His long tongue quivers; four white fangs appear;
His belly swells and coils. He slumbered here,
This prince of serpents, till I crossed his path,
And now he darts upon me in his wrath. 12
And more than this:
I slip, although the ground has felt no rain;
My left eye, and my left arm throb again;
Another bird is screaming overhead;
All bodes a cruel death, and hope is fled. 13
Surely, the gods will grant that all may yet be well.
Beadle. Follow me, sir. Here is the court-room. Pray enter.
Chārudatta. [Enters and looks about.] How wonderfully splendid is the court-room. For it seems an ocean,
Whose waters are the king's advisers, deep
In thought; as waves and shells it seems to keep
The attorneys; and as sharks and crocodiles
It has its spies that stand in waiting files;
Its elephants and horses[1] represent
The cruel ocean-fish on murder bent;
As if with herons of the sea, it shines
With screaming pettifoggers' numerous lines;
While in the guise of serpents, scribes are creeping
Upon its statecraft-trodden shore: the court
The likeness of an ocean still is keeping,
To which all harmful-cruel beasts resort. 14
Come! [As he enters, he strikes his head against the door. Reflectively.] Alas! This also?
My left eye throbs; a raven cries;
A serpent coils athwart my path.
My safety now with heaven lies. 15
But I must enter. [He does so.]
- ↑ Elephants were employed as executioners; and, according to Lallādīkshita, the horses served the same purpose.
