HERMIT.

Worthy is this action of a Prince, the light of Puru’s race[12].

Well does this act befit a Prince like thee,
Right worthy is it of thine ancestry. 
Thy guerdon be a son of peerless worth,
Whose wide dominion shall embrace the earth.

BOTH THE OTHER HERMITS. [Raising their hands.

May heaven indeed grant thee a son, a sovereign of the earth from sea to sea!

KING.

[Bowing.

I accept with gratitude a Brahman’s benediction.

HERMIT.

We came hither, mighty Prince, to collect sacrificial wood.  Here on the banks of the Malini you may perceive the hermitage of the great sage Kanwa[13].  If other duties require not your presence, deign to enter and accept our hospitality.

  When you behold our penitential rites
  Performed without impediment by saints
  Rich only in devotion, then with pride
  Will you reflect:—­Such are the holy men
  Who call me Guardian; such the men for whom
  To wield the bow I bare my nervous arm,
  Scarred by the motion of the glancing string.

KING.

Is the Chief of your Society now at home?

HERMIT.

No; he has gone to Soma-tirtha[14] to propitiate Destiny, which threatens his daughter [S’]akoontala with some calamity; but he has commissioned her in his absence to entertain all guests with hospitality.

KING.

Good!  I will pay her a visit.  She will make me acquainted with the mighty sage’s acts of penance and devotion.

HERMIT.

And we will depart on our errand.

[Exit with his companions.

KING.

Charioteer, urge on the horses.  We will at least purify our souls by a sight of this hallowed retreat.

CHARIOTEER.

Your Majesty is obeyed.

[Drives the chariot with great velocity.

KING. [Looking all about him.

Charioteer, even without being told, I should have known that these were the precincts of a grove consecrated to penitential rites.

CHARIOTEER.

How so?

KING.

Do not you observe?

  Beneath the trees, whose hollow trunks afford
  Secure retreat to many a nestling brood
  Of parrots, scattered grains of rice lie strewn. 
  Lo! here and there are seen the polished slabs
  That serve to bruise the fruit of Ingudi[15]. 
  The gentle roe-deer, taught to trust in man,
  Unstartled hear our voices.  On the paths
  Appear the traces of bark-woven vests[16]
  Borne dripping from the limpid fount of waters.

And mark!

  Laved are the roots of trees by deep canals [17],
  Whose glassy waters tremble in the breeze;
  The sprouting verdure of the leaves is dimmed
  By dusky wreaths of upward curling smoke
  From burnt oblations; and on new-mown lawns
  Around our car graze leisurely the fawns.