To him, obedient to his call,
    The happy monarch gave them all. 
    Like Indra then he took the hand
    Of every maiden of the band. 
    Soon as the hand of each young maid
    In Brahmadatta’s palm was laid,
    Deformity and cares away,
    She shone in beauty bright and gay. 
    Their freedom from the Wind-God’s might
    Saw Kusanabha with delight. 
    Each glance that on their forms he threw
    Filled him with raptures ever new. 
    Then when the rites were all complete,
    With highest marks of honor meet
    The bridegroom with his brides he sent
    To his great seat of government. 
    The nymph received with pleasant speech
    Her daughters; and, embracing each,
    Upon their forms she fondly gazed,
    And royal Kusanabha praised.

CANTO XXXV

VISVAMITRA’S LINEAGE

    The rites were o’er, the maids were wed,
    The bridegroom to his home was sped. 
    The sonless monarch bade prepare
    A sacrifice to gain an heir. 
    Then Kusa, Brahma’s son, appeared,
    And thus King Kusanabha cheered:—­
    ’Thou shalt, my child, obtain a son
    Like thine own self, O holy one. 
    Through him forever, Gadhi named,
    Shalt thou in all the worlds be famed.’ 
    He spoke and vanished from the sight
    To Brahma’s world of endless light. 
    Time fled, and, as the saint foretold,
    Gadhi was born, the holy-souled. 
    My sire was he; through him I trace
    My line from royal Kusa’s race. 
    My sister—­elder-born was she—­
    The pure and good Satyavati,
    Was to the great Richika wed. 
    Still faithful to her husband dead,
    She followed him, most noble dame,
    And, raised to heaven in human frame,
    A pure celestial stream became. 
    Down from Himalaya’s snowy height,
    In floods forever fair and bright,
    My sister’s holy waves are hurled
    To purify and glad the world. 
    Now on Himalaya’s side I dwell
    Because I love my sister well. 
    She, for her faith and truth renowned,
    Most loving to her husband found,
    High-fated, firm in each pure vow,
    Is queen of all the rivers now. 
    Bound by a vow I left her side
    And to the Perfect convent hied. 
    There, by the aid ’twas thine to lend,
    Made perfect, all my labors end. 
    Thus, mighty Prince, I now have told
    My race and lineage, high and old,
    And local tales of long ago
    Which thou, O Rama, fain wouldst know. 
    As I have sate rehearsing thus
    The midnight hour is come on us. 
    Now, Rama, sleep, that nothing may
    Our journey of to-morrow stay. 
    No leaf on any tree is stirred—­
    Hushed in repose are beast and bird: 
    Where’er you turn, on every side,