The third the name of Vayu(214) bear.
Gods let the four remaining be,
And roam through space, obeying thee."

The Town-destroyer, Thousand-eyed,
Who smote fierce Bali till he died,
Joined suppliant hands, and thus replied:
"Thy children heavenly forms shall wear;
The names devised by thee shall bear,
And, Maruts called by my decree,
Shall Amrit drink and wait on me.
From fear and age and sickness freed,
Through the three worlds their wings shall speed."

Thus in the hermits' holy shade
Mother and son their compact made,
And then, as fame relates, content,
Home to the happy skies they went.
This is the spot--so men have told--
Where Lord Mahendra(215) dwelt of old,
This is the blessed region where
His votaress mother claimed his care.
Here gentle Alambusha bare
To old Ikshvaku, king and sage,
Visala, glory of his age,
By whom, a monarch void of guilt,
Was this fair town Visala built.
His son was Hemachandra, still
Renowned for might and warlike skill.
From him the great Suchandra came;
His son, Dhumrasva, dear to fame.
Next followed royal Srinjay; then
Famed Sahadeva, lord of men.
Next came Kusasva, good and mild,
Whose son was Somadatta styled,
And Sumati, his heir, the peer
Of Gods above, now governs here.
And ever through Ikshvaku's grace,
Visala's kings, his noble race,
Are lofty-souled, and blest with length
Of days, with virtue, and with strength.
This night, O prince, we here will sleep;
And when the day begins to peep,
Our onward way will take with thee,
The king of Mithila to see."

Then Sumati, the king, aware
Of Visvamitra's advent there,
Came quickly forth with honour meet
The lofty-minded sage to greet.
Girt with his priest and lords the king
Did low obeisance, worshipping,
With suppliant hands, with head inclined,
Thus spoke he after question kind;
"Since thou hast deigned to bless my sight,
And grace awhile thy servant's seat,
High fate is mine, great Anchorite,
And none may with my bliss compete."

Canto XLVIII. Indra And Ahalya

When mutual courtesies had past,
Visala's ruler spoke at last:
"These princely youths, O Sage, who vie
In might with children of the sky,
Heroic, born for happy fate,
With elephants' or lions' gait,
Bold as the tiger or the bull,
With lotus eyes so large and full,
Armed with the quiver, sword, and bow,
Whose figures like the Asvins(216) show,
Like children of the deathless Powers,
Come freely to these shades of ours,(217)--