request, has sung "the charming strain," the play opens with the forest scene. King Dushmanta, in a chariot, ispursuing an antelope with bow and quiver. "The fleet creature," says the king to his charioteer, "has given us a long chase. Oh! there he runs, with his neck bent gracefully, looking back now and then at the pursuing chariot. Now, through fear of a descending shaft, he contracts his forehand and extends his flexible haunches; and now, through fatigue, he pauses to nibble the grass in his path with half-opened mouth. See, how he springs and bounds with long steps, lightly skimming the ground and rising high in the air." At the king's order the reins are loosened and the chariot driven over the stage, first at full gallop and then gently, the charioteer and the king making speeches descriptive of their rapid imaginary course. "The horses," says the former, "were not even touched by the clouds of dust which they raised; they tossed their manes, erected their ears, and rather glided than galloped over the smooth plain." "Soon," responds Dushmanta, "they outran the swift antelope. Objects which, from their distance, appeared minute, presently became larger; what was really divided seemed united as we passed, and what was in truth bent seemed straight; so swift was the motion of the wheels that nothing for many moments was either distant or near." If space permitted, it might be shown that the Chinese dramatists possess a like talent for graphic description; but we shall prefer to illustrate that neglect of the unities which we have already observed as a common characteristic of Indian epic and dramatic poetry, and which in the Chinese drama is no less marked.
To illustrate the Indian disregard of the temporal unity—in the Toy-cart the time of action is four days; in
