back must appear some hills near the mountain Himálaya, surrounded with herds of Chamaras; and in the foreground, a dark spreading tree, with some mantles of woven bark suspended on its branches to be dried by the sunbeams; while a pair of black antelopes couch in its shade, and the female gently rubs her beautiful forehead on the horn of the male.
Mádh. Add what you please; but, in my judgment, the vacant places should be filled with old hermits, bent, like me, towards the ground.
Dushm. [Not attending to him.] Oh! I had forgotten that my beloved herself must have some new ornaments.
Mádh. What, I pray?
Misr. [Aside.] Such, no doubt, as become a damsel bred in a forest.
Dushm. The artist had omitted a Sirísha flower with its peduncle fixed behind her soft ear, and its filaments waving over part of her cheek; and between her breasts must be placed a knot of delicate fibres from the stalks of water lilies, like the rays of an autumnal moon.
Mádh. Why does the queen cover part of her face, as if she was afraid of something, with the tips of her fingers, that glow like the flowers of the Cuvalaya?—Oh! I now perceive an impudent bee, that thief of odours, who seems eager to sip honey from the lotos of her mouth.
Dushm. A bee! drive off the importunate insect.
