Ancient Ballads and Legends of Hindustan | Page 6

blithe, So frank and noble, that the eye Was loth to quit that
sun-browned face; She looked and looked,--then gave a sigh, And
slackened suddenly her pace.
What was the meaning--was it love? Love at first sight, as poets sing, Is
then no fiction? Heaven above Is witness, that the heart its king Finds
often like a lightning flash; We play,--we jest,--we have no care,--
When hark a step,--there comes no crash,-- But life, or silent slow

despair. Their eyes just met,--Savitri past Into the friendly Muni's hut,
Her heart-rose opened had at last-- Opened no flower can ever shut.
In converse with the gray-haired sage She learnt the story of the youth,
His name and place and parentage-- Of royal race he was in truth.
Satyavan was he hight,--his sire Dyoumatsen had been Salva's king,
But old and blind, opponents dire Had gathered round him in a ring
And snatched the sceptre from his hand; Now,--with his queen and only
son He lived a hermit in the land, And gentler hermit was there none.
With many tears was said and heard The story,--and with praise sincere
Of Prince Satyavan; every word Sent up a flush on cheek and ear,
Unnoticed. Hark! The bells remind 'Tis time to go,--she went away,
Leaving her virgin heart behind, And richer for the loss. A ray, Shot
down from heaven, appeared to tinge All objects with supernal light,
The thatches had a rainbow fringe, The cornfields looked more green
and bright.
Savitri's first care was to tell Her mother all her feelings new; The
queen her own fears to dispel To the king's private chamber flew. "Now
what is it, my gentle queen, That makes thee hurry in this wise?" She
told him, smiles and tears between, All she had heard; the king with
sighs Sadly replied:--"I fear me much! Whence is his race and what his
creed? Not knowing aught, can we in such A matter delicate, proceed?"
As if the king's doubts to allay, Came Narad Muni to the place A few
days after. Old and gray, All loved to see the gossip's face, Great
Brahma's son,--adored of men, Long absent, doubly welcome he Unto
the monarch, hoping then By his assistance, clear to see. No god in
heaven, nor king on earth, But Narad knew his history,-- The sun's, the
moon's, the planets' birth Was not to him a mystery.
"Now welcome, welcome, dear old friend, All hail, and welcome once
again!" The greeting had not reached its end, When glided like a
music-strain Savitri's presence through the room.-- "And who is this
bright creature, say, Whose radiance lights the chamber's gloom-- Is
she an Apsara or fay?" "No son thy servant hath, alas! This is my
one,--my only child;"-- "And married?"--"No."--"The seasons pass,

Make haste, O king,"--he said, and smiled.
"That is the very theme, O sage, In which thy wisdom ripe I need; Seen
hath she at the hermitage A youth to whom in very deed Her heart
inclines."--"And who is he?" "My daughter, tell his name and race,
Speak as to men who best love thee." She turned to them her modest
face, And answered quietly and clear.-- "Ah, no! ah, no!--It cannot be--
Choose out another husband, dear,"-- The Muni cried,--"or woe is me!"
"And why should I? When I have given My heart away, though but in
thought, Can I take back? Forbid it, Heaven! It were a deadly sin, I wot.
And why should I? I know no crime In him or his."--"Believe me, child,
My reasons shall be clear in time, I speak not like a madman wild;
Trust me in this."--"I cannot break A plighted faith,--I cannot bear A
wounded conscience."--"Oh, forsake This fancy, hence may spring
despair."--
"It may not be."--The father heard By turns the speakers, and in doubt
Thus interposed a gentle word,-- "Friend should to friend his mind
speak out, Is he not worthy? tell us."--"Nay, All worthiness is in
Satyavan, And no one can my praise gainsay: Of solar race--more god
than man! Great Soorasen, his ancestor, And Dyoumatsen his father
blind Are known to fame: I can aver No kings have been so good and
kind."
"Then where, O Muni, is the bar? If wealth be gone, and kingdom lost,
His merit still remains a star, Nor melts his lineage like the frost. For
riches, worldly power, or rank I care not,--I would have my son Pure,
wise, and brave,--the Fates I thank I see no hindrance, no, not one."
"Since thou insistest, King, to hear The fatal truth,--I tell you,--I, Upon
this day as rounds the year The young Prince Satyavan shall die."
This was enough. The monarch knew The future was no sealèd book
To Brahma's son. A clammy dew Spread on his brow,--he gently took