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willing aid as president.

      And all the sacred rites were done

      By rule and use, omitting none.

      By chaplain-priest, the hymns who knew,

      In decent form and order due.

      Some time in sacrifice had past,

      And Viśvámitra made, at last,

      The solemn offering with the prayer

      That all the Gods might come and share.

      But the Immortals, one and all,

      Refused to hear the hermit’s call.

      Then red with rage his eyeballs blazed:

      The sacred ladle high he raised,

      And cried to King Ikshváku’s son:

      “Behold my power, by penance won:

      Now by the might my merits lend,

      Ikshváku’s child, to heaven ascend.

      In living frame the skies attain,

      Which mortals thus can scarcely gain.

      My vows austere, so long endured,

      Have, as I ween, some fruit assured.

      Upon its virtue, King, rely,

      And in thy body reach the sky.”

      His speech had scarcely reached its close,

      When, as he stood, the sovereign rose,

      And mounted swiftly to the skies

      Before the wondering hermits’ eyes.

      But Indra, when he saw the king

      His blissful regions entering,

      With all the army of the Blest

      Thus cried unto the unbidden guest:

      “With thy best speed, Triśanku, flee:

      Here is no home prepared for thee.

      By thy great master’s curse brought low,

      Go, falling headlong, earthward go.”

      Thus by the Lord of Gods addressed,

      Triśanku fell from fancied rest,

      And screaming in his swift descent,

      “O, save me, Hermit!” down he went.

      And Viśvámitra heard his cry,

      And marked him falling from the sky,

      And giving all his passion sway,

      Cried out in fury, “Stay, O stay!”

      By penance-power and holy lore,

      Like Him who framed the worlds of yore,

      Seven other saints he fixed on high

      To star with light the southern sky.

      Girt with his sages forth he went,

      And southward in the firmament

      New wreathed stars prepared to set

      In many a sparkling coronet.

      He threatened, blind with rage and hate,

      Another Indra to create,

      Or, from his throne the ruler hurled,

      All Indraless to leave the world.

      Yea, borne away by passion’s storm,

      The sage began new Gods to form.

      But then each Titan, God, and saint,

      Confused with terror, sick and faint,

      To high souled Viśvámitra hied,

      And with soft words to soothe him tried:

      “Lord of high destiny, this king,

      To whom his master’s curses cling,

      No heavenly home deserves to gain,

      Unpurified from curse and stain.”

      The son of Kuśik, undeterred,

      The pleading of the Immortals heard,

      And thus in haughty words expressed

      The changeless purpose of his breast:

      “Content ye, Gods: I soothly sware

      Triśanku to the skies to bear

      Clothed in his body, nor can I

      My promise cancel or deny.

      Embodied let the king ascend

      To life in heaven that ne’er shall end.

      And let these new-made stars of mine

      Firm and secure for ever shine.

      Let these, my work, remain secure

      Long as the earth and heaven endure.

      This, all ye Gods, I crave: do you

      Allow the boon for which I sue.”

      Then all the Gods their answer made:

      “So be it, Saint, as thou hast prayed.

      Beyond the sun’s diurnal way

      Thy countless stars in heaven shall stay:

      And ‘mid them hung, as one divine,

      Head downward shall Triśanku shine;

      And all thy stars shall ever fling

Their rays attendant on the king.”1

      The mighty saint, with glory crowned,

      With all the sages compassed round,

      Praised by the Gods, gave full assent,

      And Gods and sages homeward went.

1 “The seven ancient rishis or saints, as has been said before, were the seven stars of Ursa Major. The seven other new saints which are here said to have been created by Viśvámitra should be seven new southern stars, a sort of new Ursa. Von Schlegel thinks that this mythical fiction of new stars created by Viśvámitra may signify that these southern stars, unknown to the Indians as long as they remained in the neighbourhood of the Ganges, became known to them at a later date when they colonized the southern regions of India.” Gorresio.

      Canto 61. Sunahsepha.

      Then Viśvámitra, when the Blest

      Had sought their homes of heavenly rest,

      Thus, mighty Prince, his counsel laid

      Before the dwellers of the shade:

      “The southern land where now we are

Offers this check our rites to bar:1

      To other regions let us speed,

      And ply our tasks from trouble freed.

      Now turn we to the distant west.

To Pushkar’s2 wood where hermits rest,

      And there to rites austere apply,

      For not a grove with that can vie.”

      The saint, in glory’s light arrayed,

      In Pushkar’s wood his

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