Maha-Bharata Epic of the Bharatas

Pardon witless maiden’s fancy, but beneath the eye of Heaven,
Only once a maiden chooseth, twice her troth may not be given,

Long his life or be it narrow, and his virtues great or none,
Satyavan is still my husband, he my heart and troth hath won,

What a maiden’s heart hath chosen that a maiden’s lips confess,
True to him thy poor Savitri goes into the wilderness!”

“Monarch!” uttered then the rishi, “fixed is she in mind and heart,
From her troth the true Savitri never, never will depart,

More than mortals share of virtue unto Satyavan is given,
Let the true maid wed her chosen, leave the rest to gracious Heaven!”

“Rishi and preceptor holy!” so the weeping monarch prayed,
“Heaven avert all future evils, and thy mandate is obeyed!”

Narad wished him joy and gladness, blessed the loving youth and maid,
Forest hermits on their wedding every fervent blessing laid.

IV. Overtaken by Fate

Twelve-month in the darksome forest by her true and chosen lord,
Sweet Savitri served his parents by her thought and deed and word,

Bark of tree supplied her garments draped upon her bosom fair,
Or the red cloth as in asrams holy women love to wear.

[260] And the aged queen she tended with a fond and filial pride,
Served the old and sightless monarch like a daughter by his side,

And with love and gentle sweetness pleased her husband and her lord,
But in secret, night and morning, pondered still on Narad’s word!

Nearer came the fatal morning by the holy Narad told,
Fair Savitri reckoned daily and her heart was still and cold,

Three short days remaining only! and she took a vow severe
Of triratra, three nights’ penance, holy fasts and vigils drear.

Of Savitri’s rigid penance heard the king with anxious woe,
Spake to her in loving accents, so the vow she might forego:

 

 

 

 

 

“Hard the penance, gentle daughter, and thy woman’s limbs are frail,
After three nights’ fasts and vigils sure thy tender health may fail,”

“Be not anxious, loving father,” meekly thus Savitri prayed,
“Penance I have undertaken, will unto the gods be made.”

Much misdoubting then the monarch gave his sad and slow assent,
Pale with fast and unseen tear-drops, lonesome nights Savitri spent

Nearer came the fatal morning, and to-morrow he shall die,
Dark, lone hours of nightly silence! Tearless, sleepless is her eye!

“Dawns that dread and fated morning!” said Savitri, bloodless, brave,
Prayed her fervent prayers in silence, to the Fire oblations gave,

Bowed unto the forest Brahmans, to the parents kind and good,
Joined her hands in salutation and in reverent silence stood.

With the usual morning blessing, “Widow may’st thou never be,”
Anchorites and agéd Brahmans blessed Savitri fervently,

O! that blessing fell upon her like the rain on thirsty air,
Struggling hope inspired her bosom as she drank those accents fair,

But returned the dark remembrance of the rishi Narad’s word,
Pale she watched the creeping sunbeams, mused upon her fated lord!

[260] “Daughter, now thy fast is over,” so the loving parents said,
“Take thy diet after penance, for thy morning prayers are prayed,”

“Pardon, father,” said Savitri, “let this other day be done,”
Unshed tear-drops filled her eyelids, glistened in the morning sun!

Satyavan, sedate and stately, ponderous axe on shoulder hung,
For the distant darksome jungle issued forth serene and strong,

But unto him came Savitri and in sweetest accents prayed,
As upon his manly bosom gently she her forehead laid:

“Long I wished to see the jungle where steals not the solar ray,
Take me to the darksome forest, husband, let me go to-day!”

“Come not, love,” he sweetly answered with a loving husband’s care,
“Thou art all unused to labour, forest paths thou may’st not dare,

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