Ah, might that so be!”
      Checking her tears, Damayanti sadly smiled,
    And said full soft:  “One way of hope I see,
    A blameless way, O Lord of men! wherefrom
    No fault shall rise, nor any danger fall. 
    Thou also, Prince, with Indra and these gods,
    Must enter in where my Swayamvara
    Is held; then I, in presence of those gods,
    Will choose thee, dearest, for my lord; and so
    Blame shall not light on thee,”
                                    With which sweet words
    Soft in his ears, Nishadha straight returned
    There where the gods were gathered, waiting him;
    Whom the world’s masters, on his way, perceived,
    And, spying, questioned, asking for his news:—­
    “Saw’st thou her, Prince?  Didst see the sweet-lipped one? 
    What spake she of us?  Tell us true; tell all!”
      Quoth Nala:  “By your worshipful behest
    Sent to her house, the great gates entered I,
    Though the gray porters watched; but none might spy
    My entering, by your power, O radiant Ones,
    Saving the Raja’s daughter; her I saw
    Amid her maidens, and by them was seen. 
    On me with much amazement they did gaze
    Whilst I your high Divinities extolled. 
    But she that hath the lovely face, with mind
    Set upon me, hath chosen me, ye Gods. 
    For thus she spake, my Princess:  ’Let them come,
    And come thou, like a lordly tiger, too,
    Unto the place of my Swayamvara;
    There will I choose thee in their presence, Prince,
    To be my lord; and so there will not fall
    Blame, thou strong-armed! to thee,’ This she did say
    Even as I tell it; and what shall be next,
    To will is yours, O ye immortal Ones!”
      Soon, when the moon was good, and day and hour
    Were found propitious, Bhima, King of men,
    Summoned the chiefs to the Swayamvara;
    Upon which message all those eager lords
    For love of Damayanti hastened there. 
    Glorious with gilded pillars was the court,
    Whereto a gate-house opened, and thereby
    Into the square, like lions from the hills,
    Paced the proud guests; and there their seats they took,
    Each in his rank, the masters of the lands,
    With crowns of fragrant blossoms garlanded,
    And polished jewels swinging in their ears. 
    Of some the thews, knitted and rough, stood forth
    Like iron maces; some had slender limbs,
    Sleek and fine-turned like the five-headed snake;
    Lords with long-flowing hair; glittering lords;
    High-nosed, and eagle-eyed, and heavy-browed;
    The faces of those kings shone in a ring
    As shine at night the stars; and that great square
    As thronged with Rajas was as Naga-land
    Is full of serpents; thick with warlike chiefs
    As mountain-caves with panthers.  Unto these
    Entered, in matchless majesty