The Bengali Poem ) Candl. 
o 
My rivals beat me as they will, he sees and hears, but does not care; 
A house with seven co-wives within,—there’s fever-poison in its air. 
Destiny was my cruel foe, and in a hopeless desperate mood 
I recked not of the consequence, but fled alone into the wood. 
I met by chance your hero there; himself he brought me with him here; 
Go ask him, and refuse me not, for I have refuge none elsewhere.” 
“Not so, I ’ll teach you what to do, and send you safely to your home.’ , 
Her inmost thought the goddess knew, and said, “ To stay with you I’ve 
come. 
Eat to your fill henceforth, for I will all the house expense provide; 
Deceive me as no stranger-born, but as a friend, one close allied. 
I ’ll go before your husband’s steps, in all his perils I ’ll be nigh, 
In all his conflicts in the woods a certain sign of victory. 
List, I will tell you who I am, if further history you want; 
I at Benares live concealed, my husband is a mendicant. 
Wealth of a hundred kings is mine, more than would buy the world,” she 
saith; 
“ Such wealth I ’ll give you ; in return I only ask for trust and faith.” 
Fhullara. “ I ’ll tell you what is best to do ; back to your husband’s house 
return; 
This will bring comfort in the end, as you, though now perplexed, will 
learn. 
If you forsake your husband’s house, how will you show abroad your face ? 
A husband is a woman’s lord, her guardian, her one resting-place. 
Others are nought compared to him; he in both worlds can bring her bliss ; 
He may chastise her as he will, for a king’s right and duty this. 
Have you not heard how Sita once was carried off by Kavan’s guile 
And forced to live a prisoner, shut up in Lanka’s far-off isle; 
How Kama slew the ravisher, but only took her back as queen 
After th’ ordeal fire had proved how spotless bright her truth had been ? 
And even then some base-born carle could still so deeply sting his pride,— 
Desperate he drove her forth again a lonely outcast from his side. 
What, shall a lady born like you, so noble, so divinely fair, 
Be angry like some low-born scold and fling her honour to the air ? 
E’en if a low-caste woman stay in a strange house a single night, 
The neighbours point at her with scorn, and all her kindred hate her sight. 
Go, you have done a thoughtless thing; believe me, to return is best, 
And if your hated rival scolds, pay back her jibes with interest. 
