Together with the swift steeds and the car,
    That sweet maid Indrasena, and the Prince
    Indrasen, and made reverence to the King,
    Saddened for sake of Nala.  Afterwards
    Taking his leave, unto Ayodhya
    Varshneya went, exceeding sorrowful,
    And with King Rituparna (O my Prince!)
    Took service as a charioteer. 
                                  These gone—­
    The praised-of-poets, Nala, still played on,
    Till Pushkara his kingdom’s wealth had won,
    And whatso was to lose beside.  Thereat
    With scornful laugh mocked he that beggared Prince,
    Saying, “One other throw; once more!—­Yet sooth,
    What canst thou stake?  Nothing is left for thee
    Save Damayanti; all the rest is mine. 
    Play we for Damayanti, if thou wilt.” 
    But hearing this from Pushkara, the Prince
    So in his heart by grief and shame was torn,
    No word he uttered—­only glared in wrath
    Upon his mocker, upon Pushkara. 
    Then, his rich robes and jewels stripping off,
    Uncovered, with one cloth, ’mid waiting friends
    Sorrowful passed he forth, his great state gone;
    The Princess, with one garment, following him,
    Piteous to see.  And there without the gates
    Three nights they lay—­Nashadha’s King and Queen. 
    Upon the fourth day Pushkara proclaimed,
    Throughout the city, “Whoso yieldeth help
    To Nala, dieth!  Let my will be known!”
      So, for this bitter word of Pushkara’s power
    (O Yudhisthir!) the townsmen rendered not
    Service nor love, but left them outcast there,
    Unhelped, whom all the city should have helped. 
    Yet three nights longer tarried he, his drink
    The common pool, his meat such fruits and roots
    As miserable hunger plucks from earth: 
    Then fled they from those walls, the Prince going first,
    The Princess following. 
                            After grievous days,
    Pinched ever with sharp famine, Nala saw
    A flock of gold-winged birds lighting anigh,
    And to himself the famished Raja said:—­
    “Lo! here is food; this day we shall have store;”
    Then lightly cast his cloth and covered them. 
    But these, fluttering aloft, bore with them there
    Nala’s one cloth; and, hovering overhead,
    Uttered sharp-stinging words, reviling him
    Even as he stood, naked to all the airs,
    Downcast and desperate:  “Thou brain-sick Prince! 
    We are the dice; we come to ravish hence
    Thy last poor cloth; we were not well content
    Thou shouldst depart owning a garment still.” 
    And when he saw the dice take wings and fly,
    Leaving him bare, to Damayanti spake
    This melancholy Prince:  “O Blameless One,
    They by whose malice I am driven forth,
    Finding no sustenance, sad, famine-gaunt—­
    They whose decree forbade