A History of Indian Literature v1.c8.s2.221

v1.c8.s2.221

“She wrangles not with me, nor is she angry :
To me and comrades she was ever kindly.
For dice that only luckless throws effected
I’ve driven away from home a wife devoted. [2]
Her mother hates me, she herself rejects me :
For one in such distress there is no pity.
I find a gambling man is no more useful
Than is an aged horse that’s in the market. [3]
Others embrace the wife of him whose chattels
The eager dice have striven hard to capture ;
And father, mother, brothers say about him :
We know him not ; lead him away a captive.” [4]