A SANSCRIT POEM BY SHRI HARSHA. 



^ wr( fsi^ ^T^-^f^ as^rf^r ii 



Jt^^-^ xr^ra^^ cTT f T f^lT^ pfTJ^ 1 



Then Nala long within his mind revolved, 

 What can I have, which these do not possess ? 

 All that I have, I willingly will yield 

 To such petitioners ; nor will I spare 

 My life, if that will satisfaction give. 

 But far more dear to me than life or wealth 

 Is Bhaimi whom they seek : the world with her 

 Is not to be compared ; if her they ask 

 I then must say — She is not mine to give ;" 

 O that I knew their wish, that I might give 

 Without their asking me ; for woe to him 

 That long postpones to answer fair requests. 

 If thro' delay the suppliant is ashamed. 

 Then all that he can give, will not wipe off 

 The stain indelible of such a crime. 

 A gift conferred in time, like water cool, 

 Revives the hearts of those about to faint 

 From apprehension of a sad repulse. 

 The gen'rous man will give his gold like straws, 

 Nor spare his life, if that should be required : 

 So say the Shastras for his use designed. 

 The wise regard the hand of him in need, 

 As far more fit for fortune's resting place, 

 Than that expanded lotus in the pond, 

 Where she is said her residence to fix. 

 By him who never knew the happiness 



