's sweet, I know;
But can you forget?
King. What an entrancing song!
Clown. But, man, don't you understand what the words mean?
King (smiling). I was once devoted to Queen Hansavati. And the rebuke comes from her. Friend Madhavya, tell Queen Hansavati in my name that the rebuke is a very pretty one.
Clown. Yes, sir. (He rises.) But, man, you are using another fellow's fingers to grab a bear's tail-feathers with. I have about as much chance of salvation as a monk who hasn't forgotten his passions.
King. Go. Soothe her like a gentleman.
Clown. I suppose I must. (Exit.)
King (to himself). Why am I filled with wistfulness on hearing such a song? I am not separated from one I love. And yet
In face of sweet presentment
Or harmonies of sound,
Man e'er forgets contentment,
By wistful longings bound.
There must be recollections
