Dushm. By the kindness of heaven, O loveliest of thy sex, thou standest again before me, whose memory was obscured by the gloom of fascination; as the star Róhinì at the end of an eclipse rejoins her beloved moon.
Sac. May the king be— [She bursts into tears.
Dushm. My darling, though the word victorious be suppressed by thy weeping, yet I must have victory, since I see thee again, though with pale lips and a body unadorned.
Boy. What man is this, mother?
Sac. Sweet child, ask the divinity who presides over the fortunes of us both.
Dushm. O my only beloved, banish from thy mind my cruel desertion of thee.—A violent phrensy overpowered my soul—Such, when the darkness of illusion prevails, are the actions of the best intentioned; as a blind man, when a friend binds his head with a wreath of flowers, mistakes it for a twining snake, and foolishly rejects it.
Sac. Rise, my husband, oh! rise.—My happiness has been long interrupted; but joy now succeeds to affliction, since the son of my lord still loves me.—[He rises.]—How was the remembrance of this unfortunate woman restored to the mind of my lord's son?
Dushm. When the dart of misery shall be wholly extracted from my bosom, I will tell you all; but since the anguish of my soul has in part ceased, let me first wipe off that tear which
