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Act One
An inner room of the palace in Avunthie. Chunda Mahasegn, seated; Gopalaca.
Vuthsa Udayan drives my fortune back. Our strengths retire from one luxurious boy, Defeated.
I have seen him in the fight And I have lived to wonder. O, he ranges As lightly through the passages of war As might the moonbeam feet of some bright laughing girl, Her skill concealing in her reckless grace, The measures of a rapid dance.
If this dawn Brings its portentous morning to our gates, Our suns are ended. Yet I had great dreams. Oudh and Cowsambie were my high-carved doors; Ganges, Godavarie and Nurmada In lion race besprayed with sacred dew The moonlit jasmines in my pleasure-grounds. All this great sunlit continent lay sleeping At peace beneath the shadow of my brows. But they were dreams.
Art thou not great enough To live them? Page – 211
O my son, many high hearts Must first have striven, many must have failed Before a great thing can be done on earth; And who shall say then that he is the man ? One age has seen the dreams another lives!
Look up towards the hills where Rudra stands, His dreadful war-lance pointing to the east. Fear not the obstacles the gods have strewn. Why should the mighty man restrain his soul ? Stretch out thy hand to seize, thy foot to trample, A Titan's motion.
High thou soarest now But with eyes shut to the tempest.
Suest thou at last To foemen for the end of haughty strife ?
That never shall be seen. The boy must fall.
He is young, noble, beautiful and bold, But let him fall. We will not bear defeat.
How shall he fall, my son ? For Heaven-admired Rudra still guards my stern and high-eyed fates, But many gods stood smiling at his birth. Luxmie came full of fortunate days; Vishnu Poured down his radiant sanction in the skies And promised his far stride across the earth; Page – 212 Magic Saruswathie between his hands Laid down her lotus arts.
The austere gods Help best and not indulgent deities. The greatness in him cannot grow to man. Excused from effort and propped on difficult ascent Birds that are brilliant-winged fly near to earth. His hero hours are rare forgetful flights. Wine, song and dance winging his peaceful days Throng round his careless soul, it cannot find The noble leisure to grow great.
There lives Our hope. My son, spy out thy enemy's spirit, Even as his wealth and armies! Let thy eyes Find out its weakness and thy hand there strike.
Thou hast a way to strike?
I have a way, Not noble like the sounding paths of war.
Take it; let us stride straight towards our goal.
Thy arm is asked for.
It is thine to use.
Invent some strong device and bring him to us Page – 213 A captive in Ujjayinie's golden groves. Shall he not find there a jailor for his heart To take the miracle of its keys and wear them Swung on her raiment's border? Then he lives Shut up by her close in a prison of joy, Her and our vassal.
Brought to the eagle's nest For the eagle's child, thou giv'st him her heart's prey To Vasavadutta? King, thy way is good. Garooda on a young and sleeping Python Rushing from heaven I'll lift him helpless up Into the skiey distance of our peaks. Though it is strange and new and subtle, it is good. Think the blow struck, thy foeman seized and bound.
I know thy swiftness and thy gathered leap. Once here! his senses are enamoured slaves To the touch of every beautiful thing. O, there No hero, but a tender soul at play, A soft-eyed, mirthful and luxurious youth Whom all sweet sounds and all sweet sights compel To careless ecstasy. Wine, music, flowers And a girl's dawning smile can weave him chains Of vernal softness stronger than bonds can give Of unyielding iron. Two lips shall seal his strength, Two eyes of all his acts be tyrant stars.
One aid I ask of thee and only one. My banishment, O King, from thy domains.
Gopalaca, I banish thee, my child. Return not with my violent will undone. Page – 214 |