Book Eight. The Book of Death
| Music | Book Eight. Canto Three:Death in the Forest |
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012 Then silently she rose and, service done, 013 Bowed down to the great goddess simply carved 014 By Satyavan upon a forest stone. 015 What prayer she breathed her soul and Durga knew. 016 Perhaps she felt in the dim forest huge 017 The infinite Mother watching over her child, 018 Perhaps the shrouded Voice spoke some still word. |
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019 At last she came to the pale mother queen. 020 She spoke but with guarded lips and tranquil face . . . 027 And forced upon her speech an outward peace. 028 “One year that I have lived with Satyavan . . . 032 I have not gone into the silences 033 Of this great woodland that enringed my thoughts . . . 036 Now has a strong desire seized all my heart 037 To go with Satyavan holding his hand . . . 043 Release me now and let my heart have rest.” 044 She answered: “Do as thy wise mind desires, 045 O calm child-sovereign with the eyes that rule. |
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051 Then the doomed husband and the woman who knew 052 Went with linked hands into that solemn world 053 Where beauty and grandeur and unspoken dream, 054 Where Nature’s mystic silence could be felt 055 Communing with the secrecy of God. |
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083 But Satyavan had paused. He meant to finish 084 His labour here that happy, linked, uncaring 085 They two might wander free in the green deep 086 Primaeval mystery of the forest’s heart. . . . 092 Wordless but near she watched, no turn to lose 093 Of the bright face and body which she loved. . . . 098 But Satyavan wielded a joyous axe. 099 He sang high snatches of a sage’s chant |
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105 But as he worked, his doom upon him came. . . . 114 . . . Now the great woodsman 115 Hewed at him and his labour ceased: lifting 116 His arm he flung away the poignant axe 117 Far from him like an instrument of pain. 118 She came to him in silent anguish and clasped, 119 And he cried to her, “Savitri, a pang 120 Cleaves through my head and breast as if the axe 121 Were piercing it and not the living branch. |
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127 Then Savitri sat under branches wide, . . . 131 She guarded him in her bosom and strove to soothe 132 His anguished brow and body with her hands. . . . 144 He cried out in a clinging last despair, 145 “Savitri, Savitri, O Savitri, 146 Lean down, my soul, and kiss me while I die.” |
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147 And even as her pallid lips pressed his, 148 His failed, losing last sweetness of response; 149 His cheek pressed down her golden arm. She sought 150 His mouth still with her living mouth, as if 151 She could persuade his soul back with her kiss; 152 Then grew aware they were no more alone. 153 Something had come there conscious, vast and dire. . . . 176 She knew that visible Death was standing there 177 And Satyavan had passed from her embrace. |
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