Page:Panchatantra.djvu/349

340 My lord! My love! What shall I do With life that drags, apart from you? What profit has a wretched wife, Without a husband, of her life?

For self-esteem, respect, and pride, The family honor paid a bride, Authority with all the brood Of servants, die with widowhood."

Now after this lamenting sore, This sorrow bitter evermore, She went where lay her heart's desire, Walked straight into the blazing fire.

And lo! She sees her husband shine— Oh, wonder!—in a car divine; Her body wears a heavenly gown; And heavenly gems hang pendent down.

While he, become a god, addressed True consolation to her breast: The deed that you have done, is meet In following your husband, sweet.

There grow upon a man alive Some thirty million hairs and five; So many years in heaven spend Wives following husbands to the end."

So he joyfully took her into the chariot, embraced her, and lived happily. But the fowler sank into the deepest despondency, and plunged into a great forest, meditating death.

And there he saw a forest-fire And entered it; for all desire