They fled and left him there alone By longing love possessed; And with a heart no more his own He roamed about distressed.

The aged saint came home, to find The hermit boy distraught, Revolving in his troubled mind One solitary thought.

"Why dost thou not, my son," he cried, "Thy due obeisance pay?

Why do I see thee in the tide Of whelming thought to-day?

A devotee should never wear A mien so sad and strange.

Come, quickly, dearest child, declare The reason of the change."

And Rishyasring, when questioned thus, Made answer in this wise:-- "O sire, there came to visit us Some men with lovely eyes.

About my neck soft arms they wound And kept me tightly held To tender b.r.e.a.s.t.s so soft and round, That strangely heaved and swelled.

They sing more sweetly as they dance Than e'er I heard till now, And play with many a sidelong glance And arching of the brow."

"My son," said he, "thus giants roam Where holy hermits are, And wander round their peaceful home Their rites austere to mar.

I charge thee, thou must never lay Thy trust in them, dear boy:-- They seek thee only to betray, And woo but to destroy."

Thus having warned him of his foes That night at home he spent, And when the morrow's sun arose Forth to the forest went.

But Rishyasring with eager pace Sped forth and hurried to the place Where he those visitants had seen Of dainty waist and charming mien.

When from afar they saw the son Of Saint Vibhandak toward them run, To meet the hermit boy they hied, And hailed him with a smile, and cried:-- "O come, we pray, dear lord, behold Our lovely home of which we told:-- Due honor there to thee we'll pay, And speed thee on thy homeward way."

Pleased with the gracious words they said He followed where the damsels led.

As with his guides his steps he bent, That Brahman high of worth, A flood of rain from heaven sent That gladdened all the earth.

Vibhandak took his homeward road, And wearied by the heavy load Of roots and woodland fruit he bore Entered at last his cottage door.

Fain for his son he looked around, But desolate the cell he found.

He stayed not then to bathe his feet, Though fainting with the toil and heat, But hurried forth and roamed about Calling the boy with cry and shout.

He searched the wood, but all in vain; Nor tidings of his son could gain.

One day beyond the forest's bound The wandering saint a village found, And asked the swains and neatherds there Who owned the land so rich and fair, With all the hamlets of the plain, And herds of kine and fields of grain.

They listened to the hermit's words, And all the guardians of the herds, With suppliant hands together pressed, This answer to the saint addressed:-- "The Angas' lord who bears the name Of Lomapad, renowned by fame, Bestowed these hamlets with their kine And all their riches, as a sign Of grace, on Rishyasring; and he Vibhandak's son is said to be."

The hermit with exulting breast The mighty will of fate confessed, By meditation's eye discerned; And cheerful to his home returned.

A stately ship, at early morn, The hermit's son away had borne.

Loud roared the clouds, as on he sped, The sky grew blacker overhead; Till, as he reached the royal town, A mighty flood of rain came down.

By the great rain the monarch's mind The coming of his guest divined.

To meet the honored youth he went, And low to earth his head he bent.

With his own priest to lead the train, He gave the gift high guests obtain, And sought, with all who dwelt within The city walls, his grace to win.

He fed him with the daintiest fare, He served him with unceasing care, And ministered with anxious eyes Lest anger in his breast should rise; And gave to be the Brahman's bride His own fair daughter, lotus-eyed.

Thus loved and honored by the King, The glorious Brahman Rishyasring Pa.s.sed in that royal town his life With Santa his beloved wife.

CANTO X

RISHYASRING INVITED

"Again, O best of Kings, give ear:-- My saving words attentive hear, And listen to the tale of old By that ill.u.s.trious Brahman told.

'Of famed Ikshvaku's line shall spring ('Twas thus he spoke) a pious king, Named Dasaratha, good and great, True to his word and fortunate.

He with the Angas' mighty lord Shall ever live in sweet accord, And his a daughter fair shall be, Santa of happy destiny.

But Lomapad, the Angas' chief, Still pining in his childless grief, To Dasaratha thus shall say:-- "Give me thy daughter, friend, I pray, Thy Santa of the tranquil mind, The n.o.blest one of womankind."

The father, swift to feel for woe, Shall on his friend his child bestow; And he shall take her and depart To his own town with joyous heart.

The maiden home in triumph led, To Rishyasring the King shall wed.

And he with loving joy and pride Shall take her for his honored bride.

And Dasaratha to a rite That best of Brahmans shall invite With supplicating prayer To celebrate the sacrifice To win him sons and Paradise, That he will fain prepare.

From him the lord of men at length The boon he seeks shall gain, And see four sons of boundless strength His royal line maintain, Thus did the G.o.dlike saint of old The will of fate declare, And all that should befall unfold Amid the sages there.

O Prince, supreme of men, go thou, Consult thy holy guide, And win, to aid thee in thy vow, This Brahman to thy side."

Sumantra's counsel, wise and good, King Dasaratha heard, Then by Vasishtha's side he stood And thus with him conferred:-- "Sumantra counsels thus:--do thou My priestly guide, the plan allow."

Vasishtha gave his glad consent, And forth the happy monarch went With lords and servants on the road That led to Rishyasring's abode.

Forests and rivers duly past, He reached the distant town at last-- Of Lomapad the Angas' King, And entered it with welcoming.

On through the crowded streets he came, And, radiant as the kindled flame, He saw within the monarch's house The hermit's son, most glorious.

There Lomapad, with joyful breast, To him all honor paid, For friendship for his royal guest His faithful bosom swayed.

Thus entertained with utmost care Seven days, or eight, he tarried there, And then that best of men thus broke His purpose to the King, and spoke:--

"O King of men, mine ancient friend, (Thus Dasaratha prayed), Thy Santa with her husband send My sacrifice to aid."

Said he who ruled the Angas, "Yea,"

And his consent was won:-- And then at once he turned away To warn the hermit's son.

He told him of their ties beyond Their old affection's faithful bond:-- "This King," he said, "from days of old A well beloved friend I hold.

To me this pearl of dames he gave From childless woe mine age to save, The daughter whom he loved so much, Moved by compa.s.sion's gentle touch.

In him thy Santa's father see:-- As I am, even so is he.

For sons the childless monarch yearns, To thee alone for help he turns.

Go thou, the sacred rite ordain To win the sons he prays to gain:-- Go, with thy wife thy succor lend, And give his vows a blissful end."

The hermit's son with quick accord Obeyed the Angas' mighty lord, And with fair Santa at his side To Dasaratha's city hied.

Each king, with suppliant hands upheld, Gazed on the other's face:-- And then by mutual love impelled Met in a close embrace.

Then Dasaratha's thoughtful care, Before he parted thence, Bade trusty servants homeward bear The glad intelligence:-- "Let all the town be bright and gay, With burning incense sweet; Let banners wave, and water lay The dust in every street."

Glad were the citizens to learn The tidings of their lord's return, And through the city every man Obediently his task began.

And fair and bright Ayodhya showed, As following his guest he rode Through the full streets, where sh.e.l.l and drum Proclaimed aloud the King was come.

And all the people with delight Kept gazing on their king, Attended by that youth so bright, The glorious Rishyasring.

When to his home the King had brought The hermit's saintly son, He deemed that all his task was wrought, And all he prayed for won.

And lords who saw the stranger dame So beautiful to view, Rejoiced within their hearts, and came And paid her honor, too.

There Rishyasring pa.s.sed blissful days, Graced like the King with love and praise, And shone in glorious light with her, Sweet Santa for his minister, As Brahma's son Vasishtha, he Who wedded Saint Arundhati.

CANTO XI

THE SACRIFICE DECREED

The Dewy Season came and went; The spring returned again-- Then would the King, with mind intent, His sacrifice ordain.

He came to Rishyasring, and bowed To him of look divine, And bade him aid his offering vowed For heirs, to save his line.

Nor would the youth his aid deny, He spake the monarch fair, And prayed him for that rite so high All requisites prepare.

The King to wise Sumantra cried Who stood aye ready near; "Go summon quick, each holy guide, To counsel and to hear,"

Obedient to his lord's behest Away Sumantra sped, And brought Vasishtha and the rest, In Scripture deeply read.

Suyajna, Vamadeva came, Javali, Kasyap's son, And old Vasishtha, dear to fame, Obedient, every one.

King Dasaratha met them there And duly honored each, And spoke in pleasant words his fair And salutary speech:-- "In childless longing doomed to pine, No happiness, O lords, is mine.

So have I for this cause decreed To slay the sacrificial steed.

Fain would I pay that offering high Wherein the horse is doomed to die, With Rishyasring his aid to lend, And with your glory to befriend."

With loud applause each holy man Received his speech, approved the plan, And, by the wise Vasishtha led, Gave praises to the King, and said:-- "The sons thou cravest shalt thou see, Of fairest glory, born to thee, Whose holy feelings bid thee take This righteous course for offspring's sake."

Cheered by the ready praise of those Whose aid he sought, his spirits rose-- And thus the King his speech renewed With looks of joy and grat.i.tude:-- "Let what the coming rites require Be ready, as the priests desire, And let the horse, ordained to bleed, With fitting guard and priest, be freed.

Yonder on Sarju's northern side The sacrificial ground provide; And let the saving rites, that nought Ill-omened may occur, be wrought.