My grief in times gone by, how can the pain I suffer now assuage? Did'st thou not lose Thy kingdom? did'st thou not desert thy friends? Did'st thou not sell thy wife and child?" The king Heard her lament, and as he heard, the wail Fell from his eyes,--he recognized again His wife and son--and saying but the words, "Ah! Saivya! Ah! my beloved child!" He fainting fell to earth. Then, too, the queen, Hearing her husband's voice, o'ercome with grief, Insensate fell. Returning consciousness Brought to them both affliction's heaviest weight And mutual lamentations. "Ah! my son!" Thus mourned the king, "my inmost heart is torn, When I behold thy form so delicate: My child! embracing thee in tend'rest love, Words of affection I will speak, that rise Unbidden to my lips. Alas! thy limbs Will be defiled by my embrace; the dust That clings about my garments will pollute Thy lovely form! Alas! my child, thou had'st An evil father! He who should have kept All dangers from thee, he it was who sold Thee as a slave! and yet in heart and mind First of all things I love thee. Ah! my child! Thy father's realm--my heaped-up wealth--all this By lawful right was thine inheritance, And now thou liest slain! Ah me! the tears Rise to my eyes in blinding force: thy form, In grace and beauty like the lotus flower, Fades from my sight." He spoke, and faltering With grief embraced his son. The queen exclaimed: "This is indeed my lord--I know his voice! I know his form! this is the mighty king. The wisest of all beings. But how changed! What fate is this? Ah what a dreadful place For him, the lord of men. This grief yet more Is added to the mourning for my son-- My husband's fate--for as a slave he serves A base Cha.n.dâla. Curséd be that god, Or demon foul, through whom a godlike king Has fallen to this degraded state; the lot Of a Švapâka. Ah! most noble prince, My mind is filled with grief, when I recall Thy regal state, thy past magnificence. No kingly ensigns go before thee now, No captive kings, brought down to slavery, Humbly precede thee, casting in the way Their garments, lest the dust should soil thy feet. But now! O king! alas, thyself a slave, Thou livest in this fearful place, begrimed With filth; thy sacred cord concealed, thy hair Tangled and long, plunder of dead men's clothes Thy livelihood. Ah! king! and is thy life Spent in this awful wise?" So spake the queen, And falling on his neck, embraced her lord: While she, sprung from a king herself, bewailed Her sorrows endless. "King! I pray thee speak! Is this a dream? If it be real and true, Then justice, truth, and righteousness have fled And gone from earth: nor aught avails mankind, Of sacrifice, or reverence, to gods Or priests! 'Tis vain to follow innocence If thou, most perfect, purest of mankind, Art brought to such a depth of infamy."