The monarch called a Bráhman near And said, "Now speed away To Kaśyap's son, the mighty seer, And with all reverence say-- The holy child he holds so dear, The hermit of the noble mind, Whose equal it were hard to find, Returned, is dwelling here. Go, and instead of me do thou Before that best of hermits bow, That still he may for his dear son, Show me the favor I have won." Soon as the King these words had said, To Kaśyap's son the Bráhman sped. Before the hermit low he bent And did obeisance, reverent; Then with meek words his grace to crave The message of his lord he gave:-- "The high-souled father of his bride Had called thy son his rites to guide-- Those rites are o'er, the steed is slain; Thy noble child is come again." Soon as the saint that speech had heard His spirit with desire was stirred To seek the city of the King And to his cot his son to bring. With young disciples at his side Forth on his way the hermit hied, While peasants from their hamlets ran To reverence the holy man. Each with his little gift of food, Forth came the village multitude, And, as they humbly bowed the head, "What may we do for thee?" they said. Then he, of Bráhmans first and best, The gathered people thus addressed:-- "Now tell me, for I fain would know, Why is it I am honored so?" They to the high-souled saint replied:-- "Our ruler is with thee allied. Our master's order we fulfil; O Bráhman, let thy mind be still."