[Enter Maitreya, with Rohasena.]
Maitreya. Make haste, my boy, make haste! Your father is being led to his death.
Rohasena. My father! oh, my father!
Maitreya. Oh, my friend! Where must I behold you now?
Chārudatta. [Perceives his son and his friend.] Alas, my son! Alas, Maitreya! [Mournfully.] Ah, woe is me!
Long, too long, shall I thirst in vain
Through all my sojourn dread;
This vessel[1] small will not contain
The water for the dead. 17
What may I give my son? [He looks at himself, and perceives the sacrificial cord.] Ah, this at least is mine.
The precious cord that Brahmans hold
Is unadorned with pearls and gold;
Yet, girt therewith, they sacrifice
To gods above and fathers[2] old. 18
[He gives Rohasena the cord.]
Goha. Come, Chārudatta! Come, man!
Ahīnta. Man, do you name the noble Chārudatta's name, and forget the title? Remember:
In happy hours, in death, by night, by day,
Roving as free as a yet unbroken colt,
Fate wanders on her unrestricted way. 19
And again:
Life will depart his body soon;
Shall our reproaches bow his head?
Although eclipse may seize the moon,
We worship while it seems but dead. 20
Rohasena. Oh, headsmen, where are you leading my father?
