The Birth of Kumāra 6.65

6.65

athāṅgirasamagraṇyamudāharaṇavastuṣu |
ṛṣayaścodayāmāsuḥ pratyuvāca sa bhūdharam ||

Not once he spake—his cavern mouths around
In hollow echoings gave again the sound.
Of all who speak beyond compare the best,
Angiras answered at the Saint's request:—
"This power hast thou, great King, and mightier far.
Thy mind is lofty as thy summits are;
Sages say truly, Vishnu is thy name,
His spirit breatheth in thy mountain frame;
Within the caverns of thy boundless breast
All things that move and all that move not rest.
How on his head so soft, so delicate.
Could the great Snake uphold the huge Earth's weight.
Did not thy roots, far-reaching down to Hell,
Bear up the burden and assist him well?
Thy streams of praise, thy pure rills' ceaseless flow
Make glad the nations wheresoe'r they go,
Till, shedding purity on every side.
They sink at length in boundless Ocean's tide.
Blest is fair Ganga, for her heavenly stream
Flows from the feet of him that sits supreme,
And blest once more, mighty Hill, is she
That her bright waters spring anew from thee!
Vast grew his body when the avenging God
In three huge strides o'er all Creation trod—
Above, below, his form increased, but thou
Wast ever glorious and as vast as now.
By thee is famed Sumeru forced to hide
His flashing rays and pinnacles of pride,
For thou hast won thy station in the Skies
Mid the great Gods who claim the Sacrifice.
Firm and unmoved remains thy lofty hill,
Yet thou canst bow before the Holy still;
Now—for the glorious work will fall on thee—
Hear thou the cause of this our embassy:
We also. Mountain Monarch, since we bear
To thee the message, in the labour share;
The Highest, Mightiest, Noblest One, adored
By the proud title of our Sovran Lord—
The Crescent Moon upon his brow bears he.
His all the wondrous powers of Deity—
He in this Earth and varied Forms displayed.
Bound each to other by exchange of aid.
Guides the great World and all the things that are,
As flying coursers whirl the glittering car.
Whom good men seek with holy Thought and Prayer,
Who fills their breast and makes his dwelling there;
When Saints, we read, his lofty sphere attain
They ne'er may fall to this base earth again—
His Messengers, great King, we crave the hand
Of thy fair davighter at the God's command;
At such blest union, as of Truth and Voice,
A father's heart should grieve not, but rejoice.
Her Lord is Father of the World, and she
Of all that liveth shall the Mother be;
Gods that adore him with the Neck of Blue
In homage bent shall hail the Lady too;
And give a glory to her feet with gems
That sparkle in their priceless diadems.
Hear what a roll shall blazon forth thy line,—
Maid, Father, Suitor, Messengers divine!
Give him the chosen Lady, and aspire
To call thy Son the Universe's Sire—
He laudeth none but all mankind shall raise
To Him through endless time the songs of praise."