A hundred wains for convoy drove. The very birds that winged that air, The very deer that harbored there, Forsook the glade and leafy brake And followed for the hermits' sake. They travelled far, till in the west The sun was speeding to his rest, And made, their portioned journey o'er, Their halt on Śona's distant shore. The hermits bathed when sank the sun, And every rite was duly done-- Oblations paid to Fire, and then Sate round their chief the holy men. Ráma and Lakshman lowly bowed In reverence to the hermit crowd-- And Ráma, having sate him down Before the saint of pure renown, With humble palms together laid His eager supplication made:-- "What country, O my lord, is this, Fair-smiling in her wealth and bliss? Deign fully, O thou mighty Seer, To tell me, for I long to hear." Moved by the prayer of Ráma, he Told forth the country's history. CANTO XXXIV BRAHMADATTA A king of Brahmá's seed who bore The name of Kúsa reigned of yore. Just, faithful to his vows, and true, He held the good in honor due. His bride, a queen of noble name, Of old Vidarbha's monarchs came. Like their own father, children four, All valiant boys, the lady bore. In glorious deeds each nerve they strained, And well their Warrior part sustained. To them most just, and true, and brave, Their father thus his counsel gave:-- "Beloved children, ne'er forget Protection is a prince's debt: The noble work at once begin, High virtue and her fruits to win." The youths, to all the people dear, Received his speech with willing ear; And each went forth his several way, Foundations of a town to lay. Kuśámba, prince of high renown, Was builder of Kauśámbí's town, And Kuśanábha, just and wise, Bade high Mahodaya's towers arise. Amúrtarajas chose to dwell In Dharmáranya's citadel, And Vasu bade his city fair The name of Girivraja bear. This fertile spot whereon we stand Was once the high-souled Vasu's land. Behold! as round we turn our eyes, Five lofty mountain peaks arise. See! bursting from her parent hill, Sumágadhí, a lovely rill, Bright gleaming as she flows between The mountains, like a wreath is seen-- And then through Magadh's plains and groves With many a fair meander roves. And this was Vasu's old domain, The fertile Magadh's broad champaign, Which smiling fields of tilth adorn And diadem with golden corn. The queen Ghritáchí, nymph most fair, Married to Kuśanábha, bare A hundred daughters lovely faced, With every charm and beauty graced. It chanced the maidens, bright and gay As lightning-flashes on a day Of rain-time, to the garden went With song and play and merriment-- And there in gay attire they strayed, And danced, and laughed, and sang, and played.