KING.—­Nay, Matali, say not so.  My most ambitious expectations were more
than realized by the honor conferred on me at the moment when I took my
leave.  For,
    Tinged with celestial sandal, from the breast
    Of the great Indra, where before it hung,
    A garland of the ever-blooming tree
    Of Nandana was cast about my neck
    By his own hand:  while, in the very presence
    Of the assembled gods, I was enthroned
    Beside their mighty lord, who smiled to see
    His son Jayanta envious of the honor.

MATALI.—­There is no mark of distinction which your Majesty does not
deserve at the hands of the immortals.  See,
    Heaven’s hosts acknowledge thee their second saviour;
    For now thy bow’s unerring shafts (as erst
    The lion-man’s terrific claws) have purged
    The empyreal sphere from taint of demons foul.

KING.—­The praise of my victory must be ascribed to the majesty of
Indra. 
    When mighty gods make men their delegates
    In martial enterprise, to them belongs
    The palm of victory; and not to mortals. 
    Could the pale Dawn dispel the shades of night,
    Did not the god of day, whose diadem
    Is jewelled with a thousand beams of light,
    Place him in front of his effulgent car?

MATALI.—­A very just comparison. [Driving on.] Great King, behold! the
glory of thy fame has reached even to the vault of heaven. 
    Hark! yonder inmates of the starry sphere
    Sing anthems worthy of thy martial deeds,
    While with celestial colors they depict
    The story of thy victories on scrolls
    Formed of the leaves of heaven’s immortal trees.

KING.—­My good Matali, yesterday, when I ascended the sky, I was so eager to do battle with the demons, that the road by which we were travelling towards Indra’s heaven escaped my observation.  Tell me, in which path of the seven winds are we now moving?

MATALI.—­We journey in the path of Parivaha;
    The wind that bears along the triple Ganges,
    And causes Ursa’s seven stars to roll
    In their appointed orbits, scattering
    Their several rays with equal distribution. 
    ’Tis the same path that once was sanctified
    By the divine impression of the foot
    Of Vishnu, when, to conquer haughty Bali,
    He spanned the heavens in his second stride.

KING.—­This is the reason, I suppose, that a sensation of calm repose pervades all my senses. [Looking down at the wheels.] Ah!  Matali, we are descending towards the earth’s atmosphere.

MATALI.—­What makes you think so?

KING.—­The car itself instructs me; we are moving
    O’er pregnant clouds, surcharged with rain; below us
    I see the moisture-loving Chatakas
    In sportive flight dart through the spokes; the steeds
    Of Indra glisten with the lightning’s flash;
    And a thick mist bedews the circling wheels.