Canto XL: The Cleaving Of The Earth

The hermit ceased--the tale was done:-- Then in a transport Raghu's son Again addressed the ancient sire Resplendent as a burning fire:-- "O holy man, I fain would hear The tale repeated full and clear How he from whom my sires descend Brought the great rite to happy end," The hermit answered with a smile:-- "Then listen, son of Raghu, while My legendary tale proceeds To tell of high-souled Sagar's deeds. Within the spacious plain that lies From where Himálaya's heights arise To where proud Vindhya's rival chain Looks down upon the subject plain-- A land the best for rites declared-- His sacrifice the king prepared. And Anśumán the prince--for so Sagar advised--with ready bow Was borne upon a mighty car To watch the steed who roamed afar. But Indra, monarch of the skies, Veiling his form in demon guise, Came down upon the appointed day And drove the victim horse away. Reft of the steed the priests, distressed, The master of the rite addressed:-- 'Upon the sacred day by force A robber takes the victim horse. Haste, King! now let the thief be slain; Bring thou the charger back again: The sacred rite prevented thus Brings scathe and woe to all of us. Rise, Monarch, and provide with speed That nought its happy course impede.'

King Sagar in his crowded court Gave ear unto the priests' report. He summoned straightway to his side His sixty thousand sons, and cried:-- 'Brave sons of mine, I know not how These demons are so mighty now-- The priests began the rite so well All sanctified with prayer and spell. If in the depths of earth he hide, Or lurk beneath the ocean's tide, Pursue, dear sons, the robber's track; Slay him and bring the charger back. The whole of this broad earth explore, Sea-garlanded, from shore to shore: Yea, dig her up with might and main Until you see the horse again. Deep let your searching labor reach, A league in depth dug out by each. The robber of our horse pursue, And please your sire who orders you. My grandson, I, this priestly train, Till the steed comes, will here remain.'

Their eager hearts with transport burned As to their task the heroes turned. Obedient to their father, they Through earth's recesses forced their way. With iron arms' unflinching toil Each dug a league beneath the soil. Earth, cleft asunder, groaned in pain, As emulous they plied amain-- Sharp-pointed coulter, pick, and bar, Hard as the bolts of Indra are. Then loud the horrid clamor rose Of monsters dying 'neath their blows, Giant and demon, fiend and snake, That in earth's core their dwelling make. They dug, in ire that nought could stay, Through sixty thousand leagues their way-- Cleaving the earth with matchless strength Till hell itself they reached at length. Thus digging searched they Jambudvíp With all its hills and mountains steep. Then a great fear began to shake The heart of God, bard, fiend, and snake-- And all distressed in spirit went Before the Sire Omnipotent. With signs of woe in every face They sought the mighty Father's grace, And trembling still and ill at ease Addressed their Lord in words like these:-- 'The sons of Sagar, Sire benign, Pierce the whole earth with mine on mine, And as their ruthless work they ply Innumerable creatures die,' 'This is the thief,' the princes say, 'Who stole our victim steed away. This marred the rite, and caused us ill.' And so their guiltless blood they spill.