Page:Ancient Ballads and Legends of Hindustan.djvu/80

44 Became, as swift the minutes past,
 * And now the pathway he discerns,

And 'neath the trees, they hurry fast,
 * For Hope's fair light before them burns.

Under the faint beams of the stars
 * How beautiful appeared the flowers

Light scarlet, flecked with golden bars
 * Of the palâsas, in the bowers

That Nature there herself had made
 * Without the aid of man. At times

Trees on their path cast densest shade,
 * And nightingales sang mystic rhymes

Their fears and sorrows to assuage.
 * Where two paths met, the north they chose,

As leading to the hermitage,
 * And soon before them, dim it rose.

Here let us end. For all may guess
 * The blind old king received his sight,

And ruled again with gentleness
 * The country that was his by right;

And that Savitri's royal sire
 * Was blest with many sons,—a race