shade allays the fever of those who seek shelter under him.
Second Bard. When thou wield est the rod of justice, thou bringest to order all those who have deviated from the path of virtue: thou biddest contention cease: thou wast formed for the preservation of thy people: thy kindred possess, indeed, considerable wealth; but so boundless is thy affection, that all thy subjects are considered by thee as thy kinsmen.
Dushm. [Listening.] That sweet poetry refreshes me after the toil of giving judgments and publick orders.
Mádh. Yes; as a tired bull is refreshed when the people say, "There goes the lord of cattle."
Dushm. [Smiling.] Oh! art thou here, my friend: let us take our seats together.
Mádh. Listen, my royal friend. I hear a well tuned Vínà sounding, as if it were in concert with the lutes of the gods, from yonder apartment.—The queen Hansamatì is preparing, I imagine, to greet you with a new song.
Dushm. Be silent, that I may listen.
Cham. [Aside.] The king's mind seems intent on some other business. I must wait his leisure.
Song. [Behind the scenes.]
