the prayer,
He heard the king his will declare,
He called the cow of spotted skin,
All spot without, all pure within.
"Come, Dapple-skin," he cried, "with speed;
Hear thou my words and help at need.
My heart is set to entertain
This monarch and his mighty train
With sumptuous meal and worthy fare;
Be thine the banquet to prepare.
Each dainty cate, each goodly dish,
Of six-fold taste(221) as each may wish--
All these, O cow of heavenly power,
Rain down for me in copious shower:
Viands and drink for tooth and lip,
To eat, to suck, to quaff, to sip--
Of these sufficient, and to spare,
O plenty-giving cow, prepare."

Canto LIII. Visvamitra's Request.

Thus charged, O slayer of thy foes,
The cow from whom all plenty flows,
Obedient to her saintly lord,
Viands to suit each taste, outpoured.
Honey she gave, and roasted grain,
Mead sweet with flowers, and sugar-cane.
Each beverage of flavour rare,
An food of every sort, were there:
Hills of hot rice, and sweetened cakes,
And curdled milk and soup in lakes.
Vast beakers foaming to the brim
With sugared drink prepared for him,
And dainty sweetmeats, deftly made,
Before the hermit's guests were laid.
So well regaled, so nobly fed,
The mighty army banqueted,
And all the train, from chief to least,
Delighted in Vasishtha's feast.
Then Visvamitra, royal sage,
Surrounded by his vassalage,
Prince, peer, and counsellor, and all
From highest lord to lowest thrall,
Thus feasted, to Vasishtha cried
With joy, supremely gratified:
"Rich honour I, thus entertained,
Most honourable lord, have gained:
Now hear, before I journey hence,
My words, O skilled in eloquence.
Bought for a hundred thousand kine,
Let Dapple-skin, O Saint, be mine.
A wondrous jewel is thy cow,
And gems are for the monarch's brow.(222)
To me her rightful lord resign
This Dapple-skin thou callest thine."

The great Vasishtha, thus addressed,
Arch-hermit of the holy breast,
To Visvamitra answer made,
The king whom all the land obeyed:
"Not for a hundred thousand,--nay,
Not if ten million thou wouldst pay,
With silver heaps the price to swell,--
Will I my cow, O Monarch, sell.
Unmeet for her is such a fate.
That I my friend should alienate.
As glory with the virtuous, she
For ever makes her home with me.
On her mine offerings which ascend
To Gods and spirits all depend:
My very life is due to her,
My guardian, friend, and minister.
The feeding of the sacred flame,(223)
The dole w