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to earth by sentence hard,

      Pressed eagerly around the tide

      That Śiva’s touch had sanctified.

      Then they whom heavenly doom had hurled,

      Accursed, to this lower world,

      Touched the pure wave, and freed from sin

      Resought the skies and entered in.

      And all the world was glad, whereon

      The glorious water flowed and shone,

      For sin and stain were banished thence

      By the sweet river’s influence.

      First, in a car of heavenly frame,

      The royal saint of deathless name,

      Bhagírath, very glorious rode,

      And after him fair Gangá flowed.

      God, sage, and bard, the chief in place

      Of spirits and the Nága race,

      Nymph, giant, fiend, in long array

      Sped where Bhagírath led the way;

      And all the hosts the flood that swim

      Followed the stream that followed him.

      Where’er the great Bhagírath led,

      There ever glorious Gangá fled,

      The best of floods, the rivers’ queen,

      Whose waters wash the wicked clean.

      It chanced that Jahnu, great and good,

      Engaged with holy offerings stood;

      The river spread her waves around

      Flooding his sacrificial ground.

      The saint in anger marked her pride,

      And at one draught her stream he dried.

      Then God, and sage, and bard, afraid,

      To noble high-souled Jahnu prayed,

      And begged that he would kindly deem

      His own dear child that holy stream.

      Moved by their suit, he soothed their fears

      And loosed her waters from his ears.

      Hence Gangá through the world is styled

      Both Jáhnavi and Jahnu’s child.

      Then onward still she followed fast,

      And reached the great sea bank at last.

      Thence deep below her way she made

      To end those rites so long delayed.

      The monarch reached the Ocean’s side,

      And still behind him Gangá hied.

      He sought the depths which open lay

      Where Sagar’s sons had dug their way.

      So leading through earth’s nether caves

      The river’s purifying waves,

      Over his kinsmen’s dust the lord

      His funeral libation poured.

      Soon as the flood their dust bedewed,

      Their spirits gained beatitude,

      And all in heavenly bodies dressed

      Rose to the skies’ eternal rest.

      Then thus to King Bhagírath said

      Brahmá, when, coming at the head

      Of all his bright celestial train,

      He saw those spirits freed from stain:

      “Well done! great Prince of men, well done!

      Thy kinsmen bliss and heaven have won.

      The sons of Sagar mighty-souled,

      Are with the Blest, as Gods, enrolled,

      Long as the Ocean’s flood shall stand

      Upon the border of the land,

      So long shall Sagar’s sons remain,

      And, godlike, rank in heaven retain.

      Gangá thine eldest child shall be,

      Called from thy name Bhágirathí;

      Named also — for her waters fell

      From heaven and flow through earth and hell —

      Tripathagá, stream of the skies,

      Because three paths she glorifies.

      And, mighty King, ’tis given thee now

      To free thee and perform thy vow.

      No longer, happy Prince, delay

      Drink-offerings to thy kin to pay.

      For this the holiest Sagar sighed,

      But mourned the boon he sought denied.

      Then Anśumán, dear Prince! although

      No brighter name the world could show,

      Strove long the heavenly flood to gain

      To visit earth, but strove in vain.

      Nor was she by the sages’ peer,

      Blest with all virtues, most austere,

      Thy sire Dilípa, hither brought,

      Though with fierce prayers the boon he sought.

      But thou, O King, earned success,

      And won high fame which God will bless.

      Through thee, O victor of thy foes,

      On earth this heavenly Gangá flows,

      And thou hast gained the meed divine

      That waits on virtue such as thine.

      Now in her ever holy wave

      Thyself, O best of heroes, lave:

      So shalt thou, pure from every sin,

      The blessed fruit of merit win.

      Now for thy kin who died of yore

      The meet libations duly pour.

      Above the heavens I now ascend:

      Depart, and bliss thy steps attend.”

      Thus to the mighty king who broke

      His foemens’ might, Lord Brahmá spoke,

      And with his Gods around him rose

      To his own heaven of blest repose.

      The royal sage no more delayed,

      But, the libation duly paid,

      Home to his regal city hied

      With water cleansed and purified.

      There ruled he his ancestral state,

      Best of all men, most fortunate.

      And all the people joyed again

      In good Bhagírath’s gentle reign.

      Rich, prosperous, and blest were they,

      And grief and sickness fled away.

      Thus, Ráma, I at length have told

      How Gangá came from heaven of old.

      Now, for the evening passes swift,

      I wish thee each auspicious gift.

      This story of the flood’s descent

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