From my lord this long divorcement--through their power do I endure." Thus the noblest of all women--to bewail her fate began, The deserted Damayanti--with these sad and bitter words; With some Veda-reading Brahmins--that survived that scattered host, Then she went her way in sadness--like the young moon's sickle pale, And ere long a mighty city--that afflicted queen drew near: 'Twas the king of Chedi's city--truth-discerning Subahu. Scantly clad in half a garment--entered she that stately town; Her disturbed, emaciate, wretched--with dishevelled hair, unwashed, Like a maniac, onward-moving--saw that city's wondering throng; Gazing on her as she entered--to the monarch's royal seat; All the boys her footsteps followed--in their curious gamesome play;[98] Circled round by these she wandered--near the royal palace gate. From that palace lofty terrace--her the mother of the king Saw, and thus her nurse addressed she--"Go, and lead that wanderer in! Sad she roves, without a refuge--troubled by those gazing men; Yet in form so bright, irradiate--is our palace where she moves. Though so maniac-like, half-clothed--like Heaven's long-eyed queen she seems." She those crowding men dispersing--quickly to the palace top Made her mount--and in amazement--her the mother-queen addressed: "Thus though bowed and worn with sorrow--such a shining form thou wear'st, As through murky clouds the lightning--tell me who thou art and whence: For thy form is more than human--of all ornament despoiled: Men thou fear'st not, unattended--in celestial beauty safe." Hearing thus her gentle language--Bhima's daughter made reply, "Know me like thyself a mortal--a distressed, devoted wife; Of illustrious race an handmaid--making where I will mine home; On the roots and wild-fruits feeding--lonely, at the fall of eve. Gifted with unnumber'd virtues--is my true, my faithful lord, And I still the hero followed--like his shadow on the way. 'Twas his fate, with desp'rate fondness--to pursue the love of play, And in play subdued and ruined--entered he yon lonely wood; Him, arrayed in but one garment,--like a madman wandering wild, To console my noble husband--I too entered the deep wood; He within that dreary forest--for some cause, to me unknown, Wild with hunger, reft of reason--that one single robe he lost. I with but one robe, him naked[99]--frantic, and with mind diseased, Following through the boundless forest--many a night I had not slept; Then, when I had sunk to slumber--me the blameless leaving there, Half my garment having severed--he his sinless consort fled; Seeking him, my outcast husband--night and day am I consumed: Him I see not, ever shining--like the lotus cup, beloved; Find him not, most like th' immortals--lord of all, my life, my soul."