Round about his breast
No sacred cord is twined, but in its stead
A hideous serpent's skin. In place of necklace,
The tendrils of a withered creeper chafe
His wasted neck. His matted hair depends
In thick entanglement about his shoulders,
And birds construct their nests within its folds.
KING.--I salute thee, thou man of austere devotion.
MATALI [_holding in the reins of the car_].--Great Prince, we are now in
the sacred grove of the holy Kasyapa--the grove that boasts as its
ornament one of the five trees of Indra's heaven, reared by Aditi.
KING.--This sacred retreat is more delightful than heaven itself. I
could almost fancy myself bathing in a pool of nectar.
MATALI [_stopping the chariot_].--Descend, mighty Prince.
KING [_descending_].--And what will you do, Matali?
MATALI.--The chariot will remain where I have stopped it. We may both
descend. [_Doing so._] This way, great King, [_Walking on._] You see
around you the celebrated region where the holiest sages devote
themselves to penitential rites.
KING.--I am filled with awe and wonder as I gaze.
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