From thine own hand didst daily nourish it;
    And, ever and anon, when some sharp thorn
    Had pierced its mouth, how gently thou didst tend
    The bleeding wound, and pour in healing balm. 
    The grateful nursling clings to its protectress,
    Mutely imploring leave to follow her.

SAKOONTALA.—­My poor little fawn, dost thou ask to follow an unhappy woman who hesitates not to desert her companions?  When thy mother died, soon after thy birth, I supplied her place, and reared thee with my own hand; and now that thy second mother is about to leave thee, who will care for thee?  My father, be thou a mother to her.  My child, go back, and be a daughter to my father. [Moves on, weeping.

KANWA.—­Weep not, my daughter, check the gathering tear
    That lurks beneath thine eyelid, ere it flow
    And weaken thy resolve; be firm and true—­
    True to thyself and me; the path of life
    Will lead o’er hill and plain, o’er rough and smooth,
    And all must feel the steepness of the way;
    Though rugged be thy course, press boldly on.

SARNGARAVA.—­Venerable sire! the sacred precept is—­“Accompany thy friend as far as the margin of the first stream.”  Here then, we are arrived at the border of a lake.  It is time for you to give us your final instructions and return.

KANWA.—­Be it so; let us tarry for a moment under the shade of this fig-tree. [They do so.

KANWA [aside].—­I must think of some appropriate message to send to his majesty King Dushyanta. [Reflects.

SAKOONTALA [aside to Anasuya].—­See, see, dear Anasuya, the poor female Chakravaka-bird, whom cruel fate dooms to nightly separation from her mate, calls to him in mournful notes from the other side of the stream, though he is only hidden from her view by the spreading leaves of the water-lily.  Her cry is so piteous that I could almost fancy she was lamenting her hard lot in intelligible words.

ANASUYA.—­Say not so, dearest. 
    Fond bird! though sorrow lengthen out her night
    Of widowhood, yet with a cry of joy
    She hails the morning light that brings her mate
    Back to her side.  The agony of parting
    Would wound us like a sword, but that its edge
    Is blunted by the hope of future meeting.

KANWA.—­Sarngarava, when you have introduced Sakoontala into the presence of the King, you must give him this message from me.

SARNGARAVA.—­Let me hear it, venerable father.

KANWA.—­This is it—­
    Most puissant prince! we here present before thee
    One thou art bound to cherish and receive
    As thine own wife; yea, even to enthrone
    As thine own queen—­worthy of equal love
    With thine imperial consorts.  So much, Sire,
    We claim of thee as justice due to us,
    In virtue of our holy character—­