THE CLEAVING OF THE EARTH

    The hermit ceased—­the tale was done:—­
    Then in a transport Raghu’s son
    Again addressed the ancient sire
    Resplendent as a burning fire:—­
    “O holy man, I fain would hear
    The tale repeated full and clear
    How he from whom my sires descend
    Brought the great rite to happy end,”
    The hermit answered with a smile:—­
    “Then listen, son of Raghu, while
    My legendary tale proceeds
    To tell of high-souled Sagar’s deeds. 
    Within the spacious plain that lies
    From where Himalaya’s heights arise
    To where proud Vindhya’s rival chain
    Looks down upon the subject plain—­
    A land the best for rites declared—­
    His sacrifice the king prepared. 
    And Ansuman the prince—­for so
    Sagar advised—­with ready bow
    Was borne upon a mighty car
    To watch the steed who roamed afar. 
    But Indra, monarch of the skies,
    Veiling his form in demon guise,
    Came down upon the appointed day
    And drove the victim horse away. 
    Reft of the steed the priests, distressed,
    The master of the rite addressed:—­
    ’Upon the sacred day by force
    A robber takes the victim horse. 
    Haste, King! now let the thief be slain;
    Bring thou the charger back again: 
    The sacred rite prevented thus
    Brings scathe and woe to all of us. 
    Rise, Monarch, and provide with speed
    That nought its happy course impede.’

    King Sagar in his crowded court
    Gave ear unto the priests’ report. 
    He summoned straightway to his side
    His sixty thousand sons, and cried:—­
    ’Brave sons of mine, I know not how
    These demons are so mighty now—­
    The priests began the rite so well
    All sanctified with prayer and spell. 
    If in the depths of earth he hide,
    Or lurk beneath the ocean’s tide,
    Pursue, dear sons, the robber’s track;
    Slay him and bring the charger back. 
    The whole of this broad earth explore,
    Sea-garlanded, from shore to shore: 
    Yea, dig her up with might and main
    Until you see the horse again. 
    Deep let your searching labor reach,
    A league in depth dug out by each. 
    The robber of our horse pursue,
    And please your sire who orders you. 
    My grandson, I, this priestly train,
    Till the steed comes, will here remain.’

    Their eager hearts with transport burned
    As to their task the heroes turned. 
    Obedient to their father, they
    Through earth’s recesses forced their way. 
    With iron arms’ unflinching toil
    Each dug a league beneath the soil. 
    Earth, cleft asunder, groaned in pain,
    As emulous they plied amain—­
    Sharp-pointed coulter, pick, and bar,
    Hard as the bolts of Indra