Ancient Ballads and Legends of Hindustan | Page 7

Savitri's palm in his, and said: "No child can give away her hand, A
pledge is nought unsanctionèd; And here, if right I understand, There
was no pledge at all,--a thought, A shadow,--barely crossed the mind--
Unblamed, it may be clean forgot, Before the gods it cannot bind.

"And think upon the dreadful curse Of widowhood; the vigils, fasts,
And penances; no life is worse Than hopeless life,--the while it lasts.
Day follows day in one long round, Monotonous and blank and drear;
Less painful were it to be bound On some bleak rock, for aye to hear--
Without one chance of getting free-- The ocean's melancholy voice!
Mine be the sin,--if sin there be, But thou must make a different
choice."
In the meek grace of virginhood Unblanched her cheek, undimmed her
eye, Savitri, like a statue, stood, Somewhat austere was her reply.
"Once, and once only, all submit To Destiny,--'tis God's command;
Once, and once only, so 'tis writ, Shall woman pledge her faith and
hand; Once, and once only, can a sire Unto his well-loved daughter say,
In presence of the witness fire, I give thee to this man away.
"Once, and once only, have I given My heart and faith--'tis past recall;
With conscience none have ever striven, And none may strive, without
a fall. Not the less solemn was my vow Because unheard, and oh! the
sin Will not be less, if I should now Deny the feeling felt within.
Unwedded to my dying day I must, my father dear, remain; 'Tis well, if
so thou will'st, but say Can man balk Fate, or break its chain?
"If Fate so rules, that I should feel The miseries of a widow's life, Can
man's device the doom repeal? Unequal seems to be a strife, Between
Humanity and Fate; None have on earth what they desire; Death comes
to all or soon or late; And peace is but a wandering fire; Expediency
leads wild astray; The Right must be our guiding star; Duty our
watchword, come what may; Judge for me, friends,--as wiser far."
She said, and meekly looked to both. The father, though he patient
heard, To give the sanction still seemed loth, But Narad Muni took the
word. "Bless thee, my child! 'Tis not for us To question the Almighty
will, Though cloud on cloud loom ominous, In gentle rain they may
distil." At this, the monarch--"Be it so! I sanction what my friend
approves; All praise to Him, whom praise we owe; My child shall wed
the youth she loves."
PART II.

Great joy in Madra. Blow the shell The marriage over to declare! And
now to forest-shades where dwell The hermits, wend the wedded pair.
The doors of every house are hung With gay festoons of leaves and
flowers; And blazing banners broad are flung, And trumpets blown
from castle towers! Slow the procession makes its ground Along the
crowded city street: And blessings in a storm of sound At every step
the couple greet.
Past all the houses, past the wall, Past gardens gay, and hedgerows trim,
Past fields, where sinuous brooklets small With molten silver to the
brim Glance in the sun's expiring light, Past frowning hills, past
pastures wild, At last arises on the sight, Foliage on foliage densely
piled, The woods primeval, where reside The holy hermits;--henceforth
here Must live the fair and gentle bride: But this thought brought with it
no fear.
Fear! With her husband by her still? Or weariness! Where all was new?
Hark! What a welcome from the hill! There gathered are a hermits few.
Screaming the peacocks upward soar; Wondering the timid wild deer
gaze; And from Briarean fig-trees hoar Look down the monkeys in
amaze As the procession moves along; And now behold, the
bridegroom's sire With joy comes forth amid the throng;-- What
reverence his looks inspire!
Blind! With his partner by his side! For them it was a hallowed time!
Warmly they greet the modest bride With her dark eyes and front
sublime! One only grief they feel.--Shall she Who dwelt in palace halls
before, Dwell in their huts beneath the tree? Would not their hard life
press her sore;-- The manual labour, and the want Of comforts that her
rank became, Valkala robes, meals poor and scant, All undermine the
fragile frame?
To see the bride, the hermits' wives And daughters gathered to the huts,
Women of pure and saintly lives! And there beneath the betel-nuts Tall
trees like pillars, they admire Her beauty, and congratulate The parents,
that their hearts' desire Had thus accorded been by Fate, And Satyavan
their son had found In exile lone, a fitting mate: And gossips
add,--good signs abound; Prosperity shall on her wait.

Good signs in features, limbs, and eyes, That old experience can
discern, Good