With thy consort reunited--yield not up thy soul to grief. Thou thy kingdom, thou thy children--wilt regain, the truth I speak. When again thou would'st behold thee--in thy proper form, O king, Summon me to thy remembrance--and this garment put thou on: In this garment clad resum'st thou--instantly thy proper form." Saying thus, of vests celestial--gave he to the king a pair.[105] And king Nala, thus instructed--gifted with these magic robes, Instantly the king of serpents--vanished from his sight away. BOOK XV. Vanished thus the King of Serpents--set Nishadha's raja forth, Rituparna's royal city--on the tenth day entered he. Straight before the royal presence--"Vahuca am I," he said, "In the skill of taming horses--on the earth is not my peer; Use me, where the difficult counsel--where thou want'st the dexterous hand; In the art of dressing viands[106]--I am skilful above all. Whatsoe'er the art, whatever--be most difficult to do, I will strive to execute it--take me to thy service, king." RITUPARNA _spake_. "Vahuca, I bid thee welcome--all this service shalt thou do, On my horses' rapid motion--deeply is my mind engaged. Take thou then on thee the office--that my steeds be fleet of foot, Of my horse be thou the master--hundred hundreds is thy pay:[107] Ever shalt thou have for comrades--Varshneya and Jivala: With these two pursue thy pleasure--Vahuca, abide with me." Thus addressed, did Nala, honoured--by king Rituparna long, With Varshneya in that city--and with Jivala abide: There abode he, sadly thinking--of Vidarbha's daughter still. In the evening, every evening--uttered he this single verse; "Where is she, by thirst and hunger--worn, and weary, pious still, Thinking of her unwise husband--in whose presence is she now!" Thus the raja, ever speaking--Jivala one night addressed; "Who is she, for whom thou grievest?--Vahuca, I fain would hear." [108]Answered thus the royal Nala--"To a man of sense bereft, Once belonged a peerless lady--most infirm of word was he; From some cause from her dissevered--went that frantic man away, In his foolish soul thus parted--wanders he, by sorrow racked; Night and day, and still for ever--by his parching grief consumed: Nightly brooding o'er his sorrows--sings he this sad single verse. O'er the whole wide earth a wanderer--chance-alighting in some place, Dwells that woful man, unworthy,--ever wakeful with his grief. Him that noble lady following--in the forest lone and dread, Lives, of that bad man forsaken--hard it is to say, she lives! Lone, and young, the ways unknowing--undeserving of such fate, Pines she there with thirst and hunger--hard it is to say, she lives. In that vast and awful forest--haunted by fierce beasts of prey, By her lord she roams forsaken--hapless, by that luckless lord."