Page:Ancient Ballads and Legends of Hindustan.djvu/41

Rh In converse with the gray-haired sage She learnt the story of the youth, His name and place and parentage— Of royal race he was in truth. Satyavan was he hight,—his sire Dyoumatsen had been Salva's king, But old and blind, opponents dire Had gathered round him in a ring And snatched the sceptre from his hand; Now,—with his queen and only son He lived a hermit in the land, And gentler hermit was there none.

With many tears was said and heard The story,—and with praise sincere Of Prince Satyavan; every word Sent up a flush on cheek and ear, Unnoticed. Hark! The bells remind 'Tis time to go,—she went away, Leaving her virgin heart behind, And richer for the loss. A ray Shot down from heaven, appeared to tinge All objects with supernal light, The thatches had a rainbow fringe, The cornfields looked more green and bright.