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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

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