In her brightness, in her glory--with her large dark beauteous eyes, Entered she those hermit dwellings--wife of Virasena's son; Pearl of women, ever blessed-Damayanti the devout, She those holy men saluting--stood with modest form half bent. "Hail, and welcome!" thus those hermits--instant with one voice exclaimed. And those sacred men no sooner--had the fitting homage paid, "Take thy seat," they said, "oh lady[84]--and command what we must do." Thus replied the slender waisted--"Blessed are ye, holy men. In your sacred fires, your worship[85]--blameless, with your beasts and birds.[86] Doth the grace of heaven attend you--in your duties, in your deeds?" Answered they, "The grace of heaven--ever blesses all our deeds. But say thou, of form so beauteous--who thou art, and what thou would'st? As thy noble form we gaze on--on thy brightness as we gaze, In amaze we stand and wonder--cheer thee up, and mourn no more. Of the wood art thou the goddess--or the mountain goddess thou; Or the goddess of the river?--Blessed Spirit, speak the truth. Nor the sylvan goddess am I,"--to the Wise she thus replied; "Neither of the mountain, Brahmins--nor the river nymph am I. Know me but a mortal being--O, ye rich in holiness! All my tale at length, I'll tell ye--if meet audience ye will give. In Vidarbha, mighty guardian--Bhima, dwells the lord of earth; Of that noble king the daughter--twice-born Sages, know ye me.[87] And the monarch of Nishadha--Nala named, the great in fame; Brave in battle, conqueror, prudent--is my lord, the peasants' king; To the gods devout in worship--friendly to the Brahmin race, Of Nishadha's race the guardian--great in glory, great in might, True in word, and skilled in duty--and the slayer of his foes. Pious, heaven-devoted, prosperous--conqueror of hostile towns; Nala named, the best of sovereigns--splendid as the king of gods. Know that large-eyed chief, my husband--like the full-orbed moon his face, Giver he of costly offerings--deep in th' holy volumes read; Slayer of his foes in battle--glorious as the sun and moon. He to some most evil minded--unrespected, wicked men, After many a challenge, studious--he of virtue and of truth, To these skilful gamesters, fraudful--lost his kingdom and his wealth. Know ye me the hapless consort--of that noble king of kings, Damayanti, so they name me--yearning for my husband's sight. I through forests, over mountains--stagnant marsh and river broad, Lake with wide pellucid surface--through the long and trackless wood, Ever seeking for my husband--Nala, skilful in the fight. Mighty in the use of weapons--wander desolate and sad. Tell me, to this pleasant sojourn--sacred to these holy men, Hath he come, the royal Nala?--hath Nishadha's monarch come?