moved:—­
    ’Farewell, O Lord!  A sire have we,
    No women uncontrolled and free. 
    Go, and our sire’s consent obtain
    If thou our maiden hands wouldst gain. 
    No self-dependent life we live: 
    If we offend, our fault forgive,’
    But led by folly as a slave,
    He would not hear the rede we gave,
    And even as we gently spoke
    We felt the Wind-God’s crushing stroke.” 
    The pious King, with grief distressed,
    The noble hundred thus addressed:—­
    “With patience, daughters, bear your fate,
    Yours was a deed supremely great
    When with one mind you kept from shame
    The honor of your father’s name. 
    Patience, when men their anger vent,
    Is woman’s praise and ornament;
    Yet when the Gods inflict the blow
    Hard is it to support the woe. 
    Patience, my girls, exceeds all price—­
    ’Tis alms, and truth, and sacrifice. 
    Patience is virtue, patience fame: 
    Patience upholds this earthly frame. 
    And now, I think, is come the time
    To wed you in your maiden prime. 
    Now, daughters, go where’er you will: 
    Thoughts for your good my mind shall fill.” 
    The maidens went, consoled, away:—­
    The best of kings, that very day,
    Summoned his ministers of state
    About their marriage to debate. 
    Since then, because the Wind-God bent
    The damsels’ forms for punishment,
    That royal town is known to fame
    By Kanyakubja’s borrowed name.

    There lived a sage called Chuli then,
    Devoutest of the sons of men;
    His days in penance rites he spent,
    A glorious saint, most continent. 
    To him absorbed in tasks austere
    The child of Urmila draw near—­
    Sweet Somada, the heavenly maid,
    And lent the saint her pious aid. 
    Long time near him the maiden spent,
    And served him meek and reverent,
    Till the great hermit, pleased with her,
    Thus spoke unto his minister:—­
    “Grateful am I for all thy care—­
    Blest maiden, speak, thy wish declare.” 
    The sweet-voiced nymph rejoiced to see
    The favor of the devotee,
    And to that excellent old man,
    Most eloquent she thus began:—­
    “Thou hast, by heavenly grace sustained,
    Close union with the Godhead gained. 
    I long, O Saint, to see a son
    By force of holy penance won. 
    Unwed, a maiden life I live: 
    A son to me, thy suppliant, give.” 
    The saint with favor heard her prayer,
    And gave a son exceeding fair. 
    Him, Chuli’s spiritual child,
    His mother Brahmadatta styled. 
    King Brahmadatta, rich and great,
    In Kampili maintained his state—­
    Ruling, like Indra in his bliss,
    His fortunate metropolis. 
    King Kusanabha planned that he
    His hundred daughters’ lord should be.