view,
    With bolder steps they ventured nigh
    To catch the youthful hermit’s eye. 
    Then all the damsels blithe and gay,
    At various games began to play. 
    They tossed the flying ball about
    With dance and song and merry shout,
    And moved, their scented tresses bound
    With wreaths, in mazy motions round. 
    Some girls as if by love possessed,
    Sank to the earth in feigned unrest,
    Up-starting quickly to pursue
    Their intermitted game anew. 
    It was a lovely sight to see
    Those fair ones, as they played,
    While fragrant robes were floating free,
    And bracelets clashing in their glee
    A pleasant tinkling made. 
    The anklet’s chime, the Koil’s cry
    With music filled the place,
    As ’twere some city in the sky;
    Which heavenly minstrels grace. 
    With each voluptuous art they strove
    To win the tenant of the grove,
    And with their graceful forms inspire
    His modest soul with soft desire. 
    With arch of brow, with beck and smile,
    With every passion-waking wile
    Of glance and lotus hand,
    With all enticements that excite
    The longing for unknown delight
    Which boys in vain withstand. 
    Forth came the hermit’s son to view
    The wondrous sight to him so new,
    And gazed in rapt surprise
    For from his natal hour till then
    On woman or the sons of men
    He ne’er had cast his eyes. 
    He saw them with their waists so slim,
    With fairest shape and faultless limb,
    In variegated robes arrayed,
    And sweetly singing as they played. 
    Near and more near the hermit drew,
    And watched them at their game,
    And stronger still the impulse grew
    To question whence they came. 
    They marked the young ascetic gaze
    With curious eye and wild amaze,
    And sweet the long-eyed damsels sang,
    And shrill their merry laughter rang. 
    Then came they nearer to his side,
    And languishing with passion cried:—­
    “Whose son, O youth, and who art thou,
    Come suddenly to join us now? 
    And why dost thou all lonely dwell
    In the wild wood?  We pray thee, tell. 
    We wish to know thee, gentle youth;
    Come, tell us, if thou wilt, the truth,”
    He gazed upon that sight he ne’er
    Had seen before, of girls so fair,
    And out of love a longing rose
    His sire and lineage to disclose:—­
    “My father,” thus he made reply,
    “Is Kasyap’s son, a saint most high,
    Vibhandak styled; from him I came,
    And Rishyasring he calls my name. 
    Our hermit cot is near this place:—­
    Come thither, O ye fair of face;
    There be it mine, with honor due,
    Ye gentle youths, to welcome you.”