SONG.

/*
My sorrow is sweet to me in this spring night.
My pain smites at the chords of my love and softly sings.
Visions take birth from my yearning eyes and flit in the
moonlit sky.
The smells from the depths of the woodlands have lost their way
in my dreams.
Words come in whispers to my ears, I know not from where,
And bells in my anklets tremble and jingle in time with my
heart thrills.
*/

SUDARSHANA. Enough, enough--I cannot bear it any more! Your
song has filled my eyes with tears.... A fancy comes to me--that
desire can never attain its object--it need never attain it.
What sweet hermit of the woods has taught you this song? Oh that
my eyes could see him whose song my ears have heard! Oh, how I
wish--I wish I could wander rapt and lovely in the thick woodland
arbours of the heart! Dear boys of the hermitage! how shall I
reward you? This necklace is but made of jewels, hard stones--
its hardness will give you pain--I have got nothing like the
garlands of flowers you have on. [The boys bow and go out.]

[Enter ROHINI]

SUDARSHANA. I have not done well--I have not done well, Rohini.
I feel ashamed to ask you what happened. I have just realised