Page:Ancient Ballads and Legends of Hindustan.djvu/52

16 Of the late risen moon that lines
 * With silver, all the ghost-like trees,

Sals, tamarisks, and South-Sea pines,
 * And palms whose plumes wave in the breeze.

False was the fear, the parents felt,
 * Savitri 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.

At morn Satyavan to the wood
 * Early repaired and gathered flowers

And fruits, in its wild solitude,
 * And fuel,—till advancing hours

Apprised him that his frugal meal
 * Awaited him. Ah, happy time!

Savitri, who with fervid zeal
 * Had said her orisons sublime,