The Tale of Nala [1]

Nala, Nishadha's king, paced by a stream

Which ran, escaping from the solitudes

To flow through gardens in a pleasant land.

Murmuring it came of the green souls of hills

And of the towns and hamlets it had seen,

The brown-limbed peasants toiling in the sun,

And the tired bullocks in the thirsty fields.

In its bright talk and laughter it recalled

The moonlight and the lapping dangerous tongues,

The sunlight and the skimming wings of birds,

And gurgling jars, and bright bathed limbs of girls

At morning, and its noons and lonely eves.

This memory to the jasmine trees it sang

Which dropped their slow white petalled kisses down

Upon its haste of curling waves. Far off

A mountain rose, alone and purple vague,

Wide-watching from its large stone-lidded eye

The drowsy noontide earth; vastly outspread

Like Vindhya changed, against the height of heaven

It stood and on the deep-blue nearness leaned

Its shoulder in a mighty indolence.

Reclined for giant rest the Titan paused.

The birds were voiceless on the unruffled boughs;

The spotted lizard in a dull unease

Basked on his sentinel stone, a single kite

Circled above; white-headed over rust

Of brown and gold he stained the purple noon.

Solitary in the spaces of his mind

Among these sights and sounds King Nala paced

Oblivious of the joy of outward things.

Shrill and dissatisfied the wanderer's cry

Came to his ear; he saw with absent eyes

The rapid waters in their ripple run

Nor marked the ruddy sprouting of the leaves,

Nor heard the dove's rare cooing in the trees.

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His thoughts were with a face his dreams had seen

Diviner than the jasmine's moon-flaked glow;

He listened to a name his dreams had learned

Sweeter than passion of the crooning bird.

Its delicate syllables yearning through his mind

Repeated longingly the soft-wreathed call,

As if some far-off bright forgotten queen

From whom his heart had wandered through the world,

Were summoning back to her her truant thrall,

Luring him with the music of her name.

But soon some look on him he seemed to feel.

The summit self-uplifted to the sky

Mounting the air in act to climb and join

Heaven's sapphire longing with earth's green unease

Drew his far gaze, which conned as for a thought

The undecipherable charactery

Of rocks and mingled woods; but all was lost

In too much light. Dull glared the giant stones;

The woods, fallen sleepy on their mountain couch,

Had nestled in their coverlet of haze.

Like dim-seen shapes of virgins stoled in blue

In huddled grace sleeping close-limbed they lay.

Then from some covert bosom's shrouded riches

A revelation came; for like a gleam

Of beauty from a purple-guarded breast

One lovely glint of passionate whiteness broke.

Fluttering awhile towards him soon it fled

Seeking his vision; and its glowing race

Splintered the sapphire with its silvery hue,

And now a flame-bright flock of swans was seen

Flying like one and breasting with its shock

Of faery speed the vastness of the noon.

Not only with an argent flashing ran

The brilliant cohort on its skiey path,

But shaking from wild wings a hail of gold.

Heaven's lustrous tunic of transparent air

Regretted the bright ornament as they passed.

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They flew not like the snowy cranes, like wreaths

Of flowers driven in the rain-wind's breath,

When thunder calls them northward, but came fast

Ranked in magnificent and lovely lines,

Cleaving the air with splendour, while the pride

And rushing glory of their bosoms and wings

Assailed his eyes with silver and with flame.

Over the Nishadhan gardens flying round

They came down whirring softly, then filled awhile

With gentle clamour from their liquid throats

The region, and disturbed with dipping plumes

The turquoise slumber of the motionless lake

Lulled to unrippling rest by windless noon.

A hundred wonderful shapes in mystic crowd

Covered the water like a living robe.

Next on the stream they spread their glorious breasts.

Each close-ranked by her sweet companion's side,

Floating they came and preened above the flood

Their long and stately necks like curving flowers.

The water petted with enamoured waves

Their bosoms and the slow air swooned along

Their wings; their motion set a wordless chant

To flow against the chidings of the stream.

And hard to speak their beauty, what silver mass

On mass, what flakes and peacock-eyes of gold,

What passion of crimson flecked each pure white breast.

It seemed to his charmed sense that in this form

The loveliness of a diviner world

Had come to him winged. Their beauty to tender greed

Moved him of all that living silver and gold.

"For now thy heaven-born pride must learn to range

My gardens of the earth and haunt my streams,

And to my call consent. If thou resist

I will imprison thee in a golden cage

And bind thy beauty with a silver chain."

A laughter beautiful arose from her,

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Thrilling her throat with bubbling ecstasies,

Sweet, satisfied because he praised her grace.

And with mysterious mild deep-glowing eyes

In long and softly-wreathing syllables

The wonder spoke. "Release me, for no birds

Are we, O mortal, but the moon-bosomed nymphs

Who to the trance-heard music of the gods

Sway in the mystic dances of the sky,

Apsaras, daughters of the tumbling seas.

Shaped by thy fancy is my white-winged form."

But Nala to his bright prisoner swan replied:

"And more thou doomst thyself by all thy words,

Bird of desire or goddess luminous-limbed,

To satisfy my pride and my delight,

My divine captive and white-bosomed slave

Who stoopst to me from unattainable heavens.

Thou shalt possess my streams, O white-winged swan,

And dance, O Apsara, singing in my halls.

Between the illumined pillars thou shalt glide

When flute and breathing lyre and timbrel call,

Adorning with thy golden rhythmic limbs

The crystalline mosaic of my floors.

What I have seized by force, by force I keep."

Her eyes now smiled on him; submissively

She laid in all its tender curving grace

The long white wonder of her neck upraised

In suppliant wreaths against his bosom and pressed

Flatteringly her silver head upon his cheek

And with her soft alluring voice replied:

"Because thou art bright and beautiful and bold

So have I come to thee and thou hast seized

Whom if thou hadst set free, thy joy were lost.

So to thy mind from some celestial space

A name and face have come, yet are on earth,

Which if thou hadst not held with yearning's stays,

Thy mortal life would have been given in vain.

Forced by thy musing in the sapphire noon

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Out of the mountain's breast to thee I flew

Unknowing, a heavenly envoy to her heart

That was thy own by glad necessity

Before its beatings in her breast began.

All are the links of one miraculous chain."

The Tale of Nala [2]

Nala, Nishadha's king, paced by a stream

That sings to jasmine-bushes where they dream

Dropping their petal kisses on the flood.

A mountain purple-vague

Wide-watching, half-reclined against the sky,

The drowsy earth with its stone-lidded eye,

Pressing upon the nearness blue and dense

Its shoulder in a mighty indolence.

The birds were silent on the unruffled trees;

The spotted lizard in a dull-eyed ease

Basked on his sentinel-stone; a lonely kite

Circled above, half rusty-gold, half-white.

Shrill and dissatisfied the wanderer's sky

To an unlistening ear sailed shadowy-high.

He saw with absent eyes the ripple-run

Of waters curling in the noonday sun.

His thoughts were with a face his dreams had seen,

And like a floating charm it came between

His vision and the jasmines' virgin glow,

Warmer than clusterings of their moon-flaked snow.

He listened to a name his dreams had heard

Sweeter than passion of a crooning bird.

In long and softly-wreathing sounds were twined

The delicate syllables yearning through his mind;

His beating heart was to their charm compelled.

But now he raised his eyelids and beheld

Possess the air in act to climb and seize

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Heaven's sapphire longing for earth's green unease,

The summit self-uplifted to the sky

With undecipherable charactery

Of woods half-outlined in a passionate haze.

Bright violently as if to force his gaze

Broke from the blue-stoled secrecy of the hill

Such radiance as when softly visible

Breaks stealing from a purple-covered breast

A lovely glint of whiteness. Now, increased,

Like a snow-feathered arrow-head it flew

Splintering the sapphire with its silvery hue.

But before long there gleamed a flame-bright flock

Flying like one and breasting with its shock

Of faery speed the widenesses of noon.

So rapidly the wonder travelled, soon

He saw distinct the feathers proud and fine

Not only with a splendour argentine,

But shaken from the wings was shed a hail

Of gold that left the sunbeam's glory pale.

They flew not like the snowy cranes, a wreath

Of flowers driven in the rainwind's breath,

But ranked in lovely lines magnificent came

Filling the eyes with silver and with flame.

They over Nala's garden flying round

Whirring descended with a far-heard sound,

A gentle thunder falling sweetly slack

As line by line they filled the slumbering lake.

A hundred wonderful shapes in mystic crowd

Covered the water like a living cloud.

Next on the stream they spread their glorious bosoms

And preening over the waves like curving blossoms

Their long and delicate necks came floating on.