Book V

The death of Kansa announced. Earth, oppressed by the Daityas, applies to the gods. They accompany her to Viṣṇu, who promises to give her relief. Kansa imprisons Vasudeva and Devakī. Viṣṇu's instructions to Yoganidrā. MAITREYA. —You have related to me a full account of all the different dynasties of kings, and of their successive transactions. I wish now to hear a more particular description, holy Ṛṣi, of the portion of Viṣṇu that came down upon earth, and was born in the family of Yadu. Tell me also what actions he performed in his descent, as a part of a part of the supreme, upon the earth. I will relate to you, Maitreya, the account which you have requested; the birth of a part of a part of Viṣṇu, and the benefits which his actions conferred upon the world. Vasudeva formerly married the daughter of Devaka, the illustrious Devakī, a maiden of celestial beauty. After their nuptials, Kansa, the increaser of the race of Bhoja, drove their car as their charioteer. As they were going along, a voice in the sky, sounding aloud and deep as thunder, addressed Kansa, and said, “Fool that you are, the eighth child of the damsel whom you are driving in the car shall take away your life !” On hearing this, Kansa drew his sword, and was about to put Devakī to death; but Vasudeva interposed, saying, “Kill not Devakī, great warrior; spare her life, and I will deliver to you every child that she may bring forth.” Appeased by which promise, and relying on the character of Vasudeva, Kansa desisted from the attempt. At that time, Earth, overburdened by her load, repaired to mount Meru to an assembly of the gods, and addressing the divinities, with Brahmā at their head, related in piteous accents all her distress. “ Agni,” said Earth, “is the progenitor of gold; Sūrya, of rays of light: the parent and guide of me and of all spheres is the supreme Nārāyaṇa, who is Brahmā, the lord of the lord of patriarchs; the eldest of the eldest born; one with minutes and hours; one with time; having form, though indiscrete. This assemblage of yourselves, O gods, is but a part of him. The sun, the winds, the saints, the Rudras, the Vasus, the Aswins, fire, the patriarch creators of the universe, of whom Atri is the first, all are but forms of the mighty and inscrutable Viṣṇu. The Yakṣas, Rākṣasas, Daityas, spirits of evil, serpents, and children of Danu, the singers and nymphs of heaven, are forms of the great spirit, Viṣṇu. The heavens painted with planets, constellations, and stars; fire, water, wind, and myself, and every perceptible thing; the whole universe itself—consists of Viṣṇu. The multifarious forms of that manifold being encounter p. 494 and succeed one another, night and day, like the waves of the sea. At this present season many demons, of whom Kālanemi is the chief, have overrun, and continually harrass, the region of mortals. The great Asura Kālanemi, that was killed by the powerful Viṣṇu, has revived in Kansa, the son of Ugrasena, and many other mighty demons, more than I can enumerate, as Aṛṣṭa, Dhenuka, Keśin, Pralamba, Naraka, Sunda, and the fierce Bāṇa, the son of Bali, are born in the palaces of kings. Countless hosts of proud and powerful spirits, chiefs of the demon race, assuming celestial forms, now walk the earth; and, unable to support myself beneath the iñcumbent load, I come to you for succour. Illustrious deities, do you so act that I may be relieved from my burden, lest helpless I sink into the nethermost abyss." When the gods had heard these complaints of Earth, Brahmā at their request explained to them how her burden might be lightened. “Celestials,” said Brahmā, “all that Earth has said is undoubtedly true. I, Mahādeva, and you all, are but Nārāyaṇa; but the impersonations of his power are for ever mutually fluctuating, and excess or diminution is indicated by the predominance of the strong, and the depression of the weak. Come therefore, let us repair to the northern coast of the milky sea, and having glorified Hari, report to him what we have heard. He, who is the spirit of all, and of whom the universe consists, constantly, for the sake of Earth, descends in a small portion of his essence to establish righteousness below.” Accordingly Brahmā, attended by the gods, went to the milky sea, and there, with minds intent upon him, praised him whose emblem is Garuḍa. “O thou,” said Brahmā, “who art distinct from holy writ; whose double nature is twofold wisdom, superior and inferior, and who art the essential end of both; who, alike devoid and possessed of form, art the twofold Brahma; smallest of the least, and largest of the large; all, and knowing all things; that spirit which is language; that spirit which is supreme; that which is Brahma, and of which Brahma is composed! Thou art the Rich, the Yajush, the Sāman, and the Atharvan Vedas. Thou art accentuation, ritual, signification, metre, and astronomy; history, tradition, grammar, theology, logic, and law: thou who art inscrutable. Thou art the doctrine that investigates the distinctions between soul, and life, and body, and matter endowed with qualities; and that doctrine is nothing else but thy nature inherent in and presiding over it. Thou art imperceptible, indescribable, inconceivable; without name, or colour, or hands, or feet; pure, eternal, and infinite. Thou hearest without ears, and seest without eyes. Thou art one and multiform. Thou movest without feet; thou seizest without hands. Thou knowest all, but art not by all to be known. He who beholds thee as the most subtile of atoms, not substantially existent, puts an end to ignorance; and final emancipation is the reward of that wise man whose understanding cherishes nothing other than thee in the form of supreme delight. Thou art the common centre of all, the protector of the world; and all beings exist in thee: all that has been, or will be, thou art. Thou art the atom of atoms; thou art spirit; thou only art distinct from primeval nature. Thou, as the lord of fire in four manifestations, givest light and fertility to Earth. Thou art the eye of all, and wearer of many shapes, and unobstructedly traversest the three regions of the universe. As fire, though one, is variously kindled, and, though unchangeable in its essence, is modified in many ways, so thou, lord, who art one omnipresent form, takest upon thee all modifications that exist. Thou art one supreme; thou art that supreme and eternal state which the wise behold with the eye of knowledge. There is nothing else but thou, O lord; nothing else has been or will be. Thou art both discrete and indiscrete, universal and individual, omniscient, all-seeing, omnipotent, possessed of all wisdom and strength and power. Thou art liable neither to diminution nor increase; thou art independent and without beginning; thou art the subjugator of all. Thou art unaffected by weariness, sloth, fear, anger, or desire. Thou art free from soil, supreme, merciful, uniform, undecaying, lord over all, the stay of all, the fountain of light, imperishable. To thee, uninvested by material envelopes, unexposed to sensible imaginings, aggregate of elemental substance, spirit supreme, be adoration. Thou assumest a shape, O pervader of the universe, not as the consequence of virtue or vice, nor from any mixture of the two, but for the sole object of maintaining piety in the world.” The unborn, universal Hari, having heard with his mental ear these eulogiums, was pleased, and thus spake to Brahmā: “Tell me, Brahmā, what you and the gods desire: speak boldly, certain of success.” Brahmā, beholding the divine, universal form of Hari, quickly prostrated himself, and again renewed his praises. “Glory to thee, the thousand-formed, the thousand-armed, the many-visaged, many-footed; to thee, the illimitable author of creation, preservation, and destruction; most subtile of the subtile, most vast of the great: to thee, who art nature, intellect, and consciousness; and who art other spirit even than the spiritual root of those principles. Do thou shew favour upon us. Behold, lord, this earth, oppressed by mighty Asuras, and shaken to her mountain basements, comes to thee, who art her invincible defender, to be relieved from her burden. Behold me, Indra, the Aswins, Varuṇa, and Yama, the Rudras, the Vasus, the suns, the winds, fire, and all other celestials, prepared to execute whatever thou shalt will that we shall do. Do thou, in whom there is no imperfection, O sovereign of the deities, give thy orders to thy servants: lo, we are ready.” When Brahmā had ended, the supreme lord plucked off two hairs, one white and one black, and said to the gods, “These my hairs shall descend upon earth, and shall relieve her of the burden of her distress. Let all the gods also, in their own portions, go down to earth, and wage war with the haughty Asuras, who are there incorporate, and who shall every one of them be destroyed. Doubt not of this: they shall perish before the withering glance of mine eyes. This my (black) hair shall be impersonated in the eighth conception of the wife of Vasudeva, Devakī, who is like a goddess; and shall slay Kansa, who is the demon Kālanemi.” Thus having spoken, Hari disappeared; and the gods bowing to him, though invisible, returned to the summit of mount Meru, from whence they descended upon earth. The Muni Nārada informed Kansa that the supporter of the earth, Viṣṇu, would be the eighth child of Devakī; and his wrath being excited by this report, he placed both Vasudeva and Devakī in confinement. Agreeably to his promise, the former delivered to Kansa each infant as soon as it was born. It is said that these, to the number of six, were the children of the demon Hiraṇyakaśipu, who were introduced into the womb of Devakī, at the command of Viṣṇu, during the hours of Devakī's repose, by the goddess Yoganidrā, the great illusory energy of Viṣṇu, by whom, as utter ignorance, the whole world is beguiled. To her Viṣṇu said, “Go, Nidrā, to the nether regions, and by my command conduct successively six of their princes to be conceived of Devakī. When these shall have been put to death by Kansa, the seventh conception shall be formed of a portion of Śeṣa, who is a part of me; and this you shall transfer, before the time of birth, to Rohiṇī, another wife of Vasudeva, who resides at Gokula. The report shall run, that Devakī miscarries, through the anxiety of imprisonment, and dread of the Rājā of the Bhojas. From being extracted from his mother's womb, the child shall be known by the name of Saṅkarṣaṇa, and he shall be valiant and strong, and like the peak of the white mountain in bulk and complexion. I will myself become incarnate in the eighth conception of Devakī; and you shall immediately take a similar character as the embryo offspring of Yaśodā. In the night of the eighth lunation of the dark half of the month Nabhas, in the season of the rains, I shall be born. You shall receive birth on the ninth. Impelled and aided by my power, Vasudeva shall bear me to the bed of Yaśodā, and you to that of Devakī. Kansa shall take you, and hold you up to dash you against a stone; but you shall escape from his grasp into the sky, where the hundred-eyed Indra shall meet and do homage to you, through reverence for me, and shall bow before you, and acknowledge you as his sister. Having slain Sumbha, Nisumbha, and numerous other demons, you shall sanctify the earth in many places. Thou art wealth, progeny, fame, patience, heaven and earth, fortitude, modesty, nutrition, dawn, and every other female (form or property). They who address thee morning and afternoon with reverence and praise, and call thee Āryā, Durgā, Vedagarbhā, Ambikā, Bhadrā, Bhadrakālī, Kṣemī, or Kṣemankarī, shall receive from my bounty whatever they desire. Propitiated with offerings of wine and flesh and various viands, thou shalt bestow upon mankind all their prayers. Through my favour all men shall ever have faith in thee. Assured of this, go, goddess, and execute my commands.”

THE nurse of the universe, Jagaddhātrī, thus enjoined by the god of gods, conveyed the six several embryos into the womb of Devakī, and transferred the seventh after a season to that of Rohiṇī; after which, Hari, for the benefit of the three regions, became incarnate as the conception of the former princess, and Yoganidrā as that of Yaśodā, exactly as the supreme Viṣṇu had commanded. When the portion of Viṣṇu had become incorporate upon earth, the planetary bodies moved in brilliant order in the heavens, and the seasons were regular and genial. No person could bear to gaze upon Devakī, from the light that invested her; and those who contemplated her radiance felt their minds disturbed. The gods, invisible to mortals, celebrated her praises continually from the time that Viṣṇu was contained in her person. “Thou,” said the divinities, “art that Prakriti, infinite and subtile, which formerly bore Brahmā in its womb: then wast thou the goddess of speech, the energy of the creator of the universe, and the parent of the Vedas. Thou, eternal being, comprising in thy substance the essence of all created things, wast identical with creation: thou wast the parent of the triform sacrifice, becoming the germ of all things: thou art sacrifice, whence all fruit proceeds: thou art the wood, whose attrition engenders fire. As Aditī, thou art the parent of the gods; as Diti, thou art the mother of the Daityas, their foes. Thou art light, whence day is begotten: thou art humility, the mother of true wisdom: thou art kingly policy, the parent of order: thou art modesty, the progenitrix of affection: thou art desire, of whom love is born: thou art contentment, whence resignation is derived: thou art intelligence, the mother of knowledge: thou art patience, the parent of fortitude: thou art the heavens, and thy children are the stars: and from thee does all that exists proceed. Such, goddess, and thousands more, are thy mighty faculties; and now innumerable are the contents of thy womb, O mother of the universe. The whole earth, decorated with oceans, rivers, continents, cities, villages, hamlets, and towns; all the fires, waters, and winds; the stars, asterisms, and planets; the sky, crowded with the variegated chariots of the gods, and ether, that provides space for all substance; the several spheres of earth, sky, and heaven; of saints, sages, ascetics, and of Brahmā; the whole egg of Brahmā, with all its population of gods, demons, spirits, snake-gods, fiends, demons, ghosts, and imps, men and animals, and whatever creatures have life, comprised in him who is their eternal lord, and the object of all apprehension; whose real form, nature, name, and dimensions are not within human apprehension—are now with that Viṣṇu in thee. Thou art Svāhā; thou art Swadhā; thou art wisdom, ambrosia, light, and heaven. Thou hast descended upon earth for the preservation of the world. Have compassion upon us, O goddess, and do good unto the world. Be proud to bear that deity by whom the universe is upheld.”

THUS eulogized by the gods, Devakī bore in her womb the lotus-eyed deity, the protector of the world. The sun of Achyuta rose in the dawn of Devakī to cause the lotus petal of the universe to expand. On the day of his birth the quarters of the horizon were irradiate with joy, as if moonlight was diffused over the whole earth. The virtuous experienced new delight, the strong winds were hushed, and the rivers glided tranquilly, when Janārddana was about to be born. The seas with their own melodious murmurings made the music, whilst the spirits and the nymphs of heaven danced and sang: the gods, walking the sky, showered down flowers upon the earth, and the holy fires glowed with a mild and gentle flame. At midnight, when the supporter of all was about to be born, the clouds emitted low pleasing sounds, and poured down rain of flowers. As soon as Ānakadundubhi beheld the child, of the complexion of the lotus leaves, having four arms, and the mystic mark Śrīvatsa on his breast, he addressed him in terms of love and reverence, and represented the fears he entertained of Kansa. “Thou art born,” said Vasudeva, “O sovereign god of gods, bearer of the shell, the discus, and the mace; but now in mercy withhold this thy celestial form, for Kansa will assuredly put me to death when he knows that thou hast descended in my dwelling.” Devakī also exclaimed, “God of gods, who art all things, who comprisest all the regions of the world in thy person, and who by thine illusion hast assumed the condition of an infant, have compassion upon us, and forego this thy four-armed shape, nor let Kansa, the impious son of Diti, know of thy descent.” To these applications Bhagavat answered and said, “Princess, in former times I was prayed to by thee and adored in the hope of progeny: thy prayers have been granted, for I am born thy son.” So saying, he was silent: and Vasudeva, taking the babe, went out that same night; for the guards were all charmed by Yoganidrā, as were the warders at the gates of Mathurā, and they obstructed not the passage of Ānakadundubhi. To protect the infant from the heavy rain that fell from the clouds of night, Śeṣa, the many-headed serpent, followed Vasudeva, and spread his hoods above their heads; and when the prince, with the child in his arms, crossed the Yamunā river, deep as it was, and dangerous with numerous whirlpools, the waters were stilled, and rose not above his knee.. On the bank he saw Nanda and the rest, who had come thither to bring tribute due to Kansa; but they beheld him not. At the same time Yaśodā was also under the influence of Yoganidrā, whom she had brought forth as her daughter, and whom the prudent Vasudeva took up, placing his son in her place by the side of the mother: he then quickly returned home. When Yaśodā awoke, she found that she had been delivered of a boy, as black as the dark leaves of the lotus, and she was greatly rejoiced. Vasudeva, bearing off the female infant of Yaśodā, reached his mansion unobserved, and entered and placed the child in the bed of Devakī: he then remained as usual. The guards were awakened by the cry of the new-born babe, and, starting up, they sent word to Kansa that Devakī had borne a child. Kansa immediately repaired to the residence of Vasudeva, where he seized upon the infant. In vain Devakī convulsively entreated him to relinquish the child: he threw it ruthlessly against a stone; but it rose into the sky, and expanded into a gigantic figure, having eight arms, each wielding some formidable weapon. This terrific being laughed aloud, and said to Kansa, “What avails it thee, Kansa, to have hurled me to the ground? he is born who shall kill thee, the mighty one amongst the gods, who was formerly thy destroyer. Now quickly secure him, and provide for thine own welfare.” Thus having spoken, the goddess, decorated with heavenly perfumes and garlands, and hymned by the spirits of the air, vanished from before the eyes of Bhoja rājā.

KANSA, much troubled in mind, summoned all his principal Asuras, Pralamba, Keśin, and the rest, and said to them, “O valiant chiefs, Pralamba, Keśin, Dhenuka, Pūtanā, Aṛṣṭa, and all the rest of you, hear my words. The vile and contemptible denizens of heaven are assiduously plotting against my life, for they dread my prowess: but, heroes, I hold them of no account. What can the impotent Indra, or the ascetic Hara, perform? or what can Hari accomplish, except the murder of his foes by fraud? What have we to fear from the Ādityas, the Vasus, the Agnis, or any others of the immortals, who have all been vanquished by my resistless arms? Have I not seen the king of the gods, when he had ventured into the conflict, quickly retreat from the field, receiving my shafts upon his back, not bravely upon his breast? When in resentment he withheld the fertilizing showers from my kingdom, did not my arrows compel the clouds to part with their waters, as much as were required? Are not all the monarchs of the earth in terror of my prowess, and subject to my orders, save only Jarāsandha my sire ? Now, chiefs of the Daitya race, it is my determination to inflict still deeper degradation upon these evil-minded and unprincipled gods. Let therefore every man who is notorious for liberality (in gifts to gods and Brahmans ), every man who is remarkable for his celebration of sacrifices, be put to death, that thus the gods shall be deprived of the means by which they subsist. Ṭhe goddess who has been born as the infant child of Devakī has announced to me that he is again alive who in a former being was my death. Let therefore active search be made for whatever young children there may be upon earth, and let every boy in whom there are signs of unusual vigour be slain without remorse.” Having issued these commands, Kansa retired into his palace, and liberated Vasudeva and Devakī from their captivity. “It is in vain,” said he to them, “that I have slain all your children, since after all he who is destined to kill me has escaped. It is of no use to regret the past. The children you may hereafter have may enjoy life unto its natural close; no one shall cut it short.” Having thus conciliated them, Kansa, alarmed for himself, withdrew into the interior apartments of his palace.

WHEN Vasudeva was set at liberty, he went to the waggon of Nanda, and found Nanda there rejoicing that a son was born to him. Vasudeva spake to him kindly, and congratulated him on having a son in his old age. “The yearly tribute,” he added, “has been paid to the king, and men of property should not tarry near the court, when the business that brought them there has been transacted. Why do you delay, now that your affairs are settled? Up, Nanda, quickly, and set off to your own pastures; and let this boy, the son whom Rohiṇī has borne me, accompany you, and be brought up by you as this your own son.” Accordingly Nanda and the other cowherds, their goods being placed in their waggons, and their taxes having been paid to the king, returned to their village. Some time after they were settled at Gokula, the female fiend Pūtanā, the child-killer, came thither by night, and finding the little Kṛṣṇa asleep, took him up, and gave him her breast to suck. Now whatever child is suckled in the night by Pūtanā instantly dies; but Kṛṣṇa, laying hold of the breast with both hands, sucked it with such violence, that he drained it of the life; and the hideous Pūtanā, roaring aloud, and giving way in every joint, fell on the ground expiring. The inhabitants of Vraja awoke in alarm at the cries of the fiend, ran to the spot, and beheld Pūtanā lying on the earth, and Kṛṣṇa in her arms. Yaśodā snatching up Kṛṣṇa, waved over him a cow-tail brush to guard him from harm, whilst Nanda placed dried cow-dung powdered upon his head; he gave him also an amulet, saying at the same time, “May Hari, the lord of all beings without reserve, protect you; he from the lotus of whose navel the world was developed, and on the tip of whose tusks the globe was upraised from the waters. May that Keśava, who assumed the form of a boar, protect thee. May that Keśava, who, as the man-lion, rent with his sharp nails the bosom of his foe, ever protect thee. May that Keśava, who, appearing first as the dwarf, suddenly traversed in all his might, with three paces, the three regions of the universe, constantly defend thee. May Govinda guard thy head; Keśava thy neck; Viṣṇu thy belly; Janārddana thy legs and feet; the eternal and irresistible Nārāyaṇa thy face, thine arms, thy mind, and faculties of sense. May all ghosts, goblins, and spirits malignant and unfriendly, ever fly thee, appalled by the bow, the discus, mace, and sword of Viṣṇu, and the echo of his shell. May Vaikunṭha guard thee in the cardinal points; and in the intermediate ones, Madhusūdana. May Ṛṣikeśa defend thee in the sky, and Mahīdhara upon earth.” Having pronounced this prayer to avert all evil, Nanda put the child to sleep in his bed underneath the waggon. Beholding the vast carcass of Pūtanā, the cowherds were filled with astonishment and terror.

ON one occasion, whilst Madhusūdana was asleep underneath the waggon, he cried for the breast, and kicking up his feet he overturned the vehicle, and all the pots and pans were upset and broken. The cowherds and their wives, hearing the noise, came exclaiming, “Ah! ah!” and there they found the child sleeping on his back. “Who could have upset the waggon?” said the cowherds. “This child,” replied some boys, who witnessed the circumstance; “we saw him,” said they, “crying, and kicking the waggon with his feet, and so it was overturned: no one else had any thing to do with it.” The cowherds were exceedingly astonished at this account; and Nanda, not knowing what to think, took up the boy; whilst Yaśodā offered worship to the broken pieces of pots and to the waggon, with curds, flowers, fruit, and unbruised grain. The initiatory rites requisite for the two boys were performed by Garga, who was sent to Gokula by Vasudeva for that purpose: he celebrated them without the knowledge of the cowherds; and the wise sage, eminent amongst the wise, named the elder of them Rāma, and the other Kṛṣṇa. In a short time they began to crawl about the ground, supporting themselves on their hands and knees, and creeping every where, often amidst ashes and filth. Neither Rohiṇī nor Yaśodā was able to prevent them from getting into the cowpens, or amongst the calves, where they amused themselves by pulling their tails. As they disregarded the prohibitions of Yaśodā, and rambled about together constantly, she became angry, and taking up a stick, followed them, and threatened the dark-complexioned Kṛṣṇa with a whipping. Fastening a cord round his waist, she tied him to the wooden mortar, and being in a great passion, she said to him, “Now, you naughty boy, get away from hence if you can.” She then went about her domestic affairs. As soon as she had departed, the lotus-eyed Kṛṣṇa, endeavouring to extricate himself, pulled the mortar after him to the space between two Arjuna trees that grew near together: having dragged the mortar between these trees, it became wedged awry there, and as Kṛṣṇa pulled it through, it pulled down the trunks of the trees. Hearing the crackling noise, the people of Vraja came to see what was the matter, and there they beheld the two large trees, with shattered stems and broken branches, prostrate on the ground, with the child fixed between them, with a rope round his belly, laughing, and shewing his white little teeth, just budded. It is hence that Kṛṣṇa is called Dāmodara, from the binding of the rope ( dāma ) round his belly ( udara ). The elders of the cowherds, with Nanda at their head, looked upon these circumstances with alarm, considering them as of evil omen. “We cannot remain in this place,” said they; “let us go to some other part of the forest; for here many evil signs threaten us with destruction; the death of Pūtanā, the upsetting of the waggon, and the fall of the trees without their being blown down by the wind. Let us depart hence without delay, and go to Vrindāvana, where terrestrial prodigies may no more disturb us.” Having thus resolved, the inhabitants of Vraja communicated their intention to their families, and desired them to move without delay. Accordingly they set off with their waggons and their cattle, driving before them their bulls and cows and calves; the fragments of their household stores they threw away, and in an instant Vraja was overspread with flights of crows. Vrindāvana was chosen by Kṛṣṇa, whom acts do not affect, for the sake of providing for the nourishment of the kine; for there in the hottest season the new grass springs up as verdantly as in the rains. Having repaired, then, from Vraja to Vrindāvana, the inhabitants of the former drew up their waggons in the form of a crescent. As the two boys, Rāma and Dāmodara, grew up, they were ever together in the same place, and engaged in the same boyish sports. They made themselves crests of the peacocks' plumes, and garlands of forest flowers, and musical instruments of leaves and reeds, or played upon the pipes used by the cowherds: their hair was trimmed like the wings of the crow, and they resembled two young princes, portions of the deity of war: they were robust, and they roamed about, always laughing and playing, sometimes with each other, sometimes with other boys; driving along with the young cowherds the calves to pasture. Thus the two guardians of the world were keepers of cattle, until they had attained seven years of age, in the cow-pens of Vrindavan. Then came on the season of the rains, when the atmosphere laboured with accumulated clouds, and the quarters of the horizon were blended into one by the driving showers. The waters of the rivers rose, and overflowed their banks, and spread beyond all bounds, like the minds of the weak and wicked transported beyond restraint by sudden prosperity. The pure radiance of the moon was obscured by heavy vapours, as the lessons of holy writ are darkened by the arrogant scoffs of fools (and unbelievers). The bow of Indra held its place in the heavens all unstrung, like a worthless man elevated by an injudicious prince to honour. The white line of storks appeared upon the back of the cloud, in such contrast as the bright conduct of a man of respectability opposes to the behaviour of a scoundrel. The ever-fitful lightning, in its new alliance with the sky, was like the friendship of a profligate for a man of worth. Overgrown by the spreading grain, the paths were indistinctly traced, like the speech of the ignorant, that conveys no positive meaning. At this time Kṛṣṇa and Rāma, accompanied by the cow-boys, traversed the forests, that echoed with the hum of bees and the peacock's cry. Sometimes they sang in chorus, or danced together; sometimes they sought shelter from the cold beneath the trees; sometimes they decorated themselves with flowery garlands, sometimes with peacocks' feathers; sometimes they stained themselves of various hues with the minerals of the mountain; sometimes weary they reposed on beds of leaves, and sometimes imitated in mirth the muttering of the thundercloud; sometimes they excited their juvenile associates to sing, and sometimes they mimicked the cry of the peacock with their pipes. In this manner participating in various feelings and emotions, and affectionately attached to each other, they wandered, sporting and happy, through the wood. At eveningtide came Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma, like two cow-boys, along with the cows and the cowherds. At eveningtide the two immortals, having come to the cow-pens, joined heartily in whatever sports amused the sons of the herdsmen.

Kṛṣṇa combats the serpent Kālīya: alarm of his parents and companions: he overcomes the serpent, and is propitiated by him: commands him to depart from the Yamunā river to the ocean. ONE day Kṛṣṇa, unaccompanied by Rāma, went to Vrindavan: he was attended by a troop of cowherds, and gaily decorated with wild flowers. On his way he came to the Yamunā, which was flowing in sportive undulations, and sparkling with foam, as if with smiles, as the waves dashed against the borders. Within its bed, however, was the fearful pool of the serpent Kālīya, boiling with the fires of poison; from the fumes of which, large trees upon the bank were blighted, and by whose waters, when raised by a gale into the air, birds were scorched. Beholding this dreadful lake, which was like another mouth of death, Madhusūdana reflected that the wicked and poisonous Kālīya, who had been vanquished by himself (in the person of Garuḍa ), and had been obliged to fly from the ocean (where he had inhabited the island Ramaṇaka ), must be lurking at its bottom, and defiling the Yamunā, the consort of the sea, so that neither men nor cattle could slake their thirst by her waters. Such being the case, he determined to dislodge the Nāga, and enable the dwellers of Vraja to frequent the vicinage without fear; for it was the especial purpose he considered of his descent upon earth to reduce to subjection all such violators of law. “Here,” thought he, “is a Kadamba tree, which is sufficiently near; I can climb up it, and thence leap into the serpent's pool.” Having thus resolved, he bound his clothes tightly about him, and jumped boldly into the lake of the serpent-king. The waters, agitated by his plunge amidst them, were scattered to a considerable distance from the bank, and the spray falling upon the trees, they were immediately set on fire by the heat of the poisonous vapour combined with the water; and the whole horizon was in a blaze. Kṛṣṇa, having dived into the pool, struck his arms in defiance, and the snake-king, hearing the sound, quickly came forth: his eyes were coppery red, and his hoods were flaming with deadly venom: he was attended by many other powerful and poisonous snakes, feeders upon air, and by hundreds of serpent-nymphs, decorated with rich jewels, whose earrings glittered with trembling radiance as the wearers moved along. Coiling themselves around Kṛṣṇa, they all bit him with teeth from which fiery poison was emitted. Kṛṣṇa's companions, beholding him in the lake, encompassed by the snakes, twining around him, ran off to Vraja, lamenting and bewailing aloud his fate. “Kṛṣṇa,” they called out, “has foolishly plunged into the serpent's pool, and is there bitten to death by the snake-king! Come and see.” The cowherds and their wives and Yaśodā, hearing this news, which was like a thunderbolt, ran immediately to the pool, frightened out of their senses, and crying, “Alas! alas! where is he?” The Gopīs were retarded by Yaśodā, who in her agitation stumbled and slipped at every step; but Nanda and the cowherds and the invincible Rāma hastened to the banks of the Yamunā, eager to assist Kṛṣṇa. There they beheld him apparently in the power of the serpent-king, encompassed by twining snakes, and making no effort to escape. Nanda, as soon as he set his eyes upon his son, became senseless; and Yaśodā also, when she beheld him, lost all consciousness. The Gopīs, overcome with sorrow, wept, and called affectionately, and with convulsive sobs, upon Keśava. “Let us all,” said they, “plunge with Yaśodā into the fearful pool of the serpent-king. We cannot return to Vraja; for what is day, without the sun? what night, without the moon? what is a herd of heifers, without its lord? what is Vraja, without Kṛṣṇa? Deprived of him, we will go no more to Gokula. The forest will lose its delights; it will be like a lake without water. When this dark lotus leaf complexioned Hari is not present, there is no joy in the maternal dwelling. How strange is this! And as for you, ye cowherds, how, poor beings, will you live amidst the pastures, when you no longer behold the brilliant lotus eyes of Hari? Our hearts have been wiled away by the music of his voice. We will not go without Puṇḍarīkākṣa to the folds of Nanda. Even now, though held in the coils of the serpent-king, see, friends, hew his face brightens with smiles as we gaze upon him.” When the mighty son of Rohiṇī, Balarāma, heard these exclamations of the Gopīs, and with disdainful glance beheld the cowherds overcome with terror, Nanda gazing fixedly upon the countenance of his son, and Yaśodā unconscious, he spake to Kṛṣṇa in his own character: “What is this, O god of gods! the quality of mortal is sufficiently assumed; dost thou not know thyself eternal? Thou art the centre of creation, as the nave is of the spokes of a wheel. A portion of thee have I also been born, as thy senior. The gods, to partake of thy pastimes as man, have all descended under a like disguise; and the goddesses have come down to Gokula to join in thy sports. Thou, eternal, hast last of all appeared below. Wherefore, Kṛṣṇa, dost thou disregard these divinities, who, as cowherds, are thy friends and kin? these sorrowing females, who also are thy relations? Thou hast put on the character of man; thou hast exhibited the tricks of childhood: now let this fierce snake, though armed with venomed fangs, be subdued (by thy celestial vigour).” Thus reminded of his real character by Rāma, Kṛṣṇa smiled gently, and speedily extricated himself from the coils of the snakes. Laying hold of the middle hood of their chief with both his hands, he bent it down, and set his foot upon the hitherto unbended head, and danced upon it in triumph. Wherever the snake attempted to raise his head, it was again trodden down, and many bruises were inflicted on the hood by the pressure of the toes of Kṛṣṇa. Trampled upon by the feet of Kṛṣṇa, as they changed position in the dance, the snake fainted, and vomited forth much blood. Beholding the head and neck of their lord thus injured, and the blood flowing from his mouth, the females of the snake-king implored the clemency of Madhusūdana. “Thou art recognised, O god of gods!” they exclaimed; “thou art the sovereign of all; thou art light supreme, inscrutable; thou art the mighty lord, the portion of that supreme light. The gods themselves are unable worthily to praise thee, the lord self-existent: how then shall females proclaim thy nature? How shall we fully declare him of whom the egg of Brahmā, made up of earth, sky, water, fire, and air, is but a small portion of a part? Holy sages have in vain sought to know thy eternal essence. We bow to that form which is the most subtile of atoms, the largest of the large; to him whose birth is without a creator, whose end knows no destroyer, and who alone is the cause of duration. There is no wrath in thee; for thine is the protection of the world; and hence this chastisement of Kālīya. Yet hear us. Women are to be regarded with pity by the virtuous: animals are humanely treated even by fools. Let therefore the author of wisdom have compassion upon this poor creature. Thyself, as an oviparous, hooded snake, art the upholder of the world. Oppressed by thee, he will speedily perish. What is this feeble serpent, compared to thee in whom the universe reposes? Friendship and enmity are felt towards equals and superiors, not for those infinitely beneath us. Then, sovereign of the world, have mercy upon us. This unfortunate snake is about to expire: give us, as a gift of charity, our husband.” When they had thus spoken, the Nāga himself, almost exanimate, repeated feebly their solicitations for mercy. “Forgive me,” the murmured, “O god of gods! How shall I address thee, who art possessed, through thine own strength and essence, of the eight great faculties, in energy unequalled? Thou art the supreme, the progenitor of the supreme (Brahmā): thou art the supreme spirit, and from thee the supreme proceeds: thou art beyond all finite objects; how can I speak thy praise? How can I declare his greatness, from whom cone Brahmā, Rudra, Candra, Indra, the Maruts, the Aswins, the Vasus, and Ādityas; of whom the whole world is an infinitely small portion, a portion destined to represent his essence; and whose nature, primitive or derived, Brahmā and the immortals do not comprehend? How can I approach him, to whom the gods offer incense and flowers culled from the groves of Nandana; whose incarnate forms the king of the deities ever adores, unconscious of his real person; whom the sages, that have withdrawn their senses from all external objects, worship in thought, and enshrining his image in the purposes of their hearts, present to it the flowers of sanctity ? I am quite unable, O god of gods, to worship or to hymn thee. Thy own clemency must alone influence thy mind to shew me compassion. It is the nature of snakes to be savage, and I am born of their kind: hence this is my nature, not mine offence. The world is created, as it is destroyed, by thee; and the species, form, and nature of all things in the world are thy work. Even such as thou hast created me in kind, in form, and in nature, such I am, and such are my actions: should I act differently, then indeed should I deserve thy punishment, for so thou hast declared. Yet that I have been punished by thee is indeed a blessing; for punishment from thee alone is a favour. Behold I am now without strength, without poison; deprived of both by thee. Spare me my life; I ask no more. Command me what I shall do.” Being thus addressed by Kālīya, Kṛṣṇa replied, “You must not tarry here, nor any where in the stream of the Yamunā; depart immediately, with your family and followers, to the sea; where Garuḍa, the foe of the serpent race, will not harm you, when he sees the impressions of my feet upon your brow.” So saying, Hari set the snake-king at liberty, who, bowing reverentially to his victor, departed to the ocean; abandoning, in the sight of all, the lake he had haunted, accompanied by all his females, children, and dependants. When the snake was gone, the Gopas hailed Govinda, as one risen from the dead, and embraced him, and bathed his forehead with tears of joy: others, contemplating the water of the river, now freed from peril, were filled with wonder, and sang the praise of Kṛṣṇa, who is unaffected by works. Thus eminent by his glorious exploits, and eulogized by the Gopas and Gopas, Kṛṣṇa returned to Vraja.

AGAIN, tending upon the herds, Keśava and Rāma wandered through the woods, and on one occasion came to a pleasing grove of palms, where dwelt the fierce demon Dhenuka, feeding upon the flesh of deer. Beholding the trees covered with fruit, and desirous of gathering it, the cowherds called out to the brothers, and said, “See, Rāma; see, Kṛṣṇa; in this grove, belonging to the great Dhenuka, the trees are loaded with ripe fruit, the smell of which perfumes the air: we should like to eat some. Will you throw some down?” As soon as the boys had spoken, Saṅkarṣaṇa and Kṛṣṇa shook the trees, and brought down the fruit on the ground. Hearing the noise of the falling fruit, the fierce and malignant demon Dhenuka, in the form of an ass, hastened to the spot in a great passion, and began to kick Rāma on the breast with his hinder heels. Rāma, however, seized him by both hind legs, and whirling him round until he expired, tossed his carcass to the top of a palm tree, from the branches of which it struck down abundance of fruit, like rain drops poured upon earth by the wind. The animals that were of kin to Dhenuka came running to his aid; but Kṛṣṇa and Rāma treated them in the same manner, until the trees were laden with dead asses, and the ground was strewed with ripe fruit. Henceforward the cattle grazed unobstructed in the palm grove, and cropped the new pasturage, where they had never before ventured.

Sports of the boys in the forest. Pralamba the Asura comes amongst them: is destroyed by Rāma, at the command of Kṛṣṇa. WHEN the demon in the form of an ass, and all his tribe, had been destroyed, the grove of palms became the favourite resort of the Gopas and their wives, and the sons of Vasudeva, greatly pleased, repaired to the Bhāṇḍīra fig tree. They continued to wander about, shouting and singing, and gathering fruits and flowers from the trees; now driving the cows afar to pasture; now calling them by their names; now carrying the foot-ropes of the kine upon their shoulders; now ornamenting themselves with garlands of forest flowers, they looked like two young bulls when the horns first appear. Attired the one in yellow, and the other in sable garments, they looked like two clouds, one white, and one black, surmounted by the bow of Indra. Sporting mutually with frolics beneficial to the world, they roamed about like two monarchs over all the collected sovereigns of the earth. Assuming human duties, and maintaining the human character, they strayed through the thickets, amusing themselves with sports suited to their mortal species and condition, in swinging on the boughs of trees, or in boxing and wrestling and hurling stones. Having observed the two lads thus playing about, the Asura Pralamba, seeking to devour them, came amongst the cowherd boys in the shape of one of themselves, and mixed, without being suspected, in their pastimes; for he thought, that, thus disguised, it would not be difficult to find an opportunity to kill, first Kṛṣṇa, and afterwards the son of Rohiṇī. The boys commenced playing at the game of leaping like deer, two and two together. Govinda was matched with Sridāman, and Balarāma with Pralamba: the other boys were coupled with one another, and went leaping away. Govinda beat his companion, and Balarāma his; and the boys who were on Kṛṣṇa's side were also victorious. Carrying one another, they reached the Bhāṇḍīra fig; and from thence those who were victors were conveyed back to the starting-ground by those who were vanquished. It being Pralamba's duty to carry Saṅkarshana, the latter mounted upon his shoulders, like the moon riding above a dark cloud; and the demon ran off with him, but did not stop: finding himself, however, unable to bear the weight of Balarāma, he enlarged his bulk, and looked like a black cloud in the rainy season, Balarāma beholding him like a scorched mountain, his head crowned with a diadem, and his neck hung round with garlands, having eyes as large as cart wheels, a fearful form, and shaking the earth with his tread, called out, as he was carried away, to his brother, “Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa, I am carried off by some demon, disguised as a cowherd, and huge as a mountain! What shall I do? Tell me, Madhusūdana: the villain runs away with speed!” Kṛṣṇa opened his mouth, smiling, for he well knew the might of the son of Rohiṇī, and replied, “Why this subtle pretext of merely mortal nature? thou who art the soul of all the most subtile of subtile things. Remember yourself, the radical cause of the whole world; born before all cause, and all that is alone when the world is destroyed. Dost thou not know that you and I are alike the origin of the world, who have come down to lighten its load? The heavens are thy head; the waters are thy body; earth is thy feet; thy mouth is eternal fire; the moon is thy mind; the wind thy breath; thy arms and hands are the four regions of space. Thou hast, O mighty lord, a thousand heads, a thousand hands and feet and bodies; a thousand Brahmās spring from thee, who art before all, and whom the sages praise in myriads of forms. No one but I knoweth thy divine person. Thy incarnate person is glorified by all the gods. Knowest thou not, that, at the end of all, the universe disappears in thee? that, upheld by thee, this earth sustains living and inanimate things? and that, in the character of uncreated time, with its divisions of ages, developed from an instant, thou devourest the world? As the waters of the sea, when swallowed up by submarine flame, are recovered by the winds, and thrown, in the form of snow, upon the Himācala, where coming into contact with the rays of the sun, they reassume their watery nature; so the world, being devoured by thee at the period of dissolution, becomes of necessity, at the end of every Kalpa, the world again, through thy creative efforts. Thou and I, soul of the universe, are but one and the same cause of the creation of the earth, although, for its protection, we exist in distinct individuals. Calling to memory who thou art, O being of illimitable might, destroy of thyself the demon. Suspending a while your mortal character, do what is right.” Thus reminded by the magnanimous Kṛṣṇa, the powerful Baladeva laughed, and squeezed Pralamba with his knees, striking him at the same time on the head and face with his fists, so as to beat out both his eyes. The demon, vomiting blood from his mouth, and having his brain forced through the skull, fell upon the ground, and expired. The Gopas, beholding Pralamba slain, were astonished, and rejoiced, and cried out, “Well done,” and praised Balarāma: and thus commended by his playfellows, and accompanied by Kṛṣṇa, Bala, after the death of the daitya Pralamba, returned to Gokula.

WHILST Keśava and Rāma were sporting thus in Vraja, the rainy season ended, and was succeeded by the season of autumn, when the lotus is full blown. The small Saphari fish, in their watery burrows, were oppressed by the heat, like a man by selfish desires, who is devoted to his family. The peacocks, no longer animated by passion, were silent amidst the woods, like holy saints, who have come to know the unreality of the world. The clouds, of shining whiteness, exhausted of their watery wealth, deserted the atmosphere, like those who have acquired wisdom, and depart from their homes. Evaporated by the rays of the autumnal sun, the lakes were dried up, like the hearts of men when withered by the contact of selfishness. The pellucid waters of the season were suitably embellished by white water-lilies, as are the minds of the pure by the apprehension of truth. Brightly in the starry sky shone the moon with undiminished orb, like the saintly being, who has reached the last stage of bodily existence, in the company of the pious. The rivers and lakes slowly retired from their banks, as the wise by degrees shrink from the selfish attachment that connects them with wife and child. First abandoned by the waters of the lake, the swans again began to congregate, like false ascetics, whose devotions are interrupted, and they are again assailed by innumerable afflictions. The ocean was still and calm, and exhibited no undulations, like the perfect sage, who has completed his course of restraint, and has acquired undisturbed tranquillity of spirit. Every where the waters were as clear and pure as the minds of the wise, who behold Viṣṇu in all things. The autumnal sky was wholly free from clouds, like the heart of the ascetic, whose care's have been consumed by the fire of devotion. The moon allayed the fervours of the sun, as discrimination alleviates the pain to which egotism gives birth. The clouds of the atmosphere, the muddiness of the earth, the discoloration of the waters, were all removed by autumn, as abstraction detaches the senses from the objects of perception. The exercise of inspiring, suppressing, and expiring the vital air, was as if performed daily by the waters of the lakes (as they were full, and stationary, and then again declined). At this season, when the skies were bright with stars, Kṛṣṇa, repairing to Vraja, found all the cowherds busily engaged in preparing for a sacrifice to be offered to Indra; and going to the elders, he asked them, as if out of curiosity, what festival of Indra it was in which they took so much pleasure. Nanda replied to his question, and said, “ Śatakratu or Indra is the sovereign of the clouds and of the waters: sent by him, the former bestow moisture upon the earth, whence springs the grain, by which we and all embodied beings subsist; with which also, and with water, we please the gods: hence too these cows bear calves, and yield milk, and are happy, and well nourished. So when the clouds are seen distended with rain, the earth is neither barren of corn, nor bare of verdure, nor is man distressed by hunger. Indra, the giver of water, having drank the milk of earth by the solar ray, sheds it again upon the earth for the sustenance of all the world. On this account all sovereign princes offer with pleasure sacrifices to Indra at the end of the rains, and so also do we, and so do other people.” When Kṛṣṇa heard this speech from Nanda in regard to the worship of Indra, he determined to put the king of the celestials into a passion, and replied, “We, father, are neither cultivators of the soil, nor dealers in merchandise; we are sojourners in forests, and cows are our divinities. There are four branches of knowledge, logical, scriptural, practical, and political. Hear me describe what practical science is. Agriculture, commerce, and tending of cattle; the knowledge of these three professions constitutes practical science. Agriculture is the subsistence of farmers; buying and selling, of traders. Kine are our support. Thus the knowledge of means of support is threefold. The object that is cultivated by any one should be to him as his chief divinity; that should be venerated and worshipped, as it is his benefactor. He who worships the deity of another, and diverts from him the reward that is his due, obtains not a prosperous station either in this world or in the next. Where the land ceases to be cultivated there are bounds assigned, beyond which commences the forest; the forests are bounded by the hills, and so far do our limits extend. We are not shut in with doors, nor confined within walls; we have neither fields nor houses; we wander about happily wherever we list, travelling in our waggons. The spirits of these mountains, it is said, walk the woods in whatever forms they will, or in their proper persons sport upon their own precipices. If they should be displeased with those who inhabit the forests, then, transformed to lions and beasts of prey, they will kill the offenders. We then are bound to worship the mountains; to offer sacrifices to cattle. What have we to do with Indra? cattle and mountains are our gods. Brahmans offer worship with prayer; cultivators of the earth adore their landmarks; but we who tend our herds in the forests and mountains should worship them and our kine. Let prayer and offerings then be addressed to the mountain Govarddhana, and kill a victim in due form. Let the whole station collect their milk without delay, and feed with it the Brahmans and all who may desire to partake of it. When the oblations have been presented, and the Brahmans have been fed, let the Gopas circumambulate the cows, decorated with garlands of autumnal flowers. If the cowherds will attend to these suggestions, they will secure the favour of the mountain, of the cattle, and also mine.” When Nanda and the other Gopas heard these words of Kṛṣṇa, their faces expanded with delight, and they said that he had spoken well. “You have judged rightly, child,” exclaimed they; “we will do exactly as you have proposed, and offer adoration to the mountain.” Accordingly the inhabitants of Vraja worshipped the mountain, presenting to it curds and milk and flesh; and they fed hundreds and thousands of Brahmans, and many other guests, who came to the ceremony, even as Kṛṣṇa had enjoined: and when they had made their offerings, they circumambulated the cows and the bulls, that bellowed as loud as roaring clouds. Upon the summit of Govarddhana, Kṛṣṇa presented himself, saying, “I am the mountain,” and partook of much food presented by the Gopas; whilst in his own form as Kṛṣṇa he ascended the hill along with the cowherds, and worshipped his other self. Having promised them many blessings, the mountain-person of Kṛṣṇa vanished; and the ceremony being completed, the cowherds returned to their station.

Indra, offended by the loss of his offerings, causes heavy rain to deluge Gokula. Kṛṣṇa holds up the mountain Govarddhana to shelter the cowherds and their cattle. INDRA, being thus disappointed of his offerings, was exceedingly angry, and thus addressed a cohort of his attendant clouds, called Samvarttaka: “Ho, clouds,” he said, “hear my words, and without delay execute what I command. The insensate cowherd Nanda, assisted by his fellows, has withheld the usual offerings to us, relying upon the protection of Kṛṣṇa. Now, therefore, afflict the cattle, that are their sustenance, and whence their occupation is derived, with rain and wind. Mounted upon my elephant, as vast as a mountain peak, I will give you aid in strengthening the tempest.” When Indra ceased, the clouds, obedient to his commands, came down, in a fearful storm of rain and wind, to destroy the cattle. In an instant the earth, the points of the horizon, and the sky, were all blended into one by the heavy and incessant shower. The clouds roared aloud, as if in terror of the lightning's scourge, and poured down uninterrupted torrents. The whole earth was enveloped in impenetrable darkness by the thick and volumed clouds; and above, below, and on every side, the world was water. The cattle, pelted by the storm, shrunk cowering into the smallest size, or gave up their breath: some covered their calves with their flanks, and some beheld their young ones carried away by the flood. The calves, trembling in the wind, looked piteously at their mothers, or implored in low moans, as it were, the succour of Kṛṣṇa. Hari, beholding all Gokula agitated with alarm, cowherds, cowherdesses, and cattle all in a state of consternation, thus reflected: “This is the work of Mahendra, in resentment of the prevention of his sacrifice, and it is iñcumbent on me to defend this station of herdsmen. I will lift up this spacious mountain from its stony base, and hold it up, as a large umbrella, over the cow-pens.” Having thus determined, Kṛṣṇa immediately plucked up the mountain Govarddhana, and held it aloft with one hand in sport, saying to the herdsmen, “Lo the mountain is on high; enter beneath it quickly, and it will shelter you from the storm: here you will be secure and at your ease in places defended from the wind: enter without delay, and fear not that the mountain will fall.” Upon this, all the people, with their herds, and their waggons and goods, and the Gopīs, distressed by the rain, repaired to the shelter of the mountain, which Kṛṣṇa held steadily over their heads; and Kṛṣṇa, as he supported the mountain, was contemplated by the dwellers of Vraja with joy and wonder; and, as their eyes opened wide with astonishment and pleasure, the Gopas and Gopīs sang his praise. For seven days and nights did the vast clouds sent by Indra rain upon the Gokula of Nanda to destroy its inhabitants, but they were protected by the elevation of the mountain; and the slayer of Bala, Indra, being foiled in his purpose, commanded the clouds to cease. The threats of Indra having been fruitless, and the heavens clear, all Gokula came forth from its shelter, and returned to its own abode. Then Kṛṣṇa, in the sight of the surprised inhabitants of the forests, restored the great mountain Govarddhana to its original site.

AFTER Gokula had been saved by the elevation of the mountain, Indra became desirous of beholding Kṛṣṇa. The conqueror of his foes accordingly mounted his vast elephant Airāvata, and came to Govarddhana, where the king of the gods beheld the mighty Dāmodara tending cattle, and assuming the person of a cow-boy, and, although the preserver of the whole world, surrounded by the sons of the herdsmen: above his head he saw Garuḍa, the king of birds, invisible to mortals, spreading out his wings to shade the head of Hari. Alighting from his elephant, and addressing him apart, Śakra, his eyes expanding with pleasure, thus spake to Madhusūdana: “Hear, Kṛṣṇa, the reason why I have come hither; why I have approached thee; for thou couldest not otherwise conceive it. Thou, who art the supporter of all, hast descended upon earth, to relieve her of her burden. In resentment of my obstructed rites I sent the clouds to deluge Gokula, and they have done this evil deed. Thou, by raising up the mountain, hast preserved the cattle; and of a verity I am much pleased, O hero, with thy wondrous deed. The object of the gods is now, methinks, accomplished, since with thy single hand thou hast raised aloft this chief of mountains. I have now come by desire of the cattle, grateful for their preservation, in order to install you as Upendra; and, as the Indra of the cows, thou shalt be called Govinda.” Having thus said, Mahendra took a ewer from his elephant Airāvata, and with the holy water it contained performed the regal ceremony of aspersion. The cattle, as the rite was celebrating, deluged the earth with their milk. When Indra had, by direction of the kine, inaugurated Kṛṣṇa, the husband of Śacī said to him affectionately, “I have thus performed what the cows enjoined me. Now, illustrious being, hear what farther I propose, with a view to facilitate your task. A portion of me has been born as Arjuna, the son of Pritha: let him ever be defended by thee, and he will assist thee in bearing thy burden. He is to be cerished by thee, Madhusūdana, like another self.” To this Kṛṣṇa replied, “I know thy son, who has been born in the race of Bharata, and I will befriend him as long as I continue upon earth. As long as I am present, invincible Śakra, no one shall be able to subdue Arjuna in fight. When the great demon Kansa has been slain, and Aṛṣṭa, Keśin, Kuvalayāpīḍa, Naraka, and other fierce Daityas, shall have been put to death, there will take place a great war, in which the burden of the earth will be removed. Now therefore depart, and be not anxious on account of thy son; for no foe shall triumph over Arjuna whilst I am present. For his sake I will restore to Kunti all her sons; with Yudhiṣṭhira at their head, unharmed, when the Bhārata war is at an end.” Upon Kṛṣṇa's ceasing to speak, he and Indra mutually embraced; and the latter, mounting his elephant Airāvata, returned to heaven. Kṛṣṇa, with the cattle and the herdsmen, went his way to Vraja, where the wives of the Gopas watched for his approach.

AFTER Śakra had departed, the cowherds said to Kṛṣṇa, whom they had seen holding up Govarddhana, “We have been preserved, together with our cattle, from a great peril, by your supporting the mountain above us; but this is very astonishing child's play, unsuitable to the condition of a herdsman, and all thy actions are those of a god. Tell us what is the meaning of all this. Kālīya has been conquered in the lake; Pralamba has been killed; Govarddhana has been lifted up: our minds are filled with amazement. Assuredly we repose at the feet of Hari, O thou of unbounded might! for, having witnessed thy power, we cannot believe thee to be a man. Thy affection, Keśava, for our women and children, and for Vraja; the deeds that thou hast wrought, which all the gods would have attempted in vain; thy boyhood, and thy prowess; thy humiliating birth amongst us; are contradictions that fill us with doubt, whenever we think of them. Yet reverence be to thee, whether thou be a god, or a demon, or a Yakṣa, or a Gandharva, or whatever we may deem thee; for thou art our friend.” When they had ended, Kṛṣṇa remained silent for some time, as if hurt and offended, and then replied to them, “Herdsmen, if you are not ashamed of my relationship; if I have merited your praise; what occasion is there for you to engage in any discussion concerning me? If you have any regard for me; if I have deserved your praise; then be satisfied to know that I am your kinsman. I am neither god, nor Yakṣa, nor Gandharva, nor Dānava; I have been born your relative, and you must not think differently of me.” Upon receiving this answer, the Gopas held their peace, and went into the woods, leaving Kṛṣṇa apparently displeased. But Kṛṣṇa, observing the clear sky bright with the autumnal moon, and the air perfumed with the fragrance of the wild water-lily, in whose buds the clustering bees were murmuring their songs, felt inclined to join with the Gopīs in sport. Accordingly he and Rāma commenced singing sweet low strains in various measures, such as the women loved; and they, as soon as they heard the melody, quitted their homes, and hastened to meet the foe of Madhu. One damsel gently sang an accompaniment to his song; another attentively listened to his melody: one calling out upon his name, then shrunk abashed; whilst another, more bold, and instigated by affection, pressed close to his side: one, as she sallied forth, beheld some of the seniors of the family, and dared not venture, contenting herself with meditating on Kṛṣṇa with closed eyes, and entire devotion, by which immediately all acts of merit were effaced by rapture, and all sin was expiated by regret at not beholding him: and others, again, reflecting upon the cause of the world, in the form of the supreme Brahma, obtained by their sighing final emancipation. Thus surrounded by the Gopīs, Kṛṣṇa thought the lovely moonlight night of autumn propitious to the Rasa dance. Many of the Gopīs imitated the different actions of Kṛṣṇa, and in his absence wandered through Vrindavan, representing his person. “I am Kṛṣṇa,” cries one; “behold the elegance of my movements.” “I am Kṛṣṇa,” exclaims another; “listen to my song.” “Vile Kālīya, stay! for I am Kṛṣṇa,” is repeated by a third, slapping her arms in defiance. A fourth calls out, “Herdsmen, fear nothing; be steady; the danger of the storm is over, for, lo, I lift up Govarddhana for your shelter.” And a fifth proclaims, “Now let the herds graze where they will, for I have destroyed Dhenuka.” Thus in various actions of Kṛṣṇa the Gopīs imitated him, whilst away, and beguiled their sorrow by mimicking his sports. Looking down upon the ground, one damsel calls to her friend, as the light down upon her body stands erect with joy, and the lotuses of her eyes expand, “See here are the marks of Kṛṣṇa's feet, as he has gone alone sportively, and left the impressions of the banner, fife thunderbolt, and the goad. What lovely maiden has been his companion, inebriate with passion, as her irregular footmarks testify? Here Dāmodara has gathered flowers from on high, for we see alone the impressions of the tips of his feet. Here a nymph has sat down with him, ornamented with flowers, fortunate in having propitiated Viṣṇu in a prior existence. Having left her in an arrogant mood, because he had offered her flowers, the son of Nanda has gone by this road; for see, unable to follow him with equal steps, his associate has here tripped along upon her toes, and, holding his hand, the damsel has passed, as is evident from the uneven and intermingled footsteps. But the rogue has merely taken her hand, and left her neglected, for here the paces indicate the path of a person in despair. Undoubtedly he promised that he would quickly come again, for here are his own footsteps returning with speed. Here he has entered the thick forest, impervious to the rays of the moon, and his steps can be traced no farther.” Hopeless then of beholding Kṛṣṇa, the Gopīs returned, and repaired to the banks of the Yamunā, where they sang his songs; and presently they beheld the preserver of the three worlds, with a smiling aspect, hastening towards them: on which, one exclaimed, “Kṛṣṇa! Kṛṣṇa!” unable to articulate any thing else: another affected to contract her forehead with frowns, as drinking with the bees of her eyes the lotus of the face of Hari: another, closing her eyelids, contemplated internally his form, as if engaged in an act of devotion. Then Mādhava, coming amongst them, conciliated some with soft speeches, some with gentle looks, and some he took by the hand; and the illustrious deity sported with them in the stations of the dance. As each of the Gopīs, however, attempted to keep in one place, close to the side of Kṛṣṇa, the circle of the dance could not be constructed, and he therefore took each by the hand, and when their eyelids were shut by the effects of such touch, the circle was formed. Then proceeded the dance to the music of their clashing bracelets, and songs that celebrated in suitable strain the charms of the autumnal season. Kṛṣṇa sang the moon of autumn, a mine of gentle radiance; but the nymphs repeated the praises of Kṛṣṇa alone. At times, one of them, wearied by the revolving dance, threw her arms, ornamented with tinkling bracelets, round the neck of the destroyer of Madhu: another, skilled in the art of singing his praises, embraced him. The drops of perspiration from the arms of Hari were like fertilizing rain, which produced a crop of down upon the temples of the Gopīs. Kṛṣṇa sang the strain that was appropriate to the dance. The Gopīs repeatedly exclaimed, “Bravo, Kṛṣṇa!” to his song. When leading, they followed him; when returning, they encountered him; and, whether he went forwards or backwards, they ever attended on his steps. Whilst frolicking thus with the Gopīs, they considered every instant without him a myriad of years; and, prohibited in vain by husbands, fathers, brothers, they went forth at night to sport with Kṛṣṇa, the object of their affection. Thus the illimitable being, the benevolent remover of all imperfections, assumed the character of a youth amongst the females of the herdsmen of Vraja; pervading their natures, and that of their lords, by his own essence, all diffusive like the wind: for even as in all creatures the elements of ether, fire, earth, water, and air, are comprehended, so also is he every where present, and in all.

ONE evening, whilst Kṛṣṇa and the Gopīs were amusing themselves in the dance, the demon Aṛṣṭa, disguised as a savage bull, came to the spot, after having spread alarm through the station. His colour was that of a cloud charged with rain; he had vast horns, and his eyes were like two fiery suns: as he moved, he ploughed up the ground with his hoofs: his tongue was repeatedly licking his lips; his tail was erect; the sinews of his shoulders were firm, and between them rose a hump of enormous dimensions; his haunches were soiled with ordure, and he was a terror to the herds; his dewlap hung low, and his face was marked with scars from butting against the trees. Terrifying all the kine, the demon who perpetually haunts the forests in the shape of a bull, destroying hermits and ascetics, advanced. Beholding an animal of such a formidable aspect, the herdsmen and their women were exceedingly frightened, and called aloud on Kṛṣṇa, who came to their succour, shouting and slapping his arm in defiance. When the Daitya heard the noise, he turned upon his challenger, and fixing his eyes and pointing his horns at the belly of Keśava, he ran furiously upon the youth. Kṛṣṇa stirred not from his post, but, smiling in sport and derision, awaited the near approach of the bull, when he seized him as an alligator would have done, and held him firmly by the horns, whilst he pressed his sides with his knees. Having thus humbled his pride, and held him captive by his horns, he wrung his throat, as if it had been a piece of wet cloth; and then tearing off one of the horns, he beat the fierce demon with it until he died, vomiting blood from his mouth. Seeing him slain, the herdsmen glorified Kṛṣṇa, as the companies of the celestials of old praised Indra, when he triumphed over the Asura Jambha.

AFTER these things had come to pass, Aṛṣṭa the bull-demon and Dhenuka and Pralamba had been slain, Govarddhana had been lifted up, the serpent Kālīya had been subdued, the two trees had been broken, the female fiend Pūtanā had been killed, and the waggon had been overturned, Nārada went to Kansa, and related to him the whole, beginning with the transference of the child from Devakī to Yaśodā, Hearing this from Nārada, Kansa was highly incensed with Vasudeva, and bitterly reproached him, and all the Yādavas, in an assembly of the tribe. Then reflecting what was to be done, he determined to destroy both Kṛṣṇa and Rāma whilst they were yet young, and before they had attained to manly vigour: for which purpose he resolved to invite them from Vraja, under pretext of the solemn rite of the lustration of arms, when he would engage them in a trial of strength with his chief boxers, Cāṇūra and Muṣṭika, by whom they would assuredly be killed. “I will send,” he said, “the noble Yadu, Akrūra the son of Swaphalka, to Gokula, to bring them hither: I will order the fierce Keśin, who haunts the woods of Vrindāvan, to attack them, and he is of unequalled might, and will surely kill them; or, if they arrive here, my elephant Kuvalayāpīḍa shall trample to death these two cow-boy sons of Vasudeva.” Having thus laid his plans to destroy Rāma and Janārddana, the impious Kansa sent for the heroic Akrūra, and said to him, “Lord of liberal gifts, attend to my words, and, out of friendship for me, perform my orders. Ascend your chariot, and go hence to the station of the herdsman Nanda. Two vile boys, portions of Viṣṇu, have been born there, for the express object of effecting my destruction. On the fourteenth lunation I have to celebrate the festival of arms, and I wish them to be brought here by you, to take part in the games, and that the people may see them engage in a boxing match with my two dexterous athletæ, Cāṇūra and Muṣṭika; or haply my elephant Kuvalayāpīḍa, driven against them by his rider, shall kill these two iniquitous youngsters, sons of Vasudeva. When they are out of the way, I will put to death Vasudeva himself, the cowherd Nanda, and my foolish father, Ugrasena, and I will seize upon the herds and flocks, and all the possessions, of the rebellious Gopas, who have ever been my foes. Except thou, lord of liberality, all the Yādavas are hostile to me; but I will devise schemes for their extirpation, and I shall then reign over my kingdom, in concert with thee, without any annoyance. Through regard for me, therefore, do thou go as I direct thee; and thou shalt command the cowherds to bring in with speed their supplies of milk and butter and curds.” Being thus instructed, the illustrious Akrūra readily undertook to visit Kṛṣṇa, and, ascending his stately chariot, he went forth from the city of Mathurā.

KEŚIN, confiding in his prowess, having received the commands of Kansa, set off to the woods of Vrindāvana, with the intention of destroying Kṛṣṇa. He came in the shape of a steed, spurning the earth with his hoofs, scattering the clouds with his mane, and springing in his paces beyond the orbits of the sun and moon. The cowherds and their females, hearing his neighings, were struck with terror, and fled to Govinda for protection, calling upon him to save them. In a voice deep as the roaring of the thundercloud, Kṛṣṇa replied to them, “Away with these fears of Keśin; is the valour of a hero annihilated by your alarms? What is there to apprehend from one of such little might, whose neighings are his only terrors; a galloping and vicious steed, who is ridden by the strength of the Daityas ? Come on, wretch—I am Kṛṣṇa—and I will knock all thy teeth down thy throat, as the wielder of the trident did to Pūṣan.” Thus defying him to combat, Govinda went to encounter Keśin. The demon ran upon him, with his mouth opened wide; but Kṛṣṇa enlarging the bulk of his arm, thrust it into his mouth, and wrenched out the teeth, which fell from his jaws like fragments of white clouds. Still the arm of Kṛṣṇa, in the throat of the demon, continued to enlarge, like a malady increasing from its commencement till it ends in dissolution. From his torn lips the demon vomited foam and blood; his eyes rolled in agony; his joints gave way; he beat the earth with his feet; his body was covered with perspiration; he became incapable of any effort. The formidable demon, having his mouth rent open by the arm of Kṛṣṇa, fell down, torn asunder like a tree struck by lightning: he lay separated into two portions, each having two legs, half a back, half a tail, one ear, one eye, and one nostril. Kṛṣṇa stood, unharmed and smiling, after the destruction of the demon, surrounded by the cowherds, who, together with their women, were filled with astonishment at the death of Keśin, and glorified the amiable god with the lotus eyes. Nārada the Brahman, invisible, seated in a cloud, beheld the fall of Keśin, and delightedly exclaimed, “Well done, lord of the universe, who in thy sports hast destroyed Keśin, the oppressor of the denizens of heaven! Curious to behold this great combat between a man and a horse—such a one as was never before heard of—I have come from heaven. Wonderful are the works that thou hast done, in thy descent upon the earth! they have excited my astonishment; but this, above all, has given me pleasure. Indra and the gods lived in dread of this horse, who tossed his mane, and neighed, and looked down upon the clouds. For this, that thou hast slain the impious Keśin, thou shalt be known in the world by the name of Keśava. Farewell: I will now depart. I shall meet thee again, conqueror of Keśin, in two days more, in conflict with Kansa. When the son of Ugrasena, with his followers, shall have been slain, then, upholder of the earth, will earth's burdens have been lightened by thee. Many are the battles of the kings that I have to see, in which thou shalt be renowned. I will now depart, Govinda. A great deed, and acceptable to the gods, has been done by thee. I have been much delighted with thee, and now take my leave.” When Nārada had gone, Kṛṣṇa, not in any way surprised, returned with the Gopas to Gokula; the sole object of the eyes of the women of Vraja.

AKRŪRA, having set off in his quick travelling car, proceeded to visit Kṛṣṇa at the pastures of Nanda; and, as he went along, he congratulated himself on his superior good fortune, in having an opportunity of beholding a descended portion of the deity. “Now,” thought he, “has my life borne fruit; my night is followed by the dawn of day; since I shall see the countenance of Viṣṇu, whose eyes are like the expanded leaf of the lotus. I shall behold that lotus-eyed aspect of Viṣṇu, which, when seen only in imagination, takes away the sins of men. I shall to-day behold that glory of glories, the mouth of Viṣṇu, whence proceeded the Vedas, and all their dependant sciences. I shall see the sovereign of the world, by whom the world is sustained; who is worshipped as the best of males, as the male of sacrifice in sacrificial rites. I shall see Keśava, who is without beginning or end; by worshipping whom with a hundred sacrifices, Indra obtained the sovereignty over the gods. That Hari, whose nature is unknown to Brahmā, Indra, Rudra, the Aśvins, the Vasus, Ādityas, and Maruts, will this day touch my body. The soul of all, the knower of all, he who is all, and is present in all, he who is permanent, undecaying, all-pervading, will converse with me. He, the unborn, who has preserved the world in the various forms of a fish, a tortoise, a boar, a horse, a lion, will this day speak to me. Now the lord of the earth, who assumes shapes at will, has taken upon him the condition of humanity, to accomplish some object cerished in his heart. That Ananta, who holds the earth upon his crest, and who has descended upon earth for its protection, will this day call me by my name. Glory to that being, whose deceptive adoption of father, son, brother, friend, mother, and relative, the world is unable to penetrate. Glory to him, who is one with true knowledge, who is inscrutable, and through whom, seated in his heart, the Yogi crosses the wide expanse of worldly ignorance and illusion. I bow to him, who, by the performers of holy rites, is called the male of sacrifice ( Yajñapuruṣa ); by pious worshippers is termed Vāsudeva; and by the cultivators of philosophy, Viṣṇu. May he in whom cause and effect, and the world itself, is comprehended, be propitious to me, through his truth; for always do I put my trust in that unborn, eternal Hari; by meditation on whom, man becomes the repository of all good things.” His mind thus animated by devout faith, and meditating in this manner, Akrūra proceeded on his road, and arrived at Gokula a little before sunset, at the time of the milking of the cows; and there he saw Kṛṣṇa amongst the cattle, dark as the leaf of the full blown lotus; his eyes of the same colour, and his breast decorated with the Srivatsa mark; long armed, and broad chested; having a high nose, and a lovely countenance, brightened with mirthful smiles; treading firmly on the ground, with feet whose nails were tinted red; clad in yellow garments, and adorned with a garland of forest flowers; having a fresh-gathered creeper in his hand, and a chaplet of white lotus flowers on his head. Akrūra also beheld there Balabhadra, white as a jasmine, a swan, or the moon, and dressed in blue raiment; having large and powerful arms, and a countenance as radiant as a lotus in bloom; like another Kailāsa mountain, crested with a wreath of clouds. When Akrūra saw these two youths, his countenance expanded with delight, and the down of his body stood erect with pleasure: for this he thought to be supreme happiness and glory; this, the double manifestation of the divine Vāsudeva; this was the twofold gratification of his sight, to behold the creator of the universe: now he hoped that his bodily form would yield fruit, as it would bring him in contact with the person of Kṛṣṇa; and that the wearer of infinite forms would place his hand on his back; the touch of whose finger alone is sufficient to dispel sin, and to secure imperishable felicity: that hand which launches the fierce irresistible discus, blazing with all the flames of fire, lightning, and the sun, and slaughtering the demon host washes the collyrium from the eyes of their brides: that hand into which Bali poured water, and thence obtained ineffable enjoyments below the earth, and immortality and dominion over the gods for a whole Manvantara, without peril from a foe. “Alas! he will despise me, for my connexion with Kansa, an associate with evil, though not contaminated by it. How vain is his birth, who is shunned by the virtuous? and yet what is there in this world unknown to him who resides in the hearts of all men, who is ever existent, exempt from imperfection, the aggregate of the quality of purity, and identical with true knowledge? With a heart wholly devoted to him, then, I will approach the lord of all lords, the descended portion of Puruṣottama, of Viṣṇu, who is without beginning, middle, or end.”

Grief of the Gopīs on the departure of Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma with Akrūra: their leaving Gokula. Akrūra bathes in the Yamunā; beholds the divine forms of the two youths, and praises Viṣṇu. THUS meditating, the Yādava approached Govinda, and addressed him, and said, “I am Akrūra,” and bowed his head down to the feet of Hari; but Kṛṣṇa laid upon him his hand, which was marked with the flag, the thunderbolt, and the lotus, and drew him towards him, and affectionately embraced him. Then Keśava and Rāma entered into conversation with him, and, having heard from him all that had occurred, were much pleased, and led him to their habitation: there they resumed their discourse, and gave him food to eat, and treated him with proper hospitality. Akrūra told them how their father Ānakadundubhi, the princess Devakī, and even his own father, Ugrasena, had been insulted by the iniquitous demon Kansa: he also related to them the purpose for which he had been dispatched. When he had told them all these things, the destroyer of Keśin said to him, “I was aware of all that you have told me, lord of liberal gifts: Rāma and I will go to-morrow to Mathurā along with you. The elders of the cowherds shall accompany us, bearing ample offerings. Rest here to-night, and dismiss all anxiety. Within three nights I will slay Kansa and his adherents.” Having given orders accordingly to the cowherds, Akrūra, with Keśava and Rāma, retired to rest, and slept soundly in the dwelling of Nanda. The next morning was bright, and the youths prepared to depart for Mathurā with Akrūra. The Gopīs, seeing them about to set forth, were much afflicted; they wept bitterly, their bracelets were loose upon their arms, and they thus communed together: “If Govinda depart for Mathurā, how will he return to Gokula? his ears will there be regaled with the melodious and polished conversation of the women of the city. Accustomed to the language of the graceful females of Mathurā, he will never again endure the rustic expressions of the Gopīs. Hari, the pride of the station, is carried off, and a fatal blow is inflicted upon us by inexorable destiny, Expressive smiles, soft language, graceful airs, elegant gait, and significant glances, belong to the women of the city. Hari is of rustic breeding, and, captivated by their fascinations, what likelihood is there of his returning to the society of any one amongst us? Keśava, who has mounted the car to go to Mathurā, has been deceived by the cruel, vile, and desperate Akrūra. Does not the unfeeling traitor know the affection that we all here feel for our Hari, the joy of our eyes, that he is taking him away? Unkind that he is, Govinda is departing from us, along with Rāma: haste! let us stop him! Why talk of telling our seniors that we cannot bear his loss? What can they do for us, when we are consumed by the fires of separation? The Gopas, with Nanda at their head, are themselves preparing to depart; no one makes any attempt to detain Govinda. Bright is the morning that succeeds to this night for the women of Mathurā, for the bees of their eyes will feed upon the lotus face of Achyuta. Happy are they who may go hence without impediment, and behold, enraptured, Kṛṣṇa on his journey. A great festival will give pleasure to-day to the eyes of the inhabitants of Mathurā, when they see the person of Govinda. What a blissful vision will be seen by the happy women, of the city, whose brilliant eyes shall regard, unchecked, the countenance of Kṛṣṇa! Alas! the eyes of the Gopīs have been deprived of sight by the relentless Brahmā, after he had shewn them this great treasure. In proportion as the affection of Hari for us decays, so do our limbs wither, and the bracelets slip from our arms: and now the cruel Akrūra urges on the horses: all conspire to treat unhappy females with unkindness. Alas! alas! we see now only the dust of his chariot wheels! and now he is far away, for even that dust is no longer to be seen!” Thus lamented by the women, Keśava and Rāma quitted the district of Vraja. Travelling in a car drawn by fleet horses, they arrived at noon at the banks of the Yamunā, when Akrūra requested them to halt a little, whilst he performed the usual daily ceremonial in the river. Accordingly the intelligent Akrūra bathed, and rinsed his mouth, and then entering the stream, he stood meditating upon the supreme being; but he beheld mentally Balabhadra, having a thousand hooded beads, a garland of Jasmine flowers, and large red eyes, attended by Vāsuki, Rambha, and other mighty serpents, praised by the Gandharvas, decorated with wild flowers, wearing dark coloured garments, crowned with a chaplet of lotuses, ornamented with brilliant earrings, inebriate, and standing at the bottom of the river in the water. On his lap he also beheld, at his ease, Kṛṣṇa, of the complexion of a cloud, with full and coppery eyes, having an elegant form, and four hands, armed with the discus and other weapons, wearing yellow clothes, decorated with many coloured flowers, and appearing like a cloud embellished with streams of lightning and the bow of Indra; his breast was marked with the celestial sign, his arms were radiant with bracelets, a diadem shone on his brow, and he wore a white lotus for his crest: he was attended by Sanandana and other holy sages, who, fixing their eyes upon the tips of their noses, were absorbed in profound meditation. When Akrūra beheld Balarāma and Kṛṣṇa in this situation, he was much amazed, and wondered how they could so quickly have got there from the chariot. He wished to ask them this, but Janārddana deprived him of the faculty of speech at the moment. Ascending then from the water, he repaired to the car, and there he found them both quietly seated in the same human persons as before. Plunging again into the water, there he again beheld them, hymned as before by the Gandharvas, saints, sages, and serpents. Apprehending, therefore, their real character, he thus eulogized the eternal deity, who consists of true knowledge:- “Salutation to thee, who art uniform and manifold, all-pervading, supreme spirit, of inconceivable glory, and who art simple existence. Salutation to thee, O inscrutable, who art truth, and the essence of oblations. Salutation to thee, O lord, whose nature is unknown, who art beyond primeval matter, who existest in five forms, as one with the elements, with the faculties, with matter, with the living soul, with supreme spirit. Shew favour to me, O soul of the universe, essence of all things, perishable or eternal, whether addressed by the designation of Brahmā, Viṣṇu, Śiva, or the like. I adore thee, O god, whose nature is indescribable, whose purposes are inscrutable, whose name even is unknown; for the attributes of kind or appellation are not applicable to thee, who art THAT, the supreme Brahma, eternal, unchangeable, untreated. But as the accomplishment of our objects cannot be attained except through some specific form, thou art termed by us Kṛṣṇa, Achyuta, Ananta, or Viṣṇu. Thou, unborn divinity, art all the objects of these impersonations; thou art the gods, and all other beings; thou art the whole world; thou art all. Soul of the universe, thou art exempt from change, and there is nothing except thee in all this existence. Thou art Brahmā, Paśupati, Āryaman, Dhātri, and Vidhātri; thou art Indra, air, fire, the regent of the waters, the god of wealth, and judge of the dead; and thou, although but one, presidest over the world with various energies, addressed to various purposes. Thou, identical with the solar ray, createst the universe; all elementary substance is composed of thy qualities; and thy supreme form is denoted by the imperishable term SAT (existence). To him who is one with true knowledge, who is and is not perceptible, I bow. Glory be to him, the lord Vāsudeva, to Saṅkarṣaṇa, to Pradyumna, and to Aniruddha.”

Akrūra conveys Kṛṣṇa and Rāma near to Mathurā, and leaves them: they enter the town. Insolence of Kansa's washerman: Kṛṣṇa kills him. Civility of a flower-seller: Kṛṣṇa gives him his benediction. THUS the Yādava Akrūra, standing in the river, praised Kṛṣṇa, and worshipped him with imaginary incense and flowers. Disregarding all other objects, he fixed his whole mind upon the deity; and having continued for a long time in spiritual contemplation, he at last desisted from his abstraction, conceiving he had effected the purposes of soul. Coming up from the water of the Yamunā, he went to the car, and there he beheld Rāma and Kṛṣṇa seated as before. As his looks denoted surprise, Kṛṣṇa said to him, “Surely, Akrūra, you have seen some marvel in the stream of the Yamunā, for your eyes are staring as if with astonishment.” Akrūra replied, “The marvel that I have seen in the stream of the Yamunā I behold before me, even here, in a bodily shape; for he whom I have encountered in the water, Kṛṣṇa, is also your wondrous self, of whose illustrious person the whole world is the miraculous developement. But enough of this; let us proceed to Mathura: I am afraid Kansa will be angry at our delay; such is the wretched consequence of eating the bread of another.” Thus speaking, he urged on the quick horses, and they arrived after sunset at Mathura. When they came in sight of the city, Akrūra said to Kṛṣṇa and Rāma, “You must now journey on foot, whilst I proceed alone in the car; and you must not go to the house of Vasudeva, for the elder has been banished by Kansa on your account.” Akrūra having thus spoken, left them, and entered the city; whilst Rāma and Kṛṣṇa continued to walk along the royal road. Regarded with pleasure by men and women, they went along sportively, looking like two young elephants. As they roamed about, they saw a washerman colouring clothes, and with smiling countenances they went and threw down some of his fine linen. The washerman was the servant of Kansa, made insolent by his master's favour; and he provoked the two lads with loud and scurrilous abuse, until Kṛṣṇa struck him down, with his head to the ground, and killed him. Then taking the clothes, they went their way, clad in yellow and blue raiment, until they came to a flower-seller's shop. The flower-seller looked at them with astonishment, and wondered who they could be, or whence they could have come. Seeing two youths so lovely, dressed in yellow and blue garments, he imagined them to be divinities descended upon earth. Being addressed by them with mouths budding like lotuses, and asked for some flowers, he placed his hands upon the ground, and touched it with his head, saying, “My lords have shewn me great kindness in coming to my house, fortunate that I am; I will pay them homage.” Having thus spoken, the flower-seller, with a smiling aspect, gave them whatever choice flowers they selected, to conciliate their favour. Repeatedly prostrating himself before them, he presented them with flowers, beautiful, fragrant, and fresh. Kṛṣṇa then, being much pleased with him, gave him this blessing; “Fortune, good friend, who depends upon me, shall never forsake you: never shall you suffer loss of vigour, or loss of wealth: as long as time shall last your descendants shall not fail. Having long tasted various delights on earth, you shall finally obtain, by calling me to recollection, a heavenly region, the consequence of my favour. Your heart shall ever be intent on righteousness, and fulness of days shall be the portion of your posterity. Your descendants shall not be subject to natural infirmities, as long as the sun shall endure.” Having thus spoken, Kṛṣṇa and Rāma, worshipped by the flower-seller, went forth from his dwelling.

Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma meet Kubjā; she is made straight by the former: they proceed to the palace. Kṛṣṇa breaks a bow intended for a trial of arms. Kansa's orders to his servants. Public games. Kṛṣṇa and his brother enter the arena: the former wrestles with Cāṇūra, the latter with Muṣṭika, the king's wrestlers; who are both killed. Kṛṣṇa attacks and slays Kansa: he and Balarāma do homage to Vasudeva and Devakī: the former praises Kṛṣṇa. As they proceeded along the high road, they saw coming towards them a young girl, who was crooked, carrying a pot of unguent. Kṛṣṇa addressed her sportively, and said, “For whom are you carrying that unguent? tell me, lovely maiden; tell me truly.” Spoken to as it were through affection, Kubjā, well disposed towards Hari, replied to him also mirthfully, being smitten by his appearance; “Know you not, beloved, that I am the servant of Kansa, and appointed, crooked as I am, to prepare his perfumes. Unguent ground by any other he does not approve of: hence I am enriched through his liberal rewards.” Then said Kṛṣṇa, “Fair-faced damsel, give us of this unguent, fragrant and fit for kings, as much as we may rub upon our bodies.” “Take it,” answered Kubjā.; and she gave them as much of the unguent as was sufficient for their persons; and they rubbed it on various parts of their faces and bodies, till they looked like two clouds, one white and one black, decorated by the many-tinted bow of Indra. Then Kṛṣṇa, skilled in the curative art, took hold of her, under the chin, with the thumb and two fingers, and lifted up her head, whilst with his feet he pressed down her feet; and in this way he made her straight. When she was thus relieved from her deformity, she was a most beautiful woman; and, filled with gratitude and affection, she took Govinda by the garment, and invited him to her house. Promising to come at some other time, Kṛṣṇa smilingly dismissed her, and then laughed aloud on beholding the countenance of Baladeva. Dressed in blue and yellow garments, and anointed with fragrant unguents, Keśava and Rāma proceeded to the hall of arms, which was hung round with garlands. Inquiring of the warders which bow he was to try, and being directed to it, he took it, and bent it; but drawing it with violence, he snapped it in two, and all Mathurā resounded with the noise which its fracture occasioned. Abused by the warders for breaking the bow, Kṛṣṇa and Rāma retorted, and defied them, and left the hall. When Kansa knew that Akrūra had returned, and heard that the bow had been broken, he thus said to Cāṇūra and Muṣṭika, his boxers: “Two youths, cowherd boys, have arrived; you must kill them both, in a trial of strength, in my presence; for they practise against my life. I shall be well pleased if you kill them in the match, and will give you whatever you wish; not else. These two foes of mine must be killed by you fairly or unfairly. The kingdom shall be ours in common, when they have perished.” Having given them these orders, he sent next for his elephant driver, and desired him to station his great elephant Kuvalayāpīḍa, who was as vast as a cloud charged with rain, near the gate of the arena, and drive him upon the two boys when they should attempt to enter. When Kansa had issued these commands, and ascertained that the platforms were all ready for the spectators, he awaited the rising of the sun, unconscious of impending death. In the morning the citizens assembled on the platforms set apart for them, and the princes, with the ministers and courtiers, occupied the royal seats. Near the centre of the circle judges of the games were stationed by Kansa, whilst he himself sat apart close by upon a lofty throne. Separate platforms were erected for the ladies of the palace, for the courtesans, and for the wives of the citizens. Nanda and the cowherds had places appropriated to them, at the end of which sat Akrūra and Vasudeva. Amongst the wives of the citizens appeared Devakī, mourning for her son, whose lovely face she longed to behold even in the hour of his destruction. When the musical instruments sounded, Cāṇūra sprang forth, and the people cried, “Alas!” and Muṣṭika slapped his arms in defiance. Covered with must and blood from the elephant, whom, when goaded upon them by his driver, they had slain, and armed with his tusks, Balabhadra and Janārddana confidently entered the arena, like two lions amidst a herd of deer. Exclamations of pity arose from all the spectators, along with expressions of astonishment. “This then,” said the people, “is Kṛṣṇa! this is Balabhadra! This is he by whom the fierce night-walker Pūtanā was slain; by whom the waggon was overturned, and the two Arjuna trees felled! This is the boy who trampled and danced on the serpent Kālīya; who upheld the mountain Govarddhana for seven nights; who killed, as if in play, the iniquitous Aṛṣṭa, Dhenuka, and Keśin ! This whom we see is Achyuta ! This is he who has been foretold by the wise, skilled in the sense of the Purāṇas, as Gopāla, who shall exalt the depressed Yādava race! This is a portion of the all-existing, all-generating Viṣṇu, descended upon earth, who will assuredly lighten her load!” Thus did the citizens describe Rāma and Kṛṣṇa, as soon as they appeared; whilst the breast of Devakī glowed with maternal affection; and Vasudeva, forgetting his infirmities, felt himself young again, on beholding the countenances of his sons as a season of rejoicing. The women of the palace, and the wives of the citizens, wide opened their eyes, and gazed intently upon Kṛṣṇa. “Look, friends,” said they to their companions; “look at the face of Kṛṣṇa; his eyes are reddened by his conflict with the elephant, and the drops of perspiration stand upon his cheeks, outvieing a full blown lotus in autumn, studded with glittering dew. Avail yourself now of the faculty of vision. Observe his breast, the seat of splendour, marked with the mystic sign; and his arms, menacing destruction to his foes. Do you not notice Balabhadra, dressed in a blue garment; his countenance as fair as the jasmine, as the moon, as the fibres of the lotus stem? See how he gently smiles at the gestures of Muṣṭika and Cāṇūra, as they spring up. And now behold Hari advance to encounter Cāṇūra. What! are there no elders, judges of the field? How can the delicate form of Hari, only yet in the dawn of adolescence, be regarded as a match for the vast and adamantine bulk of the great demon? Two youths, of light and elegant persons, are in the arena, to oppose athletic fiends, headed by the cruel Cāṇūra. This is a great sin in the judges of the games, for the umpires to suffer a contest between boys and strong men.” As thus the women of the city conversed with one another, Hari, having tightened his girdle, danced in the ring, shaking the ground on which he trod. Balabhadra also danced, slapping his arms in defiance. Where the ground was firm, the invincible Kṛṣṇa contended foot to foot with Cāṇūra. The practised demon Muṣṭika was opposed by Balabhadra. Mutually entwining, and pushing, and pulling, and beating each other with fists, arms, and elbows, pressing each other with their knees, interlacing their arms, kicking with their feet, pressing with their whole weight upon one another, fought Hari and Cāṇūra. Desperate was the struggle, though without weapons, and one for life and death, to the great gratification of the spectators. In proportion as the contest continued, so Cāṇūra was gradually losing something of his original vigour, and the wreath upon his head trembled from his fury and distress; whilst the world-comprehending Kṛṣṇa wrestled with him as if but in sport. Beholding Cāṇūra losing, and Kṛṣṇa gaining strength, Kansa, furious with rage, commanded the music to cease. As soon as the drums and trumpets were silenced, a numerous band of heavenly instruments was heard in the sky, and the gods invisibly exclaimed, “Victory to Govinda! Keśava, kill the demon Cāṇūra!” Madhusūdana having for a long time dallied with his adversary, at last lifted him up, and whirled him round, with the intention of putting an end to him. Having whirled Cāṇūra round a hundred times, until his breath was expended in the air, Kṛṣṇa dashed him on the ground with such violence as to smash his body into a hundred fragments, and strew the earth with a hundred pools of gory mire. Whilst this took place, the mighty Baladeva was engaged in the same manner with the demon bruiser Muṣṭika. Striking him on the head with his fists, and on the breast with his knees, he stretched him on the ground, and pummelled him there till he was dead. Again, Kṛṣṇa encountered the royal bruiser Tomalaka, and felled him to the earth with a blow of his left hand. When the other athletæ saw Cāṇūra, Muṣṭika, and Tomalaka killed, they fled from the field; and Kṛṣṇa and Saṅkarṣaṇa danced victorious on the arena, dragging along with them by force the cowherds of their own age. Kansa, his eyes reddening with wrath, called aloud to the surrounding people, “Drive those two cow-boys out of the assembly: seize the villain Nanda, and secure him with chains of iron: put Vasudeva to death with tortures intolerable to his years: and lay hands upon the cattle, and whatever else belongs to those cowherds who are the associates of Kṛṣṇa.” Upon hearing these orders, the destroyer of Madhu laughed at Kansa, and, springing up to the place where he was seated, laid hold of him by the hair of his head, and struck his tiara to the ground: then casting him down upon the earth, Govinda threw himself upon him. Crushed by the weight of the upholder of the universe, the son of Ugrasena, Kansa the king, gave up the ghost. Kṛṣṇa then dragged the dead body, by the hair of the head, into the centre of the arena, and a deep furrow was made by the vast and heavy carcass of Kansa, when it was dragged along the ground by Kṛṣṇa, as if a torrent of water had run through it. Seeing Kansa thus treated, his brother Sumālin came to his succour; but he was encountered, and easily killed, by Balabhadra. Then arose a general cry of grief from the surrounding circle, as they beheld the king of Mathurā thus slain, and treated with such contumely, by Kṛṣṇa. Kṛṣṇa, accompanied by Balabhadra, embraced the feet of Vasudeva and of Devakī; but Vasudeva raised him up; and he and Devakī recalling to recollection what he had said to them at his birth, they bowed to Janārddana, and the former thus addressed him: “Have compassion upon mortals, O god, benefactor and lord of deities: it is by thy favour to us two that thou hast become the (present) upholder of the world. That, for the punishment of the rebellious, thou hast descended upon earth in my house, having been propitiated by my prayers, sanctifies our race. Thou art the heart of all creatures; thou abidest in all creatures; and all that has been, or will be, emanates from thee, O universal spirit! Thou, Achyuta, who comprehendest all the gods, art eternally worshipped with sacrifices: thou art sacrifice itself, and the offerer of sacrifices. The affection that inspires my heart and the heart of Devakī towards thee, as if thou wast our child, is indeed but error, and a great delusion. How shall the tongue of a mortal such as I am call the creator of all things, who is without beginning or end, son? Is it consistent that the lord of the world, from whom the world proceeds, should be born of me, except through illusion? How should he, in whom all fixed and moveable things are contained, be conceived in the womb and born of a mortal being? Have compassion therefore indeed, O supreme lord, and in thy descended portions protect the universe. Thou art no son of mine. This whole world, from Brahmā to a tree, thou art. Wherefore dost thou, who art one with the supreme, beguile us? Blinded by delusion, I thought thee my son; and for thee, who art beyond all fear, I dreaded the anger of Kansa, and therefore did I take thee in my terror to Gokula, where thou hast grown up; but I no longer claim thee as mine own. Thou, Viṣṇu, the sovereign lord of all, whose actions Rudra, the Maruts, the Aśvins, Indra, and the gods, cannot equal, although they behold them; thou who hast come amongst us for the benefit of the world, art recognised, and delusion is no more.”

Kṛṣṇa encourages his parents; places Ugrasena on the throne; becomes the pupil of Sāndīpani, whose son he recovers from the sea: he kills the marine demon Pañcajana, and makes a horn of his shell. HAVING permitted to Devakī and Vasudeva an interval of true knowledge, through the contemplation of his actions, Hari again spread the delusions of his power over them and the tribe of Yadu. He said to them, “Mother; venerable father; you have both been long observed by Saṅkarṣaṇa and myself with sorrow, and in fear of Kansa. He whose time passes not in respect to his father and mother, is a vile being, who descends in vain from virtuous parents. The lives of those produce good fruit, who reverence their parents, their spiritual guides, the Brahmans, and the gods. Pardon therefore, father, the impropriety of which we may have been culpable, in resenting without your orders, to which we acknowledge that we are subject, the oppression we suffered from the power and violence of Kansa.” Thus speaking, they offered homage to the elders of the Yadu tribe in order, and then in a suitable manner paid their respects to the citizens. The wives of Kansa, and those of his father, then surrounded the body of the king, lying on the ground, and bewailed his fate in deep affliction. Hari in various ways expressed his regret for what had chanced, and endeavoured to console them, his own eyes being suffused with tears. The foe of Madhu then liberated Ugrasena from confinement, and placed him on the throne, which the death of his son had left vacant. The chief of the Yādavas, being crowned, performed the funeral rites of Kansa, and of the rest of the slain. When the ceremony was over, and Ugrasena had resumed his royal seat, Kṛṣṇa addressed him, and said, “Sovereign lord, command boldly what else is to be done. The curse of Yayāti has pronounced our race unworthy of dominion; but with me, for your servant, you may issue your orders to the gods. How should kings disobey them?” Thus having spoken, the human Keśava summoned mentally the deity of the wind, who came upon the instant, and said to him, “Go, Vāyu, to Indra, and desire him to lay aside his pomp, and resign to Ugrasena his splendid hall Sudharman: tell him that Kṛṣṇa commands him to send the royal hall, the unrivalled gem of princely courts, for the assemblage of the race of Yadu.” Accordingly Vāyu went, and delivered the message to the husband of Śacī, who immediately gave up to him the hall Sudharman, and Vāyu conveyed it to the Yādavas, the chiefs of whom thenceforth possessed this celestial court, emblazoned with jewels, and defended by the arm of Govinda. The two excellent Yadu youths, versed in all knowledge, and possessed of all wisdom, then submitted to instruction, as the disciples of teachers. Accordingly they repaired to Sāndīpani—who, though born in Kāśī, resided at Avanti —to study the science of arms, and, becoming his pupils, were obedient and attentive to their master, exhibiting an example to all men of the observance of instituted rules. In the course of sixty-four days they had gone through the elements of military science, with the treatises on the use of arms, and directions for the mystic incantations, which secure the aid of supernatural weapons. Sāndīpani, astonished at such proficiency, and knowing that it exceeded human faculties, imagined that the sun and moon had become his scholars. When they had acquired all that he could teach, they said to him, “Now say what present shall be given to you, as the preceptor's fee.” The prudent Sāndīpani, perceiving that they were endowed with more than mortal powers, requested them to give him his dead son, drowned in the sea of Prabhāsa. Taking up their arms, they marched against the ocean; but the all-comprehending sea said to them, "I have not killed the son of Sāndīpani; a demon named Pañcajana, who lives in the form of a conch shell, seized the boy: he is still under my waters. On hearing this, Kṛṣṇa plunged into the sea; and having slain the vile Pañcajana, he took the conch shell, which was formed of his bones (and bore it as his horn), the sound of which fills the demon hosts with dismay, animates the vigour of the gods, and annihilates unrighteousness. The heroes also recovered the boy from the pains of death, and restored him in his former person to his father. Rāma and Janārddana then returned to Mathurā, which was well presided over by Ugrasena, and abounded in a happy population both of men and women.

The mighty Kansa had married the two daughters of Jarāsandha, one named Asti, the other Prāptī. Jarāsandha was king of Magadhā, and a very powerful prince; who, when he heard that Kṛṣṇa had killed his son-in-law, was much incensed, and, collecting a large force, marched against Mathurā, determined to put the Yādavas and Kṛṣṇa to the sword. Accordingly he invested the city with three and twenty numerous divisions of his forces. Rāma and Janārddana sallied from the town with a slender, but resolute force, and fought bravely with the armies of Magadhā. The two youthful leaders prudently resolved to have recourse to their ancient weapons, and accordingly the bow of Hari, with two quivers filled with exhaustless arrows, and the mace called Kaumodaki, and the ploughshare of Balabhadra, as well as the club Saunanda, descended at a wish from heaven. Armed with these weapons, they speedily discomfited the king of Magadhā and his hosts, and reentered the city in triumph. Although the wicked king of Magadhā, Jarāsandha, was defeated, yet Kṛṣṇa knew that whilst he escaped alive he was not subdued; and in fact he soon returned with a mighty force, and was again forced by Rāma and Kṛṣṇa to fly. Eighteen times did the haughty prince of Magadhā renew his attack upon the Yādavas, headed by Kṛṣṇa; and was as often defeated and put to the rout by them, with very inferior numbers. That the Yādavas were not overpowered by their foes, was owing to the present might of the portion of the discus-armed Viṣṇu. It was the pastime of the lord of the universe, in his capacity of man, to launch various weapons against his enemies; for what effort of power to annihilate his foes could be necessary to him, whose fiat creates and destroys the world? but as subjecting himself to human customs, he formed alliances with the brave, and engaged in hostilities with the base. He had recourse to the four devices of policy, or negotiation, presents, sowing dissension, and chastisement; and sometimes even betook himself to flight. Thus imitating the conduct of human beings, the lord of the world pursued at will his sports.

Birth of Kālayavana: he advances against Mathurā. Kṛṣṇa builds Dvārakā, and sends thither the Yādava tribe: he leads Kālayavana into the cave of Muchukunda: the latter awakes, consumes the Yavana king, and praises Kṛṣṇa. Śyāla having called Gārgya the Brahman, whilst at the cow-pens, impotent, in an assembly of the Yādavas, they all laughed; at which he was highly offended, and repaired to the shores of the western sea, where he engaged in arduous penance to obtain a son, who should be a terror to the tribe of Yadu. Propitiating Mahādeva, and living upon iron sand for twelve years, the deity at last was pleased with him, and gave him the desired boon. The king of the Yavanas, who was childless, became the friend of Gārgya; and the latter begot a son by his wife, who was as black as a bee, and was thence called Kālayavana. The Yavana king having placed his son, whose breast was as hard as the point of the thunderbolt, upon the throne, retired to the woods. Inflated with conceit of his prowess, Kālayavana demanded of Nārada who were the most mighty heroes on earth. To which the sage answered, “The Yādavas.” Accordingly Kālayavana assembled many myriads of Mlecchas and barbarians, and with a vast armament of elephants, cavalry, chariots, and foot, advanced impatiently against Mathurā and the Yādavas; wearying every day the animal that carried him, but insensible of fatigue himself. When Kṛṣṇa knew of his approach, he reflected that if the Yādavas encountered the Yavana, they would be so much weakened by the conflict, that they would then be overcome by the king of Magadhā; that their force was much reduced by the war with Magadhā, whilst that of Kālayavana was unbroken; and that the enemy might be therefore victorious. Thus the Yādavas were exposed to a double danger. He resolved therefore to construct a citadel for the Yadu tribe, that should not be easily taken; one that even women might defend, and in which therefore the heroes of the house of Vṛṣṇi should be secure; one in which the male combatants of the Yādavas should dread no peril, though he himself should be drunk or careless, asleep or abroad. Thus reflecting, Kṛṣṇa solicited a space of twelve furlongs from the ocean, and there he built the city of Dvāraka, defended by high ramparts, and beautified with gardens and reservoirs of water, crowded with houses and buildings, and splendid as the capital of Indra, Amarāvatī. Thither Janārddana conducted the inhabitants of Mathurā, and then awaited at that city the approach of Kālayavana. When the hostile army encamped round Mathura, Kṛṣṇa unarmed went forth, and beheld the Yavana king. Kālayavana, the strong-armed, recognizing Vāsudeva, pursued him; him whom the thoughts of perfect ascetics cannot overtake. Thus pursued, Kṛṣṇa entered a large cavern, where Muchukunda, the king of men, was asleep. The rash Yavana entering the cave, and beholding a man lying asleep there, concluded it must be Kṛṣṇa, and kicked him; at which Muchukunda awoke, and casting on him an angry glance, the Yavana was instantly consumed, and reduced to ashes. For in a battle between the gods and demons, Muchukunda had formerly contributed to the defeat of the latter; and, being overcome with sleep, he solicited of the gods as a boon that he should enjoy a long repose. “Sleep long and soundly,” said the gods; “and whoever disturbs you shall be instantly burnt to ashes by fire emanating from your body.” Having burnt up the iniquitous Yavana, and beholding the foe of Madhu, Muchukunda asked him who he was. “I am born,” he replied, “in the lunar race, in the tribe of Yadu, and am the son of Vasudeva.” Muchukunda, recollecting the prophecy of old Garga, fell down before the lord of all, Hari, saying, “Thou art known, supreme lord, to be a portion of Viṣṇu; for it was said of old by Garga, that at the end of the twenty-eighth Dvāpara age Hari would be born in the family of Yadu. Thou art he, without doubt, the benefactor of mankind; for thy glory I am unable to endure. Thy words are of deeper tone than the muttering of the rain cloud; and earth sinks down beneath the pressure of thy feet. As in the battle between the gods and demons the Asuras were unable to sustain my lustre, so even am I incapable of bearing thy radiance. Thou alone art the refuge of every living being who has lighted on the world. Do thou, who art the alleviator of all distress, shew favour upon me, and remove from me all that is evil. Thou art the oceans, the mountains, the rivers, the forests: thou art earth, sky, air, water, and fire: thou art mind, intelligence, the unevolved principle, the vital airs, the lord of life—the soul; all that is beyond the soul; the all-pervading; exempt from the vicissitudes of birth; devoid of sensible properties, sound and the like; undecaying, illimitable, imperishable, subject neither to increase nor diminution: thou art that which is Brahma, without beginning or end. From thee the immortals, the progenitors, the Yakṣas, Gandharbhas, and Kinnaras, the Siddhas, the nymphs of heaven, men, animals, birds, deer, reptiles, and all the;, vegetable world, proceed; and all that has been, or will be, or is now, moveable or fixed. All that is amorphous or has form, all that is subtile, gross, stable, or moveable, thou art, O creator of the world; and beside thee there is not any thing. O lord, I have been whirled round in the circle of worldly existence for ever, and have suffered the three classes of affliction, and there is no rest whatever. I have mistaken pains for pleasures, like sultry vapours for a pool of water; and their enjoyment has yielded me nothing but sorrow. The earth, dominion, forces, treasures, friends, children, wife, dependants, all the objects of sense, have I possessed, imagining them to be sources of happiness; but I found that in their changeable nature, O lord, they were nothing but vexation. The gods themselves, though high in heaven, were in need of my alliance. Where then is everlasting repose? Who without adoring thee, who art the origin of all worlds, shall attain, O supreme deity, that rest which endures for ever? Beguiled by thy delusions, and ignorant of thy nature, men, after suffering the various penalties of birth, death, and infirmity, behold the countenance of the king of ghosts, and suffer in hell dreadful tortures, the reward of their own deeds. Addicted to sensual objects, through thy delusions I revolve in the whirpool of selfishness and pride; and hence I come to thee, as my final refuge, who art the lord deserving of all homage, than whom there is no other asylum; my mind afflicted with repentance for my trust in the world, and desiring the fulness of felicity, emancipation from all existence.”

Muchukunda goes to perform penance. Kṛṣṇa takes the army and treasures of Kālayavana, and repairs with them to Dvārakā. Balarāma visits Vraja: inquiries of its inhabitants after Kṛṣṇa. THUS praised by the wise Muchukunda, the sovereign of all things, the eternal lord, Hari, said to him, “Go to whatever celestial regions you wish, lord of men, possessed of might irresistible, honoured by my favour. When you have fully enjoyed all heavenly pleasures, you shall be born in a distinguished family, retaining the recollection of your former births; and you shall finally obtain emancipation.” Having heard this promise, and prostrated himself before Achyuta, the lord of the world, Muchukunda, went forth from the cave, and beholding men of diminutive stature, now first knew that the Kali age had arrived. The king therefore departed to Gandhamādana, the shrine of Naraṇārāyaṇa, to perform penance. Kṛṣṇa having by this stratagem destroyed his enemy, returned to Mathurā, and took captive his army, rich in horses, elephants and cars, which he conducted to Dvārakā, and delivered to Ugrasena, and the Yadu race was relieved from all fear of invasion. Baladeva, when hostilities had entirely ceased, being desirous of seeing his kinsmen, went to Nanda 's cow-pens, and there again conversed with the herdsmen and their females, with affection and respect. By some, the elders, he was embraced; others, the juniors, he embraced; and with those of his own age, male or female, he talked and laughed. The cowherds made many kind speeches to Halayudha; but some of the Gopīs spoke to him with the affectation of anger, or with feelings of jealousy, as they inquired after the loves of Kṛṣṇa with the women of Mathurā. “Is all well with the fickle and inconstant Kṛṣṇa?” said they: “Does the volatile swain, the friend of an instant, amuse the women of the city by laughing at our rustic efforts (to please him)? Does he ever think of us, singing in chorus to his songs? Will he not come here once again to see his mother? But why talk of these things? it is a different tale to tell for him without us, and for us without him. Father, mother, brother, husband, kin, what have we not abandoned for his sake? but he is a monument of ingratitude. Yet tell us, does not Kṛṣṇa talk of coming here? Falsehood is never, O Kṛṣṇa, to be uttered by thee. Verily this is Dāmodara, this is Govinda, who has given up his heart to the damsels of the city, who has no longer any regard for us, but looks upon us with disdain.” So saying, the Gopīs, whose minds were fixed on Kṛṣṇa, addressed Rāma in his place, calling him Dāmodara and Govinda, and laughed and were merry; and Rāma consoled them by communicating to them agreeable, modest, affectionate, and gentle messages from Kṛṣṇa. With the cowherds he talked mirthfully, as he had been wont to do, and rambled along with them over the lands of Vraja.

Balarāma finds wine in the hollow of a tree; becomes inebriated; commands the Yamunā to come to him, and on her refusal drags her out of her course: Lakṣmī gives him ornaments and a dress: he returns to Dvārakā, and marries Revatī. WHILST the mighty Śeṣa, the upholder of the globe, was thus engaged in wandering amidst the forests with the herdsmen, in the disguise of a mortal—having rendered great services to earth, and still considering what more was to be achieved— Varuṇa, in order to provide for his recreation, said to his wife Vāruṇī (the goddess of wine), “Thou, Madirā, art ever acceptable to the powerful Ananta; go therefore, auspicious and kind goddess, and promote his enjoyments.” Obeying these commands, Vārunī went and established herself in the hollow of a Kadamba tree in the woods of Vrindāvana. Baladeva, roaming about, came there, and smelling the pleasant fragrance of liquor, resumed his ancient passion for strong drink. The holder of the ploughshare observing the vinous drops distilling from the Kadamba tree, was much delighted, and gathered and quaffed them along with the herdsmen and the Gopīs, whilst those who were skilful with voice and lute celebrated him in their songs. Being inebriated with the wine, and the drops of perspiration standing like pearls upon his limbs, he called out, not knowing what he said, “Come hither, Yamunā river, I want to bathe.” The river, disregarding the words of a drunken man, came not at his bidding: on which Rāma in a rage took up his ploughshare, which he plunged into her bank, and dragged her to him, calling out, “Will you not come, you jade? will you not come? Now go where you please (if you can).” Thus saying, he compelled the dark river to quit its ordinary course, and follow him whithersoever he wandered through the wood. Assuming a mortal figure, the Yamunā, with distracted looks, approached Balabhadra, and entreated him to pardon her, and let her go: but he replied, “I will drag you with my ploughshare in a thousand directions, since you contemn my prowess and strength.” At last, however, appeased by her reiterated prayers, he let her go, after she had watered all the country. When he had bathed, the goddess of beauty, Lakṣmī, came and gave him a beautiful lotus to place in one ear, and an earring for the other; a fresh necklace of lotus flowers, sent by Varuṇa; and garments of a dark blue colour, as costly as the wealth of the ocean: and thus decorated with a lotus in one ear, a ring in the other, dressed in blue garments, and wearing a garland, Balarāma appeared united with loveliness. Thus decorated, Rāma sported two months in Vraja, and then returned to Dvārakā, where the married Revatī, the daughter of king Raivata, by whom he had two sons, Niṣaṭha and Ulmuka.

Kṛṣṇa carries off Rukminī: the princes who come to rescue her repulsed by Balarāma. Rukmin overthrown, but spared by Kṛṣṇa, founds Bhojakaṭa. Pradyumna born of Rukminī. BHĪṢMAKA was king of Vidarbha, residing at Kundina. He had a son named Rukmin, and a beautiful daughter termed Rukminī. Kṛṣṇa fell in love with the latter, and solicited her in marriage; but her brother who hated Kṛṣṇa, would not assent to the espousals. At the suggestion of Jarāsandha, and with the coñcurrence of his son, the powerful sovereign Bhīṣmaka affianced Rukminī to Śiśupāla. In order to celebrate the nuptials, Jarāsandha and other princes, the friends of Śiśupāla, assembled in the capital of Vidarbha; and Kṛṣṇa, attended by Balabhadra and many other Yādavas, also went to Kundina to witness the wedding. When there, Hari contrived, on the eve of the nuptials, to carry off the princess, leaving Rāma and his kinsmen to sustain the weight of his enemies. Pauṇḍraka, the illustrious Dantavakra, Viduratha, Śiśupāla, Jarāsandha, Śalya, and other kings, indignant at the insult, exerted themselves to kill Kṛṣṇa, but were repelled by Balarāma and the Yādavas. Rukmin, vowing that he would never enter Kundina again until he had slain Keśava in fight, pursued and overtook him. In the combat that ensued, Kṛṣṇa destroyed with his discus, as if in sport, the host of Rukmin, with all its horse, and elephants, and foot, and chariots, and overthrew him, and hurled him on the ground, and would have put him to death, but was withheld by the entreaties of Rukminī. “He is my only brother,” she exclaimed, “and must not be slain by thee: restrain your wrath, O divine lord, and give me my brother in charity.” Thus addressed by her, Kṛṣṇa, whom no acts affect, spared Rukmīn; and he (in pursuance of his vow) founded the city Bhojakaṭa, and ever afterwards dwelt therein. After the defeat of Rukmin, Kṛṣṇa married Rukminī in due form, having first made her his own by the Rākṣasa ritual. She bore him the gallant Pradyumna, a portion of the deity of love. The demon Sambara carried him off, but he slew the demon.

Pradyumna stolen by Sambara; thrown into the sea, and swallowed by a fish; found by Māyādevī: he kills Sambara, marries Māyādevī, and returns with her to Dvārakā. Joy of Rukminī and Kṛṣṇa. How, Muni, happened it that the hero Pradyumna was carried away by Sambara? and in what manner was the mighty Sambara killed by Pradyumna? When Pradyumna was but six days old, he was stolen from the lying-in chamber by Sambara, terrible as death; for the demon foreknew that Pradyumna, if he lived, would be his destroyer. Taking away the boy, Sambara cast him into the ocean, swarming with monsters, into a whirlpool of roaring waves, the haunt of the huge creatures of the deep. A large fish swallowed the child, but he died not, and was born anew from its belly: for that fish, with others, was caught by the fishermen, and delivered by them to the great Asura Sambara. His wife Māyādevī, the mistress of his household, superintended the operations of the cooks, and saw, when the fish was cut open, a beautiful child, looking like a new shoot of the blighted tree of love. Whilst wondering who this should be, and how he could have got into the belly of the fish, Nārada came to satisfy her curiosity, and said to the graceful dame, “This is the son of him by whom the whole world is created and destroyed, the son of Viṣṇu, who was stolen by Sambara from the lying-in chamber, and tossed by him into the sea, where he was swallowed by the fish. He is now in thy power; do thou, beautiful woman, tenderly rear this jewel of mankind.” Thus counselled by Nārada, Māyādevī took charge of the boy, and carefully reared him from childhood, being fascinated by the beauty of his person. Her affection became still more impassioned when he was decorated with the bloom of adolescence. The gracefully-moving Māyāvatī then, fixing her heart and eyes upon the high-minded Pradyumna, gave him, whom she regarded as herself, all her magic (and illusive) powers. Observing these marks of passionate affection, the son of Kṛṣṇa said to the lotus-eyed Māyādevī, “Why do you indulge in feelings so unbecoming the character of a mother?” To which she replied, “Thou art not a son of mine; thou art the son of Viṣṇu, whom Kālā Sambara carried away, and threw into the sea: thou vast swallowed by a fish, but wast rescued by me from its belly. Thy fond mother, O beloved, is still weeping for thee.” When the valiant Pradyumna heard this, he was filled with wrath, and defied Sambara to battle. In the conflict that ensued, the son of Mādhava slew the whole host of Sambara. Seven times he foiled the delusions of the enchanter, and making himself master of the eighth, turned it against Sambara, and killed him. By the same faculty he ascended into the air, and proceeded to his father's house, where he alighted, along with Māyāvatī, in the inner apartments. When the women beheld Pradyumna, they thought it was Kṛṣṇa himself. Rukminī, her eyes dimmed with tears, spoke tenderly to him, and said, “Happy is she who has a son like this, in the bloom of youth. Such would be the age of my son Pradyumna, if he was alive. Who is the fortunate mother adorned by thee? and yet from thy appearance, and from the affection I feel for thee, thou art assuredly the son of Hari.” At this moment Kṛṣṇa, accompanied by Nārada, arrived; and the latter said to the delighted Rukminī, “This is thine own son, who has come hither after killing Sambara, by whom, when an infant, he was stolen from the lying-in chamber. This is the virtuous Māyāvatī, his wife, and not the wife of Sambara. Hear the reason. When Manmatha, the deity of love, had perished, the goddess of beauty, desirous to secure his revival, assumed a delusive form, and by her charms fascinated the demon Sambara, and exhibited herself to him in various illusory enjoyments. This thy son is the descended Kāma; and this is the goddess Ratī, his wife. There is no occasion for any uncertainty: this is thy daughter-in-law.” Then Rukminī was glad, and Keśava also; the whole city resounded with exclamations of joy, and all the people of Dvārakā were surprised at Rukminī's recovering a son who had so long been lost.

RUKMINĪ bare to Kṛṣṇa these other sons, Cārudeṣṇa, Sudeṣṇa, Cārudeha, Sushena, Cārugupta, Bhadracāru, Cāruvinda, Sucāru, and the very mighty Cāru; also one daughter, Cārumatī. Kṛṣṇa had seven other beautiful wives, Kālindī, Mitravrindā, the virtuous Nāgnajitī, the queen Jāmbavatī; Rohiṇī, of beautiful form; the amiable and excellent daughter of the king of Madra, Mādrī; Satyabhāmā, the daughter of Śatrujit; and Lakṣmaṇā, of lovely smiles. Besides these, he had sixteen thousand other wives. The heroic Pradyumna was chosen for her lord, at her public choice of a husband, by the daughter of Rukmin; and he had by her the powerful and gallant prince Aniruddha, who was fierce in fight, an ocean of prowess, and the tamer of his foes. Keśava demanded in marriage for him the granddaughter of Rukmin; and although the latter was inimical to Kṛṣṇa, he betrothed the maiden (who was his son's daughter) to the son of his own daughter (her cousin Aniruddha). Upon the occasion of the nuptials Rāma and other Yādavas attended Kṛṣṇa to Bhojakaṭa, the city of Rukmin. After the wedding had been solemnized, several of the kings, headed by him of Kaliṅga, said to Rukmin, “This wielder of the ploughshare is ignorant of the dice, which may be converted into his misfortune: why may we not contend with him, and beat him, in play?” The potent Rukmin replied to them, and said, “So let it be:” and he engaged Balarāma at a game of dice in the palace. Balarāma soon lost to Rukmin a thousand Niṣkas: he then staked and lost another thousand; and then pledged ten thousand, which Rukmin, who was well skilled in gambling, also won. At this the king of Kaliṅga laughed aloud, and the weak and exulting Rukmin grinned, and said, “ Baladeva is losing, for he knows nothing of the game; although, blinded by a vain passion for play, he thinks he understands the dice.” Halayudha, galled by the broad laughter of the Kaliṅga prince, and the contemptuous speech of Rukmin, was exceedingly angry, and, overcome with passion, increased his stake to ten millions of Niṣkas. Rukmin accepted the challenge, and therefore threw the dice. Baladeva won, and cried aloud, “The stake is mine.” But Rukmin called out as loudly, that he was the winner. “Tell no lies, Bala,” said he: “the stake is yours; that is true; but I did not agree to it: although this be won by you, yet still I am the winner.” A deep voice was then heard in the sky, inflaming still more the anger of the high-spirited Baladeva, saying, “Bala has rightly won the whole sum, and Rukmin speaks falsely: although he did not accept the pledge in words, he did so by his acts (having cast the dice).” Balarāma thus excited, his eyes red with rage, started up, and struck Rukmin with the board on which the game was played, and killed him. Taking hold of the trembling king of Kaliṅga, he knocked out the teeth which he had shewn when he laughed. Laying hold of a golden column, he dragged it from its place, and used it as a weapon to kill those princes who had taken part with his adversaries. Upon which the whole circle, crying out with terror, took to flight, and escaped from the wrath of Baladeva. When Kṛṣṇa heard that Rukmin had been killed by his brother, he made no remark, being afraid of Rukminī on the one hand, and of Bala on the other; but taking with him the newly wedded Aniruddha, and the Yādava tribe, he returned to Dvārakā.

Indra comes to Dvārakā, and reports to Kṛṣṇa the tyranny of Naraka. Kṛṣṇa goes to his city, and puts him to death. Earth gives the earrings of Aditī to Kṛṣṇa, and praises him. He liberates the princesses made captive by Naraka, sends them to Dvārakā, and goes to Svarga with Satyabhāmā. ŚAKRA, the lord of the three worlds, came mounted on his fierce elephant Airāvata to visit Śauri (Kṛṣṇa) at Dvārakā. Having entered the city, and been welcomed by Hari, he related to the hero the deeds of the demon Naraka. “By thee, Madhusūdana, lord of the gods,” said Indra, “in a mortal condition, all sufferings have been soothed. Aṛṣṭa, Dhenuka, Cāṇūra, Muṣṭika, Keśin, who sought to injure helpless man, have all been slain by thee. Kansa, Kuvalayāpīḍa, the child-destroying Putanā, have been killed by thee; and so have other oppressors of the world. By thy valour and wisdom the three worlds have been preserved, and the gods, obtaining their share of the sacrifices offered by the devout, enjoy satisfaction. But now hear the occasion on which I have come to thee, and which thou art able to remedy. The son of the earth, called Naraka, who rules over the city of Prāgjyotiṣa, inflicts a great injury upon all creatures. Carrying off the maidens of gods, saints, demons, and kings, he shuts them up in his own palace. He has taken away the umbrella of Varuṇa, impermeable to water, the jewel mountain crest of Mandara, and the celestial nectar-dropping earrings of my mother Aditī; and he now demands my elephant Airāvata. I have thus explained to you, Govinda, the tyranny of the Asura; you can best determine how it is to be prevented.” Having heard this account, the divine Hari gently smiled, and, rising from his throne, took Indra by the hand: then wishing for the eater of the serpents, Garuḍa immediately appeared; upon whom his master, having first seated Satyabhāmā upon his back, ascended, and flew to Prāgjyotiṣa. Indra mounted his elephant, and, in the sight of the inhabitants of Dvārakā, went to the abode of the gods. The environs of Prāgjyotiṣa were defended by nooses, constructed by the demon Muru, the edges of which were as sharp as razors; but Hari, throwing his discus Sudarśana amongst them, cut them to pieces. Then Muni started up, but Keśava slew him, and burnt his seven thousand sons, like moths, with the flame of the edge of his discus. Having slain Mum, Hayagriva, and Pañcajana, the wise Hari rapidly reached the city of Prāgjyotiṣa: there a fierce conflict took place with the troops of Naraka, in which Govinda destroyed thousands of demons; and when Naraka came into the field, showering upon the deity all sorts of weapons, the wielder of the discus, and annihilator of the demon tribe, cut him in two with his celestial missile. Naraka being slain, Earth, bearing the two earrings of Aditī, approached the lord of the world, and said, “When, O lord, I was upheld by thee in the form of a boar, thy contact then engendered this my son. He whom thou gayest me has now been killed by thee: take therefore these two earrings, and cerish his progeny. Thou, lord, whose aspect is ever gracious, hast come to this sphere, in a portion of thyself, to lighten my burden. Thou art the eternal creator, preserver, and destroyer of the universe; the origin of all worlds, and one with the universe: what praise can be worthily offered to thee? Thou art the pervader, and that which is pervaded; the act, the agent, and the effect; the universal spirit of all beings: what praise can be worthily offered to thee? Thou art the abstract soul, the sentient and the living soul of all beings, the imperishable: but since it is not possible to praise thee worthily, then why should the hopeless attempt proceed? Have compassion, O universal soul, and forgive the sins which Naraka has committed. Verily it is for the sanctification of thy son that he has been killed by thee.” The lord, who is the substance of all creatures, having replied to the earth, “Even so,” proceeded to redeem the various gems from the dwelling of Naraka. In the apartments of the women he found sixteen thousand and one hundred damsels: he also beheld in the palace six thousand large elephants, each having four tusks; twenty-one lakhs of horses of Kāmboja and other excellent breeds: these Govinda dispatched to Dwarakā, in charge of the servants of Naraka. The umbrella of Varuṇa, the jewel mountain, which he also recovered, he placed upon Garuḍa; and mounting him himself, and taking Satyabhāmā with him, he set off to the heaven of the gods, to restore the earrings of Aditī.

Kṛṣṇa restores her earrings to Aditī, and is praised by her: he visits the gardens of Indra, and at the desire of Satyabhāmā carries off the Pārijāta tree. Śacī excites Indra to its rescue. Conflict between the gods and Kṛṣṇa, who defeats them. Satyabhāmā derides them. They praise Kṛṣṇa. GARUḌA, laden with the umbrella of Varuṇa and the jewel mountain, and bearing Hṛṣikeśa on his back to the court of Indra, went lightly, as if in sport, along. When they arrived at the portals of Svarga, Hari blew his shell; on which the gods advanced to meet him, bearing respectful offerings. Having received the homage of the divinities, Kṛṣṇa went to the palace of the mother of the gods, whose turrets resembled white clouds; and on beholding Aditī, paid his respects to her, along with Śakra; and, presenting to her her own earrings, informed her of the destruction of the demon Naraka. The mother of the world, well pleased, then fixed her whole thoughts upon Hari, the creator, and thus pronounced his praise: “Glory to thee, O god with the lotus eyes, who removest all fear from those that worship thee. Thou art the eternal, universal, and living soul; the origin of all beings; the instigator of the mental faculty, and faculties of sense; one with the three qualities; beyond the three qualities; exempt from contraries; pure; existing in the hearts of all; void of colour, extension, and every transient modification; unaffected by the vicissitudes of birth or death, sleep or waking. Thou art evening, night, and day; earth, sky, air, water, and fire; mind, intellect, and individuality. Thou art the agent of creation, duration, and dissolution; the master over the agent; in thy forms which are called Brahmā, Viṣṇu, and Śiva. Thou art gods, Yakṣas, Daityas, Rākṣasas, Siddhas, Punnagas, Kūṣmāṇḍas, Piśācas, Gandharvas, men, animals, deer, elephants, reptiles, trees, shrubs, creepers, climbers, and grasses; all things, large, middling, small, immense, or minute: thou art all bodies whatsoever, composed of aggregated atoms. This thy illusion beguiles all who are ignorant of thy true nature, the fools who imagine soul to be in that which is not spirit. The notions that ”I am—this is mine," which influence mankind, are but the delusions of the mother of the world, originating in thy active agency. Those men who, attentive to their duties, diligently worship thee, traverse all this illusion, and obtain spiritual freedom. Brahmā and all the gods, men and animals, are alike invested by the thick darkness of fascination, in the gulf of the illusions of Viṣṇu. That men, who having worshipped thee, should seek the gratification of their desires, and their own preservation, this, O lord, is also thy delusion. It is the sport of thy fascinations that induces men to glorify thee, to obtain thereby the continuance of their race, or the annihilation of their enemies, instead of eternal liberation. It is the fault of the impure acts of the unrighteous (to proffer such idle requests to one able to confer such more important benefits), like asking for a rag to cover one's nakedness from the tree that bestows whatever is solicited. Be propitious then, imperishable author of all the error that deceives the world; and dispel, O lord of all creatures, the conceit of knowledge, which proceeds from ignorance. Glory to thee, grasper of the discus, wielder of the bow, brandisher of the mace, holder of the shell; for such do I behold thee in thy perceptible form: nor do I know that form of thine, which is beyond perception! Have compassion on me, supreme god." Viṣṇu, thus hymned by Aditī, smiled, and said to the mother of the gods, “Mother goddess, do thou shew favour unto me, and grant me thy blessing.” “So be it,” replied Aditī, “ever as thou wilt; and whilst thou dwellest amongst mortals, the first of men, thou shalt be invincible by gods or demons.” Then Satyabhāmā, accompanied by the queen of Indra, addressed Aditī respectfully, and solicited her benedictions: and Aditī in reply said to her, “Fair-browed dame, thou shalt never suffer decay, nor loss of beauty: thou shalt be the asylum of all loveliness, dame of faultless shape.” With the assent of Aditī, Indra then respectfully saluted Janārddana in all due form, and conducted him and Satyabhāmā through Nandana and other pleasant gardens of the gods; where Keśava, the destroyer of Keśi, saw the Pārijāta tree, the favourite of Śacī, which was produced when the ocean was churned for ambrosia: the bark was of gold, and it was embellished with young sprouting leaves of a copper colour, and fruit-stalks bearing numerous clusters of fragrant fruit. When Satyabhāmā noticed this tree, she said to her beloved lord, Govinda, “Why should not this divine tree be transported to Dvāraka? If what you say is true, and I am really dear to you, then let this tree be taken away from hence, and planted in the gardens of my dwelling. You have often said to me, ‘Neither Jāmbavatī nor Rukminī is so dear to me, Satyā, as you are.’ If you have spoken the truth, and not mere flattery, then let this Pārijāta tree be the ornament of my mansion. I long to shine amidst my fellow queens, wearing the flowers of this tree in the braids of my hair.” Thus solicited by Satyabhāmā, Hari smiled upon her, and taking the Pārijāta plant, put it upon Garuḍa. The keepers of the garden remonstrated, and said, “This Pārijāta tree belongs to Śacī, the queen of the sovereign of the gods: it is not proper, Govinda, for you to remove it. At the time when the ocean was churned for the beverage of immortality, this tree was produced, for the purpose of providing Śacī with flowery ornaments. You cannot be suffered to depart with it. It is through ignorance that this is sought for by any one, as it is the especial property of her on whose countenance the king of the gods delights to look; and who shall go away with impunity, who attempts to carry it off? Assuredly the king of the gods will punish this audacity; for his hand launches the thunderbolt, and the immortals attend upon his steps. Forbear then, Kṛṣṇa, nor provoke the hostility of all the gods. The wise will not commence actions that can be productive only of unpleasant consequences.” Satyabhāmā, on hearing these words, was exceedingly offended, and said, “What right has Śacī—what has Indra—to the Pārijāta tree? it was produced at the churning of the ocean as the common property of all worlds. Wherefore, gods, should Indra alone possess it? In the same manner, guardians of the grove, as nectar, as the moon, as the goddess Śrī herself, so the Pārijāta tree is the common property of all the world: and since Śacī, confiding in the strength of her husband's arm, would keep it to herself, away with submission to her: Satya takes away the tree. Go quickly, and let Paulomī be told what I have said: repeat to her this contemptuous message from Satyabhāmā; ‘If you are the beloved wife of your lord, if your husband is obedient to your authority, let him prevent my husband from carrying off this tree. I know your husband Śakra; I know the sovereign of the divinities; and I, who am a mortal, take this Pārijāta tree away from you.’” Accordingly the warders of the garden went and reported to Śacī the message of Satyabhāmā. Śacī appealed to her husband, and excited the king of the gods to resent this affront: and Indra accordingly, attended by the army of the celestials, marched to attack Hari, in defence of the Pārijāta tree. The gods were armed with clubs, swords, maces, and darts; and Indra wielded the thunderbolt. As soon as Govinda saw the king of the gods advancing against him on his elephant, attended by the immortals, he blew his shell so that the sound filled all the regions, and he showered smilingly myriads of arrows upon his assailants. Beholding the air in all directions overspread with his darts, the celestials in return hurled innumerable missiles; but every one of these the destroyer of Madhu, and lord of all worlds, cut playfully into a thousand pieces with his shafts. The devourer of serpents, Garuḍa, laid hold of the noose of the sovereign of the waters, and tore it to fragments with his beak, as if it had been a little snake. The son of Devakī threw his mace at the club of Yama, and cast it broken upon the ground: he cut in bits the litter of the lord of wealth with his discus: a glance of his eye eclipsed the radiance of the sun: he severed Agni into a hundred parts with his arrows, and scattered the Vasus through the realms of space: with his discus he cut off the points of the tridents of the Rudras, and cast themselves upon the earth: and with the shafts shot from his bow he dispersed the Sādhyas, Viśvas, Maruts, and Gandharvas, like fleeces of cotton from the pods of the Simel tree, through the sky. Garuḍa also diligently plied his beak and wings and nails, and bit and bruised and scratched the deities who opposed his lord. Then the king of the gods and the foe of Madhu encountered and overwhelmed each other with countless shafts, like rain-drops falling from two heavy clouds. Garuḍa in the conflict engaged with Airāvata, and Janārddana was opposed to all the deities. When all the other weapons had been cut to pieces, Indra stood armed with his thunderbolt, and Kṛṣṇa with the discus Sudarśana. Beholding them thus prepared for fight, all the people of the three spheres exclaimed, “Alas! alas!” Indra launched his bolt, but in vain, for Hari caught and arrested it: he forbore, however, to hurl his discus, and only called out to Indra to stay. Satyabhāmā seeing Indra disarmed, and his elephant disabled by Garuḍa, and the deity himself about to retreat, said to him, “King of the triple sphere, it ill becomes the husband of Śacī to run away. Ornamented with Pārijāta garlands, she will approach you. Of what use is the sovereignty of heaven, embellished with the Pārijāta tree, no longer beholding Śacī meet you with affection as of yore? Nay, Śakra, fly not; you must not suffer shame: here, take the Pārijāta tree; let the gods be no longer annoyed. Sachs, inflated with pride of her husband, has not welcomed me to her dwelling with respectful presents. As a woman, I am light of purpose, and am anxious for my husband's fame; therefore have I instigated, Śakra, this contest with you. But I do not want the Pārijāta tree, nor do I wish to take that which is another's property. Śacī is proud of her beauty. What woman is not proud of her husband?” Thus spoken to by Satyabhāmā, the king of the gods turned back, and said to her, “Desist, wrathful dame, from afflicting your friend by further reproaches. I am not ashamed of being vanquished by him who is the author of the creation, preservation, and destruction of the world; who is the substance of all things; in whom, without beginning or middle, the universe is comprised; and from whom, and by whom, identical with all things, it proceeds, and will cease to be. What disgrace is it, O goddess, to any one to be discomfited by him who is the cause of creation, continuance, and dissolution? His form is the parent of all worlds, though infinitely subtle, and known to those only by whom all that may be known is known. Who is able to overcome the unborn, unconstituted, eternal lord, who has willed to become a mortal for the good of the world ?”

KEŚAVA, being thus eulogized by the king of the gods, smiled, and spake gravely to him in reply. “Thou art Indra,” said he, “the king of the celestials: we are but mortals, O lord of the world: thou must pardon therefore the offence that I have committed. Let this Pārijāta tree be taken to its appropriate situation. I removed it in compliance with the words of Satyā. Receive back also this your thunderbolt, cast at me; for this is your proper weapon, the destroyer of your foes.” Indra answered and said, “Thou beguilest us, O lord, in calling thyself a mortal; but we know thee to be the lord, although not endowed with subtlety of discernment. Thou art that thou art, engaged in the active preservation of the earth; thou extractest the thorns implanted in her bosom, destroyer of the demon race. Let this Pārijāta tree be transferred to Dvārakā, and it shall remain upon earth as long as thou abidest in the world of mortals.” Hari, having assented to the proposal of Indra, returned to earth, hymned by attendant sages, saints, and quiristers of heaven. When Kṛṣṇa arrived over Dvārakā, he blew his shell, and delighted all the inhabitants with the sound. Then alighting from Garuḍa, he proceeded with Satyabhāmā to her garden, and there planted the great Pārijāta tree, the smell of which perfumed the earth for three furlongs, and an approach to which enabled every one to recollect the events of a prior existence; so that, on beholding their faces in that tree, all the Yādavas contemplated themselves in their (original) celestial forms. Then Kṛṣṇa took possession of the wealth, elephants, horses, and women, which he had recovered from Naraka, and which had been brought to Dvārakā by the servants of the demon; and at an auspicious season he espoused all the maidens whom Naraka had carried off from their friends; at one and the same moment he received the hands of all of them, according to the ritual, in separate mansions. Sixteen thousand and one hundred was the number of the maidens, and into so many different forms did the foe of Madhu multiply himself; so that every one of the damsels thought that he had wedded her in his single person; and the creator of the world, Hari, the assumer of universal shape, abode severally in the dwelling of each of these his wives. Article published on 30 August, 2014

I have enumerated to you Pradyumna and the other sons of Rukminī. Satyabhāmā bore Bhānu and Bhairika. The sons of Rohiṇī were Dīptimat, Tāmrapakṣi, and others. The powerful Śāmba and other sons were born of Jāmbavatī. Bhadravinda and other valiant youths were the sons of Nāgnajitī. Śaivyā (or Mitravindā ) had several sons, of whom Saṅgrāmajit was the chief. Vrika and others were begotten by Hari on Mādrī. Lakṣmanā had Gātravat and others: and Śruta and others were the sons of Kālindī. Kṛṣṇa had sons also by his other wives, in all one hundred and eighty thousand. The eldest of the whole was Pradyumna, the son of Rukminī: his son was Aniruddha, from whom Vraja was born: his mother was Uṣā, the daughter of Bāṇa, and grand-daughter of Bali, whom Aniruddha won in war. On that occasion a fierce battle took place between Hari and Śaṅkara, in which the thousand arms of Bāṇa were lopped away by the discus of the former. HOW happened it, venerable Brahman, that a contest on account of Uṣā arose between Śiva and Kṛṣṇa? and in what manner did Hari cut off the thousand arms of Bāṇa? This, illustrious sir, thou art able to narrate. Uṣā, the daughter of Bāṇa, having seen Pārvatī sporting with her lord, Śambhu, was inspired with a wish for similar dalliance. The beautiful Gaurī, who knows the hearts of all, said to Uṣā, “Do not grieve; you shall have a husband.” “But when will this be?” thought Uṣā to herself, “or who will be my lord?” On which Pārvatī continued; “He who shall appear to you, princess, in a dream on the twelfth lunation of the light half of Vaiśākha, he will be your husband.” Accordingly, as the goddess had foretold, on that lunar day a youth appeared to Uṣā in a dream, of whose person she became enamoured. When she woke, and no longer perceived him, she was overcome with sorrow, and, unrestrained by modesty, demanded of her companion whither he had gone. The companion and friend of the princess was Citralekhā, the daughter of Kubhāṇḍa, the minister of Bāṇa. “Of whom do you speak?” inquired she of Uṣā. But the princess, recollecting herself, was ashamed, and remained silent. At length, however, Citralekhā conciliated her confidence, and she related to her what had passed, and what the goddess had foretold; and she requested her friend to devise some means of uniting her with the person whom she had beheld in her dream. Citralekhā then delineated the most eminent gods, demons, spirits, and mortals, and shewed them to Uṣā. Putting aside the portraits of gods, spirits, snake-gods, and demons, the princess selected those of mortals, and amongst them the heroes of the races of Andhaka and Vṛṣṇi. When she came to the likenesses of Kṛṣṇa and Rāma, she was confused with shame; from the portrait of Pradyumna she modestly averted her eyes; but the moment she beheld the picture of his son, the object of her passion, her eyes wide expanded, and all her bashfulness was discarded. “This is he! this is he!” said she to Citralekhā; and her friend, who was endowed with magic power, bade her be of good cheer, and set off through the air to Dvārakā.

Bāṇa solicits Śiva for war: finds Aniruddha in the palace, and makes him prisoner. Kṛṣṇa, Balarāma, and Pradyumna come to his rescue Śiva and Skanda aid Bāṇa: the former is disabled; the latter put to flight. Bāṇa encounters Kṛṣṇa, who cuts off all his arms, and is about to put him to death. Śiva intercedes, and Kṛṣṇa a spares his life. Viṣṇu and Śiva are the same. BEFORE this took place, Bāṇa had been engaged in the adoration of the three-eyed god, and had thus prayed to him: “I am humiliated, O lord, by the possession of a thousand arms in a state of peace; let some hostilities ensue, in which I may derive some advantage from their possession. Without war, what is the use of these arms? they are but a burden to me.” Śaṅkara replied, “When thy peacock banner shall be broken, thou shalt have war, the delight of the evil spirits that feast on the flesh of man.” Bāṇa, pleased by this promise, proffered his thanks to Śambhu, and returned to his palace, where he found his standard broken; at which his joy was increased. At that time the nymph Citralekhā returned from Dvārakā, and by the exercise of her magic power brought Aniruddha along with her. The guards of the inner apartments discovering him there with Uṣā, reported it to the king who immediately sent a body of his followers to seize the prince; but the valiant youth, taking up an iron club, slew his assailants: on which Bāṇa mounted his car, advanced against him, and endeavoured to put him to death. Finding, however, that Aniruddha was not to be subdued by prowess, he followed the counsel of his minister, and brought his magical faculties into the conflict, by which he succeeded in capturing the Yadu prince, and binding him in serpent bonds. When Aniruddha was missed from Dvāravatī, and the Yādavas were inquiring of one another whither he had gone, Nārada came to them, and told them that he was the prisoner of Bāṇa, having been conveyed by a female, possessed of magic faculties, to Śoṇitapura When they heard this, they were satisfied; for they had imagined he had been taken away by the gods (in reprisal for the Pārijāta tree). Kṛṣṇa therefore immediately summoned Garuḍa, who came with a wish; and mounting upon him, along with Bala and Pradyumna, he set off for the city of Bāṇa. On their approach to the city they were opposed by the spirits who attend on Rudra, but these were soon destroyed by Hari, and he and his companions reached the vicinity of the town. Here mighty Fever, an emanation from Maheśvara, having three feet and three heads, fought desperately with Viṣṇu in defence of Bāṇa. Baladeva, upon whom his ashes were scattered, was seized with burning heat, and his eyelids trembled: but he obtained relief by clinging to the body of Kṛṣṇa. Contending thus with the divine holder of the bow, the Fever emanating from Śiva was quickly expelled from the person of Kṛṣṇa by Fever which he himself engendered. Brahmā beholding the impersonated malady bewildered by the beating inflicted by the arms of the deity, entreated the latter to desist; and the foe of Madhu refrained, and absorbed into himself the fever he had created. The rival Fever then departed, saying to Kṛṣṇa, “Those men who call to memory the combat between us shall be ever exempt from febrile disease.” Next Viṣṇu overcame and demolished the five fires, and with perfect ease annihilated the army of the Dānavas. Then the son of Bali (Bāṇa), with the whole of the Daitya host, assisted by Śaṅkara and Kārtikeya, fought with Śauri. A fierce combat took place between Hari and Śaṅkara; all the regions shook, scorched by their flaming weapons, and the celestials felt assured that the end of the universe was at hand. Govinda, with the weapon of yawning, set Śaṅkara a-gape; and then the demons and the demigods attendant upon Śiva were destroyed on every side; for Hara, overcome with incessant gaping, sat down in his car, and was unable longer to contend with Kṛṣṇa, whom no acts affect. The deity of war, Kārtikeya, wounded in the arm by Garuḍa, struck by the weapons of Pradyumna, and disarmed by the shout of Hari, took to flight. Bāṇa, when he saw Śaṅkara disabled, the Daityas destroyed, Guha fled, and Śiva's followers slain, advanced on his vast car, the horses of which were harnessed by Nandīśa, to encounter Kṛṣṇa and his associates Bala and Pradyumna. The valiant Balabhadra, attacking the host of Bāṇa, wounded them in many ways with his arrows, and put them to a shameful rout; and their sovereign beheld them dragged about by Rāma with his ploughshare, or beaten by him with his club, or pierced by Kṛṣṇa with his arrows: he therefore attacked Kṛṣṇa, and a fight took place between them: they cast at each other fiery shafts, that pierced through their armour; but Kṛṣṇa intercepted with his arrows those of Bāṇa, and cut them to pieces. Bāṇa nevertheless wounded Keśava, and the wielder of the discus wounded Bāṇa; and both desirous of victory, and seeking enraged the death of his antagonist, hurled various missiles at each other. When an infinite number of arrows had been cut to pieces, and the weapons began to be exhausted, Kṛṣṇa resolved to put Bāṇa to death. The destroyer of the demon host therefore took up his discus Sudarśana, blazing with the radiance of a hundred suns. As he was in the act of casting it, the mystical goddess Koṭavī, the magic lore of the demons, stood naked before him. Seeing her before him, Kṛṣṇa, with unclosed eyes, cast Sudarśana, to cut off the arms of Bāṇa. The discus, dreaded in its flight by the whole of the weapons of the demons, lopped off successively the numerous arms of the Asura. Beholding Kṛṣṇa with the discus again in his hand, and preparing to launch it once more, for the total demolition of Bāṇa, the foe of Tripura (Śiva) respectfully addressed him. The husband of Umā, seeing the blood streaming from the dissevered arms of Bāṇa, approached Govinda, to solicit a suspension of hostilities, and said to him, “Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa, lord of the world, I know thee, first of spirits, the supreme lord, infinite felicity, without beginning or end, and beyond all things. This sport of universal being, in which thou takest the persons of god, animals, and men, is a subordinate attribute of thy energy. Be propitious therefore, O lord, unto me. I have given Bāṇa assurance of safety; do not thou falsify that which I have spoken. He has grown old in devotion to me; let him not iñcur thy displeasure. The Daitya has received a boon from me, and therefore I deprecate thy wrath.” When he had concluded, Govinda, dismissing his resentment against the Asura, looked graciously on the lord of Umā, the wielder of the trident, and said to him, “Since you, Śaṅkara, have given a boon unto Bāṇa, let him live: from respect to your promises, my discus is arrested: the assurance of safety granted by you is granted also by me. You are fit to apprehend that you are not distinct from me. That which I am, thou art; and that also is this world, with its gods, demons, and mankind. Men contemplate distinctions, because they are stupified by ignorance.” So saying, Kṛṣṇa went to the place where the son of Pradyumna was confined. The snakes that bound him were destroyed, being blasted by the breath of Garuḍa: and Kṛṣṇa, placing him, along with his wife, upon the celestial bird, returned with Pradyumna and Rāma to Dvārakā.

Pauṇḍraka, a Vāsudeva, assumes the insignia and style of Kṛṣṇa, supported by the king of Kāśī. Kṛṣṇa marches against, and destroys them. The son of the king sends a magical being against Kṛṣṇa: destroyed by his discus, which also sets Benares on fire, and consumes it and its inhabitants. Of a truth the divine Śauri, having assumed a mortal body, performed great achievements in his easy victories over Śakra and Śiva, and all their attendant divinities. I am now desirous to hear from you, illustrious sage, what other mighty exploit the humiliator of the prowess of the celestials performed. Hear, excellent Brahman, with reverent attention, an account of the burning of Varāṇasī by Kṛṣṇa, in the course of his relieving the burdens of the earth. There was a Vāsudeva who was called Pauṇḍraka, and who, though not the Vāsudeva, was flattered by ignorant people as the descended deity, until he fancied himself to be the Vāsudeva who had come down upon earth. Losing all recollection of his real character, he assumed the emblems of Viṣṇu, and sent an ambassador to the magnanimous Kṛṣṇa with this message; “Relinquish, thou foolish fellow, the discus; lay aside all my insignia, my name, and the character of Vāsudeva; and come and do me homage; and I will vouchsafe thee means of subsistence.” At which Janārddana laughed, and replied, “Go, messenger, back to Pauṇḍraka, and say to him from me, ‘I will dispatch to thee my emblem the discus without fail. Thou wilt rightly apprehend my meaning, and consider what is to be done; for I shall come to thy city, bringing the discus with me, and shall undoubtedly consign it to thee. If thou wilt command me to come, I will immediately obey, and be with thee to-morrow; there shall be no delay: and, having sought thy asylum, I will so provide, O king, that I shall never more have any thing to dread from thee.’” So saying, he dismissed the, ambassador to report these words to his sovereign; and summoning Garuḍa, mounted him, and set off for the city of Pauṇḍraka. When the king of Kāśī heard of the preparations of Keśava, he sent his army (to the aid of Pauṇḍraka), himself bringing up the rear; and with the force of the king of Kāśī, and his own troops, Pauṇḍraka, the false Vāsudeva, marched to meet Kṛṣṇa. Hari beheld him afar off, standing in his car, holding a discus, a club, a mace, a scimitar, and a lotus, in his hands; ornamented with a garland of flowers; bearing a bow; and having his standard made of gold: he had also the Srivatsa mark delineated on his breast; he was dressed in yellow garments, and decorated with earrings and a tiara. When the god whose standard is Garuḍa beheld him, he laughed with a deep laugh, and engaged in conflict with the hostile host of cavalry and elephants, fighting with swords, scimitars, maces, tridents, spears, and bows. Showering upon the enemy the shafts from his Śāraṅga bow, and hurling at them his mace and discus, he quickly destroyed both the army of Pauṇḍraka and that of the king of Kāśī. He then said to the former, who was foolishly wearing his emblems, “Pauṇḍraka, you desired me by your envoy to resign to you all my insignia. I now deliver them to you. Here is my discus; here I give up my mace; and here is Garuḍa, let him mount upon thy standard.” Thus speaking, he let fly the discus and the mace, by which Pauṇḍraka was cut to pieces, and cast on the ground; whilst the Garuḍa on his banner was demolished by the Garuḍa of Viṣṇu. The people, beholding this sight, exclaimed, “Alas! alas!” but the valiant king of Kāśī, adhering to the imposture of his friend, continued the conflict, till Śauri decapitated him with his arrows, shooting his head into the city of Kāśī, to the marvel of all the inhabitants. Having thus slain Pauṇḍraka and the king of Kāśī, with all their followers, Śauri returned to Dvārakā, where he lived in the enjoyment of heavenly delights. When the inhabitants of Kāśī saw the head of their king shot into their city, they were much astonished, and wondered how it could have happened, and by whom the deed could have been done. Having ascertained that the king had been killed by Kṛṣṇa, the son of the monarch of Kāśī, together with the priest of the family, propitiated Śaṅkara; and that deity, well pleased to be adored in the sacred place Avimukta, desired the prince to demand a boon: on which he prayed, and said, “O lord, mighty god, through thy favour let thy mystic spirit arise to destroy Kṛṣṇa, the murderer of my father.” “It shall be so,” answered Śaṅkara: and from out of the southern fire upsprang a vast and formidable female, like flame out of fire, blazing with ruddy light, and with fiery radiance streaming amidst her hair. Angrily she called upon Kṛṣṇa, and departed to Dvārakā; where the people, beholding her, were struck with dismay, and fled for protection to Madhusūdana, the refuge of all worlds. The wielder of the discus knowing that the fiend had been produced by the son of the king of Kāśī, through his adoration of the deity whose emblem is a bull, and being engaged in sportive amusements, and playing at dice, said to the discus, “Kill this fierce creature, whose tresses are of plaited flame.” Accordingly Sudarśana, the discus of Viṣṇu, immediately attacked the fiend, fearfully enwreathed with fire, and wearing tresses of plaited flame. Terrified at the might of Sudarśana, the creation of Maheśvara awaited not his attack, but fled with speed, pursued by him with equal velocity, until she reached Varānāśī, repelled by the superior might of the discus of Viṣṇu. The army of Kāśī, and the host of the demigods attendant upon Śiva, armed with all kinds of weapons, then sallied out to oppose the discus; but, skilled in the use of arms, he consumed the whole of the forces by his radiance, and then set fire to the city, in which the magic power of Śiva had concealed herself. Thus was Varānāśī burnt, with all its princes and their followers, its inhabitants, elephants, horses, and men, treasures and granaries, houses, palaces, and markets. The whole of a city, that was inaccessible to the gods, was thus wrapped in flames by the discus of Hari, and was totally destroyed. The discus then, with unmitigated wrath, and blazing fiercely, and far from satisfied with the accomplishment of so easy a task, returned to the hand of Viṣṇu.

Śāmba carries off the daughter of Duryodhana, but is taken prisoner. Balarāma comes to Hastināpur, and demands his liberation: it is refused: in his wrath he drags the city towards him, to throw it into the river. The Kuru chiefs give up Śāmba and his wife. I have a great desire to hear, excellent Brahman, some further account of the exploits of Balarāma. You have related to me his dragging the Yamunā, and other mighty deeds, but you can tell me, venerable sir, some other of his acts. Attend, Maitreya, to the achievements performed by Rāma, who is the eternal, illimitable Śeṣa, the upholder of the earth. At the choice of a husband by the daughter of Duryodhana, the princess was carried off by the hero Śāmba, the son of Jāmbavatī. Being pursued by Duryodhana, Karṇa, Bhīṣma, Droṇa, and other celebrated chiefs, who were incensed at his audacity, he was defeated, and taken prisoner. When the Yādavas heard of the occurrence, their wrath was kindled against Duryodhana and his associates, and they prepared to take up arms against them; but Baladeva, in accents interrupted by the effects of ebriety, forbade them, and said, “I will go alone to the sons of Kuru; they will liberate Śāmba at my request.” Accordingly he went to the elephant-styled city (Hastināpur), but took up his abode in a grove without the town, which he did not enter. When Duryodhana and the rest heard that he had arrived there, they sent him a cow, a present of fruits and flowers, and water. Bala received the offering in the customary form, and said to the Kauravas, “ Ugrasena commands you to set Śāmba at liberty.” When Duryodhana, Karṇa, Bhīṣma, Droṇa, and the others, heard this, they were very angry; and Bāhlīka and other friends of the Kauravas, who looked upon the Yadu race as not entitled to regal dignity, said to the wielder of the club, “What is this, Balabhadra, that thou hast uttered? What Yādava shall give orders to the chiefs of the family of Kuru? If Ugrasena issues his mandates to the Kauravas, then we must take away the white umbrella that he has usurped, and which is fit only for kings. Depart therefore, Balarāma; you are entitled to our respect; but Śāmba has been guilty of improper conduct, and we will not liberate him either at Ugrasena's commands or yours. The homage that is due to us, their superiors, by the Kukkura and Andhaka tribes, may not be paid by them; but who ever heard of a command issued by a servant to his master? Elevation to an equal seat has rendered you arrogant. We have committed a great mistake in neglecting, through our friendship for you, the policy (that teaches the danger of treating the abject with deference). Our sending you to-day a respectful present was an intimation of (personal) regard, which it was neither fit for our race to have proffered, nor for your's to have expected.” Having thus spoken, the Kuru chiefs, unanimously refusing to set the son of Hari at large, immediately returned into the city. Bala, rolling about with intoxication, and the wrath which their contemptuous language had excited, struck the ground furiously with his heel, so that it burst to pieces with a loud sound that reverberated through the regions of space. His eyes reddened with rage, and his brow was curved with frowns, as he exclaimed, “What arrogance is this, in such vile and pithless creatures! The sovereignty of the Kauravas, as well as our own, is the work of fate, whose decree it also is that they now disrespect or disobey the commands of Ugrasena. Indra may of right give his orders to the gods; and Ugrasena exercises equal authority with the lord of Śacī. Fie upon the pride that boasts a throne, the leavings of a hundred mortals! Is not he the sovereign of the earth, the wives of whose servants adorn themselves with the blossoms of the Pārijāta tree? Ugrasena shall be the undisputed king of kings; for I will not return to his capital until I have rid the world wholly of the sons of Kuru. I will destroy Karṇa, Duryodhana, Droṇa, Bhīṣma, Bāhlīka, Duhsāśana, Bhūrisravas, Somadatta, Śalya, Bhīma, Arjuna, Yudhiṣṭhira, the twins, and all the other vile descendants of Kuru, with their horses, elephants, and chariots. I will rescue the hero Śāmba from captivity, and carry him, along with his wife, to Dvārakā, where I shall again behold Ugrasena and the rest of my kin. Or, authorized by the king of the gods to remove the burdens of the earth, I will take this capital of the Kauravas, with all the sons of Kuru, and cast the city of the elephant into the Bhāgīrathī." So saying, the wielder of the club, Baladeva, his eyes red with rage, plunged the blade of his ploughshare downwards, beneath the ramparts of the city, and drew them towards him. When the Kauravas beheld Hastināpura tottering, they were much alarmed, and called loudly on Rāma, saying, “Rāma, Rāma! hold, hold! suppress your wrath! have mercy upon us! Here is Śāmba, and his wife also, delivered up to thee. Forgive our sins, committed in ignorance of thy wondrous power.” Accordingly, issuing hurriedly from the city, the Kauravas delivered Śāmba and his bride to the mighty Balarāma, who, bowing to Bhīṣma, Droṇa, and Kripa, who addressed him in conciliatory language, said, “I am satisfied;” and so desisted. The city bears the marks of the shock it received, even to the present day—such was the might of Rāma—proving both his strength and prowess. The Kauravas then offering homage to Śāmba and to Bala, dismissed the former with his wife and a bridal portion.

HEAR also, Maitreya, another exploit performed by the mighty Balarāma. The great Asura, the foe of the friends of the gods, Naraka, had a friend of exceeding prowess in the monkey named Dvivida, who was animated by implacable hostility against the deities, and vowed to revenge on the whole of them the destruction of Naraka by Kṛṣṇa, at the instigation of the king of the celestials, by preventing sacrifices, and effecting the annihilation of the mortal sphere. Blinded by ignorance, he accordingly interrupted all religious rites, subverted all righteous observances, and occasioned the death of living beings: he set fire to the forests, to villages, and to towns: sometimes he overwhelmed cities and hamlets with falling rocks; or lifting up mountains in the waters, he cast them into the ocean: then taking his place amidst the deep, he agitated the waves, until the foaming sea rose above its confines, and swept away the villages and cities situated upon its shores. Dvivida also, who could assume what shape he would, enlarged his bulk to an immense size, and rolling and tumbling and trampling amidst the corn fields, he crushed and spoiled the harvests. The whole world, disordered by this iniquitous monkey, was deprived of sacred study and religious rites, and was greatly afflicted. On one occasion Halā.yudha was drinking in the groves of Raivata, along with the illustrious Revatī and other beautiful females; and the distinguished Yadu, in whose praises songs were sung, and who was preeminent amidst graceful and sportive women, resembled Kuvera, the god of riches, in his palace. Whilst thus engaged, the monkey Dvivida came there, and stealing the ploughshare and the club of Baladeva, grinned at and mocked him, and laughed at the women, and threw over and broke the cups filled with wine. Balarāma, becoming angry at this, threatened the monkey; but the latter disregarded his menaces, and made a chattering noise: on which Bala, starting up, seized his club in wrath; and the monkey laid hold of a large rock, which he burled at the hero. Bala casting his club at it, as it neared him, broke it into a thousand fragments, which, together with the club, fell upon the ground. Beholding the club prostrate, the monkey sprang over it, and struck the Yādava violently on the breast with his paws. Bala replied with a blow of his fist upon the forehead of Dvivida, which felled him, vomiting blood, and lifeless, to the earth. The crest of the mountain on which he fell was splintered into a hundred pieces by the weight of his body, as if the thunderer had shivered it with his thunderbolt. The gods threw down a shower of flowers upon Rāma, and approached him, and praised him for the glorious feat he had performed. “Well has the world been freed,” said they, “by thy prowess, O hero, of this vile ape, who was the ally of the enemy of the gods.” Then they and their attendant spirits returned well pleased to heaven. Many such inimitable deeds were wrought by the illustrious Baladeva, the impersonation of Śeṣa, the supporter of the earth.

Destruction of the Yādavas. Śāmba and others deceive and ridicule the Ṛṣis. The former bears an iron pestle: it is broken, and thrown into the sea. The Yādavas go to Prabhāsa by desire of Kṛṣṇa: they quarrel and fight, and all perish. The great serpent Śeṣa issues from the mouth of Rāma. Kṛṣṇa is shot by a hunter, and again becomes one with universal spirit. IN this manner did Kṛṣṇa, assisted by Baladeva, destroy demons and iniquitous monarchs, for the good of the earth; and along with Phālguna also did he relieve earth of her load, by the death of innumerable hosts. Having thus lightened the burdens of the earth, and slain many unrighteous princes, he exterminated, by the pretext of an imprecation denounced by Brahmans, his own Yādava race. Then quitting Dvārakā, and relinquishing his mortal being, the self-born reentered, with all his emanations, his own sphere of Viṣṇu. Tell me how Janārddana effected the destruction of his own race under the plea of Brahmanical imprecation, and in what manner he relinquished his mortal body. At the holy place Piṇḍāraka, Visvāmitra, Kaṇwa, and the great sage Nārada, were observed by some boys of the Yadu tribe. Giddy with youth, and influenced by predestined results, they dressed and adorned Sumba, the son of Jāmbavatī, as a damsel, and conducting her to the sages, they addressed them with the usual marks of reverence, and said, “What child will this female, the wife of Babhru, who is anxious to have a son, give birth to?” The sages, who were possessed of divine wisdom, were very angry to find themselves thus tricked by the boys, and said, “She will bring forth a club, that shall crush the whole of the Yādava race.” The boys, thus spoken to by the sages, went and related all that had occurred to Ugrasena; and, as foretold, a club was produced from the belly of Śāmba. Ugrasena had the club, which was of iron, ground to dust, and thrown into the sea; but the particles of dust there became rushes. There was one part of the iron club which was like the blade of a lance, and which the Andhakas could not break: this, when thrown into the sea, was swallowed by a fish; the fish was caught, the iron spike was extracted from its belly, and was taken by a hunter named Jarā. The all-wise and glorious Madhusūdana did not think fit to counteract what had been predetermined by fate. Then there came to Keśava, when he was private and alone, a messenger from the gods, who addressed him with reverence, and said, “I am sent to you, O lord, by the deities, and do thou hear what Indra, together with the Viśvas, Maruts, Ādityas, Sādhyas, and Rudras, respectfully represents. More than a hundred years have elapsed since thou, in favour to the gods, hast descended upon earth, for the purpose of relieving it of its load. The demons have been slain, and the burden of earth has been removed: now let the immortals once again behold their monarch in heaven. A period exceeding a century has passed: now, if it be thy pleasure, return to Svarga. This is the solicitation of the celestials. But should such not be thy will, then remain here as long as it may be desirable to thy dependants." To this Kṛṣṇa replied, “All that thou hast said I am well aware of. The destruction of the Yādavas by me has commenced. The burdens of the earth are not removed until the Yādavas are extirpated. I will effect this also in my descent, and quickly; for it shall come to pass in seven nights. When I have restored the land of Dvārakā to the ocean, and annihilated the race of Yadu, I will proceed to the mansions of the immortals. Apprise the gods, that, having abandoned my human body, and accompanied by Saṅkarṣaṇa, I will then return to them. The tyrants that oppressed the earth, Jarāsandha and the rest, have been killed; and a youth, even of the race of Yadu, is, no less than they, an iñcumbrance. When therefore I have taken away this great weight upon earth, I will return to protect the sphere of the celestials. Say this to them.” The messenger of the gods, having received this reply, bowed, and took his heavenly course to the king of the gods. The mighty Kṛṣṇa now beheld signs and portents both in earth and heaven, prognosticating, day and night, the ruin of Dvārakā. Shewing these to the Yādavas, he said, “See; behold these fearful phenomena: let us hasten to Prabhāsa, to avert these omens.” When he had thus spoken to the eminent Yādava, the illustrious Uddhava saluted and said to him, “Tell me, O lord, what it is proper that I should do, for it seems to me that thou wilt destroy all this race: the signs that are manifest declare nothing less than the annihilation of the tribe.” Then Kṛṣṇa replied to him, “Do you go by a celestial route, which my favour shall provide you, to the holy place Badarikāśrama, in the Gandhamādana mountain, the shrine of Naranārāyaṇa; and on that spot, sanctified by them, thou, by meditating on me, shalt obtain perfection through my favour. When the race of Yadu shall have perished, I shall proceed to heaven; and the ocean shall inundate Dvārakā, when I have quitted it.” Accordingly Uddhava, thus instructed by Keśava, saluted him with veneration, and departed to the shrine of Naranārāyaṇa. Then the Yādavas ascended their rapid cars, and drove to Prabhāsa, along with Kṛṣṇa, Rāma, and the rest of their chiefs. They bathed there, and, excited by Vāsudeva, the Kukkuras and Andhakas indulged in liquor. As they drank, the destructive flame of dissension was kindled amongst them by mutual collision, and fed with the fuel of abuse. Infuriated by the divine influence, they fell upon one another with missile weapons, and when those were expended, they had recourse to the rushes growing nigh. The rushes in their hands became like thunderbolts, and they struck one another with them fatal blows. Pradyumna, Śāmba, Kritavarman, Sātyaki, Aniruddha, Prithu, Viprithu, Cāruvarman, Cāruka, Akrūra, and many others, struck one another with the rushes, which had assumed the hardness of thunderbolts. Keśava interposed to prevent them, but they thought that he was taking part with each severally, and continued the conflict. Kṛṣṇa then enraged took up a handful of rushes to destroy them, and the rushes became a club of iron, and with this he slew many of the murderous Yādavas; whilst others, fighting fiercely, put an end to one another. The chariot of the holder of the discus, named Jaitra, was quickly carried off by the swift steeds, and swept away by the sea, in the sight of Dāruka the charioteer. The discus, the club, the bow, the quiver, the shell, and the sword of Keśava, having circumambulated their lord, flew along the path of the sun. In a short time there was not a single Yādava left alive, except the mighty Kṛṣṇa and Dāruka. Going towards Rāma, who was sitting at the root of a tree, they beheld a large serpent coming out of his mouth. Having issued from his mouth, the mighty snake proceeded towards the ocean, hymned by saints and by other great serpents. Bringing an offering of respect, Ocean came to meet him; and then the majestic being, adored by attendant snakes, entered into the waters of the deep. Beholding the departure of the spirit of Balabhadra, Keśava said to Dāruka, “All this is to be related by you to Vasudeva and Ugrasena. Go and inform them of the departure of Balabhadra, and the destruction of the Yādavas; also that I shall engage in religious meditation, and quit this body. Apprise Āhuka and all the inhabitants of Dvārakā, that the sea will inundate the town: be ready therefore in expectation of the coming of Arjuna, and when he quits Dvāraka, no longer abide there, but go whithersoever that descendant of Kuru shall repair. Do you also go to the son of Kunti, and tell him, that it is my request that he will grant what protection he can to all my family. Then depart with Arjuna and all the people of Dvārāvatī, and let Vajra be installed sovereign over the tribe of Yadu.” Dāruka, being thus instructed, prostrated himself again and again before Kṛṣṇa, and walked round him repeatedly, and then departed as he had been desired; and having conducted Arjuna to Dvārāvatī, the intelligent servant of Kṛṣṇa established Vajra as king. The divine Govinda then, having concentrated in himself that supreme spirit which is one with Vāsudeva, was identified with all beings. Respecting the words of the Brahman, the imprecation of Durvāsas, the illustrious Kṛṣṇa sat engaged in thought, resting his foot upon his knee. Then came there a hunter, named Jarā, whose arrow was tipped with a blade made of the piece of iron of the club, which had not been reduced to powder; and beholding from a distance the foot of Kṛṣṇa, he mistook it for part of a deer, and shooting his arrow, lodged it in the sole. Approaching his mark, he saw the four-armed king, and, falling at his feet, repeatedly besought his forgiveness, exclaiming, “I have done this deed unwittingly, thinking I was aiming at a deer! Have pity upon me, who am consumed by my crime; for thou art able to consume me!” Bhagavat replied, “Fear not thou in the least. Go, hunter, through my favour, to heaven, the abode of the gods.” As soon as he had thus spoken, a celestial car appeared, and the hunter, ascending it, forthwith proceeded to heaven. Then the illustrious Kṛṣṇa, having united himself with his own pure, spiritual, inexhaustible, inconceivable, unborn, undecaying, imperishable, and universal spirit, which is one with Vāsudeva, abandoned his mortal body and the condition of the threefold qualities.

Arjuna comes to Dvārakā, and burns the dead, and takes away the surviving inhabitants. Commencement of the Kali age. Shepherds and thieves attack Arjuna, and carry off the women and wealth. Arjuna regrets the loss of his prowess to Vyāsa; who consoles him, and tells him the story of Aṣṭāvakra 's cursing the Apsarasas. Arjuna and his brothers place Parīkṣit on the throne, and go to the forests. End of the fifth book. ARJUNA having found the bodies of Kṛṣṇa and of Rāma, performed for them, and the rest of the slain, the obsequial rites. The eight queens of Kṛṣṇa, who have been named, with Rukminī at their head, embraced the body of Hari, and entered the funeral fire. Revatī also, embracing the corpse of Rāma, entered the blazing pile, which was cool to her, happy in contact with her lord. Hearing these events, Ugrasena and Anakadundubhi, with Devakī and Rohinī, committed themselves to the flames. The last ceremonies were performed for all these by Arjuna, who then made all the people leave the city, and took Vajra with him. The son of Kunti conducted the thousands of the wives of Kṛṣṇa, with Vajra, and all the people, from Dvārakā, with tenderness and care, and travelled slowly away. The Sudharman palace and the Pārijāta tree, which had been brought to earth by Kṛṣṇa, both proceeded to heaven; and on the same day that Hari departed from the earth the powerful dark-bodied Kali age descended. The ocean rose, and submerged the whole of Dvārakā, except alone the dwelling of the deity of the race of Yadu. The sea has not yet been able to wash that temple away, and there Keśava constantly abides, even in the present day. Whoever visits that holy shrine, the place where Kṛṣṇa pursued his sports, is liberated from all his sins. The son of Prithā, Arjuna, halted the people he had brought from Dvārakā in the Pañcanada country, in a rich and fertile spot; but the desires of the robbers (of the neighbourhood) were excited, when they observed so many widowed females, also such great riches, in the possession of Arjuna alone. Inflamed by their cupidity, they assembled the villainous Ābhiras, and said to them, “Here is this Arjuna, immensely rich, and having numerous women, whose husbands have been slain, passing confidently amongst us; a disgrace to all brave men. His pride is raised by the death of Bhīṣma, Droṇa, Jayadratha, Karṇa, and others, whom he has slain: he does not know the prowess of simple villagers. Up, up; take your long thick staves: this stupid fellow despises us. Why should we not lift up our arms?” So saying, they rushed, armed with cudgels and clods of earth, upon the people, who were without their lord. Arjuna encountered them, and said to them in derision, “Retire, wretches, ignorant of what is right, unless ye are desirous of dying.” But they disregarded his menaces, and seized his treasures and his women, the wives of Viswaksena. Thereupon Arjuna began to brace his heavenly bow Gāndīva, irresistible in battle; but it was in vain; for, in spite of all his efforts to tighten it, it continued flaccid: neither could he call to recollection the incantations of the superhuman weapons. Losing all patience, he launched, as best he might, his shafts upon the enemy; but those shot from Gāndīva merely scratched the skin. The arrows given him by Agni to carry certain destruction now were themselves destroyed, and were fatal to Arjuna in his contest with herdsmen. He endeavoured to recall the might of Kṛṣṇa; animated by which, his numerous arrows had overthrown mighty kings; but he tried in vain, for now they were put aside by the peasants, or they flew at random, wide of their aim. His arrows being expended, he beat the banditti with the horn of his bow; but they only laughed at his blows: and the barbarians, in the sight of Arjuna, carried off all the women of the Vṛṣṇi and Andhaka tribes, and went their way. Then Jiṣṇu was sorely distressed, and lamented bitterly, exclaiming, Alas! alas! I am deserted by my lord!" and he wept: and in that instant the bow and heavenly arms, his car and steeds, perished entirely, like a donation to an unlearned Brahman. “Resistless,” said he, “are the decrees of fate, by whom feebleness has been inflicted upon me, deprived of my illustrious friend, and victory given to the base. These two arms are mine; mine, is this fist; this is my place; I am Arjuna: but without that righteous aid all these are pithless. The valour of Arjuna, the strength of Bhīma, was all his work; and without him I am overcome by peasants: it cannot be from any other cause.” So saying, Arjuna went to the city of Mathurā, and there installed the Yādava prince, Vajra, as its king. There he beheld Vyāsa, who was living in a wood, and he approached the sage, and saluted him respectfully. The Muni surveyed him for some time, as he lay prostrate at his feet, and said to him, “How is it that I see you thus shorn of your lustre? Have you been guilty of illicit intercourse with women, or of the death of a Brahman? or have you suffered some grievous disappointment? that you are so dejected. Have your prayers for progeny, or other good gifts, proved fruitless? or have you indulged improper passions? that your lustre is so dim. Or are you one that devours the meal he has given to the Brahmans ? Say, Arjuna, have you seized upon the substance of the poor? Has the wind of a winnowing basket lighted upon you? or has an evil eye gazed upon you, Arjuna? that you look thus miserable. Have you been touched by the water of a finger-nail? or has the water of a water-jar sprinkled you? or, what is most probably the case, have you been beaten by your inferiors in battle?” Arjuna, having sighed deeply, related to Vyāsa all the circumstances of his discomfiture, and continued; “Hari, who was our strength, our might, our heroism, our prowess, our prosperity, our brightness, has left us, and departed. Deprived of him, our friend, illustrious, and ever kindly speaking, we have become as feeble as if made of straw. Puruṣottama, who was the living vigour of my weapons, my arrows and my bow, is gone. As long as we looked upon him, fortune, fame, wealth, dignity never abandoned us: but Govinda is gone from amongst us. That Kṛṣṇa has quitted earth, through whose power Bhīṣma, Droṇa, the king of Anga, Duryodhana, and the rest, were consumed. Not I alone, but Earth, has grown old, miserable, and lustreless, in the absence of the holder of the discus. Kṛṣṇa, through devotion to whom Bhīṣma and other mighty men perished like moths in the flame of my valour, is gone; and I am now overcome by cowherds. The bow Gāndīva, that was famed throughout the three worlds, has been foiled, since he has departed, by the sticks of peasants: the myriads of women over whom I was lord have been carried off from me by thieves, armed but with cudgels: the whole household of Kṛṣṇa, O Kṛṣṇa, has been forcibly carried away by peasants, who with their staves have put my strength to shame. That I am shorn of my lustre I do not marvel: it is wonderful that I live. Surely, grandsire, I alone am so shameless as to survive the stain of indignity inflicted by the vile.” Vyāsa replied to Arjuna, and said, “Think no more, my son, of your disgrace: it does not become you to grieve. Know that time subjects all beings to similar vicissitude. Time effects the production and dissolution of all creatures. All that exists is founded on time. Know this, Arjuna, and retain your fortitude. Rivers, seas, mountains, the whole earth, gods, men, animals, trees, insects, are all created, and all will be destroyed, by time. Knowing that all that is, is the effect of time, be tranquillized. These mighty works of Kṛṣṇa, whatever they have been, have been performed to relieve earth of its burdens: for this he has come down. Earth, oppressed by her load, has had recourse to the assembly of the immortals; and Janārddana, who is one with time, has descended on that account. This object has been now accomplished: all the kings of the earth are slain; the race of Vṛṣṇi and Andhaka is destroyed: no more remained for him to accomplish. Therefore has the lord departed whither he pleased, his ends being all fulfilled. At the period of creation the god of gods creates; in that of duration he preserves; and at the end of all he is mighty to annihilate. Now all is done. Therefore, Arjuna, be not afflicted by thy defeat: the prowess of mortals is the gift of time. Bhīṣma, Karṇa, and other kings, have been slain by thee alone; this was the work of time: and why, therefore, should not thy discomfiture, by those less than thou art, occur? In like manner as through thy devotion to Viṣṇu these were overthrown by thee, so at last has thy defeat by miserable thieves been wrought by time. That divinity, assuming various bodies, preserves the world; and in the end the lord of creatures destroys it. In the birth of thy fortunes Janārddana was thy friend; in their decline, thy enemies have been favoured by Keśava. Who would have believed that thou shouldst slay all the descendants of Kuru, and kindred of Gaṅgā ? Who would have believed that peasants should triumph over thee? Be assured, son of Pritha, that it is but the sport of the universal Hari that the Kauravas have been destroyed by thee, and that thou hast been defeated by herdsmen. With respect to the women whom thou lamentest, and who have been carried off by the thieves, hear from me an ancient story, which will explain why this has happened. ”In former times a Brahman, named Aṣṭāvakra, was pursuing his religious penances, standing in water, and meditating on the eternal spirit, for many years. In consequence of the overthrow of the Asuras, there was a great festival on the summit of Meru: on their way to which, Rambhā, Tilottamā, and hundreds and thousands of beautiful nymphs, saw the ascetic Aṣṭāvakra, and they praised and hymned him for his devotions. They bowed down before him, and eulogized him, as he was immersed up to his throat in water, his hair twisted in a braid. So they sang in honour of him whatever they thought would be most agreeable to that most eminent of Brahmans. Aṣṭāvakra at last said to them, ‘I am well pleased with you, illustrious damsels; whatever you wish for, ask of me, and I will give it you, however difficult it may be of attainment.’ Then all those nymphs, Rambhā, Tilottamā, and others, recorded in the Vedas, replied, ‘It is enough for us that thou art pleased; what need we aught else, venerable Brahman?’ But some amongst them said, ‘If, exalted sir, you are indeed pleased with us, then grant us a husband, the best of men, and sovereign of the Brahmans.’ ‘So be it,’ replied Aṣṭāvakra, and thereupon came up from the waters. When the nymphs beheld him coming out of the water, and saw that he was very ugly, and crooked in eight places, they could not restrain their merriment, but laughed aloud. The Muni was very angry, and cursed them, and said, ‘Since you have been so impertinent as to laugh at my deformity, I denounce upon you this imprecation: through the grace I have shewn unto you, you shall obtain the first of males for your husband; but in consequence of my curse, you shall afterwards fall into the hands of thieves.’ When the nymphs heard this uttered by the Muni, they endeavoured to appease him; and they so far succeeded, that he announced to them they should finally return to the sphere of the gods. It is in consequence, then, of the curse of the Muni Aṣṭāvakra that these females, who were at first the wives of Keśava, have now fallen into the hands of the barbarians; and there is no occasion, Arjuna, for you to regret it in the least. All this destruction has been effected by the lord of all; and your end is also nigh at hand, since he has withdrawn from you strength, splendour, valour, and preeminence. Death is the doom of every one who is born: fall is the end of exaltation: union terminates in separation: and growth tends but to decay. Knowing all this, wise men are susceptible of neither grief nor joy; and those who learn their ways are even as they are (equally free from pleasure or pain). Do you therefore, most excellent prince, understand this truth, and, along with your brothers, relinquish every thing, and repair to the holy forest. Go now, and say from me to Yudhiṣṭhira, that he to-morrow, with his brethren, tread the path of heroes." Thus instructed by Vyāsa, Arjuna went and related to the other sons of Pritha all that be had seen, had experienced, and had heard. When he had communicated to them the message of Vyāsa, the sons of Pāṇḍu placed Parīkṣit on the throne, and went to the forest. I have thus narrated to you, Maitreya, in detail, the actions of Vāsudeva, when he was born in the race of Yadu.