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He says—"Alas! my son Jímútaváhana!" This then is doubtless his father. How can I burn myself in this fire? I am ashamed to appear before them after slaying their son. Yet why should I be troubled about a fire? Am not I on the ocean's brink? I will cast myself into the submarine fire, terrible as the destined consumer of the world at the end of a "kalpa," having kindled it by the wind of my own wings, fiercer than any supernatural blast, which will make the flames flicker like the tips of the tongue of Death, when enjoying the relish of licking up the three worlds, and which span the sea, and reach even to threaten the sun's domain.

[He wishes to rise.

O king of birds, away with this resolve! This would be no expiation for your sin.

O magnanimous one, tell me then what expiation is there?