"
For many a league they journeyed on
Till, when the sun of mid-day shone,
The hermit-haunted flood was seen
Of Jahnavi, the Rivers' Queen.
Soon as the holy stream they viewed,
Thronged with a white-winged multitude
Of sarases and swans, delight
Possessed them at the lovely sight;
And then prepared the hermit band
To halt upon that holy strand.
They bathed as Scripture bids, and paid
Oblations due to God and shade.
To Fire they burnt the offerings meet,
And sipped the oil, like Amrit sweet.
Then pure and pleased they sate around
Saint Visvamitra, on the ground.
The holy men of lesser note,
In due degree, sate more remote,
While Raghu's sons took nearer place
By virtue of their rank and race.
Then Rama said: "O Saint, I yearn
The three-pathed Ganga's tale to learn."
Thus urged, the sage recounted both
The birth of Ganga and her growth:--
"The mighty hill with metals stored,
Himalaya, is the mountains' lord,
The father of a lovely pair
Of daughters fairest of the fair--
Their mother, offspring of the will
Of Meru, everlasting hill,
Mena, Himalaya's darling, graced
With beauty of her dainty waist.
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