To him Sumantra made reply:-- "Hear, sire, a tale of days gone by. To many a sage in time of old, Sanatkumár, the saint, foretold How from thine ancient line, O King, A son, when years came round, should spring 'Here dwells,' 'twas thus the seer began, 'Of Kaśyap's race, a holy man, Vibhándak named: to him shall spring A son, the famous Rishyaśring. Bred with the deer that round him roam, The wood shall be that hermit's home. To him no mortal shall be known Except his holy sire alone. Still by those laws shall he abide Which lives of youthful Bráhmans guide, Obedient to the strictest rule That forms the young ascetic's school: And all the wondering world shall hear Of his stern life and penance drear; His care to nurse the holy fire And do the bidding of his sire. Then, seated on the Angas' throne, Shall Lomapád to fame be known. But folly wrought by that great King A plague upon the land shall bring; No rain for many a year shall fall And grievous drought shall ruin all. The troubled King with many a prayer Shall bid the priests some cure declare:-- "The lore of Heaven 'tis yours to know, Nor are ye blind to things below:-- Declare, O holy men, the way This plague to expiate and stay." Those best of Bráhmans shall reply:-- "By every art, O Monarch, try, Hither to bring Vibhándak's child, Persuaded, captured, or beguiled. And when the boy is hither led To him thy daughter duly wed."