A woman’s bliss is found, not in the smile Of father, mother, friend, nor in herself: Her husband is her only portion here, Her heaven hereafter. If thou indeed Depart this day into the forest drear, I will precede, and smooth the thorny way. A gay recluse On thee attending, happy shall I feel Within the honey-scented grove to roam, For thou e’en here canst nourish and protect; And therefore other friend I cannot need. To-day most surely with thee will I go, And thus resolved, I must not be deny’d. Roots and wild fruit shall be my constant food; Nor will I near thee add unto thy cares, Nor lag behind, nor forest-food refuse, But fearless traverse every hill and dale. Thus could I sweetly pass a thousand years; But without thee e’en heaven would lose its charms [614]. Pleased to embrace thy feet, I will reside In the rough forest as my father’s house. Void of all other wish, supremely thine, Permit me this request—I will not grieve, I will not burden thee—refuse me not. But shouldst thou, Raghuvu, this prayer deny Know, I resolve on death. _Vide_ Ward, _On the History, Literature, and Mythology of the Hindus_, ed. 1815, ii. p. 308 ff. [Cp. Manu, vi. 2 ff.] The publication of Mr. Wilson’s specimens of the Hindu drama has put the English public in possession of very striking features of ancient Hindu manners, amongst which conjugal fidelity and affection stand eminently conspicuous. The Uttara Rama Charitra, the Vikrama and Urvasi, and the Mudra Rakshasa, contain many instances in point. In the latter piece occurs an example, in comparatively humble life, of the strong affection of a Hindu wife. Chandana Das, like Antonio in the _Merchant of Venice_, is doomed to die, to save his friend. His wife follows him to the scene of execution, with their only child, and the succeeding dialogue ensues: _Chand._ Withdraw, my love, and lead our boy along. _Wife._ Forgive me, husband,—to another world Thy steps are bound, and not to foreign realms, Whence in due time thou homeward wilt return; No common farewell our leave-taking now Admits, nor must the partner of thy fate Leave thee to trace thy solitary way. _Chand._ What dost thou mean? _Wife._ To follow thee in death. _Chand._ Think not of this—our boy’s yet tender years Demand affectionate and guardian care. _Wife._ I leave him to our household gods, nor fear They will desert his youth:—come, my dear boy, And bid thy sire a long and last farewell.