Page:TheBirth of the War-God.djvu/73

To greet them with a gift Himalaya sped,
Earth to her centre shaking at his tread;
By his dark lips with mountain metals dyed,
His arms like pines that clothe his lofty side—
By his proud stature, by his stony breast,
Lord of the Snowy Hills he stood confest.
⁠On to his Council-hall he led the way.
Nor failed due honour to the Saints to pay:
On couch of reed the Monarch bade them rest,
And thus with uplift hands those Heavenly Lords addressed:
" Like soft rain falling from a cloudless sky.
Or fruit, when bloom has failed to glad the eye,
So are ye welcome, Sages; thus I feel
Ecstatic thrilling o'er my spirit steal,
Changed, like dull senseless iron to burning gold,
Or some rapt creature, when the Heavens unfold,
To eyes yet dim with tears of earthly care.
The rest, the pleasures, and the glory there.
⁠Long pilgrim bands from this auspicious day
To my pure hill shall bend their constant way;
Famed shall it be o'er all the lands around.
For where the Good have been is holy ground.
Now am I doubly pure, for Ganga's tide
Falls on my head from Heaven and laves my side;
Henceforth I boast a second stream as sweet,
The water, Sages, that has touched your feet.
⁠Twice by your favour is Himálaya blest,—
This towery mountain that your feet have prest,
And this my moving form is happier still
To wait your bidding, to perform your will.
⁠These mighty limbs that fill the Heaven's expanse
Sink down, o'erpowered, in a blissful trance;