124 
Indian Idylls, No. I. 
[No. 2 
For she is daughter of a race divine, 
Subdued by S'iva’s power, and not by thine. 
Then for her life let mine a ransom be : 
Feed on my flesh, but let the Cow go free. 
Still, King cf Beasts, thy hunger will be staid, 
Still will the Saint enjoy her holy aid. 
And thou, another’s thrall, dost surely know — 
E’en as thy care of this young pine may show — 
That servants heedless of their duty must 
Bow down their heads in shame for broken trust. 
Then oh, have mercy, and mine honour spare ! 
A hero’s body claims no hero’s care. 
Have we not parleyed in the wood to-day ? 
And friendship springs from parley, sages say ; 
Again I pray thee, thrall of S'iva, take 
This my one offer for our friendship’s sake !” 
The lion yielded, and Dilipa cast 
His arms upon the earth : the spell at last 
Had left him free : then, fixing on the ground 
His calm eyes, waited for the monster’s bound. 
But suddenly there came a rain of flowers, 
Poured down upon him by the Heavenly Powers ; 
And, sweet as Amrit, came a voice that said, 
“ Arise, dear son !” He raised, in joy, his head, 
And saw no lion, but that Cow as mild 
As a fond mother bending o’er her child. 
“ Now have I proved thy love,” she cried, “ dear son ! 
That lion was a phantom : thou hast done 
Thy duty nobly ; for thou didst not know 
That Death himself can never work me woe. 
Now choose a boon, for I have boundless power 
On those I love all precious gifts to shower.” 
He raised his hands, those warlike hands whose might 
Had won a hero’s fame in many a fight, 
And begged a son, to propagate his line, 
A son, whose glory should for ever shine. 
“ Thy prayer is granted said the Cow, “ but drain 
My milky store, and drink, thy wish to gain.” 
