Prince Ansuman the strong and brave
    Followed the rede Suparna gave. 
    The glorious hero took the horse,
    And homeward quickly bent his course. 
    Straight to the anxious King he hied,
    Whom lustral rites had purified—­
    The mournful story to unfold
    And all the King of birds had told. 
    The tale of woe the monarch heard,
    No longer was the rite deferred: 
    With care and just observance he
    Accomplished all, as texts decree. 
    The rites performed, with brighter fame,
    Mighty in counsel, home he came. 
    He longed to bring the river down,
    But found no plan his wish to crown. 
    He pondered long with anxious thought,
    But saw no way to what he sought. 
    Thus thirty thousand years he spent,
    And then to heaven the monarch went.

CANTO XLIII

BHAGIRATH

    “When Sagar thus had bowed to fate,
    The lords and commons of the state
    Approved with ready heart and will
    Prince Ansuman his throne to fill. 
    He ruled, a mighty king, unblamed,
    Sire of Dilipa justly famed. 
    To him, his child and worthy heir,
    The King resigned his kingdom’s care,
    And on Himalaya’s pleasant side
    His task austere of penance plied. 
    Bright as a God in clear renown
    He planned to bring pure Ganga down. 
    There on his fruitless hope intent
    Twice sixteen thousand years he spent,
    And in the grove of hermits stayed
    Till bliss in heaven his rites repaid. 
    Dilipa then, the good and great,
    Soon as he learnt his kinsmen’s fate,
    Bowed down by woe, with troubled mind. 
    Pondering long no cure could find. 
    ‘How can I bring,’ the mourner sighed,
    ’To cleanse their dust, the heavenly tide? 
    How can I give them rest, and save
    Their spirits with the offered wave?’
    Long with this thought his bosom skilled
    In holy discipline was filled. 
    A son was born, Bhagirath named,
    Above all men for virtue famed. 
    Dilipa many a rite ordained,
    And thirty thousand seasons reigned. 
    But when no hope the king could see
    His kinsmen from their woe to free,
    The lord of men, by sickness tried,
    Obeyed the law of fate, and died;
    He left the kingdom to his son,
    And gained the heaven his deeds had won. 
    The good Bhagirath, royal sage,
    Had no fair son to cheer his age. 
    He, great in glory, pure in will,
    Longing for sons was childless still. 
    Then on one wish, one thought intent,
    Planning the heavenly stream’s descent,
    Leaving his ministers the care
    And burden of his state to bear—­
    Dwelling in far Gokarna he
    Engaged in long austerity. 
    With senses checked, with