Malayan literature; comprising romantic tales, epic poetry and royal ...
Malayan literature; comprising romantic tales, epic poetry and royal ...
Malayan literature; comprising romantic tales, epic poetry and royal ...
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30<br />
MALAYAN LITERATURE<br />
The decorations were, in every tint.<br />
The house was hung with tapestries, <strong>and</strong> ceiled<br />
To represent the heavens flecked with clouds.<br />
And all about were lanterns hung <strong>and</strong> lamps.<br />
Soft curtains <strong>and</strong> a couch completed this<br />
Enchanted resting-place. Always the light<br />
Was uniform, <strong>and</strong> brilliant as the day.<br />
'Twas like a palace of a mighty king,<br />
Magnificent <strong>and</strong> gr<strong>and</strong> beyond compare.<br />
There was a table on a damp rug set.<br />
With drinks for Bidasari, <strong>and</strong> with bowls<br />
Of gold, <strong>and</strong> vases of souasa, filled<br />
With water. All of this beside the couch<br />
Was placed, with yellow siri, <strong>and</strong> with pure<br />
Pinang, all odorous, to please the child.<br />
And all was covered with a silken web.<br />
Young Bidasari bracelets wore, <strong>and</strong> rings,<br />
And ear-rings diamond studded. Garments four<br />
All gem-bedecked upon a cushion lay,<br />
For Bidasari's wear. When night had come<br />
Young Bidasari waked. Her parents dear<br />
Then bathed her, <strong>and</strong> her tender body rubbed<br />
With musk <strong>and</strong> aloes. Then she straight was clad<br />
In garments of her choosing. Her dear face<br />
Was beautiful, almost divine. She had<br />
Regained the loveliness she erst possessed.<br />
The merchant was astonished, seeing her.<br />
He told her then that they would leave her there,<br />
" Branch of my heart <strong>and</strong> apple of my eye,<br />
My dearest child, be not disturbed at this.<br />
I do not mean to work thee any harm,<br />
Nor to disown thee, but to rescue thee<br />
From death." But as she listened to these words<br />
Young Bidasari wept. She thought upon<br />
Her fate. Into her father's arms she threw<br />
Herself, <strong>and</strong> cried :<br />
**<br />
Why wilt thou leave me here,<br />
father dearest, in this desert lone?<br />
I'll have no one to call in case of need.<br />
1 fear to stay alone. No one there'll be<br />
To talk to me. I only count those hours