They heard his speech, and gave consent,
    And gladly to his cottage went. 
    Vibhandak’s son received them well
    Beneath the shelter of his cell—­
    With guest-gift, water for their feet,
    And woodland fruit and roots to eat. 
    They smiled and spoke sweet words like these. 
    Delighted with his courtesies:—­
    “We too have goodly fruit in store,
    Grown on the trees that shade our door;
    Come, if thou wilt, kind Hermit, haste
    The produce of our grove to taste;
    And let, O good Ascetic, first
    This holy water quench thy thirst.” 
    They spoke, and gave him comfits sweet
    Prepared ripe fruits to counterfeit;
    And many a dainty cate beside,
    And luscious mead their stores supplied. 
    The seeming fruits, in taste and look,
    The unsuspecting hermit took,
    For, strange to him, their form beguiled
    The dweller in the lonely wild. 
    Then round his neck fair arms were flung,
    And there the laughing damsels clung,
    And pressing nearer and more near
    With sweet lips whispered at his ear;
    While rounded limb and swelling breast
    The youthful hermit softly pressed. 
    The pleasing charm of that strange bowl,
    The touch of a tender limb,
    Over his yielding spirit stole
    And sweetly vanquished him—­
    But vows, they said, must now be paid;
    They bade the boy farewell,
    And of the aged saint afraid,
    Prepared to leave the dell. 
    With ready guile they told him where
    Their hermit dwelling lay;
    Then, lest the sire should find them there,
    Sped by wild paths away. 
    They fled and left him there alone
    By longing love possessed;
    And with a heart no more his own
    He roamed about distressed. 
    The aged saint came home, to find
    The hermit boy distraught,
    Revolving in his troubled mind
    One solitary thought. 
    “Why dost thou not, my son,” he cried,
    “Thy due obeisance pay? 
    Why do I see thee in the tide
    Of whelming thought to-day? 
    A devotee should never wear
    A mien so sad and strange. 
    Come, quickly, dearest child, declare
    The reason of the change.” 
    And Rishyasring, when questioned thus,
    Made answer in this wise:—­
    “O sire, there came to visit us
    Some men with lovely eyes. 
    About my neck soft arms they wound
    And kept me tightly held
    To tender breasts so soft and round,
    That strangely heaved and swelled. 
    They sing more sweetly as they dance
    Than e’er I heard till now,
    And play with many a sidelong glance
    And arching of the brow.” 
    “My son,” said he, “thus giants roam
    Where holy hermits are,
    And wander round their peaceful home
    Their rites austere to mar.