The sixty thousand chiefs obeyed—­
    Deep through the earth their way they made. 
    Deep as they dug and deeper yet
    The immortal elephant they met—­
    Famed Virupaksha vast of size,
    Upon whose head the broad earth lies: 
    The mighty beast who earth sustains
    With shaggy hills and wooded plains. 
    When, with the changing moon, distressed,
    And longing for a moment’s rest,
    His mighty head the monster shakes,
    Earth to the bottom reels and quakes. 
    Around that warder strong and vast
    With reverential steps they passed—­
    Nor, when the honor due was paid,
    Their downward search through earth delayed. 
    But turning from the east aside
    Southward again their task they plied. 
    There Mahapadma held his place,
    The best of all his mighty race—­
    Like some huge hill, of monstrous girth,
    Upholding on his head the earth. 
    When the vast beast the princes saw,
    They marvelled and were filled with awe. 
    The sons of high-souled Sagar round
    That elephant in reverence wound. 
    Then in the western region they
    With might unwearied cleft their way. 
    There saw they with astonished eyes
    Saumanas, beast of mountain size. 
    Round him with circling steps they went
    With greetings kind and reverent. 
    On, on—­no thought of rest or stay—­
    They reached the seat of Soma’s sway. 
    There saw they Bhadra, white as snow,
    With lucky marks that fortune show,
    Bearing the earth upon his head. 
    Round him they paced with solemn tread,
    And honored him with greetings kind;
    Then downward yet their way they mined. 
    They gained the tract ’twixt east and north
    Whose fame is ever blazoned forth,
    And by a storm of rage impelled,
    Digging through earth their course they held. 
    Then all the princes, lofty-souled,
    Of wondrous vigor, strong and bold,
    Saw Vasudeva standing there
    In Kapil’s form he loved to wear,
    And near the everlasting God
    The victim charger cropped the sod. 
    They saw with joy and eager eyes
    The fancied robber and the prize,
    And on him rushed the furious band
    Crying aloud, ‘Stand, villain! stand!’
    ‘Avaunt! avaunt!’ great Kapil cried,
    His bosom flushed with passion’s tide;
    Then by his might that proud array
    All scorched to heaps of ashes lay.

CANTO XLII

SAGAR’S SACRIFICE

    Then to the prince his grandson, bright
    With his own fame’s unborrowed light,
    King Sagar thus began to say,
    Marvelling at his sons’ delay:—­
    ’Thou art a warrior skilled and bold,
    Match for the mighty men of old. 
    Now follow on thine uncles’ course