Of monkey-folk o’erheard; and when she saw,
    Her heart was lightened, for its quietness. 
    So drew she nigh—­that lovely wanderer—­
    Bright-browed, long-tressed, large-hipped, full-bosomed, fair,
    With pearly teeth and honeyed mouth, in gait
    Right queenly still, having those long black eyes—­
    The wife of Virasena’s son, the gem
    Of all dear women, glory of her time;
    Sad Damayanti entered their abode,
    Those holy men saluting reverently,
    With modest body bowed.  Thus stood she there
    And all the saints spake gently, “Swagatam—­
    Welcome!” and gave the greetings which are meet;
    And afterwards, “Repose thyself,” they said;
    “What wouldst thou have of us?” Then, with soft words
    The slender-waisted spake:  “Of all these here,
    So worshipful in sacrifice and rite—­
    ’Mid gentle beasts and birds—­in tasks and toils
    And blameless duties—­is it well?” And they
    Answered:  “We thank you, noble lady, well. 
    Tell us, most beauteous one, thy name, and say
    What thou desirest.  Seeing thee so fair,
    So worthy, yet so sorrowful, our minds
    Are lost in wonder.  Weep not.  Comfort take. 
    Art thou the goddess of the wood?  Art thou
    The Mountain-Yakshi, or, belike, some sprite
    Which lives under the river?  Tell us true,
    Gentle and faultless form!”
                                 Whereat reply
    Thus made she to the Rishis:  “None of these
    Am I, good saints.  No goddess of the wood,
    Nor yet a mountain nor a river sprite;
    A woman ye behold, most only ones,
    Whose moving story I will tell you true. 
    The Raja of Vidarbha is my sire,
    Bhima his name, and—­Best of Twice-born!—­know
    My husband is Nishadha’s Chief, the famed,
    The wise and valiant and victorious Prince,
    The high and lordly Nala; of the gods
    A steadfast worshipper; of Brahmanas
    The friend; his people’s shield; honored and strong,
    Truth-speaking, skilled in arms, sagacious, just;
    Terrible to his foes, fortunate, lord
    Of many conquered towns; a godlike man,
    Princeliest of princes—­Nala—­one that hath
    A countenance like the full moon’s for light,
    And eyes of lotus.  This true offerer
    Of sacrifices, this close votary
    Of Vedas and Vedangas, in the war
    Deadly to enemies, like sun and moon
    For splendor—­by some certain evil ones
    Being defied to dice, my virtuous Prince
    Was, by their wicked acts, of realm despoiled—­
    Wealth, jewels, all.  I am his woful wife,
    The Princess Damayanti.  Seeking him
    Through thickets have I roamed, over rough hills,
    By crag and river and the reedy lake,
    By marsh and waterfall and jungle-bush,
    In quest of him—­my lord, my warrior,
    My hero—­and still