Her bosom bathed in streaming tears, When in Death's power I fell, Whence is she come to slay my fears, Like heavenly magic's spell? 41 Vasantasenā! Oh, my belovèd! Unto my body, whence the life was fleeting, And all for thee, thou knewest life to give. Oh, magic wonderful in lovers' meeting! What power besides could make the dead man live? 42 [172.17. S. But see, my belovèd! My blood-red garment seems a bridegroom's cloak, Death's garland seems to me a bridal wreath; My love is near. And marriage music seems the fatal stroke Of drums that heralded my instant death; For she is here. 43 _Vasantasenā._ You with your utter kindliness, what can it be that you have done? _Chārudatta._ My belovèd, he said that I had killed you. For ancient hatred's sake, my mighty foe, Hell's victim now, had almost laid me low. 44 _Vasantasenā._ [_Stopping her ears._] Heaven avert the omen! It was he, the king's brother-in-law, who killed me. _Chārudatta._ [_Perceiving the monk._] But who is this? _Vasantasenā._ When that unworthy wretch had killed me, this worthy man brought me back to life. _Chārudatta._ Who are you, unselfish friend? _Monk._ You do not remember me, sir. I am that shampooer, who once was happy to rub your feet. When I fell into the hands of certain gamblers, this sister in Buddha, upon hearing that I had been your servant, bought my freedom with her jewels. Thereupon I grew tired of the gambler's life, and became a Buddhist monk. Now this lady made a mistake in her bullock-cart, and so came to the old garden Pushpakaranda. But when that unworthy wretch learned that she would not love him, he murdered her by strangling. And I found her there. P. 283.11] _Loud voices behind the scenes._ Unending victory to Shiva be, Who Daksha's offering foiled; And victory may Kārttikeya see, Who Krauncha smote and spoiled; And victory to Aryaka the king-- His mighty foe he kills-- Far over all the earth's expansive ring, That earth her joyous flag abroad may fling, The snowy banner of Kailāsa's hills. 45 * * * * * [_Enter hurriedly Sharvilaka._] _Sharv._ Yes, Pālaka, the royal wretch, I slew, Anointing Aryaka good king and true; And now, like sacrificial flowers, I wed The king's commandment to my bended head, To give sad Chārudatta life anew. 46 The foe whose powers and friends had fled, he slew, Consoled and comforted his subjects true; And earth's broad sovereignty has gladly wed His power, and bent to him her lowly head, Who toward his foe plays Indra's part anew. 47