Canto XXXI: The Perfect Hermitage

Thus spoke the prince of boundless might, And thus replied the anchorite:-- "Chief of the mighty arm, of yore Lord Vishnu, whom the Gods adore For holy thought and rites austere, Of penance made his dwelling here. This ancient wood was called of old Grove of the Dwarf, the mighty-souled-- And when perfection he attained The grove the name of Perfect gained. Bali of yore, Virochan's son, Dominion over Indra won-- And when with power his proud heart swelled, O'er the three worlds his empire held. When Bali then began a rite, The Gods and Indra in affright Sought Vishnu in this place of rest, And thus with prayers the God addressed:-- 'Bali, Virochan's mighty son, His sacrifice has now begun: Of boundless wealth, that demon king Is bounteous to each living thing. Though suppliants flock from every side The suit of none is e'er denied. Whate'er, where'er, howe'er the call, He hears the suit and gives to all. Now with thine own illusive art Perform, O Lord, the helper's part: Assume a dwarfish form, and thus From fear and danger rescue us.' Thus in their dread the Immortals sued The God, a dwarfish shape indued:-- Before Virochan's son he came, Three steps of land his only claim. The boon obtained, in wondrous wise Lord Vishnu's form increased in size; Through all the worlds, tremendous, vast, God of the Triple Step, he passed. The whole broad earth from side to side He measured with one mighty stride-- Spanned with the next the firmament, And with the third through heaven he went. Thus was the king of demons hurled By Vishnu to the nether world-- And thus the universe restored To Indra's rule, its ancient lord. And now because the Immortal God This spot in dwarflike semblance trod, The grove has aye been loved by me For reverence of the devotee. But demons haunt it, prompt to stay Each holy offering I would pay. Be thine, O lion-lord, to kill These giants that delight in ill. This day, beloved child, our feet Shall rest within the calm retreat; And know, thou chief of Raghu's line, My hermitage is also thine." He spoke; and soon the anchorite, With joyous looks that beamed delight, With Ráma and his brother stood Within the consecrated wood. Soon as they saw the holy man, With one accord together ran The dwellers in the sacred shade, And to the saint their reverence paid-- And offered water for his feet, The gift of honor, and a seat; And next with hospitable care They entertained the princely pair. The royal tamers of their foes Rested awhile in sweet repose-- Then to the chief of hermits sued Standing in suppliant attitude:-- "Begin, O best of saints, we pray, Initiatory rites to-day. This Perfect Grove shall be anew Made perfect, and thy words be true."

Then, thus addressed, the holy man, The very glorious sage, began The high preliminary rite, Restraining sense and appetite. Calmly the youths that night reposed, And rose when morn her light disclosed-- Their morning worship paid, and took Of lustral water from the brook. Thus purified they breathed the prayer, Then greeted Viśvámitra where As celebrant he sate beside The flame with sacred oil supplied.