Still he replied: “’Tis written that to spurn A suppliant equals in offence to slay A twice-born; wherefore, not for Swarga’s bliss Quit I, Mahendra, this poor clinging dog. So without any hope or friend save me, So wistful, fawning for my faithfulness, So agonized to die, unless I help Who among men was called steadfast and just.” Quoth Indra: “Nay, the altar flame is foul Where a dog passeth; angry angels sweep The ascending smoke aside, and all the fruits Of offering, and the merit of the prayer Of him whom a hound toucheth. Leave it here; He that will enter heaven must enter pure. Why didst thou quit thy brethren on the way, And Krishna, and the dear-loved Draupadi, Attaining firm and glorious, to this mount Through perfect deeds, to linger for a brute? Hath Yudhishthira vanquished self, to melt With one poor passion at the door of bliss? Stay’st thou for this, who didst not stay for them— Draupadi, Bhima?” But the king yet spake: “’Tis known that none can hurt or help the dead. They, the delightful ones, who sank and died, Following my footsteps, could not live again Though I had turned, therefore I did not turn; But could help profit, I had turned to help. There be four sins, O Sakra, grievous sins: The first is making suppliants despair, The second is to slay a nursing wife, The third is spoiling Brahmans’ goods by force, The fourth is injuring an ancient friend. These four I deem but equal to one sin, If one, in coming forth from woe to weal, Abandon any meanest comrade then.” Straight as he spake, brightly great Indra smiled; Vanished the hound, and in its stead stood there The Lord of Death and Justice, Dharma’s self. Sweet were the words that fell from those dread lips, Precious the lovely praise: “O thou true king, Thou that dost bring to harvest the true seed Of Pandu’s righteousness; thou that hast ruth As he before, on all which lives! O son, I tried thee in the Dwaita wood, what time They smote thy brothers, bringing water; then Thou prayed’st for Nakula’s life, tender and just, Not Bhima’s nor Arjuna’s, true to both, To Madri as to Kunti, to both queens. Hear thou my word: Because thou didst not mount This car divine, lest the poor hound be shent Who looked to thee—lo! there is none in heaven Shall sit above thee, King Bharata’s son! Enter thou now to the eternal joys, Living and in thy form. Justice and love Welcome thee, monarch; thou shalt throne with them.”