Maid. Yes, your Majesty. (Exit.)
The voice. Help, help!
King. The Brahman’s voice seems really changed by fear. Who waits without? (Enter the chamberlain.)
Chamberlain. Your Majesty commands?
King. See why poor Madhavya is screaming so.
Chamberlain. I will see. (He goes out, and returns trembling.) King. Parvatayana, I hope it is nothing very dreadful.
Chamberlain. I hope not.
King. Then why do you tremble so? For
Why should the trembling, born
Of age, increasing, seize
Your limbs and bid them shake
Like fig-leaves in the breeze?
Chamberlain. Save your friend, O King!
King. From what?
Chamberlain. From great danger.
King. Speak plainly, man.
Chamberlain. On the Cloud Balcony, open to the four winds of heaven -
King. What has happened there?
Chamberlain.
While he was resting on its height,
Which palace peacocks in their flight Can hardly reach, he seemed to be
Snatched up - by what, we could not see.
King (rising quickly). My very palace is invaded by evil creatures. To be a king, is to be a disappointed man.
The moral stumblings of mine own,
The daily slips, are scarcely known;
Who then that rules a kingdom, can
Guide every deed of every man?
The voice. Hurry, hurry!
King (hears the voice and quickens his steps). Have no fear, my friend.
The voice. Have no fear! When something has got me by the back of the neck and is trying to break my bones like a piece of sugar-cane!
King (looks about). A bow! a bow! (Enter a Greek woman with a bow.) Greek woman. A bow and arrows, your Majesty. And here are the finger-guards. (The king takes the bow and arrows.) Another voice behind the scenes.
Writhe, while I drink the red blood flowing clear
And kill you, as a tiger kills a deer;
Let King Dushyanta grasp his bow; but how
Can all his kingly valour save you now?
King (angrily). He scorns me too! In one moment, miserable demon, you shall die. (Stringing his bow.) Where is the stairway, Parvatayana?
Chamberlain. Here, your Majesty. (All make haste.) King (looking about). There is no one here.
The Clown’s voice. Save me, save me! I see you, if you can’t see me. I am a mouse in the claws of the cat. I am done for.
King. You are proud of your invisibility. But shall not my arrow see you? Stand still. Do not hope to escape by clinging to my friend.
My arrow, flying when the bow is bent,
Shall slay the wretch and spare the innocent;
When milk is mixed with water in a cup,
Swans leave the water, and the milk drink up.
(He takes aim. Enter Matali and the clown.) Matali. O King, as Indra, king of the gods, commands, Seek foes among the evil powers alone;
For them your bow should bend;
Not cruel shafts, but glances soft and kind
Should fall upon a friend.
King (hastily withdrawing the arrow). It is Matali. Welcome to the charioteer of heaven’s king.
Clown. Well! He came within an inch of butchering me. And you welcome him.
Matali (smiling). Hear, O King, for what purpose Indra sends me to you.
King. I am all attention.
Matali. There is a host of demons who call themselves Invincible - the brood of Kalanemi.
King. So Narada has told me.
Matali.
Heaven’s king is powerless; you shall smite
His foes in battle soon;
Darkness that overcomes the day,
Is scattered by the moon.
Take your bow at once, enter my heavenly chariot, and set forth for victory.
King. I am grateful for the honour which Indra shows me. But why did you act thus toward Madhavya?
Matali. I will tell you. I saw that you were overpowered by some inner sorrow, and acted thus to rouse you. For
The spurn•d snake will swell his hood;
Fire blazes when ‘tis stirred;
Brave men are roused to fighting mood
By some insulting word.
King. Friend Madhavya, I must obey the bidding of heaven’s king.
Go, acquaint the minister Pishuna with the matter, and add these words of mine:
Your wisdom only shall control
The kingdom for a time;
My bow is strung; a distant goal
Calls me, and tasks sublime.
Clown. Very well. (Exit.)
Matali. Enter the chariot. (The king does so. Exeunt omnes.)
ACT VII
(Enter, in a chariot that flies through the air, the king and Matali .) King. Matali, though I have done what Indra commanded, I think myself an unprofitable servant, when I remember his most gracious welcome.
Matali. O King, know that each considers himself the other’s debtor.
For
You count the service given
Small by the welcome paid,
Which to the king of heaven
Seems mean for such brave aid.
King. Ah, no! For the honour given me at parting went far beyond imagination. Before the gods, he seated me beside him on his throne.
And then
He smiled, because his son Jayanta’s heart
Beat quicker, by the self-same wish oppressed,
And placed about my neck the heavenly wreath
Still fragrant from the sandal on his breast.
Matali. But what do you not deserve from heaven’s king? Remember: Twice, from peace-loving Indra’s sway
The demon-thorn was plucked away:
First, by Man-lion’s crooked claws;
Again, by your smooth shafts to-day.
King. This merely proves Indra’s majesty. Remember: All servants owe success in enterprise
To honour paid before the great deed’s done;
Could dawn defeat the darkness otherwise
Than resting on the chariot of the sun?
Matali. The feeling becomes you. (After a little.) See, O King! Your glory has the happiness of being published abroad in heaven.
With colours used by nymphs of heaven
To make their beauty shine,
Gods write upon the surface given
Of many a magic vine,
As worth their song, the simple story
Of those brave deeds that made your glory.
King. Matali, when I passed before, I was intent on fighting the demons, and did not observe this region. Tell me. In which path of the winds are we?
Matali.
It is the windpath sanctified
By holy Vishnu’s second stride;
Which, freed from dust of passion, ever
Upholds the threefold heavenly river;
And, driving them with reins of light,
Guides the stars in wheeling flight.
King. That is why serenity pervades me, body and soul. (He observes the path taken by the chariot.) It seems that we have descended into the region of the clouds.
Matali. How do you perceive it?
King.
Plovers that fly from mountain-caves,
Steeds that quick-flashing lightning laves,
And chariot-wheels that drip with spray
A path o’er pregnant clouds betray.
Matali. You are right. And in a moment you will be in the world over which you bear rule.