These soothing words the ladies said, And pressed their lips upon her head, Each gave with sighs her last adieu, Then at the King's command withdrew. The King around the hermit went With circling footsteps reverent, And placed at Rishyaśring's command Some soldiers of his royal band. The Bráhman bowed in turn and cried, "May fortune never leave thy side. O mighty King, with justice reign, And still thy people's love retain." He spoke, and turned away his face, And, as the hermit went, The monarch, rooted to the place, Pursued with eyes intent. But when the sage had passed from view King Daśaratha turned him too, Still fixing on his friend each thought, With such deep love his breast was fraught. Amid his people's loud acclaim Home to his royal seat he came, And lived delighted there-- Expecting when each queenly dame, Upholder of his ancient fame, Her promised son should bear. The glorious sage his way pursued Till close before his eyes he viewed Sweet Champá, Lomapád's fair town, Wreathed with her Champac's leafy crown. Soon as the saint's approach he knew, The King, to yield him honor due, Went forth to meet him with a band Of priests and nobles of the land:-- "Hail, Sage," he cried, "O joy to me! What bliss it is, my lord, to see Thee with thy wife and all thy train Returning to my town again. Thy father, honored Sage, is well, Who hither from his woodland cell Has sent full many a messenger For tidings both of thee and her." Then joyfully, for due respect, The monarch bade the town be decked. The King and Rishyaśring elate Entered the royal city's gate-- In front the chaplain rode. Then, loved and honored with all care By monarch and by courtier, there The glorious saint abode. CANTO XVIII RISHYAŚRING'S DEPARTURE