FORT OF AGRA. 
147 
dagger from her husband’s girdle, she was about to 
liberate her soul, when King Sadrak returned, and 
inquired the meaning of this bloody spectacle. She 
informed him fully of all that had passed, and imme- 
diately buried the dagger in her bosom. 
“ The noble monarch, looking with the deepest 
regret and admiration upon the prostrate corpses of 
these devoted servants, was penetrated to the soul 
with anguish, and proudly exclaiming, “ Thus to die 
is glory,” he unsheathed his scimitar, and was about 
to put an end to his life, when the goddess Luchmi, 
“ Daughter of Ocean and primeval Night, 
Who fed with moonbeams dropping silver dew, 
And cradled in a wild wave dancing light, 
Saw with a smile new shores and creatures new,”* 
descended before him, and the weapon remained sus- 
pended. 
“ Stay thy hand,” said the goddess, in a voice of 
mercy, “ is not this sufficient ? I will renew my 
guard over thy reign, and again thou shalt prosper.’ 
“ Oh, goddess,” cried the king, falling prostrate, 
“ wherefore should my hand he stayed, when my life 
has become hateful to me, and my kingdom a bur- 
den ? If thou regardest my devotion, command that 
these my servants he restored to animation, and let 
my worthless life be taken in exchange.” 
“ Enough,” said Luchmi, “ I am fully satisfied with 
* Hymn to Luchmi, translated from the Sanskrit, by Sir W. Jones. 
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