‘“The East was his first conquest, then the Southern Quarter, marked by Triçanku, then the Western Quarter, which has Varuṇa for its sign, and immediately afterwards the Northern Quarter adorned by the Seven Ṛishis. Within the three years that he roamed over the world he had subdued the whole earth, with its continents, bounded only by the moat of four oceans.
(239) ‘“He then, wandering sunwise, conquered and occupied Suvarṇapura, not far from the Eastern Ocean, the abode of those Kirātas who dwell near Kailāsa, and are called Hemajakūṭas, and as his army was weary from its worldwide wandering, he encamped there for a few days to rest.
‘“One day during his sojourn there he mounted Indrāyudha to hunt, and as he roamed through the wood he beheld a pair of Kinnaras wandering down at will from the mountains. Wondering at the strange sight, and eager to take them, he brought up his horse respectfully near them and approached them. But they hurried on, fearing the unknown sight of a man, and fleeing from him, while he pursued them, doubling Indrāyudha’s speed by frequent pats on his neck, and went on alone, leaving his army far behind. Led on by the idea that he was just catching them, he was borne in an instant fifteen leagues from his own quarters by Indrāyudha’s speed as it were at one bound, and was left companionless. (240) The pair of Kinnaras he was pursuing were climbing a steep hill in front of him. He at length turned away his glance, which was following their progress, and, checked by the steepness of the ascent, reined in Indrāyudha. Then, seeing that both his horse and himself were tired and heated by their toils, he considered for a moment, and laughed at himself as he thought: ‘Why have I thus wearied myself for nothing, like a child? What matters it whether I catch the pair of Kinnaras or not? If caught, what is the good? if missed, what is the harm? What a folly this is of mine! What a love of busying myself in any trifle! What a passion for aimless toil! What a clinging to childish pleasure! The good work I was doing has been begun in vain. The needful rite I had begun has been rendered fruitless. The duty of friendship I undertook has not been performed. The royal office I was employed in has not been fulfilled. The great task I had entered on has not been completed. My earnest labour in a worthy ambition has been brought to nought. Why have I been so mad as to leave my followers behind and come so far? (241) and why have I earned for myself the ridicule I should bestow on another, when I think how aimlessly I have followed these monsters with their horses’ heads? I know not how far off is the army that follows me. For the swiftness of Indrāyudha traverses a vast space in a moment, and his speed prevented my noticing as I came by what path I should turn back, for my eyes were fixed on the Kinnaras; and now I am in a great forest, spread underfoot with dry leaves, with a dense growth of creepers, underwood, and branching trees. Roam as I may here I cannot light on any mortal who can show me the way to Suvarṇapura. I have often heard that Suvarṇapura is the farthest bound of earth to the north, and that beyond it lies a supernatural forest, and beyond that again is Kailāsa. This then is Kailāsa; so I must turn back now, and resolutely seek to make my way unaided to the south. For a man must bear the fruit of his own faults.’
‘“With this purpose he shook the reins in his left hand, and turned the horse’s head. Then he again reflected: (242) ‘The blessed sun with glowing light now adorns the south, as if he were the zone-gem of the glory of day. Indrāyudha is tired; I will just let him eat a few mouthfuls of grass, and then let him bathe and drink in some mountain rill or river; and when he is refreshed I will myself drink some water, and after resting a short time under the shade of a tree, I will set out again.’
‘“So thinking, constantly turning his eyes on every side for water, he wandered till at length he saw a track wet with masses of mud raised by the feet of a large troop of mountain elephants, who had lately come up from bathing in a lotus-pool. (243) Inferring thence that there was water near, he went straight on along the slope of Kailāsa, the trees of which, closely crowded as they were, seemed, from their lack of boughs, to be far apart, for they were mostly pines, çāl, and gum olibanum trees, and were lofty, and like a circle of umbrellas, to be gazed at with upraised head. There was thick yellow sand, and by reason of the stony soil the grass and shrubs were but scanty.
(244) ‘“At length he beheld, on the north-east of Kailāsa, a very lofty clump of trees, rising like a mass of clouds, heavy with its weight of rain, and massed as if with the darkness of a night in the dark fortnight.
‘“The wind from the waves, soft as sandal, dewy, cool from passing over the water, aromatic with flowers, met him, and seemed to woo him; and the cries of kalahaṃsas drunk with lotus-honey, charming his ear, summoned him to enter. So he went into that clump, and in its midst beheld the Acchoda Lake, as if it were the mirror of the Lakshmī of the three worlds, the crystal chamber of the goddess of earth, the path by which the waters of ocean escape, the oozing of the quarters, the avatar of part of the sky, Kailāsa taught to flow, Himavat liquefied, moonlight melted, Çiva’s smile turned to water, (245) the merit of the three worlds abiding in the shape of a lake, a range of hills of lapis lazuli changed into water, or a mass of autumn clouds poured down in one spot. From its clearness it might be Varuṇa’s mirror; it seemed to be fashioned of the hearts of ascetics, the virtues of good men, the bright eyes of deer, or the rays of pearls.
(247) ‘“Like the person of a great man, it showed clearly the signs of fish, crocodile, tortoise, and cakṛa;[214] like the story of Kārtikeya, the lamentations of the wives of Krauñca[215] resounded in it; it was shaken by the wings of white Dhārtarāshṭras, as the Mahābhārata by the rivalry of Pāṇḍavas and Dhārtarāshṭras; and the drinking of poison by Çiva was represented by the drinking of its water by peacocks, as if it were the time of the churning of ocean. It was fair, like a god, with a gaze that never wavers. (248) Like a futile argument, it seemed to have no end; and was a lake most fair and gladdening to the eyes.
‘“The very sight of it seemed to remove Candrāpīḍa’s weariness, and as he gazed he thought:
‘“‘Though my pursuit of the horse-faced pair was fruitless, yet now that I see this lake it has gained its reward. My eyes’ reward in beholding all that is to be seen has now been won, the furthest point of all fair things seen, the limit of all that gladdens us gazed upon, the boundary line of all that charms us descried, the perfection of all that causes joy made manifest, and the vanishing-point of all worthy of sight beheld. (249) By creating this lake water, sweet as nectar, the Creator has made his own labour of creation superfluous. For this, too, like the nectar that gladdens all the senses, produces joy to the eye by its purity, offers the pleasure of touch by its coolness, gladdens the sense of smell by the fragrance of its lotuses, pleases the ear with the ceaseless murmur of its haṃsas, and delights the taste with its sweetness. Truly it is from eagerness to behold this that Çiva leaves not his infatuation for dwelling on Kailāsa. Surely Kṛishṇa no longer follows his own natural desire as to a watery couch, for he sleeps on the ocean, with its water bitter with salt, and leaves this water sweet as nectar! Nor is this, in sooth, the primæval lake; for the earth, when fearing the blows of the tusks of the boar of destruction, entered the ocean, all the waters of which were designed but to be a draught for Agastya; whereas, if it had plunged into this mighty lake, deep as many deep hells, it could not have been reached, I say not by one, but not even by a thousand boars. (250) Verily it is from this lake that the clouds of doom at the seasons of final destruction draw little by little their water when they overwhelm the interstices of the universe, and darken all the quarters with their destroying storm. And methinks that the world, Brahmā’s egg, which in the beginning of creation was made of water, was massed together and placed here under the guise of a lake.’ So thinking, he reached the south bank, dismounted and took off Indrāyudha’s harness; (251) and the latter rolled on the ground, arose, ate some mouthfuls of grass, and then the prince took him down to the lake, and let him drink and bathe at will. After that, the prince took off his bridle, bound two of his feet by a golden chain to the lower bough of a tree hard by, and, cutting off with his dagger some dūrvā grass from the bank of the lake, threw it before the horse, and went back himself to the water. He washed his hands, and feasted, like the cātaka, on water; like the cakravāka, he tasted pieces of lotus-fibre; like the moon with its beams, he touched the moon-lotuses with his finger-tips; like a snake, he welcomed the breeze of the waves;[216] like one wounded with Love’s arrows, he placed a covering of lotus-leaves on his breast; like a mountain elephant, when the tip of his trunk is wet with spray, he adorned his hands with spray-washed lotuses. Then with dewy lotus-leaves, with freshly-broken fibres, he made a couch on a rock embowered in creepers, and rolling up his cloak for a pillow, lay down to sleep. After a short rest, he heard on the north bank of the lake a sweet sound of unearthly music, borne on the ear, and blent with the chords of the vīnā. (252) Indrāyudha heard it first, and letting fall the grass he was eating, with ears fixed and neck arched, turned towards the voice. The prince, as he heard it, rose from his lotus-couch in curiosity to see whence this song could arise in a place deserted by men, and cast his glance towards the region; but, from the great distance, he was unable, though he strained his eyes to the utmost, to discern anything, although he ceaselessly heard the sound. Desiring in his eagerness to know its source, he determined to depart, and saddling and mounting Indrāyudha, he set forth by the western forest path, making the song his goal; the deer, albeit unasked, were his guides, as they rushed on in front, delighting in the music.[217]