Page:TheBirth of the War-God.djvu/86

Now in sweet tones the Heavenly Minstrels tell
His praise, beneath whose might Tripura fell;
He moves to go; from his Moon-crest a ray
Sheds quenchless light on his triumphant way.
On through the air his swift Bull bore him well,
Decked with the gold of many a tinkling bell;
Tossing from time to time his head on high,
Enwreathed with clouds as he flew racing by.
As though in furious charge he had uptorn
A bank of clay upon his mighty horn.

Swiftly they came where in its beauty lay
The City subject to Himálaya's sway—
No foeman's foot had ever trod those halls.
No foreign bands encamped around the walls;
Siva's bright glances fixed their eager hold
On that fair City as with threads of gold.
The God whose neck still gleams with cloudy blue
Burst on the wondering people's upturned view.
And on the earth descended, from the path
His shafts once dinted in avenging wrath.
Forth from the gates a noble army poured
To do meet honour to the mighty Lord;
With all his friends on Elephants of state
The King of Mountains passed the City gate,
So gaily decked, the Princes all were seen
Like moving hills inwrapt in bowery green.
As the full rushing of two streams that pour
Beneath one bridge with loud tumultuous roar,
So through the City's open gate streamed in
Mountains and Gods with tumult and with din.