draws not nigh,
    My warrior-love, like the wild elephant,
    My Prince of princes—­I shall surely die! 
    Nought call I now to mind he said or did
    That was not rightly said and justly done. 
    No idle word he spake, even in free speech;
    Patient and lordly; generous to bestow
    Beyond all givers; scorning to be base,
    Yea, even in secret—­such Nishadha was. 
    Alas! when, day and night, I think of him,
    How is my heart consumed, reft of its joy!”
      So meditating, like one torn by thoughts,
    She mounted to the palace-roof to see;
    And thence, in the mid-court, the car beheld
    Arriving.  Rituparna and Vahuka
    She saw, with Vrishni’s son, descend and loose
    The panting horses, wheeling back the car. 
      Then Rituparna, alighting, sought the King,
    Bhima the Maharaja, far-renowned—­
    Whom Bhima with fair courtesies received;
    Since well he deemed such breathless visit made
    With deep cause, knowing not the women’s plots.
    “Swagatam!" cried he; “what hath brought thee, Prince?”
    For nothing wist he that the Raja came
    Suitor of Damayanti.  Questioned so,
    This Raja Rituparna, wise and brave,
    Seeing no kings nor princes in the court,
    Nor noise of the Swayamvara, nor crowd
    Of Brahmans gathering—­weighing all those things,
    Answered in this wise:  “I am come, great Lord,
    To make thee salutations!” But the King
    Laughed in his beard at Rituparna’s word—­
    That this of many weary yojanas
    Should be the mark. “Ahoswid!  Hath he passed
    Through twenty towns,” thought he, “and hither flown
    To bid good-morrow?  Nay, it is not that. 
    Good!  I shall know it when he bids me know.” 
      Thereat, with friendly speech his noble guest
    The King to rest dismissed.  “Repose thyself,”
    He said; “the road was long; weary thou art.” 
    And Rituparna, with sentences of grace
    Replying to this graciousness, was led
    By slaves to the allotted sleeping-room;
    And after Rituparna, Varshneya went. 
    Vahuka, left alone, the chariot ran
    Into its shed, and from the foamy steeds
    Unbuckled all the harness, thong by thong,
    Speaking soft words to them; then sat him down,
    Alone, forgotten, on the driving-seat. 
      But Damayanti, seeing Rituparna,
    And Vrishni’s son, and him called Vahuka,
    Spake sorrowful:  “Whose was the thunder, then,
    Of that fleet car?  It seemed like Nala’s own;
    Yet here I see no Nala!  Hath yon man
    My lord’s art learned, or th’other one, that thus
    Their car should thunder as when Nala comes? 
    Could Rituparna drive as Nala doth,
    So that those chariot-wheels should sound like his?”
    And, after having pondered (O my King!),
    The beauteous Princess sent