of form,
    The Princess Damayanti.  As she came,
    The glory of her ravished eyes and hearts,
    So that the gaze of all those haughty kings,
    Fastening upon her loveliness, grew fixed—­
    Not moving save with her—­step after step
    Onward and always following the maid. 
      But while the styles and dignities of all
    Were cried aloud (O son of Bharat!), lo! 
    The Princess marked five of that throng alike
    In form and garb and visage.  There they stood,
    Each from the next undifferenced, but each
    Nala’s own self;—­yet which might Nala be
    In nowise could that doubting maid descry. 
    Who took her eye seemed Nala while she gazed,
    Until she looked upon his like; and so
    Pondered the lovely lady, sore-perplexed,
    Thinking, “How shall I tell which be the gods,
    And which is noble Nala?” Deep-distressed
    And meditative waxed she, musing hard
    What those signs were, delivered us of old,
    Whereby gods may be known:  “Of all those signs
    Taught by our elders, lo!  I see not one
    Where stand yon five.”  So murmured she, and turned
    Over and over every mark she knew. 
    At last, resolved to make the gods themselves
    Her help at need, with reverent air and voice
    Humbly saluted she those heavenly ones,
    And with joined palms and trembling accents spake:—­
    “As, when I heard the swans, I chose my Prince,
    By that sincerity I call ye, Gods,
    To show my Love to me and make me know! 
    As in my heart and soul and speech I stand
    True to my choice, by that sincerity
    I call the all-knowing gods to make me know! 
    As the high gods created Nishadha’s chief
    To be my lord, by their sincerity
    I bid them show themselves, and make me know! 
    As my vow, sealed to him, must be maintained
    For his name, and for mine, I call the gods
    By such sincerity to make me know! 
    Let them appear, the masters of the world—­
    The high gods—­each one in his proper shape,
    That I may see Nishadha’s chief, my choice,
    Whom minstrels praise, and Damayanti loves.” 
      Hearing that earnest speech—­so passion-fraught,
    So full of truth, of strong resolve, of love,
    Of singleness of soul and constancy—­
    Even as she spake, the gods disclosed themselves. 
    By well-seen signs the effulgent Ones she knew. 
    Shadowless stood they, with unwinking eyes,
    And skins which never moist with sweat; their feet
    Light-gliding o’er the ground, not touching it;
    The unfading blossoms on their brows not soiled
    By earthly dust, but ever fair and fresh. 
    Whilst, by their side, garbed so and visaged so,
    But doubled by his shadow, stained with dust,
    The flower-cups wiltering in his wreath, his skin
    Pearly with sweat, his feet