speak! 
    That I go sorrowless, O heart’s-ease, be
    Truly heart-easing—­ease my heart of pain.” 
      Thus, wild with grief, she spake unto the tree,
    Round and round walking, as to reverence it;
    And then, unanswered, the sweet lady sped
    Through wastes more dreadful, passing many a
    Many still-gliding rillets, many a peak
    Tree-clad, with beasts and birds of wondrous kind,
    In dark ravines, and caves, and lonely glooms. 
    These things saw Damayanti, Bhima’s child,
    Seeking her lord. 
                      At last, on the long road,
    She, whose soft smile was once so beautiful,
    A caravan encountered.  Merchantmen
    With trampling horses, elephants, and wains,
    Made passage of a river, running slow
    In cool, clear waves.  The quiet waters gleamed,
    Shining and wide outspread, between the canes
    Which bordered it, wherefrom echoed the cries
    Of fish-hawks, curlews, and red chakravaks,
    With sounds of leaping fish and water-snakes,
    And tortoises, amid its shoals and flats
    Sporting or feeding. 
                         When she spied that throng—­
    Heart-maddened with her anguish, weak and wan,
    Half clad, bloodless and thin, her long black locks
    Matted with dust—­breathlessly breaks she in
    Upon them—­Nala’s wife—­so beauteous once,
    So honored.  Seeing her, some fled in fear;
    Some gazed, speechless with wonder; some called out,
    Mocking the piteous face by words of scorn;
    But some (my King!) had pity of her woe,
    And spake her fair, inquiring:  “Who art thou? 
    And whence?  And in this grove what seekest thou,
    To come so wild?  Thy mien astonisheth. 
    Art of our kind, or art thou something strange,
    The spirit of the forest, or the hill,
    Or river valley?  Tell us true; then we
    Will buy thy favor.  If, indeed, thou art
    Yakshini, Rakshasi, or she-creature
    Haunting this region, be propitious!  Send
    Our caravan in safety on its path,
    That we may quickly, by thy fortune, go
    Homeward, and all fair chances fall to us.” 
      Hereby accosted, softly gave response
    That royal lady—­weary for her lord—­
    Answering the leader of the caravan,
    And those that gathered round, a marvelling throng
    Of men and boys and elders:  “Oh, believe
    I am as you, of mortal birth, but born
    A Raja’s child, and made a Raja’s wife. 
    Him seek I, Chieftain of Nishadha, named
    Prince Nala—­famous, glorious, first in war. 
    If ye know aught of him, my king, my joy,
    My tiger of the jungle, my lost lord,
    Quick, tell me, comfort me!”
                               Then one who led
    Their line—­the merchant Suchi—­answering,
    Spake to the peerless Princess:  “Hear me now.