meet,
    And sipped the oil, like Amrit sweet. 
    Then pure and pleased they sate around
    Saint Visvamitra, on the ground. 
    The holy men of lesser note,
    In due degree, sate more remote,
    While Raghu’s sons took nearer place
    By virtue of their rank and race. 
    Then Rama said:  “O Saint, I yearn
    The three-pathed Ganga’s tale to learn.”

    Thus urged, the sage recounted both
    The birth of Ganga and her growth:—­
    “The mighty hill with metals stored,
    Himalaya, is the mountains’ lord,
    The father of a lovely pair
    Of daughters fairest of the fair—­
    Their mother, offspring of the will
    Of Meru, everlasting hill,
    Mena, Himalaya’s darling, graced
    With beauty of her dainty waist. 
    Ganga was elder-born:—­then came
    The fair one known by Uma’s name. 
    Then all the Gods of heaven, in need
    Of Ganga’s help their vows to speed,
    To great Himalaya came and prayed
    The Mountain King to yield the maid. 
    He, not regardless of the weal
    Of the three worlds, with holy zeal
    His daughter to the Immortals gave,
    Ganga whose waters cleanse and save—­
    Who roams at pleasure, fair and free,
    Purging all sinners, to the sea. 
    The three-pathed Ganga thus obtained,
    The Gods their heavenly homes regained. 
    Long time the sister Uma passed
    In vows austere and rigid fast,
    And the King gave the devotee
    Immortal Rudra’s bride to be—­
    Matching with that unequalled Lord
    His Uma through the worlds adored. 
    So now a glorious station fills
    Each daughter of the King of Hills—­
    One honored as the noblest stream,
    One mid the Goddesses supreme. 
    Thus Ganga, King Himalaya’s child,
    The heavenly river, undefiled,
    Rose bearing with her to the sky
    Her waves that bless and purify.”

[Cantos XXXVII and XXXVIII are omitted.]

CANTO XXXIX

THE SONS OF SAGAR

    The saint in accents sweet and clear
    Thus told his tale for Rama’s ear—­
    And thus anew the holy man
    A legend to the prince began:—­
    “There reigned a pious monarch o’er
    Ayodhya in the days of yore: 
    Sagar his name:—­no child had he,
    And children much he longed to see. 
    His honored consort, fair of face,
    Sprang from Vidarbha’s royal race—­
    Kesini, famed from early youth
    For piety and love of truth. 
    Arishtanemi’s daughter fair,
    With whom no maiden might compare
    In beauty, though the earth is wide,
    Sumati, was his second bride. 
    With his two queens afar he went,
    And weary days in penance spent,
    Fervent, upon Himalaya’s hill
    Where springs the stream called