106 KĀLIDĀSA AND THE GUPTAS times his figures¹ seem grotesque to our taste, as when the king comes from his bath and plays with his harem like an elephant on whose shoulder still clings a shoot of the lotus sporting with the females of his herd. But often there can be only admiration; the chariot of the prince is so covered by the arrows of his foes that only by the point of its standard can it be discerned, as the morning wrapped in mist by the feeble rays of the sun; the wound torn by the arrow is the door of death; with joyful eyes the women of the city follow the prince as the nights with the clear stars of autumn the polar star. Characteristic is the love of elaboration of a comparison; the reader is not to be contented with a mere hint, the comparison must be drawn out in full. The Pandya king is peer of the lord of mountains, for the neck- laces which hang over his shoulders are its foaming cascades, and the sandal that reddens his limbs the young sun which colours its peaks. Or again, the princes who hide their jealousy under the semblance of joy are compared to the pool in whose calm depths lurk deadly crocodiles. Or again, the ruined city, with towers broken, terraces laid down and houses destroyed, is like the evening when the sun sets behind the mountains and a mighty wind scatters the clouds. To us, no doubt, both similes and metaphors sometimes seem far-fetched; those from grammar leave us cold, but there is wit in the assertion that the wearing by Rāma of the royal dress when the ascetic's garb revealed already his fairness is equivalent to the vice of repetition (punarukta). The bowmen whose arrows strike, one another are like disputants whose words con- flict. The king seeks to subdue the Persians as an ascetic his senses through the knowledge of truth. Kalidasa is rich also in plays of fancy which present a vivid picture (utprekṣā); it is natural to him to think vividly, to attribute to the mountains, the winds, the streams the cares, sorrows, joys, and thoughts of men. He loves also the figure corroboration (arthantar anyasa); indeed, its caieless use reveals the hand of the forger of the last cantos of the Kumarasambhava. But the double entendre is rare indeed; the instances of it are very few, and they lend no 1 Cf. Hillebrandt, Kalidasa, pp. 112-20. For the Çakuntala, cf. P. K. Gode, POCP. 1919, ii. 205 ff. A very interesting comparison is afforded by Lncan's similes (Heitland in Haskins' Lucan, pp. lxxxiv ff.).
