Canto XXXIX: The Sons Of Sagar

The saint in accents sweet and clear Thus told his tale for Ráma's ear-- And thus anew the holy man A legend to the prince began:-- "There reigned a pious monarch o'er Ayodhyá in the days of yore: Sagar his name:--no child had he, And children much he longed to see. His honored consort, fair of face, Sprang from Vidarbha's royal race-- Keśiní, famed from early youth For piety and love of truth. Arishtanemi's daughter fair, With whom no maiden might compare In beauty, though the earth is wide, Sumati, was his second bride. With his two queens afar he went, And weary days in penance spent, Fervent, upon Himálaya's hill Where springs the stream called Bhrigu's rill. Nor did he fail that saint to please With his devout austerities, And, when a hundred years had fled, Thus the most truthful Bhrigu said:-- 'From thee, O Sagar, blameless King, A mighty host of sons shall spring, And thou shalt win a glorious name Which none, O Chief, but thou shall claim. One of thy queens a son shall bear Maintainer of thy race and heir; And of the other there shall be Sons sixty thousand born to thee.' Thus as he spake, with one accord, To win the grace of that high lord, The queens, with palms together laid, In humble supplication prayed:-- 'Which queen, O Bráhman, of the pair, The many, or the one shall bear? Most eager, Lord, are we to know, And as thou sayest be it so,' With his sweet speech the saint replied:-- 'Yourselves, O Queens, the choice decide. Your own discretion freely use Which shall the one or many choose: One shall the race and name uphold, The host be famous, strong, and bold. Which will have which?' Then Keśiní The mother of one heir would be. Sumati, sister of the King Of all the birds that ply the wing, To that illustrious Bráhman sued That she might bear the multitude-- Whose fame throughout the world should sound For mighty enterprise renowned. Around the saint the monarch went, Bowing his head, most reverent. Then with his wives, with willing feet, Resought his own imperial seat, Time passed. The elder consort bare A son called Asamanj, the heir. Then Sumati, the younger, gave Birth to a gourd, O hero brave, Whose rind, when burst and cleft in two, Gave sixty thousand babes to view. All these with care the nurses laid In jars of oil; and there they stayed, Till, youthful age and strength complete, Forth speeding from each dark retreat-- All peers in valor, years, and might, The sixty thousand came to light. Prince Asamanj, brought up with care, Scourge of his foes, was made the heir. But liegemen's boys he used to cast To Sarjú's waves that hurried past-- Laughing the while in cruel glee Their dying agonies to see. This wicked prince who aye withstood The counsel of the wise and good, Who plagued the people in his hate, His father banished from the state. His son, kind-spoken, brave, and tall, Was Anśumán, beloved of all. Long years flew by. The King decreed To slay a sacrificial steed. Consulting with his priestly band He vowed the rite his soul had planned, And, Veda-skilled, by their advice Made ready for the sacrifice."