The prickly brambles to make smooth
Thy path. Walking before thee, I
Shall feel no weariness: the forest

Thorns will seem like silken robes;
The bed of leaves, a couch of down,
To me the shelter of thy presence
Is better far than stately palaces,
And paradise itself.

Protected by thy arm, Gods, demons,

Men shall have no power to harm me.
With thee I'll live contentedly

On roots and fruits. Sweet or not sweet
If given by thy hand, they will

To me be like the food of life,
Roaming with thee in desert wastes,
A thousand years will be a day ;
Dwelling with thee, e'en hell itself
Would be to me a heaven of bliss.*

REPLY OF SITA TO HER HUSBAND RAMA.

The wife alone, whate'er await,

Must share on earth her husband's fate.
So now the King's command which sends
Thee to the wild, to me extends.

The wife can find no refuge, none,

In father, mother, self, or son :

Both here, and when they vanish hence,
Her husband is her sole defence.

If, Raghu's son, thy steps are led

Where Dandakâ's pathless wilds are spread,

• Sita's pleading for permission to accompany her husband Râma Râmâyana-from Indian Wisdom by Monier Williams.

My feet before thine own shall pass
Through tangled thorn and matted grass.
Dismiss thine anger, and thy doubt,
Like refuse water cast them out,
And lead me, O my hero, hence-
I know not sin-with confidence.
Whate'er his lot, 'tis far more sweet
To follow still a husband's feet
Than in rich palaces to lie,

Or roam at pleasure through the sky.
My mother and my sire have taught
What duty bids, and trained each thought,
Nor have I now mine ear to turn

The duties of a wife to learn.*

SAVITRI.

A king, named Ashwapati, sighed for offspring, and after praying in vain for eighteen years, the gods of heaven sent him a daughter, who grew up so "bright in her beauty," that she appeared like a child of the Immortals; and the princes around were so dazzled, that none dared to ask for her as a bride. This distressed her father, and he said that she must go now and make choice herself.

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Meekly bowed the modest maiden,

With her eyes upon the ground,

And departed, as he bade her,

With attendants troop'd,

Many a hermitage she traversed,

Riding in a gold-bright car,
Many a wilderness and forest,
Holy places near and far."

From the Ramayana, translated by Griffith.

When she came back she told of a blind old king, driven from his throne by a ruthless kinsman, living with his beloved wife in a grove; and his brave son, Satyavat, her heart has chosen. "Satyavat," she says, "has all my love."

At the announcement a Rishi, who happened to be present, exclaims, in distress, that she would choose care and grief in choosing Satyavat. He is

"Learned as the gods' own teacher,

Glorious as the sun is he:

With the earth's untiring patience,
And great Indra's bravery."

He is noble,

"True and great of soul,

Bountiful is he, and modest

Every sense does he control.

Gentle, brave, all creatures love him,-
Keeping in the righteous way,

Number'd with the holy hermits,

Pure and virtuous as they."

"But alas! in a year, counting from this day, Satyavat will die." On hearing this, the king considers a marriage out of the question, and says: "Go, then, my dearest child, and choose again." But his daughter (Sâvitrî) replies:

"Be he virtuous or worthless,

Many be his days or few,—

Once for all I choose my husband;

To that choice will I be true."

The sage and her father give way to her decided wishes; and in due time the young couple are married, and live in great happiness with the hermits in the grove. Sâvitrî, the bride, put aside her jewels, and wore the coarse raiment usually adopted by hermits;

and by her meekness and affection, won the hearts of all with whom she dwelt.

"False was the fear, the parents felt,

Sâvitrî liked her new life much;
Though in a lowly home she dwelt,
Her conduct as a wife was such,
As to illumine all the place;

She sickened not, nor sighed, nor pined;
But with simplicity and grace,
Discharged each household duty kind.
Strong in all manual work,—and strong
To comfort, cherish, help, and pray,
The hours past peacefully along

And rippling bright, day followed day.'

-TORU DUTT.

And the fated time came nearer
When her Satyavat must die.
Yet three days and he must perish,
Sadly thought the loving wife ;
And she vowed to fast, unresting,

For his last three days of life.”

Her husband's father feared that the trial would be too great for her, but she answered: "Firm resolve has made me vow it: firm resolve will give me strength." She kept her vow, and maintained her fast; and when the third day dawned, and the fire of worship was kindled, and the morning rites performed, she earnestly saluted the aged Brahmanas and her husband's honoured parents, but still refused food. Presently, her husband takes his axe upon his shoulder to perform his daily task of fell

From Ancient Ballads and Legends of Hindustan.

ing trees. She begs him to let her

*

Sâvitrî

go also. has always kept her sad secret from her husband; and he has, therefore, no idea of her real reason for wishing to accompany him. He, however, consents, and calls her attention to the lovely woods, stately peacocks, and flowers of brilliant hue; but she can look only upon him, and mourn for him as one about to die. She gathers cooling fruits, and he makes the wood resound with the strokes of his hatchet. But soon a thrilling agony shoots through his temple. *** She sits down upon the ground, and he rests his head upon her breast, and sleeps But,

"Sudden lo! before Sâvitrî stood

A great and awful One ;

Red as blood was his apparel,

Bright and glowing as the sun.
In his hand a noose was hanging;
He to Satyavat stood nigh,
And upon the very sleeper fix'd

His fearful, glittering eye."

This awful apparition was Yama, god of Death, come to bind and take the spirit of Satyavat. Having done this, he moved towards the south, Sâvitrî closely following. Yama tries to persuade her to go back; but she says, no: wherever her husband goes, there she will go also. Yama praises her sweet speech, and offers her any boon except the life of Satyavat; and she begs that the blind king, her father-in-law, may be restored to sight, but without relinquishing her first request. Yama tries again and again to get rid of her, and says she will faint. * * Nothing can induce her to return without Satyavat; and at length "love conquers death." Yama relents; the happy wife hastens to where her husband's dead body lay, and, leaning upon her faithful