ace sustained,
Close union with the Godhead gained.
I long, O Saint, to see a son
By force of holy penance won.
Unwed, a maiden life I live:
A son to me, thy suppliant, give."
The saint with favour heard her prayer,
And gave a son exceeding fair.
Him, Chuli's spiritual child,
His mother Brahmadatta(175) styled.
King Brahmadatta, rich and great,
In Kampili maintained his state,
Ruling, like Indra in his bliss,
His fortunate metropolis.
King Kusanabha planned that he
His hundred daughters' lord should be.
To him, obedient to his call,
The happy monarch gave them all.
Like Indra then he took the hand
Of every maiden of the band.
Soon as the hand of each young maid
In Brahmadatta's palm was laid,
Deformity and cares away,
She shone in beauty bright and gay.
Their freedom from the Wind-God's might
Saw Kusanabha with delight.
Each glance that on their forms he threw
Filled him with raptures ever new.
Then when the rites were all complete,
With highest marks of honour meet
The bridegroom with his brides he sent
To his great seat of government.

The nymph received with pleasant speech
Her daughters; and, embracing each,
Upon their forms she fondly gazed,
And royal Kusanabha praised.

Canto XXXV. Visvamitra's Lineage.

"The rites were o'er, the maids were wed,
The bridegroom to his home was sped.
The sonless monarch bade prepare
A sacrifice to gain an heir.
Then Kusa, Brahma's son, appeared,
And thus King Kusanabha cheered:
"Thou shalt, my child, obtain a son
Like thine own self, O holy one.
Through him for ever, Gadhi named,
Shalt thou in all the worlds be famed."
He spoke, and vanished from the sight
To Brahma's world of endless light.
Time fled, and, as the saint foretold,
Gadhi was born, the holy-souled.
My sire was he; through him I trace
My line from royal Kusa's race.
My sister--elder-born was she--
The pure and good Satyavati,(176)
Was to the great Richika wed.
Still faithful to her husband dead,
She followed him, most noble dame,
And, raised to heaven in human frame,
A pure celestial stream became.
Down from Himalaya's snowy height,
In floods for ever fair and bright,
My sister's holy waves are hurled
To purify and glad the world.
Now on Himalaya's side I dwell
Because I love my sister well.
She, for her faith and truth renowned,
Most loving to her husband found,
High-fated, firm in each pure vow,
Is queen of all the rivers now.
Bound by a vow I left her side
And to the Per