This savoury bit of venison I picked up in the wood,
And bear it to my lord to-day, now faint for want of food.

This is followed by stanzas spoken alternately by the goblin and the lady:

What good is this sick lord of thine, O Sambula, to thee?
No wife, but nurse is what he craves. I will thy husband be.

With sorrow worn, a wretch forlorn, no beauty can I claim,
If thou art fain a bride to gain, go woo some fairer dame.

Four hundred wives have I to grace my home on yonder hill;
O lady, deign o'er them to reign, and each fond wish fulfil.

Fair maid so bright with golden light, whate'er is dear to thee
Is mine to give, so come and live a life of joy with me.

[91] But if denied to me as bride, thou art my lawful prey,
And wilt be good to serve as food to break my fast to-day.

(That ogre grim with his seven tufts inspiring dread alarm,
Found helpless Sambula astray and seized her by the arm.

Thus held by him, that ogre grim, her lustful, cruel foe,
She still deplored her absent lord, nor e'er forgot his woe.)

No grief to me that I should be this hateful ogre's prey,
But that the love of my dear lord from me should fall away.

No gods are here, but absent far they flee,
Nor any guardians of the world I see,
To check the course of outrage and suppress
All acts of unrestrained licentiousness.

[92] Then was the abode of Sakka shaken by the efficacy of her virtue, and his throne of yellow marble showed signs of heat. Sakka, on reflection, discovered the cause, and, taking his thunderbolt, he came with all speed, and, standing above the goblin, spoke another stanza:

'Mongst women folk the chief in fame,
She's wise and perfect, bright as flame,
Shouldst thou eat her, thy skull be riven.
O goblin, into fragments seven.
So harm her not; let her go free,
For a devoted wife is she.

On hearing this the goblin let Sambula go. Sakka thought: "This goblin will be guilty of the same thing again," and so he bound him with celestial chains and let him loose on the third mountain from thence, that he might not return; and, after earnestly exhorting the royal lady, he departed to his own abode. And the princess, after sunset, by the light of the moon reached the hermitage.

To explain the matter, the Master repeated eight stanzas:

Escaped from ogre, to her hut she fled,
As bird returning finds its fledglings dead,
Or cow, robbed of her calf, laments an empty shed.

Thus Sambula, of royal fame, made moan,
Wild-eyed and helpless, in the wood, alone.

Hail, priests and brahmins, righteous sages too,
Deserted, I for refuge fly to you.

All hail, ye lions and ye tigers fell,
And other beasts that in the woodland dwell.