[41] The Köil is the Indian cuckoo. It is sometimes called Parabhrita (nourished by another) because the female is known to leave her eggs in the nest of the crow to be hatched. The bird is a great favorite with the Indian poets, as the nightingale with Europeans. [42] Palace of King Dushyanta, so-called because it was as lofty as the clouds. ACT SEVENTH Scene.--The Sky _Enter King Dushyanta and Mátali in the car of Indra, moving in the air_. KING.--My good Mátali, it appears to me incredible that I can merit such a mark of distinction for having simply fulfilled the behests of the great Indra. MÁTALI [_smiling_].--Great Prince, it seems to me that neither of you is satisfied with himself-- You underrate the service you have rendered, And think too highly of the god's reward: He deems it scarce sufficient recompense For your heroic deeds on his behalf. KING.--Nay, Mátali, say not so. My most ambitious expectations were more than realized by the honor conferred on me at the moment when I took my leave. For, Tinged with celestial sandal, from the breast Of the great Indra, where before it hung, A garland of the ever-blooming tree Of Nandana was cast about my neck By his own hand: while, in the very presence Of the assembled gods, I was enthroned Beside their mighty lord, who smiled to see His son Jayanta envious of the honor. MÁTALI.--There is no mark of distinction which your Majesty does not deserve at the hands of the immortals. See, Heaven's hosts acknowledge thee their second saviour; For now thy bow's unerring shafts (as erst The lion-man's terrific claws) have purged The empyreal sphere from taint of demons foul. KING.--The praise of my victory must be ascribed to the majesty of Indra. When mighty gods make men their delegates In martial enterprise, to them belongs The palm of victory; and not to mortals. Could the pale Dawn dispel the shades of night, Did not the god of day, whose diadem Is jewelled with a thousand beams of light, Place him in front of his effulgent car? MÁTALI.--A very just comparison. [_Driving on._] Great King, behold! the glory of thy fame has reached even to the vault of heaven. Hark! yonder inmates of the starry sphere Sing anthems worthy of thy martial deeds, While with celestial colors they depict The story of thy victories on scrolls Formed of the leaves of heaven's immortal trees. KING.--My good Mátali, yesterday, when I ascended the sky, I was so eager to do battle with the demons, that the road by which we were travelling towards Indra's heaven escaped my observation. Tell me, in which path of the seven winds are we now moving?