: Illustrated history of ancient literature oriental and classical by Quackenbos John D John Duncan - Oriental literature History and criticism; Classical literature History and criticism

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dew of morning, I must pause Ere eagerly I taste the proffered sweetness."

Then Sakoontal? seeks her ring, but alas! it is not on her finger; she must have dropped it in the Ganges. In the midst of her confusion a nymph appears, and carries her off to a sacred retreat, where she gives birth to a son.

Meanwhile a fish is caught, in which is found the fatal ring, stamped with the rajah's name. It is restored to its owner, and at once the recollection of his long-forgotten Sakoontal? flashes upon his mind. Overwhelmed with poignant regret for her loss, he abandons himself to melancholy for a time, calling on her beloved name, or trying to beguile his grief by tracing with his pencil her features now but too well remembered. At length ambition and piety unite to wake him from his lethargy. He embarks in a campaign against the giants, enemies of the gods; is victorious; and finds the consummation of happiness at last in a union with his long-lost wife, and with his son, whose name, Bh?rata, becomes the most distinguished in the mythology of India.

English readers are enabled to enjoy the beauties of Sakoontal? through the metrical version of Prof. Williams.

EXTRACTS FROM SAKOONTAL?.

PARTING WORDS OF THE SAGE TO HIS ADOPTED DAUGHTER.

Weep not, my daughter, check the gathering tear That lurks beneath thine eyelid, ere it flow And weaken thy resolve; be firm and true-- True to thyself and me; the path of life Will lead o'er hill and plain, o'er rough and smooth, And all must feel the steepness of the way; Tho' rugged be thy course, press boldly on.

Honor thy betters; ever be respectful To those above thee. Should thy wedded lord Treat thee with harshness, thou must never be Harsh in return, but patient and submissive. Be to thy menials courteous, and to all Placed under thee considerate and kind: Be never self-indulgent, but avoid Excess in pleasure; and, when fortune smiles, Be not puffed up. Thus to thy husband's house Wilt thou a blessing prove, and not a curse.

How, O my child! shall my bereaved heart Forget its bitterness, when, day by day, Full in my sight shall grow the tender plants Reared by thy care, or sprung from hallowed grain Which thy loved hands have strewn around the door-- A frequent offering to our household gods."

THE KING AND SAKOONTAL?'S PORTRAIT.

"My finger, burning with the glow of love, Has left its impress on the painted tablet; While here and there, alas! a scalding tear Has fallen on the cheek and dimmed its brightness. Go fetch the brush that I may finish it. A sweet Sirisha blossom should be twined Behind her ear, its perfumed crest depending Toward her cheek; and resting on her bosom, A lotus-fibre necklace, soft and bright As an autumnal moonbeam, should be traced."

While gazing on the picture, the king in his infatuation mistakes for reality a bee which he has himself painted in the act of settling on the rosy lips of his love, and after attempting to drive it off is apprised of his error by an attendant, whom he thus addresses:--

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