Note 12 — Chapter XLIII

“In a former birth he was a swan on account of his actions in an anterior state of existence. Then he built himself a nest in a sandal-wood tree, on the bank of a great lake near the shore of the sea, and lived there with his female. And as it happened, their offspring in that nest were swept away by a wave, and his female, distracted with grief, threw herself into the sea. Then he, being grieved at separation from her, and disgusted with his bird-nature, desirous of leaving that body, made a pious wish in his heart—‘May I be in a future life a prince remembering my former state, and may this virtuous female swan be my wife, remembering her former existence also.’ Then he thought on Śiva, and scorched with the fire of grief, flung that body into the water of the sea. So he has been now born, my fair lady, as Naraváhanadatta, the son of the king of Vatsa in Kauśámbí, with the power of recollecting his former existence. When he was born, a voice said distinctly from heaven; ‘This prince shall be the emperor of all the kings of the Vidyádharas.’ In course of time, when he had become crown-prince, he was married by his father to the goddess Madanamanchuká of heavenly appearance, who had been born for a certain reason as a woman. And then the daughter of a king of the Vidyádharas named Hemaprabha, the maiden Ratnaprabhá, came of her own accord, and chose him for a husband. Nevertheless, thinking on that female swan, he does not enjoy tranquillity; and he told this to me, who have been his servant from my childhood. Then, while he was out hunting, it happened that he and I had a meeting in the forest with a holy female hermit. And in the course of conversation she said to him with favouring condescension—‘Owing to the effect of his actions the god of Love, my son, became a swan. And a heavenly female, that had fallen through a curse, became his dear wife, when he was dwelling, as a swan, in a sandal-wood tree on the bank of the sea. But she threw herself into the sea, through grief at her offspring having been carried away by the tide, and then the male swan flung himself into the sea also. He has now by the favour of Śiva been born as yourself, the son of the king of Vatsa, and you know of that former birth of yours, my son, for you remember your former existence. And that female swan has been now born in Karpúrasambhava, a city on the shore of the sea, as a princess, Karpúriká by name. Therefore, go there, my son, and win her to wife.’ When the holy female hermit had said this, she flew up into the sky and disappeared. And this lord of mine, having heard this information, immediately set out with me to come here. And being attracted by love for you, he risked his life, and after traversing a hundred difficulties, he reached the shore of the sea. There we had an interview with the carpenter, named Rájyadhara, who dwells in Hemapura, and who gave us an ingenious chariot. We have mounted on this terrible machine, as if it were our courage having taken shape,12 and have crossed the perilous gulf of the sea, and arrived at this town. For this reason, queen, my master wandered about, exclaiming, ‘Ah my female swan!’ until he came into your presence. Now, from the pleasing sight of the noble moon of your countenance, he enjoys the removal of the darkness caused by the presence of innumerable woes. Now, honour your noble guest with the blue lotus garland of your look.” When Karpúriká heard this feigned speech of Gomukha’s, she thought it was true, relying on the fact that it harmonized with her own recollections. And she melted in her soul with love, and she thought, “After all this husband of mine was attached to me, and my despondency was causeless.” And she said—“I am in truth that very female swan, and I am fortunate in that my husband has for my sake endured suffering in two births. So now I am your slave, overcome by love;” and saying this, she honoured Naraváhanadatta with baths and other hospitalities. Then she informed her father of all this by the mouth of her attendants, and he, the moment he heard it, came to her. Then the king thought himself fortunate, having seen that his daughter had conceived a desire to be married, and that an appropriate suitor for her had at length arrived in Naraváhanadatta, who was marked with all the signs of a great emperor. And he gave, with all due honour, his daughter Karpúriká to Naraváhanadatta according to the prescribed form. And he gave to that son-in-law of his, at every circumambulation from left to right of the sacred fire, thirty millions of gold-pieces, and as many lumps of camphor, the heaps of which appeared like the peaks of Meru and Kailása that had witnessed the marriage of Párvatí, come to behold his magnificence. Moreover the king Karpúraka, who had attained his wish, gave Naraváhanadatta a hundred millions of excellent garments and three hundred female slaves well adorned. And Naraváhanadatta, after his marriage, remained with that Karpúriká, as if with affection incarnate in bodily form. Whose mind was not delighted at the union of that couple, which resembled the marriage of the spring-creeper and the spring-festival?