Oh, pardon, God! I ne'er thought the _dyangs_
Would thus conspire. But since they are so bad
And treated Bidasari thus, we'll go
And in the desert find a resting-place.
And may it be a refuge for us all,
Hidden and unapproachable."

His goods
He gathered then, and all his servants paid,
And built a home far in the desert land,
A spot agreeable. A cabin there
He raised, with ramparts hemmed about, and strong
_Sasaks_, and seven rows of palisades.
They placed there many vases full of flowers,
And every sort of tree for fruit and shade,
And cool pavilions. This plaisance so fair
They called Pengtipourlara. It was like
The garden of Batara Indra. All
About, the merchant set pomegranate-trees
And vines of grape. No other garden was
So beautiful. 'Twas like the garden fair
Of great Batara Brahma, filled with fruits.
When all was ready, forth they went, toward night,
And took young Bidasari, and much food.
They fared two days and came unto the spot,
A garden in the desert. Softest rugs
From China there were spread and of bright hue
The decorations were, in every tint.
The house was hung with tapestries, and ceiled
To represent the heavens flecked with clouds.