-55_Vikramorvasie Act-4 Sc-2.htm

SCENE II

Pururavas enters disordered, his eyes fixed on the sky.

PURURAVAS (angrily)

Halt, ruffian, halt,! Thou in thy giant arms
Bearest away my Urvasie! He has
Soared up from a great crag into the sky
And wars me, hurling downward bitter rain
Of arrows. With this thunderbolt I smite thee.

He lifts up a clod and runs as to hurl it;

then pauses and looks upwards.

(pathetically)

Oh me, I am deceived! This was a cloud
Equipped for rain, no proud and lustful fiend,
The rainbow, not a weapon drawn to kill,
Quick-driving showers are these, not sleety rain
Of arrows; and that brilliant line like streak
Of gold upon a touchstone, cloud-inarmed,
I saw, was lightning, not my Urvasie.

(sorrowfully)

Where shall I find her now? Where clasp those thighs
Swelling and smooth and white ? Perhaps she stands
Invisible to me by heavenly power,
All sullen ? But her anger was ever swift
And ended soon. Perhaps into her Heavens
She has soared ? O no! her heart was soft with love,
And love of me. Nor any fiend adverse
To Heaven had so much strength as to hale her hence
While I looked on. Yet is she gone from me
Invisible, swiftly invisible —
Whither ? O bitter miracle! and yet —

He scans each horizon, then pauses and sighs.
Alas! when fortune turns against a man,
Then sorrow treads on sorrow. There was already
This separation from my love, and hard
Enough to bear; and now the pleasant days,

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Guiltless of heat, with advent cool of rain
Must help to slay me.

(laughing)

Why do I so tamely
Accept addition to my pangs ? For even
The saints confess "The king controls the seasons";

If it be so, I will command the thunder
Back to his stable.

(pausing to think)

No, I must permit
The season unabridged of pomp; the sighs
Of storm are now my only majesty;

This sky with lightning gilt and laced becomes
My canopy of splendour, and the trees
Of rain-time waving wide their lavish bloom
Fan me; the sapphire-throated peacocks, voiced
Sweeter for that divorce from heat, are grown
My poets; the mountains are my citizens,
They pour out all their streams to swell my greatness.
But I waste time in idly boasting vain
Glories and lose my love. To my task, to my task!
This grove, this grove should find her.

He moves onward.
And here, O here
Is something to enrage my resolution.
Red-tinged, expanding, wet and full of rain,
These blossom-cups recall to me her eyes
Brimming with angry tears. How shall I trace her,
Or what thing tell me "Here and here she wandered?"
If she had touched with her beloved feet
The rain-drenched forest-sands, there were a line
Of little gracious footprints seen, with lac
Envermeilled, sinking deeper towards the heel
Because o’erburdened by her hips’ large glories.

He moves onward.

(exultantly)

Oh joy! I see a hint of her. This way  

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Then went her angry beauty! Lo, her bodice
Bright green as is a parrot’s belly, smitten
With crimson drops. It once veiled in her bosom
And paused to show her navel deep as love.
These are her tears that from those angry eyes
Went trickling, stealing scarlet from her lip.s
To spangle all this green. Doubtless her heaving
Tumult of breasts broke its dear hold and, she
Stumbling in anger, from my Heaven it drifted.
I’ll gather it to my kisses.

(He stoops to it, then sorrowfully)

O my heart!
Only green grass with dragon-wings enamelled!
From whom shall I in all the desolate forest
Have tidings of her, or what creature help me ?
Lo, in yon waste of crags the peacock! he
Upon a cool moist rock that breathes of rain
Exults, aspires, his gorgeous mass of plumes
Seized, blown and scattered by the roaring gusts.
Pregnant of shrillness is his outstretched throat,
His look is with the clouds. Him I will question:

Have the bright corners of thine eyes beheld,

O sapphire-throated bird, her, my delight,

My wife, my passion, my sweet grief? Yielding

No answer, he begins his gorgeous dance.

Why should he be so glad of my heart’s woe?

I know thee, peacock. Since my cruel loss

Thy plumes that stream in splendour on the wind,

Have not one rival left. For when her heavy

Dark wave of tresses over all the bed

In softness wide magnificently collapsed

On her smooth shoulders massing purple glory

And bright with flowers, she passioning in my arms,

Who then was ravished with thy brilliant plumes,

Vain bird ? I question thee not, heartless thing,

That joyest in others’ pain.

(turning away)

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Lo, where, new-fired
With sweet bird-passion by the season cool,
A cuckoo on the plum-tree sits. This race
Is wisest of the families of birds
And learned in love. I’ll greet him like himself.
O cuckoo, thou art called the bird of love,
His sweet ambassador, O cuckoo. Thou
Criest and thy delightful voice within
The hearts of lovers like an arrow comes,
Seeks out the anger there and softly kills.
Me also, cuckoo, to my darling bring
Or her to me. What saidst thou? "How could she
Desert thee loving?" Cuckoo, I will tell thee.
Yes, she was angry. Yet I know I never
Gave her least cause. But, cuckoo, dost thou know not
That women love to feel their sovereignty
Over their lovers, nor transgression need
To be angry? How! Dost thou break off, O bird,
Our converse thus abruptly and turn away
To thine own tasks ? Alas, ’twas wisely said
That men bear easily the bitter griefs
Which others feel. For all my misery
This bird, my orison disregarding, turns
To attack the plum-tree’s ripening fruit as one
Drunken with love his darling’s mouth. And yet
I cannot be angry with him. Has he not
The voice of Urvasie ? Abide, O bird,
In bliss, though I unhappy hence depart.

He walks on, then stops short and listens.

O Heaven ? what do I hear ? the anklets’ cry
That tell the musical footing of my love ?
To right of this long grove ’twas heard. Oh, I
Will run to her.

(hurrying forward)

Me miserable! This was
No anklets’ cry embraceable with hands,
But moan of swans who seeing the grey wet sky

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Grow passionate for Himaloy’s distant tarns.
Well, be it so. But ere in far desire
They leap up from this pool, I well might learn
Tidings from thereof Urvasie.

(approaching)

Listen,
O king of all white fowl that waters breed.
Afterwards to Himaloy wing thy way,
But now thy lotus fibres in thy beak
Gathered by thee for provender resign;

Ere long thou shalt resume them. Me, ah, first

From anguish rescue, O majestic swan,

With tidings of my sweet; always high souls

Prefer another’s good to selfish aims.

Thou lookest upward to the Heavens and sayest,

"I was absorbed with thoughts of Himaloy;

Her have I not observed." O swan, thou liest,
For if she never trod upon thy lake’s
Embankment, nor thou sawest her arched brows,
How couldst thou copy then so perfectly
Her footing full of amorous delight,
Or whence didst steal it? Give me back my love,
Thou robber! Thou hast got her gait and this
Is law that he with whom a part is found
Must to the claimant realise the whole.

(laughing)

O yes, thou flyest up, clanging alarm,
"This is the king whose duty is to punish
All thieves like me!" Go then, but I will plunge
Into new hopeful places, seeking love.
Lo, wild-drake with his mate, famed chocrobacque,
Him let me question. O thou wondrous creature,
All saffron and vermilion! Wilt thou then
Not tell me of my love ? Oh, sawest thou not
My Goddess laughing like a lovely child
In the bright house of spring? For, wild-drake, thou
Who gettest from the chariot’s orb thy name,

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I who deprived am of her orbed hips,

The chariot-warrior great Pururavas,

Encompassed with a thousand armed desires,

Question thee.’ How! "Who? Who?" thou sayest to me!

This is too much. It is not possible

He should not know me! Bird, I am a king

Of kings, and grandson to the Sun and Moon,

And earth has chosen me for her master. This

Were little. I am the loved of Urvasie!

Still art thou silent ? I will taunt him, then

Perhaps he’ll speak. Thou, wild-drake, when thy love,

Her body hidden by a lotus-leaf,

Lurks near thee in the pool, deemest her far

And wailest musically to the flowers

A wild deep dirge. Such is thy conjugal

Yearning, thy terror such of even a little

Division from her nearness. Me afflicted,

Me so forlorn thou art averse to bless

With just a little tidings of my love!

Alas, my miserable lot has made

All creatures adverse to me. Let me plunge

Into the deeper wood. Oh no, not yet!

This lotus with the honey-bees inside

Making melodious murmur, keeps me. I

Remember her soft mouth when I have kissed it

Too cruelly, sobbing exquisite complaint.

These too I will implore. Alas, what use ?

They will despise me like the others. Yet,

Lest I repent hereafter of my silence,

I’ll speak to him. O lotus-wooing bee,

Tell me some rumour of those eyes like wine,

But no, thou hast not seen that wonder. Else

Wouldst thou, O bee, affect the lotus’ bloom,

If thou hadst caught the sweetness from her lips

Breathing, whose scent intoxicates the breeze?

I’ll leave him. Lo! with his mate an elephant.

His trunk surrounds a nym-tree to uproot.

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To him will I, he may some rumour have

Or whisper of my love. But softly! Haste

Will ruin me. Oh, this is not the time!

Now his beloved mate has in her trunk

Just found him broken branches odorous

And sweet as wine with the fresh leaves not long

In bud, new-honied. These let him enjoy.

His meal is over now. I may approach

And ask him. O rut-dripping elephant,

Sole monarch of the herd, has not that moon

With jasmines all a glory in her hair

And limbs of fadeless beauty, carrying

Youth like a banner, whom to see is bliss,

Is madness, fallen in thy far ken, O king?

O joy! he trumpets loud and soft as who

Would tell me he has seen indeed my love.

Oh, I am gladdened! More to thee I stand

Attracted, elephant, as like with like.

Sovereign of sovereigns is my title, thou

Art monarch of the kingly elephants,

And this wide freedom of thy fragrant rut

Interminable imitates my own

Vast liberality to suppliant men,

Regally; thou hast in all the herd this mate,

I among loveliest women Urvasie.

In all things art thou like me; only I pray,

O friend, that thou mayst never know the pang,

The loss. Be fortunate, king, farewell! Oh, see,

The mountain of the Fragrant Glens appears,

Fair as a dream, with his great plateaus trod

By heavenly feet of women. May it not be,

To this wide vale she too has with her sisters

Brought here her beautiful body full of spring ?

Darkness! I cannot see her. Yet by these gleams

Of lightning I may study, I may find.

Ah God! the fruit of guilt is bounded not

With the doer’s anguish; this stupendous cloud

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Is widowed of the lightning through my sin.

Yet I will leave thee not, O thou huge pile

Of scaling crags, unquestioned. Hear me, answer me!

O mountain, has she entered then the woods,

Love’s green estate — ah, she too utter love!

Her breasts were large like thine, with small sweet space

Between them, and like thine her glorious hips

And smooth fair joints a rapture.

Dumb? No answer?
I am too far away, he has not heard me.
Let me draw nearer. Mountain, seen was she,
A woman all bereaved, her every limb
A loveliness, in these delightful woods ?

ECHO

Nearer, O nearer! Mountain-seen was she,
A woman all bereaved, her every limb
A loveliness, in these delightful woods.

PURURAVAS

He has answered, answered! O my heart, I draw
Nearer to her! In my own words the hill
Answers thee, O my heart. As joyous tidings
Mayst thou too hear, mountain. She then was seen,
My Urvasie in thy delightful woods ?

ECHO

Mountain! mountain! mountain! She then was seen,

My Urvasie in thy delightful woods,

In thy delightful woods, delightful woods.

PURURAVAS

Alas! ’tis Echo mocks me with my voice
Rolling amid the crags and mountain glens.
Out on thee. Echo! Thou hast killed my heart.
O Urvasie! Urvasie! Urvasie!

He falls down and swoons.

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(recovering)

I am all weary and sad. Oh, let me rest
Beside this mountain river for a moment
And woo the breeze that dances on the waves.
All turbid is this stream with violent rain,
And yet I thrill to see it. For, O, it seems
Just like my angry darling when she went’
Frowning — as this does with its little waves, —
A wrathful music in her girdle — and see!
This string of birds with frightened clangour rise;

She trailed her raiment as the river its foam,
For it loosened with her passion as she moved
With devious feet, all angry, blind with tears,
And often stopped to brood upon her wrongs:

But soon indignantly her stormy speed

Resumed, so tripping, winding goes the stream,

As she did. O most certainly ’tis she.

My sweet quick-tempered darling, suddenly changed

Into a river’s form. I will beseech her

And soothe her wounded spirit. Urvasie?

Did I not love thee perfectly ? Did not

My speech grow sweetness when I spoke to thee ?

And when did my heart anything but hate

To false our love ? O what was the slight fault

Thou foundest in thy servant that thou couldst

Desert him, Urvasie, O Urvasie!

She answers not! It is not she, merely

A river. Urvasie would not have left

Pururavas to tryst with Ocean. And now

Since only by refusal to despair

Can bliss at last be won, I will return

Where first she fled from my pursuing eyes.

This couching stag shall give me tidings of her,

Who looks as if he were a splendid glance

Some dark-eyed Dryad had let fall to admire

This budding foliage and this young green beauty

Of grass. But why averts he then his head

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As though in loathing? I perceive his reason.

Lo, his fair hind is hasting towards him, stayed

By their young dearling plucking at her teats.

With her his eyes are solely, her with bent

Lithe neck he watches. Ho, thou lord of hind!

Sawst thou not her I love ? O stag, I’ll tell thee

How thou shouldst know her. Like thine own dear hind

She had large eyes and loving, and like hers

That gaze was beauty. Why does he neglect

My words and only gaze towards his love ?

All prosperous creatures slight the unfortunate!

‘Tis natural. Then elsewhere let me seek.

I have found her, I have found her! O a hint

And token of her way! This one red drop

Of summer’s blood the very codome was,

Though rough with faulty stamens, yet thought worthy

To crown her hair. And thou, asoka red,

Didst watch my slender-waisted when she gave

So cruelly a loving heart to pain. .

Why dost thou lie and shake thy windy head ?

How couldst thou by her soft foot being untouched

Break out into such bloom of petals stung

And torn by jostling crowds of bees, who swarm

All wild to have thy honey ? Ever be blest,

Thou noble trunk. What should this be, bright red,

That blazes in a crevice of the rocks ?

For if it were a piece of antelope’s flesh

Torn by a lion, ‘twould not have this blaze,

This lustre haloing it; nor can it be

A spark pregnant of fire; for all the wood

Is drowned in rain. No, ’tis a gem, a miracle

Of crimson, like the red felicitous flower,

And with one radiant finger of the sun

Laid on it like a claim. Yet I will take it,

For it compels my soul with scarlet longing.

Wherefore ? She on whose head it should have burned,

Whose hair all fragrant with the coral-bloom

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I loved like Heaven, is lost to me, beyond
Recovery lost to me. Why should I take it
To mar it with my tears ?

A VOICE

Reject it not,
My son; this is the jewel Union born
From the red lac that on the marvellous feet
Was brilliant of Himaloy’s child, and, soon,
Who bears it, is united with his love.

PURURAVAS

Who speaks to me? It is a saint who dwells
In forest like the deer. He first of creatures
Has pitied me. O my lord anchoret,
I thank thee. Thou, O Union, if thou end
My separation, if with that small-waisted
Thou shouldst indeed be proved my Union,
Jewel, I’ll use thee for my crown, as Shiva
Upon his forehead wears the crescent moon.
This flowerless creeper! Wherefore do mine eyes
Dwell with its barren grace and my heart yearn
Towards it ? And yet, O, not without a cause
Has she enchanted me. There standst thou, creeper,
All slender, thy poor sad leaves are moist with rain,
Thou silent, with no voice of honey-bees
Upon thy drooping boughs; as from thy lord
The season separated, leaving off
Thy habit of bloom. Why, I might think I saw
My passionate darling sitting penitent
With tear-stained face and body unadorned,
Thinking in silence how she spurned my love.
I will embrace thee, creeper, for thou art
Too like my love. Urvasie! all my body
Is thrilled and satisfied of Urvasie!
I feel, I feel her living limbs.

(despairingly)

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But how

Should I believe it? Everything I deem
A somewhat of my love, next moment turns
To other. Therefore since by touch at least
I find my dear one, I will not separate
Too suddenly mine eyes from sleep.

(opening his eyes slowly)

O love,
Tis thou!

He swoons.

URVASIE

Upraise thy heart, my King, my liege!

PURURAVAS

Dearest, at last I live! O thou hadst plunged me

Into a dark abyss of separation,

And fortunately art thou returned to me,

Like consciousness given back to one long dead.

URVASIE

With inward senses I have watched and felt
Thy whole long agony.

PURURAVAS

With inward senses ?
I understand thee not.

URVASIE

I will tell all.
But let my lord excuse my grievous fault,
Who, wretch enslaved by anger, brought to this
My sovereign! Smile on me and pardon me!

PURURAVAS

Never speak of it. Thy clasp is thy forgiveness.
For all my outward senses and my soul

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Leap laughing towards thy bosom. Only convince me
How thou couldst live without me such an age.

URVASIE

Hearken. The War-God Skanda, from of old
Virginity eternal vowing, came
To Gandhamadan’s bank men call the pure,
And made a law.

PURURAVAS

What law, beloved ?

URVASIE

This
That any woman entering these precincts
Becomes at once a creeper. And for limit
Of the great curse, "Without the jewel born
From crimson of my mother’s feet can she
Never be woman more." Now I, my lord,
My heart perplexed by the Preceptor’s curse,
Forgot the War-God’s oath and entered here,
Rejecting thy entreaties, to the wood
Avoidable of women: at the first step,
All suddenly my form was changed. I was
A creeper growing at the wood’s wild end.

PURURAVAS

Oh now intelligible! When from thy breasts
Loosening the whole embrace, the long delight,
I sank back languid, thou wouldst moan for me
Like one divided far. How is it then
Possible that thou shouldst bear patiently
Real distance between us ? Lo, this jewel,
As in thy story, gave thee to my arms.
Admonished by a hermit sage I kept it.

URVASIE

The jewel Union! Therefore at thy embrace

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I was restored.

She places the jewel gratefully upon her head.

PURURAVAS

Thus stand a while. O fairest,
Thy face, suffused with crimson from this gem
Above thee pouring wide its fire and splendour,
Has all the beauty of a lotus reddening
In early sunlight.

URVASIE

O sweet of speech! remember
That thy high capital awaits thee long.
It may be that the people blame me. Let us,
My own dear lord, return.

PURURAVAS

Let us return.

URVASIE

What wafture will my sovereign choose ?

PURURAVAS  

O waft me
Nearer the sun and make a cloud our chariot,
While lightning like a streaming banner floats
Now seen, now lost to vision, and the rainbow
With freshness of its glory iridescent
Edges us. In thine arms uplift and waft me,
Beloved, through the wide and liquid air.

They go.

Curtain 

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