Hear me, ye trees that surround our hermitage! [S']akoontalá 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. Her highest joy was ever to behold The early glory of your opening buds; Oh, then, dismiss her with a kind farewell. This very day she quits her father's home, To seek the palace of her wedded lord.
Hark! heard'st thou not the answer of the trees, Our sylvan sisters, warbled in the note Of the melodious Koïl[66]? they dismiss Their dear [S']akoontalá with loving wishes.
Fare thee well, journey pleasantly on amid streams Where the lotuses bloom, and the sun's glowing beams Never pierce the deep shade of the wide-spreading trees, While gently around thee shall sport the cool breeze; Then light be thy footsteps and easy thy tread, Beneath thee shall carpets of lilies be spread; Journey on to thy lord, let thy spirit be gay, For the smiles of all Nature shall gladden thy way.
Daughter! the nymphs of the wood, who love thee with the affection of a sister, dismiss thee with kind wishes for thy happiness. Take thou leave of them reverentially.
[_Bowing respectfully and walking on. Aside to her friend_.
Eager as I am, dear Priyamvadá, to see my husband once more, yet my feet refuse to move, now that I am quitting for ever the home of my girlhood.
You are not the only one, dearest, to feel the bitterness of parting. As the time of separation approaches, the whole grove seems to share your anguish.
In sorrow for thy loss, the herd of deer Forget to browse; the peacock on the lawn Ceases its dance[67]; the very trees around Shed their pale leaves, like tears, upon the ground.
My father, let me, before I go, bid adieu to my pet jasmine, the Moonlight of the Grove[68]. I love the plant almost as a sister.
Yes, yes, my child, I remember thy sisterly affection for the creeper. Here it is on the right.
[S']AKOONTALÁ. [_Approaching the jasmine_.
My beloved jasmine! most brilliant of climbing plants, how sweet it is to see thee cling thus fondly to thy husband, the mango-tree; yet, prithee, turn thy twining arms for a moment in this direction to embrace thy sister; she is going far away, and may never see thee again.