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that is resolved; yet my soul is smitten with anguish.—My speech is interrupted by a torrent of tears, which my reason suppresses and turns inward: my very sight is dimmed.—Strange that the affliction of a forester, retired from the haunts of men, should be so excessive!—Oh! with what pangs must they who are fathers of families, be afflicted on the departure of a daughter!

[He walks round musing.

Pri. Now, my Sacontalá, you are becomingly decorated; put on the lower vest, the gift of sylvan goddesses.

[Sacontalá rises, and puts on the mantle.

Gaut. My child, thy spiritual father, whose eyes overflow with tears of joy, stands desiring to embrace thee. Hasten, therefore, to do him reverence.

[Sacontalá modestly bows to him.

Can. Mayst thou be cherished by thy husband, as Sarmishthà was cherished by Yayáti! Mayst thou bring forth a sovereign of the world, as she brought forth Puru!

Gaut. This, my child, is not a mere benediction; it is a boon actually conferred.

Can. My best beloved, come and walk with me round the sacrificial fire.—[They all advance.]—May these fires preserve thee! Fires which spring to their appointed stations on the holy hearth, and consume the consecrated wood, while the fresh blades of mysterious Cusa lie scattered around them!—Sacramental fires, which destroy sin with the rising fumes of clarified butter!—