Nishadha’s folk
    Should succor me, their Raja—­these have come—­
    Demon and dice—­and like to winged birds
    Have borne away my cloth.  To such shame fall’n,
    Such utmost woe, wretched, demented—­I
    Thy lord am still, and counsel thee for good. 
    Attend!  Hence be there many roads which go
    Southwards:  some pass Avanti’s walls, and some
    Skirt Rikshavan, the forest of the bears;
    This wends to Vindhya’s lofty peaks, and this
    To the green banks where quick Payoshni runs
    Seaward, between her hermitages, rich
    In fruits and roots; and yon path leadeth thee
    Unto Vidarbha; that to Kosala,
    And therefrom southward—­southward—­far away.” 
      So spake he to the Princess wistfully,
    Between his words pointing along the paths,
    Which she should take (O King!).  But Bhima’s child
    Made answer, bowed with grief, her soft voice choked
    With sobs, these piteous accents uttering:—­
      “My heart beats quick; my body’s force is gone,
    Thinking, dear Prince, on this which thou hast said,
    Pointing along the paths.  What! robbed of realm,
    Stripped of thy wealth, bare, famished, parched with thirst,
    Thus shall I leave thee in the untrodden wood? 
    Ah, no!  While thou dost muse on dear days fled,
    Hungry and weeping, I in this wild waste
    Will charm thy griefs away, solacing thee. 
    The wisest doctors say, ’In every woe
    No better physic is than wifely love,’
    And, Nala, I will make it true to thee.” 
      “Thou mak’st it true,” he said; “thou sayest well,
    Sweet Damayanti; neither is there friend
    To sad men given better than a wife. 
    I had not thought to leave thee, foolish Love! 
    Why didst thou fear?  Alas, ’t is from myself
    That I would fly—­not thee, thou Faultless One!”
      “Yet, if,” the Princess answered, “Maharaja! 
    Thou hadst no thought to leave me, why by thee
    Was the way pointed to Vidarbha’s walls? 
    I know thou wouldst not quit me, noblest Lord,
    Being thyself, but only if thy mind
    Were sore distraught; and see, thou gazest still
    Along the southward road, my dread thereby
    Increasing, thou that wert as are the gods! 
    If it be thy fixed thought, ’Twere best she went
    Unto her people’—­be it so; I go;
    But hand in hand with thee.  Thus let us fare
    Unto Vidarbha, where the King, my sire,
    Will greet thee well, and honor thee; and we
    Happy and safe within his gates shall dwell.” 
      “As is thy father’s kingdom,” Nala said,
    “So, once, was mine.  Be sure, whatever betide,
    Never will I go thither!  How, in sooth,
    Should I, who came there glorious, gladdening thee,
    Creep back, thy shame and scorn, disconsolate?”
      So to sweet Damayanti spake the Prince,
    Beguiling her, whom now one