Page:Little Clay Cart (Ryder 1905).djvu/45

P. 16.8] The gods feel ever glad content

In the gifts, and the self-chastisement,

The meditations, and the prayers,

Of those who banish worldly cares.

Why then do you hesitate? Go and offer sacrifice to the Mothers.

Maitreya. No, I'm not going. You must send somebody else. Anyway, everything seems to go wrong with me, poor Brahman that I am! It's like a reflection in a mirror; the right side becomes the left, and the left becomes the right. Besides, at this hour of the evening, people are abroad upon the king's highway—courtezans, courtiers, servants, and royal favorites. They will take me now for fair prey, just as the black-snake out frog-hunting snaps up the mouse in his path. But what will you do sitting here?

Chārudatta. Good then, remain; and I will finish my devotions.

Voices behind the scenes. Stop, Vasantasenā, stop!

[Enter Vasantasenā, pursued by the courtier, by Sansthānaka, and the servant.]

Courtier. Vasantasenā! Stop, stop!

Ah, why should fear transform your tenderness?

Why should the dainty feet feel such distress,

That twinkle in the dance so prettily?

Why should your eyes, thus startled into fear,

Dart sidelong looks? Why, like the timid deer

Before pursuing hunters, should you flee?

Sansthānaka. Shtop, Vasantasenā, shtop!

Why flee? and run? and shtumble in your turning?

Be kind! You shall not die. Oh, shtop your feet!

With love, shweet girl, my tortured heart is burning,

As on a heap of coals a piece of meat.