So he departed from his home again, he and his queen alone, and sojourned afar in the south country. There he practised penance strict for many a long day, even for a thousand years. At the end of this came Brahma, the Creator, and told him, with air benign, that these austerities had won for him the state of Rajarshi, or Kingly Sage. But Viswamitra was wroth, and answered with scorn, "All my toil has been for nought, it seems, if royal sainthood is mine only guerdon from the gods."
Pondering thus, he turned again to his task, and with sternest zeal pursued the path of austerity and penance.
About this time, it chanced that there reigned in a certain part of Hindustan a king named Trisanku. Virtuous and self-controlled, he nevertheless yielded to one overmastering passion—the desire that he might ascend to heaven in his human body. To this end he sought the aid of Vasishtha, but that sage bade him lay aside an aim so desperate. Trisanku then sought out the hundred sons of Vasishtha; for they, like their sire, were hermits of renown, and lived a life of retirement and penance in the south country. With due reverence and supplication the monarch approached them and made his petition; but they chid him sternly for cherishing the vain hope that what the illustrious father had denied the sons would or could ever grant.
Great was the wrath of Trisanku at this second rebuff. He turned from Vasishtha's sons, exclaiming fiercely, "I go to seek the aid of other sages."
Scarce had the words left his lips, when the sons of Vasishtha, in hot anger at this scornful reply,
