God, filling the earth
     And heavens with thunder of his chariot-wheels. 
     “Ascend,” he said, “with me, Pritha’s great son!”
     But Yudhisthira answered, sore at heart
     For those his kinsfolk, fallen on the way: 
     “O Thousand-eyed, O Lord of all the gods,
     Give that my brothers come with me, who fell! 
     Not without them is Swarga sweet to me. 
     She, too, the dear and kind and queenly,—­she
     Whose perfect virtue Paradise must crown,—­Grant
     her to come with us!  Dost thou grant this?”

     The God replied:—­“In heaven thou shalt see
     Thy kinsman and the Queen—­these will attain—­And
     Krishna.  Grieve no longer for thy dead,
     Thou chief of men! their mortal covering stripped,
     These have their places; but to thee the gods
     Allot an unknown grace; Thou shalt go up,
     Living and in thy form, to the immortal homes.”

     But the King answered:—­“O thou Wisest One,
     Who know’st what was, and is, and is to be,
     Still one more grace!  This hound hath ate with me,
     Followed me, loved me:  must I leave him now?”

     “Monarch,” spake Indra, “thou art now as we,—­
     Deathless, divine; thou art become a god;
     Glory and power and gifts celestial,
     And all the joys of heaven are thine for aye;
     What hath a beast with these?  Leave here thy hound.”

     Yet Yudhisthira answered:—­“O Most High,
     O, Thousand-eyed and wisest! can it be
     That one exalted should seem pitiless? 
     Nay, let me lose such glory; for its sake
     I cannot leave one living thing I loved.”

     Then sternly Indra spake:—­“He is unclean,
     And into Swarga such shall enter not. 
     The Krodhavasha’s wrath destroys the fruits
     Of sacrifice, if dogs defile the fire. 
     Bethink thee, Dharmaraj; quit now this beast! 
     That which is seemly is not hard of heart.”

     Still he replied:—­“Tis written that to spurn
     A suppliant equals in offense 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 Yudhisthira 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?”