Page:Tales from the Indian Epics.djvu/107



Once upon a time there ruled in Ayodhya a great king named Parikshit of the house of Ikshwaku. One day he went hunting and, wounding a stag, he galloped after it through the forest. The swiftness of his horse soon carried him far ahead of his attendants. Nevertheless he could not overtake the stag. At last his horse grew weary and could gallop no further. The king drew in his reins and, seeing a beautiful forest pool not far off, he rode towards it. Flinging aside his garments, he plunged into the pool and, when he had refreshed himself, bathed his horse also in the water. Then picketing the horse on the bank and throwing a bundle of lotus stalks in front of it, he lay down by its side and was soon fast asleep.

The king had been asleep for what seemed to him but a few minutes, when he woke up, hearing the most beautiful voice in the world singing a lilting melody. He rubbed his eyes and looked around him but could see no one. Yet the voice went on singing. At last the king sprang to his feet and pushed his way through the neighbouring bushes until he came to a tiny glade. It was carpeted with grass and wild flowers and a damsel of surpassing beauty was singing as she plucked the flowers. The king fell in love with her on the spot and thought to himself that unless she married him life would have no further pleasure for him. "Fair lady," he said, "who are you and what man is so lucky as to call you wife?" "Fair Sir," said the girl, "I am a maiden and