These soothing words the ladies said,
    And pressed their lips upon her head,
    Each gave with sighs her last adieu,
    Then at the King’s command withdrew. 
    The King around the hermit went
    With circling footsteps reverent,
    And placed at Rishyasring’s command
    Some soldiers of his royal band. 
    The Brahman bowed in turn and cried,
    “May fortune never leave thy side. 
    O mighty King, with justice reign,
    And still thy people’s love retain.” 
    He spoke, and turned away his face,
    And, as the hermit went,
    The monarch, rooted to the place,
    Pursued with eyes intent. 
    But when the sage had passed from view
    King Dasaratha turned him too,
    Still fixing on his friend each thought,
    With such deep love his breast was fraught. 
    Amid his people’s loud acclaim
    Home to his royal seat he came,
    And lived delighted there—­
    Expecting when each queenly dame,
    Upholder of his ancient fame,
    Her promised son should bear. 
    The glorious sage his way pursued
    Till close before his eyes he viewed
    Sweet Champa, Lomapad’s fair town,
    Wreathed with her Champac’s leafy crown. 
    Soon as the saint’s approach he knew,
    The King, to yield him honor due,
    Went forth to meet him with a band
    Of priests and nobles of the land:—­
    “Hail, Sage,” he cried, “O joy to me! 
    What bliss it is, my lord, to see
    Thee with thy wife and all thy train
    Returning to my town again. 
    Thy father, honored Sage, is well,
    Who hither from his woodland cell
    Has sent full many a messenger
    For tidings both of thee and her.” 
    Then joyfully, for due respect,
    The monarch bade the town be decked. 
    The King and Rishyasring elate
    Entered the royal city’s gate—­
    In front the chaplain rode. 
    Then, loved and honored with all care
    By monarch and by courtier, there
    The glorious saint abode.

CANTO XVIII

RISHYASRING’S DEPARTURE

    The monarch called a Brahman near
    And said, “Now speed away
    To Kasyap’s son, the mighty seer,
    And with all reverence say—­
    The holy child he holds so dear,
    The hermit of the noble mind,
    Whose equal it were hard to find,
    Returned, is dwelling here. 
    Go, and instead of me do thou
    Before that best of hermits bow,
    That still he may for his dear son,
    Show me the favor I have won.” 
    Soon as the King these words had said,
    To Kasyap’s son the Brahman sped. 
    Before the hermit low he bent
    And did obeisance, reverent;
    Then with meek words his grace to crave
    The message of his lord he gave:—­
    “The high-souled father