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62 O mother, why do you harass me yet more by weeping?

Alas! my son! how will pitiless Garuda devour thy beauteous body, that has never felt the sun's rays?

[Embracing him, she weeps.

Enough of lamentation. See here—since mortality as the nurse first clasps the new-born child to its bosom, and the mother comes only second—what room is there for sorrow?

[Wishes to depart.

O son, stay for a moment whilst I look on your face.

Come, Prince Śankhachúda, never mind her words. Infatuated by affection for her son, she forgets the duty to our king.

I am coming.

I have brought him to the rock of execution; so I will now give him the distinguishing badge of one condemned to death.