A brighter beam of glory glanced:-- So shines in all his autumn blaze The Day-God of the thousand rays. The hermit's wants those youths supplied, As pupils used to holy guide. And then the night in sweet content On Sarjú's pleasant bank they spent. CANTO XXV THE HERMITAGE OF LOVE Soon as appeared the morning light Up rose the mighty anchorite, And thus to youthful Ráma said, Who lay upon his leafy bed:-- "High fate is hers who calls thee son: Arise, 'tis break of day; Rise, Chief, and let those rites be done Due at the morning's ray." At that great sage's high behest Up sprang the princely pair, To bathing rites themselves addressed, And breathed the holiest prayer. Their morning task completed, they To Viśvámitra came, That store of holy works, to pay The worship saints may claim. Then to the hallowed spot they went Along fair Sarjú's side Where mix her waters confluent With three-pathed Gangá's tide. There was a sacred hermitage Where saints devout of mind Their lives through many a lengthened age To penance had resigned. That pure abode the princes eyed With unrestrained delight, And thus unto the saint they cried, Rejoicing at the sight:-- "Whose is that hermitage we see? Who makes his dwelling there? Full of desire to hear are we: O Saint, the truth declare." The hermit, smiling, made reply To the two boys' request:-- "Hear, Ráma, who in days gone by This calm retreat possessed-- Kandarpa in apparent form, (Called Káma by the wise,) Dared Umá's new-wed lord to storm And make the God his prize. 'Gainst Sthánu's self, on rites austere And vows intent, they say, His bold rash hand he dared to rear, Though Sthánu cried, Away! But the God's eye with scornful glare Fell terrible on him, Dissolved the shape that was so fair And burnt up every limb. Since the great God's terrific rage Destroyed his form and frame, Káma in each succeeding age Has borne Ananga's name. So, where his lovely form decayed, This land is Anga styled:-- Sacred to him of old this shade, And hermits undefiled. Here Scripture-talking elders sway Each sense with firm control, And penance-rites have washed away All sin from every soul. One night, fair boy, we here will spend, A pure stream on each hand, And with to-morrow's light will bend Our steps to yonder strand. Here let us bathe, and free from stain To that pure grove repair, Sacred to Káma, and remain One night in comfort there." With penance' far-discerning eye The saintly men beheld Their coming, and with transport high Each holy bosom swelled. To Kuśik's son the gift they gave That honored guest should greet-- Water they brought his feet to lave, And showed him honor meet.