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Now, one day, as the king was roaming along the bank of the lake, he
saw in one place a pious offering made with unfading flowers. And he said to the guards there, " Who made this offering ?" Then the guards of the lake said to the king, " Every day, at dawn, noon, and sunset, these golden swans bathe in the lake, and make these offerings, and stand absorbed in contemplation: so we cannot say, king, what is the meaning of this great wonder." When the king heard this from the guards, he said to himself, " Such a proceeding is quite inconsistent with the nature of swans; surely there must be a reason for this. So, I will perform asceticism until I find out who these swans are." Then the king and his wife and his minister gave up food, and remained performing penance and absorbed in meditation on Śiva. And after the king had fasted for twelve days, the two heavenly swans came to him, and said to him in a dream with articulate voice, " Rise up, king; to-morrow we will tell you and your wife and minister, after you have broken your fast, the whole truth of the matter in private." When the swans had said this, they disappeared, and next morning the king and his wife and his minister, as soon as they awoke, rose up, and broke their fast. And after they had eaten, the two swans came to them, as they were sitting in a pleasure -pavilion near the water. The king received them with respect, and said to them, " Tell me who you are." Then they proceeded to tell him their history.
How Párvatí condemned her five attendants to be reborn on earth.:—There is a monarch of mountains famous on the earth under the name of Mandara, in whose groves of gleaming jewels all the gods roam, on whose table-lands, watered withnectar from the churned sea of milk, are to be found flowers, fruits, roots, and water, that are antidotes to old age and death. Its highest peaks, composed of various precious stones, form the pleasure-grounds of Śiva, and he loves it more than mount Kailása.
There, one day, that god left Párvatí, after he had been diverting himself with her, and disappeared, to execute some business for the gods. Then the goddess, afflicted by his absence, roamed in the various places where he loved to amuse himself, and the other gods did their best to console her.
And one day the goddess was much troubled by the advent of spring, and she was sitting surrounded by the Ganas at the foot of a tree, thinking about her beloved, when a noble Gana, named Manipushpeśvara, looked lovingly at a young maiden, the daughter of Jayá, called Chandralekhá, who was waving a chowrie over the goddess. He was a match for her in youth and beauty, and she met his glance with a responsive look of love, as he stood by her side. Two other Ganas, named Pingeśvara and Guheśvara, when they saw that, interchanged glances, and a smile passed over
