cious hour it stood
Within Prayaga's famous wood.
The prince with cheering words addressed
His weary men, and bade them rest
Where'er they chose and he,
With priest and deacon by his side,
To Bharadvaja's dwelling hied
That best of saints to see.

Canto XC. The Hermitage.

The prince of men a league away
Saw where the hermit's dwelling lay,
Then with his lords his path pursued,
And left his warrior multitude.
On foot, as duty taught his mind,
He left his warlike gear behind;
Two robes of linen cloth he wore,
And bade Vasishtha walk before.
Then Bharat from his lords withdrew
When Bharadvaja came in view,
And toward the holy hermit went
Behind Vasishtha, reverent.
When Bharadvaja, saint austere,
Saw good Vasishtha drawing near,
He cried, upspringing from his seat,
"The grace-gift bring, my friend to greet."
When Saint Vasishtha near him drew,
And Bharat paid the reverence due,
The glorious hermit was aware
That Dasaratha's son was there.
The grace-gift, water for their feet
He gave, and offered fruit to eat;
Then, duty-skilled, with friendly speech
In seemly order questioned each:
"How fares it in Ayodhya now
With treasury and army? how
With kith and kin and friends most dear,
With councillor, and prince, and peer?"
But, for he knew the king was dead,
Of Dasaratha naught he said.
Vasishtha and the prince in turn
Would of the hermit's welfare learn:
Of holy fires they fain would hear,
Of pupils, trees, and birds, and deer.
The glorious saint his answer made
That all was well in holy shade:
Then love of Rama moved his breast,
And thus he questioned of his guest:
"Why art thou here, O Prince, whose band
With kingly sway protects the land?
Declare the cause, explain the whole,
For yet some doubt disturbs my soul.
He whom Kausalya bare, whose might
The foemen slays, his line's delight,
He who with wife and brother sent
Afar now roam in banishment,
Famed prince, to whom his father spake
This order for a woman's sake:
"Away! and in the forest spend
Thy life till fourteen years shall end"--
Has thou the wish to harm him, bent
On sin against the innocent?
Wouldst thou thine elder's realm enjoy
Without a thorn that can annoy?"

With sobbing voice and tearful eye
Thus Bharat sadly made reply:
"Ah lost am I, if thou, O Saint,
Canst thus in thought my heart attaint:
No warning charge from thee I need;
Ne'er could such crime from me proceed.
The words my guilty mother spake
When fondly