That used to show their graceful beauty, when
Girls gently bent their twigs and plucked their flowers,
Are broken by wild apes and wilder men.

The windows are not lit by lamps at night,
Nor by fair faces shining in the day,
But webs of spiders dim the delicate, light
Smoke-tracery with one mere daub of grey.

The river is deserted; on the shore
No gaily bathing men and maidens leave
Food for the swans; its reedy bowers no more
Are vocal: seeing this, I can but grieve.

The goddess therefore begs Kusha to return with his court to the old
capital, and when he assents, she smiles and vanishes. The next
morning Kusha announces the vision of the night, and immediately sets
out for Ayodhya with his whole army. Arrived there, King Kusha quickly
restores the city to its former splendour. Then when the hot summer
comes, the king goes down to the river to bathe with the ladies of the
court. While in the water he loses a great gem which his father had
given him. The divers are unable to find it, and declare their belief
that it has been stolen by the serpent Kumuda who lives in the river.
The king threatens to shoot an arrow into the river, whereupon the
waters divide, and the serpent appears with the gem. He is accompanied
by a beautiful maiden, whom he introduces as his sister Kumudvati, and
whom he offers in marriage to Kusha. The offer is accepted, and the
wedding celebrated with great pomp.

_Seventeenth canto. King Atithi_.--To the king and queen is born a
son, who is named Atithi. When he has grown into manhood, his father
Kusha engages in a struggle with a demon, in which the king is killed
in the act of killing his adversary. He goes to heaven, followed by
his faithful queen, and Atithi is anointed king. The remainder of the
canto describes King Atithi's glorious reign.

_Eighteenth canto. The later princes_.--This canto gives a brief,
impressionistic sketch of the twenty-one kings who in their order
succeeded Atithi.

_Nineteenth canto. The loves of Agnivarna_.--After the twenty-one
kings just mentioned, there succeeds a king named Agnivarna, who gives
himself to dissipation. He shuts himself up in the palace; even when
duty requires him to appear before his subjects, he does so merely by
hanging one foot out of a window. He trains dancing-girls himself, and
has so many mistresses that he cannot always call them by their right
names. It is not wonderful that this kind of